Dear readers,

I hope that all of you had a great weekend.  Saturday & Sunday's weather in NYC proved that, while Spring hasn't quite made her grand entrance, she's definitely "stuck in traffic and will be arriving fashionably late."

For me, the weekend was a kaleidoscope of irony, glee, and everything in between.  Literally. 

Friday night:

In an effort to wind-down from the work week, I decided to make green-chile & potato chowder.  Well, as it turned out, whipping up a batch of my favorite soup proved to be much more of a laborious - and painful - task.  Three-hours, two band-aids, and a box of tissues later, I found myself scouring Google for "how to treat jalapeno-pepper skin burns on hands."

Saturday:

Picture it, November 2010 - somewhere in Union Square - me, minding my business, strolling along, on my way to meet some friends for dinner.  Out of nowhere, I'm approached by a complete stranger.  "Excuse me, ma'am, where do you get your hair done?"  Ack!  I know where this is headed!  I try to make a run for it - but he follows me.  I tell him the god's honest truth, that "I am happily married to the salon where I get my hair done, so leave me the 'F' alone."  He takes my hostility as a challenge and proceeds to lower the price of the said "beauty package valued at $300" that he's selling from $60 to $50.  I try to run off for a second time and, once again, he follows me.  It wasn't until he lowered the price of the "beauty package valued at $300" that he was selling from $60 to $35 that I finally gave in.  $35 was a bargain to get the guy to shut up and leave me the hell alone.  Plus, I had four months to use this "package." 

Now, fast forward to Saturday, March 5, 2011: I had about 3 weeks left to utilize my "beauty package," so I figured that, with the New York Junior League's Winter Ball gala that evening, I could take advantage of the first portion of the package: image consultation, shampoo massage, deep conditioning, individual hair design and cut, blow dry - style - and finish, and color consultation.  Sounds like a dream, doesn't it?  Well, you and I both know that if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is.  While I didn't walk out of the salon with an uneven trim or purple hair, here are some of the reasons that, in my opinion, the owners had to resort to using an outside marketing firm to solicit potential suckers clients (like myself):

• Location: this particular salon is located on 5th Avenue. Sounds fancy, right? Too bad it's a three-flight hike from the ground floor. Obviously, the salon gets no foot traffic because no one knows about it. In my opinion, the owners care more about the 5th Avenue address than attracting walk-in customers.

• Organization: there really wasn't any. Most of the customers were there for the first time via the promotion, like myself. The stylists were running at least 30-minutes behind, creating havoc. I was finally seen an hour after I initially arrived.

• You pay for what you get: period. End of story. I thought that I was being money-savvy and suave by utilizing my pre-paid "beauty package" in preparation for my event that evening but, in reality, I wasted nothing but my own precious time. And in NYC, honey, time is money. I should have stayed home and done my own damn hair.

Saturday night:

New York Junior League's Winter Ball held at The Plaza Hotel, honoring Mary J. Blige: In an effort to keep this post from becoming a thesis, I'm going to finish it up with a captioned photo collage.  Enjoy!

And for dessert...

Mary J. Blige, the recipient of the 2011 New York Junior League Award for Leadership and Excellence, graced the ballroom's stage and gave the most genuine, humble, and heartfelt speech.

It just so happened that Ms. Blige and her two of her publicists were seated at the dinner table diagonally to mine.  Moments after she returned to her seat, a line of giddy women, eager to shake her hand or snap a quick photo, formed.  Seizing the opportunity to meet one of my heroes, I found myself in the back of the line.

"Ladies, excuse me," one of the publicists sternly said, "Mary has to catch a flight to Europe and needs to leave immediately."  I looked behind me and realized that I was the last person in line.  The good news was that there was only one woman in front of me.  "Mary," she said, "come on.  We need to leave now."  

Mary turned around and looked at me.  She gave me a warm hug.  I asked her if it would be OK if I snapped a quick photo of the two of us, and she smiled and said "of course."  What a class act.

What an honor it was to get to meet the woman that I have looked up to and followed, musically, since I was a young girl (fourth grade!).  I love you, Mary J.!

…

Until we eat again,

Lindsay, The Lunch Belle