My Broken Typewriter

Matt, Maddy and Liz

2009-02-27T19:40:00.003-05:00

You may have noticed the thingy on my side bar (over there-->) that links to the Liz Logelin Foundation. You may have also seen my link to Matt Logelin's blog over there as well, and if you've read his blog at all I'm sure you, like me, shed a few tears and fell completely in love with them both. I don't know them in "real life," though I feel as though I do. Madeline was born very tiny and premature in 2008, about a month before my Lucy arrived. Maddy's momma, Liz, died suddenly the next day from a pulmonary embolism. Matt, Maddy's daddy, is now raising Madeline alone and blogging all about it in a brutally honest and poetic way.

I found his blog back in the summer and stayed up for hours catching up on the story. I wept like a child... my heart was just broken for him. But over these past months, it has been really amazing to watch Madeline and Matt grow together. As more and more people discovered his story, his readership has grown enormously. Mostly, I just love looking at the pictures of little Madeline. She reminds me of Lucy with her blondie hairs and big blue eyes. I'm sure they would be great friends.

Fair warning if you plan to visit their site... it's terribly sad at first. Woefully unfair and just damned sad that such a thing had to happen to a man so desperately in love with his wife. But once you get past the initial sadness, Matt and Maddy are a great team who you, too, will most likely want keep an eye on.

Madeline:

The sounds of silence.

2009-02-19T21:40:00.002-05:00

In my otherwise silent night-time apartment I have grown accustom to and comforted by the following noises:

the intermittent tick of the thermostat
the click of my dogs toenails on the wooden floors
(and also her snuffly-snore when she is sleeping)
the hum of the refrigerator
the ebb and flow of the traffic on the Brooklyn/Queens Expressway
the whir of my laptop fan

Craving Creature Comforts

2009-02-01T18:41:00.006-05:00

The materialistic side of me needs occasional petting. Sometimes a stroll through Target does wonders for this need, other times I need crave creature comforts of a higher degree. Things like...

This Canon Rebel XS SLR digital camera. I want desperately to take my photographs up a level in quality. With this camera, I would be able to do that. Every time I see someone on the street with one, I get a shiver of envy. I can't help it. I just know that as soon as I get my hands on one I'll end up taking it with me all over our fair city. My husband is being a bit of an enabler when it comes to this spendy decision... he keeps telling me what a good photographer I am and that I really should get it so I can document our daughter's life with a quality camera. I may fall victim to his suggestion.

These Frye boots. Or some similar Frye boots. I have coveted a pair like these for about 5 years now, though I have never allowed myself to fork over the cash. They are pricey boots, those Fryes, but worth every damn penny if you ask me. I'd probably wear them in my sleep just to make it really worth it. I used to be a heels kind of girl, but now I fancy myself as a super-cool leather boot kind of girl. Which brings me to my next love...

Beautiful new sundresses from Anthropologie. I have 3 gorgeous sundresses from this smashing shop, but alas none of them fit me anymore. *wipes tears away* See, when Lulu was growing inside my belly, my ribs expanded to accommodate her 8 pound, 9 ounce body and... well... those ribs, they never went back. None of my beloved Anthropologie dresses will zip over my ribs anymore. I have thusly chosen new dresses to take the place of the old dresses.

A washer/dryer combo machine. There is no way that I could ever have this creature comfort in my current living situation. It would take all manner of re-piping the kitchen and I seriously doubt that would happen in a place where my landlords can't even be bothered to do even the smallest of maintenance tasks. But a girl can dream. Yes, a girl can dream about doing laundry. She dreams of doing it in her own house instead of doing it in a laundromat around the corner.

There you have it. The sum total of all of these items is somewhere around $3,000. If I win the lottery anytime soon, I'll be treating myself.

Welcome, President Obama!

2009-01-23T17:38:00.004-05:00

Tuesday, January 20th was a fine day. I watched the inauguration of President Obama with Lucy, who did not understand the importance of the moment. She will someday. The excitement of the event was infectious. On the walk to work, I overhead an excited conversation between two boys as they jostled down the sidwalk together after school, each of them holding paper American flags that they had colored with crayons.

Boy 1: Did you know that Barack Obama is already in the White House, right now?!

Boy 2: Yay! I know!

And on their way they went, their moms following not far behind.

Yay, indeed.

I've done it.

2009-01-22T11:15:00.001-05:00

Bold what you have done:

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

Stand By Me

2008-12-21T13:07:00.004-05:00

I saw this wonderful film maker on PBS the other night. It took years and years of travel all around the world to gather the footage. His message is good, the song is great. Turn the sound on, click here and enjoy.

(Thanks Mom, for reminding me about this.)

I really do ♥ NY

2008-12-18T12:07:00.003-05:00

I have found myself feeling down on NYC lately. I have found myself irritated at the fact that my apartment is small, I don't have a dishwasher, I have to schlep laundry down the stairs and around the corner to the laundromat with a 7-month-old strapped to my chest. I have found myself irritated at the grime and the noise, even in our fair Brooklyn. I have found myself fantasizing about living in a big, suburban house which has a driveway and multiple bathrooms. I pretend to love being an urban "baby wearing" momma instead of a stroller-pushing suburban momma, when in truth my shoulders kill me but I wear her anyway, since strollers and subways stairs do not mix. I spend a lot of time thinking about all the things that are wrong with New York City and all the ways it doesn't work for me.

But then, when I got to seriously thinking about how life would be for our family if we lived elsewhere (in some unnamed "regular town",) I realized why it is that we live here instead: the people. It's the way New Yorkers think and act and interact with each other. I could do without the subway, the skyscrapers, the noise, and even the Strand Bookstore... but if I left New York, I would miss the people. I'm not talking about the freaks and crazies (though they do provide some entertainment,) I am talking about the everyday people at the bagel store, the dog park, the Union Square market. There's a forced interaction here that requires you take the time to learn a little bit about everyone you meet - the lack of space demands it. It's not something you find anywhere else in the United States.

(There's also something to be said for the amazing diversity here in the city. Call me crazy, but being surround by all white people who speak only English sounds pretty boring once you've experienced the opposite. I love love LOVE that my daughter is going to grow up in such a multicultural environment - she'll know from the get-go that the world extends far and wide beyond our borders.)

In celebration of my epiphone about my love for our fair and sparkling city, I post this link. Be sure to check out the one about NYC's pregnant women. Yeah. :)

Click: New York Magazine's Reasons to Love NY - 2008

Snow-ish day

2008-12-16T17:55:00.002-05:00

It snowed today. The fat flakes didn't accumulate, but they fell for quite a while and the sky took on that grey, ethereal tone that you only ever see on a snowy day. I tried unsuccessfully to capture the falling snow on film.

I woke this morning with terrible stomach pain. I called off work; I couldn't even pick Lucy up without feeling like knives were in my gut. I finally gave in to my husband's insistance and called my doctor, feeling like an ass saying "I have a stomach ache." But since the pain was persistent, she did want to see me. Though, she said, her office was closed for the day so would I mind coming to her house? Amazing. When was the last time that happened, ever, in the world of today?

I took a car service to her apartment. The light was fading into that sad violet of winter evenings and the snow had thinned to a drizzle (if snow can drizzle) as we drove through Hasidic Williamsburg. Which has got to go down as one of the strangest and most fascinatingly alien places in all of New York City. Hasidic Jews are to New York what the Amish are to Pennsylvania and Ohio. They are so insular, so orthodox, so weirdly dressed and so steeped in traditions of the ages that I can't help but want to know all their creepy secrets.

Once inside my doctor's warm and welcoming apartment (where the walls were painted all manner of jewel tones that I am scared to commit to) she went to work on my belly and in 5 short minutes determined I was not dying. Nor did I have an ulcer. Probably damaged the lining a bit from taking too much pain medication, she said. She prescribed Prilosec, thanked me for visiting, refused my attempts to give her my $10 co-pay, and sent me back into evening.

Standing on the front steps of her apartment building, I realized for the first time in 12 hours, my belly didn't hurt anymore. Psychosomatic? Maybe. Or maybe I just needed to get out of my house.

100th Post.

2008-12-15T17:03:00.003-05:00

How fitting it is that this, my 100th blog post, is where and when I get to resurrect this blog. Very cool.

When I began, it was mostly about my adventures here in New York City and Brooklyn. I hope to continue to bring you such tales, but I want to expand my "content" to include my personal musings on life, art, politics and the world in general. Is that okay? I thought so. I have once again started carrying my camera around all the time, so hopefully I can capture some interesting things for you, my friends and family, to look at.

"My Broken Typewriter" refers to an old Royal typewriter from the 1930's that sits in my apartment. It's dusty and has some dog hair stuck in the keys, but it still halfway works and I use it to type out transporting little phrases that usually end up in my assemblage artworks. My dad gave me the typewriter years ago (my dad can always be counted on when one desires a specific item of antiquity) and though it should probably live in the case where it would be better protected, I wouldn't be able to see it. I like to look at it. It's an art object all of it's own.

2 posts in one week? Holy crap!

2008-03-20T21:04:00.002-05:00

Today I went to the Martha Stewart Show with a friend from work. We schlepped to Chelsea (I got to walk past the famed Chelsea Hotel on my way there, I always think of Leonard Cohen and Janis Joplin when I see that place) and stood outside in the freezing wind waiting to get inside the studio. Sometimes you forget that living in a giant city affords you new and interesting things to do, like visiting a live tv show taping if you so choose. So we did.

The studio was absolutely gorgeous inside. I have never, in all my acting and theatrical endeavors, seen a place so beautifully lit. Obviously, the Martha Stewart Empire is all about making things look good, and lemme tell you... there wasn't anything that looked bad in this lighting. Martha looked lovely as well and we got to watch segments about cooking rabbit ravioli (ew!), sewing a super-cute reversible purse, and acupuncture. It all went by pretty fast, but at one point I got a little prize (a lotion set) for being an enthusiastic audience member (even though all I did was sit there.) It was a fun thing to do. The tickets were free, and the show will air on April 29th. I think that's a Tuesday.

And in the "only in the New York" part of today's blog, I bring you this:

I was on the subway going to work the other day when an older man, reading a newspaper, leaned over and asked me in a thick accent if I spoke English. I nodded, and he pointed to the newspaper.

"What means this word: moonlighting?" he asked me.

I looked to where he was pointing, and it was an article about the recent horrible crane disaster here in the city. Several people were killed and lots of people are now homeless because of the accident. The article said that one of the crane operators was "moonlighting" in construction. I explained to the man that it meant that it meant it was his second job, the sort of thing you did part-time or for extra money.

This led to a brief but animated discussion of safety, sub-contracting, money and responsibility. I'm sure it would have gone on much longer had I not had to get off the train when I did. When I stood up and he saw my giant belly for the first time, he laughed out loud and told me congratulations. We said farewell and I left the train knowing that it's all too rare of a thing to have a real conversation with someone in a situation like that. So often, even in this giant city where we are all mashed up against one another, you forget that the person next you is, in some way, interesting and perhaps even brilliant.

dear lord, has it been THAT long?

2008-03-16T21:21:00.002-05:00

This is about the time of year when the California Girl in me starts to get really, really sad that it's still winter here in New York. (It also happened when I lived in Chicago.) Whereas back home the daffodils are in full bloom, they are just *barely* peeking out of the earth here in cold New York.

It's the time of year when certain things start to grate on my nerves, like overly-perfumed, portly subway riders who seem to not mind of their hind quarters take up both their whole seat and most of mine. (I mention this only becaue for two days in a row on my way home from work, the SAME woman has done this to me. Ugh.) It's also the time of year when I think most New Yorkers are getting a little hint of a cabin fever of sorts... like we've all been in our homes with the windows shut for too long and it's starting to show.

In recent days, I have seen two clowns on the train. That in itself is enough to make one wonder if one is indeed going crazy.

The latest

2008-02-11T10:58:00.001-05:00

Yesterday Husband and I went to the Met to see the Jasper Johns exhibit. At the Met, you "pay what you wish" for an admissions fee. I wish to pay a lot less than the suggested $20 per person, so I paid $5. Let the tourists get guilted into paying full price. When I lived in the Washington DC area, the museums were free, and that is a train I can get on board.

Anywhoo, the Met was very crowded and the Jasper Johns exhibit was especially crowded. I marveled at how people don't seem to mind bumping into a pregnant belly. Rather, they don't care to apologize when they do. I spent much of the gallery time trying to suck in the belly and schootch by the crowds. (For the record, it is hard to suck in a baby belly on the cusp of the third trimester.)

Some funny conversations overheard yesterday...

On the L train going from Brooklyn to Manhattan:

Hipster Girl: So I forgot to go to the specific bakery that she wanted me to, so I went to another one and got the stuff. And then I told her that the one she liked was closed, so I went to another one. And then do you know what she did? She actually called the first one and asked if they were closed, and then told me that they weren't. I mean, I know I lied and all, but seriously... this is what you do with your time? I mean, god. So anyway, whatever."

And at a diner on the Upper East Side:

Middle-aged guy: Here I am having to wear this vest everynight that sends electric shocks to my chest, all the while monitoring my blood sugar and having to give myself shots for it, too. And as I sit in my big, gorgeous house that I worked so hard for, I just keep thinking that if I'd just have spent the past few years working on my marriage instead, I wouldn't have to be thinking about my wife and her new boyfriend enjoying eachothers' comapny down in St. Lucia."

Sometimes living in New York is like being a character in a Woody Allen movie. It really is.

The wind chill here got down to like -5 degrees last night. Bring on Spring, please!!

Favorites

2008-02-03T22:18:00.001-05:00

A very specific list of my favorite places in New York City, in no particular order (some I may have mentioned before):

1. Traveling north (or is it east?) on the Brooklyn/Queens Exwy from lower Brooklyn just as the Brooklyn Bridge appears. It is one of the most fantastic views of lower Manhattan and you get a glorious look at the majestic Bridge (and then you drinve under part of it.)

2. Sitting on the benches that face the water at the very tip of Battery Park. I like to look out past the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island and imagine history.

3. In Central Park, standing on the East side of the Resivior looking across it to the West Side of Manhattan. It's very cinematic. It also reminds me of summertime because we walk around the Resivior all the time in the summer.

4. Coming out of the tunnel on the F train right before Smith and 9th streets. If you look to the right you can see the Statue of Liberty in the harbor and again, I imagine the historical aspect. I also like to look into peoples condo windows as the train goes by. I especially like the one condo that has the big piano.

5. The corner table by the window at the Veselka on the Lower East Side. It's kind of like the Ukranian Denny's.

6. The spot in the park right by our house where you can see the lights from both the Empire State Building and the Chrystler Building. Jack usually pees here. It's an important spot.

I'm sure there are others, but that's what I was thinking of now...

A Snippit from an Actor's Life

2008-01-30T10:27:00.000-05:00

This passage was written by my best friend and former New Yorker (born and bred). She has abandoned our Shiny City for the dirty pit of Los Angeles (we will not hold that against her) but nonetheless continues to push forward in the never-ending quest for work as an actor. I thought it was worthy of sharing to you, my small blog audience, since nothing blog-worthy is happen here right now. Her story is an insight into the life of a normal person trying to make sense of the entertainment world... enjoy.

Audition 605 in my descent into madness where no one can follow.

So it begins with a call from my agent saying he has an audition for me -- an ad for a popular Chinese food chain that shall remain nameless. (Nameless except that it features pandas and the food comes fast.) Immediately, I am in Ironic Town, USA. Population: 1 -- because I have personal issues with this chain. You see, my husband loves the food this place dishes out- greasy, hang-over food dripping in faux-Asian sauce. I hate it, because it's gross, and refer to the place as "The Dirty Panda". But since it doesn't exist on the East Coast, dear husband has rekindled his love affair with its oily charms ever since we moved to CA by going at least once a week and dragging my reluctant ass with him. So, pretty stinking funny/horrible that I should get a chance to hock this crapola. My life in art.

I head down to the place and sign in, and on the sign-in table is a cup of chopsticks with a note that says we should "practice using them but not to put them in our mouths because many people would use them all day." I decline chopstick practice, as I have travelled to Asia and would have starved or at least created an international faux pas by using my hands to eat had I not learned to use chopsticks. Also, who does not know how to use chopsticks at this point? I will tell you who- the other girls in the room. They are all pinching cheap, splinter-laden chopsticks with varying degrees of skill and looking worried. I do not feel bad for them, however, as they are by and large Dutch super-models, and do not need my pity.

We go into the room in pairs. I am paired with a girl named Boblinka. I shit you not. We are to sit in front of the cameras and pick hard candies out of a chinese food carton, pretending that they are pieces of delicious orange chicken. The illusion stops short of our mouths, however, as we are told not to actually place the candies in our mouths. Awesome.

But here's where it really takes off. We are supposed to eat and chat and WATCH THE PANDA BEARS CAVORTING IN THE DISTANCE. These creatures are represented by the casting director's hand, held up just behind the camera. We are told to react "just as we normally would to panda bears" and improvise a short scene. We do so. It involves us talking about the cuteness of the hand-pandas. Then we are told to be "really interested" in what the pandas are doing, and then to break out in a "slow smile". Fuck me.

Boblinka was super nice and we commiserated on the bizareness of our lives in the elevator ride down. Then I had to write a check for 3 dollars to the parking attendant because I never have cash. I felt a little like "The Dude" in the supermarket scene in The Big Lebowski.

I will not get this commercial. But if I do, then I hearby renounce my ability to understand anything about anything. Because the world is a land of hand-pandas and fake chinese chicken, and there is nothing to do but laugh or kill yourself in such a world.

Happy New Year!

2008-01-04T20:32:00.000-05:00

I have been lax at posting, I apologize. A girl can only write on so many blogs at once, and I have been giving the baby blog all my attention. Most of you who love me (that would be the 3 of you who actually read this blog) already know all this. :)

So, New Year in New York. Rang in 2008 by cuddling with Jacky in our bed because, in a painful reminder of the fourth of July, there were fireworks all around and she was terrified.

Funny tidbit: Today we went to see "There Will Be Blood" at the BAM cinemas. After heading back to Greenpoint and exiting the beloved G train at our home-stop, the chime rang and the "doors closing" voice said its thing. Then, all of a sudden, all the scrappy high school kids on the other side of the platform start screaming "Wait! Wait! Hold the doors!!" to the train conductor. I look up to see a woman running like mad down the steps, trying to catch our train before it leaves. The crowd of school kids starts cheering her on, hollaring "You can do it!" and "Run!!" So the train conductor did, indeed, hold the doors for her. And the kids cheered. Everyone was victorious. It was just about the funniest thing I'd seen in awhile.

I heart New York.

And yet another...

2007-12-16T16:04:00.001-05:00

...lazy Sunday.

I am really into doing nothing right now. My days off are like little nuggets of pure gold with which I do absolutely nothing. I had planned, sort of, to go into Manhattan and wander, but the weather is shitty and cold ...it's so much easier just to fall asleep on the couch with the dog instead.

I like the sound of show shovels on the sidewalk. It's not a sound you hear growing up in Central California. Last night and this morning we got the lower half of another storm that probably did a lot more damage north of here. For us it was only sleet, freezing rain and wind. I woke in the middle of the night to the sound of the frozen rain hitting the window glass. In my slumberish state, I made a mental note to take a nap later in the day. That's when you know you have a real day off... when you think about sleep while asleep. (When I have a screaming newborn, someone please remind me how much sleep I took advantage of beforehand.)

One thing that downright sucks about this time of year is that these are our shortest days... at two o'clock it feels like its about to get dark. And I guess, in a way, it sort of is. How strange that the same week in December will mark both the once-again lengthening of our days and the half-way stage of this pregnancy. Things to look forward to.

Alrighty then. Time to sign off. There is all sorts of other stuff that I have to avoid working on right now.

Snow!

2007-12-02T22:44:00.000-05:00

We awoke this morning to a thin blanket of snow on the ground. According to the Farmer's Almanac, this winter is going to be a snowy one for our region. I hope so... I love snow days. And I have yet to actually see a real snow storm. Even when I lived in Chicago I never experienced an honest-to-goodness snowstorm. Periods of heavy snow yes, but nothing spectacular. I want, like, a foot or two of snow. Just once or twice.

I especially love snow days when I have the day off with my husband to enjoy it. We had ourselves a lazy Sunday laying about and playing with Jacky in the park. (Jacky loves snow more than I do... it's her version of doggy dreamland. She is always so energetic and happy when it snows. We can't help but stay out long past our comfort level just to play with her in her wintery wonderland.

Just say no...

2007-11-28T18:36:00.000-05:00

...to Christmas shopping!

Well, you don't have to. But we are! We are turning a new leaf this season and not buying any gifts. None. Not even for each other. We are also requesting that no one buy gifts for us. Instead, we have chosen two charities that are near and dear to us:

1. Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. This is a truly awesome place that any animal lover is bound to fall in love with. It is one of the biggest no-kill animal rescue organizations in the country and they do much to help homeless pets of all kinds from all over the place. We will be donating with pride and hope to this organization. Please take a look at their website... if you feel so moved, you can sponsor a pet in need for only $25. That's nothing! You don't even have to give up your whole holiday budget like we are. Every little bit helps.

2. The St. Bernard Project. My boss, a lover of all things New Orleans, turned me on to this organization. This husband and wife team are making it their mission to rebuild the hurricane-ravaged Gulf, one house at a time. Visit the website to see how each and every dollar you donate goes toward specific building materials. It's amazing how little it actually takes to get a family back into a house. And as a side note, my boss and her husband are collecting donations and traveling down to New Orleans in February to lend their labor skills to the St. Bernard Project. We are donating to this charity as well. For those who might not know, my family has some serious connections to New Orleans. My paternal grandparents were both born and raised there, as was my father. We still have tons of extended family in the Gulf and believe me, that area still needs all the help it can get.

So, there you have it. For those on my holiday card list, you'll probably get a repeat of this info with your Christmas card. Just trying to spread the word and hopefully inspire some more people to give these groups -- or to any group that they feel is worth helping.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Cue Winter

2007-11-19T20:33:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is near and winter is here. There's a "feeling" in the air outside... the sort of quality that comes along with hunkering down with warm afghans (blankets, not the dogs) and drinking tea. I've released the puffy orange coat from the closet cave and even though it's tight, it should fit for most of the winter.

We ordered "Turkey Day Dinner for Two" from Whole Foods so we don't have to cook. It comes with turkey breast, smashed potatoes, green beans, apple crisp and some other goodies. If I never have to cook another turkey as long as I live, I'll be a happy woman. Why should I do it poorly when others can do it so well? So I plan on getting up early, watching the Macy's parade on TV and then watching the dog show to follow. I will then turn my oven on and warm up my gorgeous, pre-made, $42.99 Turkey Day Dinner for Two. Perfection. The only thing better would be to be in California with my family, chaotic and loud and just like you see in Thanksgiving-esque movies.

I've not been enjoying my daily subway rides lately... usually I like to watch the parade of humanity and I like that part of being in New York is riding the great societal equalizer, the subway. But lately it seems like it's been annoying, screaming school kids and bad smells. Vomit on the train floor and people with bad attitudes who refuse to take their feet of the seat so I can sit down. I think I am overly sensitive, but I just am not into the daily grind of it all lately.

I am, however, into the idea of going to see the Rockefeller Christmas Tree and going ice skating in Prospect Park. I am into the idea of Christmas-looking (not shopping) and generally making the best of the city during the Holidays. We are going to try a new thing this Christmas - we are not buying gifts for anyone (except some kids in the family) and instead are donating our entire Christmas budget to two charities that mean a lot to us. I'll go into more detail later, but one deals with Gulf Coast Recovery and the other with (of course) animal rescue. If you are interested in matching our donation to one of our selected charities, let me know!

Cheers!

Past few days...

2007-11-05T13:10:00.000-05:00

This will be a "blogging random" type post.

1. I saw a pigeon with one foot the other day. Like one orange bird foot and one pirate-like stump. He was doing okay, though, just hanging out at the Smith/9th Street train station and looking for food. I don't hate pigeons like most people do. I'm okay with their dirty little existence. It's not like they mean to be dirty.

2. Yesterday was the New York City marathon. It comes right through Greenpoint (mile 12 out of 26.2) and we stood at the sidelines and cheered for the runners. It was pretty cool when Darth Vader, Leah, a Wookie and a Storm Trooper all ran by together (in full costume.) Most people have their names on their shirts so you can shout for them, so I spent a few minutes yelling "Go Tony!" and "Go Katie!" at people I didn't know. They were nonetheless appreciative.

3. We went to the MOMA to see Georges Seurat's drawings. They were stunning. Most were done in black conte crayon and it was absolutely bewildering what can be achieved with shadow and light on a simple piece of paper. I was inspired. I was also inspired by our visit to the MOMA museum cafe, which is one of my favorite food places. Crazy, I know. But it has such treatsy food and my mouth is watering even now just thinking of that hearts of Romaine salad with sun-dried tomatoes and toasted pine nuts. Mmmm.

4. I spent yesterday evening trying to make a stuffed raccoon. It was difficult because the fabric was stiff and didn't want to turn right-side-out after I was finished sewing. The finished product is not as cute as the example here. (I was making Clauss the Raccoon as a sample for our craft store. I though we needed an actual sample.) You should check out the rest of the website though, cause it has super cute stuff.

5. Not sure if you all know this or not, but I am officially "with child", as they say. Whoever "they" are. I'm somewhere around 13 weeks (like 3 months) and we're excited to raise a kid in New York. Who needs a backyard when you have the Museum of Natural History? Who needs money when there are hundreds of thousands of dollars in loans waiting to pay for a private school education? Who needs a real bedroom when every other kid in Brooklyn lives in a room the size of a shoebox? Despite the rigors we face, we are happy and hope for the rest of the pregnancy to be easy. We'll freak out when the child actually arrives and we have to pretend to know what we're doing.

Thats' all the news that's fit to print today.

More theatre!

2007-10-25T11:06:00.000-05:00

Let's see... we saw the Wooster Group's Hamlet at The Public Theater last week and it was three hours long. It was a stunning work of skill and madness, but it plateaued about 30 minutes in and therefore we spent another 2 1/2 hours wondering if it was going to go anywhere rlse. It didn't. Like I said, amazing skill was displayed. And then my eyes closed a little bit.

Much more exciting was going to the opening night of Black Watch at Saint Anne's Warehouse. I encourage you to read the review of the show, as it paints a nice picture of what we actually saw. What it doesn't tell you is that the theatre warms to about 85 degrees during the performance. Ugh... Afterwards there were festivities and hors devours (bacon wrapped figs, anyone?) and a few celebrity sightings: Ross from Fraiser and Bebe Neuwirth, who has the most pale white skin that I have seen. (Seemed there was a Cheers theme in the celeb attendance.)

So there you have it. Your weekly theatre post.

Should have posted this last week...

2007-10-17T14:22:00.000-05:00

but I was distracted. More about that in another post, later.

One morning last week (Friday?), husband and doggy and I left the house to walk to the subway. (I was walking to the subway, they were along for the ride.) Parked in front of our house was a guy in an SUV. As we closed our front gate, he said to us "Hey, did you guys see your neighbor?" Not knowing what he was talking about, we shook our heads. "It's this guy!" he says, and show us the front page of the New York Post.

We don't know who the naked man on the cover of the trash-rag is. We shrug. The dude tells us that Naked Guy lives across the street from us, and even though everyone's pretty sure he's in Bellvue Mental Hospital, SUV guy was hanging around to see if he could get some pictures.

Okay... the freakin' paparazzi is in front of my house. In Greenpoint. Granted, there's only one guy, but it's the guy who took the photos for the Post. He told us, proudly, that he took those cover photos. "But don't tell anybody you saw me!" he added.

So, yeah. Don't tell anyboy.

um, can I say YAY?

2007-10-11T09:04:00.001-05:00

I cannot wait for this:

Taking advantage of the cultural offerings:

2007-10-07T18:31:00.000-05:00

We've seen a lot of shows lately. There's really nothing better than a live show, be it a play or musical performance. I can't believe how much of my adult life was spent in rehearsal for my own shows, therefore missing most of what the rest of the world had to offer. No more! Now I just go, watch, absorb, and am on my way. Delightful.

Some of what we have seen as of late:

King Lear by the Royal Shakespeare Company. Sir Ian McClellan (sp?) played Lear and it was stunning. The set, the color, the lighting, the sound design, the acting... all around a freaking fantastic theatrical experience from start to finish. The kind of show that gives you chills when it begins. It also helped that it was done at the BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) Harvey Theatre, which is a crumbling old beauty of a theatre that, in itself, is a piece of art.

Kronos Quartet, also at BAM and also in the Harvey Theatre. Kronos is this amazing avante-garde musical ensemble that does some stunning stuff with their instruments, but also uses various media and set dressings that create strange and beautiful shows. This particular show began with a giant (maybe 30 foot tall) marionette on stage next to the quartet. The chest of the marionette opened, and inside was a small (and creepy) puppet show that moved along to the music. Simultaneously, the images were projected onto a screen high above the stage. It was all so very cool.

The Misanthrope at New York Theatre Workshop. Quite possibly the best play I have ever seen. If you happen to be in New York and you are reading this: go see this play. The acting was flawless, in my opinion (and Rick's). They also played around with live video during the show, filming actors and showing it on plasma screen tv's mounted on the minimalist set. This got especially interesting when the spicy action spilled outside the theatre and onto the street, catching passers by off guard -- and on film. Quite an effect for us still in our seats. Also exciting was the fact that Bill Pullman sat directly in front of us. I really like Bill Pullman. I like that movie Zero Effect that he did back in the 90's. He's doing a play here right now, and he was with the director of that play (who Rick, of course, knew.)

Which brings me to a slight sidebar: seeing celebrities in New York City. Yeah... I haven't seen too many. Not that I am obsessed with famous people (please, I am way more obsessed with, like, my dog) but it is interesting to see someone who you have ever only seen in films. I have seen:

Elijah Wood (on the 1 train going uptown. He has beautiful skin.)

Heath Ledger (in Park Slope, before his divorce and with his child.)

Kevin Smith (somewhere in the Village, at night)

Steve Buschemi (actually I have seen him several times as he lives right near my work. I always think of Donny in The Big Lebowski.)

Maggie Gyllenhall (this is a maybe sighting... none of us could be sure if it was actually her. Also, I did not bother looking up how to spell her last name.)

Paul Giamatti (I have never seen him but Rick regularly sees him shopping in St. Marks bookstore.)

I have not seen Liv Tyler. If I did , I would probably approach her and say something like "Hi, Liv. Even though I don't know you at all, you seem really super-cool and I don't have a lot of girl-type friends here yet, so maybe you'd like to come to my super-cute apartment in Greenpoint and I'll make us tea like I used to make all my best girlfriends during our undergrad days in college and we can reminisce about coming-of-age in Tuscany that one summer -oh, wait that was you in Stealing Beauty- sometimes I get confused because I've seen it so many times, oh wait... please don't run away - no, you don't have to call the cops, I swear I am not a stalker... okay, yeah. Yeah. Bye. Call me."

Okay, I am not a freak. I swear. Just tired. And with that, I'll leave to go eat raviolis. Or rather, I will go eat raviolis.

Talented friends...

2007-09-27T22:09:00.000-05:00

...paint you funny pictures of your pets. As proven by this lovely work of art by Nicole, which now hangs in our bathroom:

You know you are a New Yorker when:

2007-09-26T07:27:00.000-05:00

- You have no qualms about yelling at someone for rubbing all nasty-like up against you on the subway. (I forgot that years of actor training left me with a voice that has absolutely no problem carrying throughout the entire train car, thusly warning all those around that the pree-verts are lurking.)

- You are walking up the stairs to exit the subway station and a rat comes scurtteling (new word) down the stairs as though he is trying to catch the train, and you look at which ever person happens to be closest to you and you both dissolve into laughter. A little gross, but a lot funny. Only in New York.

- Every week, for the past year, you have done a wedding invitation with the Brooklyn Bridge on it. Of course, that didn't happen so much in Chicago or DC. Chicago didn't really have a set landmark that people over-used, but in DC people used cherry blossoms a lot.

- You wear the comfy shoes for the walk and change into the cute high heels once at the destination.

- You recycle obsessively.

- You eat street hotdogs without fear.

- You aim for certain cars on the subway trains because you know they'll drop you closest to the exit that you need.

- You walk into your morning bagel shop and fall instantly into a conversation about the Mayan Cosmogenisis and the possibility of the world ending in 2012. With the oaf-ish, goofy bagel guy behind the counter and the UPS man waiting for his coffee.

- You see TV shows where, in other parts of the country, people live in houses with, like, 3000 sq/ft and you think "Who on earth needs that much space?"

Note: Doggy seems to be doing better, although she is still on pain meds. She doesn't flinch when you touch her face anymore, so hope for the best!

Doggy

2007-09-23T20:00:00.000-05:00

We spent the morning at the vet with Jacky. Our poor girl has something wrong with her non-eye. It is very tender to the touch and aside from that, she is very lethargic and sort of just sits around, hanging her little head with her other eye half closed. The vet couldn't find anything wrong with her, and since nobody wants to go trying to open a permanently closed eye we can't really see if there's anything wrong in there. His best guess is that she whacked her head, and it's sore. But I'm not sure. Something just doesn't seem right.

So keep your fingers crossed for our furry creature the next day or so. Her mommy and daddy won't sleep well until they know she's healthy again.

Things for which to be glad...

2007-09-18T20:46:00.000-05:00

1. It is Autumn. This is grand, grand news. Crunchy leaves and crispy air that smells good. (Most of the time. This is Greenpoint, after all. You have to expect some nastiness in the air now and again.)

2. Delicious pizza slices on the walk home from work. And for only $1.75. A steal, especially since I know that next door to the pizza place you can also get a decent cup of coffee for fifty cents. Sometimes it pays to live in the out-there neighborhoods.

3. Travels to California - the northern part. Rick and I spent the weekend at my cousins wedding in Livermore which was lovely. Warm evenings and sea breezes and a beautiful party in a picturesque location. Not to mention spending time with my fabulous family.

4. Public television. Thanks to them for broadcasting Lincoln Center's opening night live and allowing me to watch YoYo Ma play my favorite cello works from Dvorak's cello concerto -- right in my living room. Stunning.

5. The girls at the doggy daycare for taking such good care of my furry girl while we were away in Cali. I think Jacky loves them more than me sometimes. But i don't think she knows that I pay them to love her, so... don't tell her.

6. Brooklyn Academy of Music's presentation of The Royal Shakespeare's King Lear. Sir Ian is playing Lear, and this is sure to be one extraordinary performance. Tickets are so hard to come by that Rick and I don't even get to sit together. Saturday (Yom Kippur! No work for me!) we will prepare to be stunned.

7. Bangs. Lunatic fringe. I cut myself some bangs a few weeks ago, and I don't hate them. Yet.

8. Whole fruit strawberry popsicles. These are crazy, addictive little things with no added sugar and packed full of pure deliciousness. We buy them 3 boxes at a time.

9. New seasons of The Office and 30 Rock coming up next week. These shows showcase some of the best writing in television these days.

10. As I said before, fall is approaching which means that winter will soon be here and that mean Christmas cards! Yay! I am the only atheist I know with a wicked addiction to sending holiday cards. I have already chosen my card for this year and will be ordering them this week. Viva la Holidays!!!

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

2007-09-10T18:18:00.000-05:00

Has anyone read this gorgeous book lately? I finished it for the first time and it left me with same euphoric sense that "To Kill A Mockingbird" did. I already miss the characters, especially the main character Francie. It's exceptional, and the story happens to take place in Williamsburg and Greenpoint. Here's a tidbit:

When they got to the Brooklyn side [of the bridge], she said that he was not to take her the rest of the way home. He'd get lost if he tried to find his way back to New York from her neighborhood. Brooklyn was tricky that way. You had to live there in order to find your way about, she said.

In truth, she didn't want him to see where she lived. She loved her neighborhood and wasn't ashamed of it. But she felt that to a stranger who didn't know about it the way she did, it might seem a mean and shabby place.

For what it's worth, I totally agree with Francie Nolan.

Fall(ish)

2007-09-10T11:15:00.001-05:00

The trees in the park are just starting to turn. But it's been dry as a bone here, so maybe they are just dying. No, I think they're turning. Last year, upon arriving in Brooklyn, I tried to photograph the same part of the park each day in hope of capturing some time-lapse tree-turning escapade. I gave up about three pictures in. I will try again this year. But it is my renewed mission to continue into the winter and through the spring, so perhaps -if all goes right and well- we will have a photographic tree extravaganza of McGolrick Park. Does that sound so exciting?

We go to San Francisco this week for my cousin's wedding. This is the first wedding in our family in gawd-knows-how-long. My wedding was non-existent; we eloped. I am not big on overt displays of sentimentality nor am I big on dropping tens of thousands of dollars on a party, so eloping was the way to go for us. Plus, when you work in the wedding industry like I do, you get a warped perspective of it all. All that being said, I am not above celebrating other people's happiness and cannot wait to see my family. I plan on having a fantistic time, and will accept nothing less. Plus the wedding is at a lovely winery with delicious scenery, so you can't go wrong. We fly on Virgin America, which is a new airline. Swanky.

Our landlord gave us some New York Jets season opener tickets for yesterdays game. I (thankfully) had to work so Rick took a friend and off they drove to Jersey to watch some football. Not my favorite past time, but the had a good time and got plenty sunburned.

In other news, I have re-enable comments on my blog. So feel free to comment. But don't get too bitchy; my mom reads this blog and she'll ground you.

Two days in list form:

2007-09-06T19:56:00.000-05:00

Wednesday:

1. Woke up.

2. Cleaned house (swiffered dog hairs off floor.)

3. Played music on piano and sang.

4. Went to movies alone (saw Once. Highly recommended.) Left theatre with a sad, euphoric sense.

5. Met Husband at Bryant Park. (Bad idea. "Fashion Week" is happening in Bryant Park and thusly this section of Manhattan is crowed with tons of tall, anorexic women and boys is skinny pants.)

6. Scowl at anorexic women (and yearn for days past when these thighs could actually wear size 2. )

7. Send Husband off to class and buy super-cute grass green jacket for half-price at Macy's. (Only after dodging mass of people crowed on main level of Macy's for a Celebrity Engagment featuring vocalist Fergie. Ferie, by the by, looked suspiciously like a porn star.)

8. Some how end up at home, tired and falling asleep ont he couch as usual.

Thursday:

1. Got up.

2. Played with doggy in park.

3. Practiced cello.

4. Got pissed off at cello and played piano instead.

5. Met cousin Mica and Friend (in town for 4 hours before heading to JFK) and noshed at the Veselka.

6. Took the boys to the best book store ever, The Strand.

7. Sat in Union Square people and squirrel watching.

8. Crack-head girl wearing a TuPac tshirt asks Mica for a cigarette. He makes her tell him what her favorite TuPac song is first. She is deemed legit, and given a cigarette.

9. Send the guests on their way to JFK via A train.

10. Cello lesson.

11. Present moment.

Rag weed and bitters.

2007-09-03T21:44:00.001-05:00

On Sunday we went on an outing to the Poconos to have a BBQ with some of Husband's collegues. They live in a charming little mountainy villiage next to a lake so we brought Jacky with us to explore the wildlife. She was on her very best behaviour and enjoyed being petted by all the guests, as well as getting scraps of ham and pasta. The good behaviour ended when a deer charged through the backyard stream and up into the mountain side - I had to physically restrain our dog as her "nature, tooth and claw" instict kicked in. She really wanted that deer. Anyway, it was an absolutely gorgeous day and we had a good time.

In other news I am suffering from the Worst Allergies Ever. They got suspicious st Target when I asked to buy 3 boxes of Pseudoephedrine Generic Brand ClaritainD, but jesushchristonabike, people - I am miserable here. I only was allowed one box (lest I cook crank with the tablets) and honestly, even with the drugs coursing through my rushing blood, I am still sneezing like a freak. I am not sure how I will sleep tonight, but I think whiskey will have to be involved. I have managed to get by by constantly sucking on Fisherman's Friend cough drops (very mentholy, helps dry out the nasal passages) and relaxing into a zen state that lets me forget about clawing my nose off with sandpaper.

We hit Ikea today to get a desk for Husband's new office at school and had to push through the hordes of Back to School dorm shoppers. Once on campus, I proceeded to build his desk in record time. I am an Ikea Furniture Building Master of the Tenth Degree.

Cheers, peeps. Hang in for Fall... I smelled October in the air when we were driving through Pennsylvania, and the tips of the trees are starting to turn.

Supposedly Solved Mystery of the Park Slope Bride

2007-08-31T21:58:00.001-05:00

It's always a little less exciting when you learn all the facts, but here they (reportedly) are in the Brooklyn Paper.

The story still made for great photos, though.

So nice they named it twice.

2007-08-30T21:23:00.000-05:00

Indeed.

I have offcially lived in this fine city one full year. Am I still a "new" New Yorker? Probably. Maybe. Some days.

Some days I am totally satisfied to ride the subway and judge each neighborhood from below by the quality of the passengers getting on and off the train. Some days I revel in the sameness of my tiny daily routine within the boundaries of one of the craziest places on Earth. Some days I offer directions to a tourist with pride. I wave in passing to people that I now know in my neighborhood. (Mostly people with dogs. I know the dog's names, but not the people's.) We say hello to our next door neighbors and they say hi back.

I have memorized the sounds and rythms of the streets around here, and I am not afraid to call it home. I ceremoniously turned in my out-of-state drivers license to the DMV yesterday and obtained a New York one. And for the first time in a long, long time my license will have my home address on it. This if the first time in 5 years that I haven't had to worry about where I am going to live after the year is up... we have no where else to be but here. And that, my friends, is contentment.

This time last year, Rick, doggy and I were driving (once again) across our United States. It was rainy almost the whole way from Illinois to New York, and we stopped in Motel 6's and Red Roof Inns each night because they have a very liberal pets policy. And they are cheap. When we finally drove into Brooklyn, and more specifically Greenpoint, I was on a knifes edge of sanity. I thank all my stars that Nicole was here and living just down the street from our nasty sublet apartment. I don't know how well I would have faired without her. And poor Jack. She spent so much time in the car. See, I had packed our Subaru to the gills and left only a shepherd-sized hole on one side of the backseat. She hates the car, even today. I think that last ride cross-country really traumatized her. Our sublet wasn't ready for another couple of days, so we had to stay in a hotel. And no hotel would take Jack. We ended up at the JFK Airport Marriot for like three nights. Ugh, what hell. They weren't even going to let us stay there with the dog, except that when they told me "no, we only take small dogs" I burst out crying so loud that they signed us in so I wouldn't frighten the other guests. But we made it out alive and only a little battle-ragged.

Now, here I am. I still crane my neck every morning to see the Statue of Liberty in the harbor as the F train climbs out of the tunnel and pulls into Smith/9th Street station. I get my directional bearings by locating the Empire State Building.
I have secret places in the city that I love to visit. I know how to find a public restroom in Manhattan in a heartbeat. I turn off my iPod and eavesdrop on subway conversations, which can be far more interesting that music sometimes. I sing to myself when walking without shame. I stand on line, not in line. I take my coffee regular. I am blissfully in the company of millions of Liberals who hate George W. Bush just as much as I do. No one gives a shit that I am an athiest. I can find any book I want at the Strand. I know to avoid Times Square at all costs. I walk fast. I wave at FDNY firetrucks as they drive by. I don't go a day without stopping to appreciate the place that I now call home.

Sure, there are rats in the subways and drunks sleeping on the park benches. There are also amazing violinists in the park. You take the good with the bad.

This has been kind of a mish-mash blog post, but I was really just writing as things came to me. I guess I still get to be a "new" New Yorker, but even if I don't I still get to share funny, silly, sad, and interesting city goings-on with you all.

Bottom line: I love this city. I don't ever want to leave.

The happy couple in Central Park.
August 2007

My 30th Trip Around the Sun

2007-08-12T09:06:00.001-05:00

My college friend and fellow blogger Lambhat wished me a "happy 30th trip around the sun" on Friday, which was indeed my 30th birthday. I liked it - both the phrase, and my birthday. I shall recount for you the past couple of days that I have spent in my new decade...

Friday: The Day Of. I awoke to a cold, rainy oh-shit-are-the-subways-broken-again morning. No, the subways were not broken again, but that didn't stop me from calling a car service to take me to my 90-minute birthday massage. I emerged from the fancy-pants spa two hours later with jello for muscles and a strong desire to sleep. It was pouring, and about 40 degrees colder than it had been for the entire week prior. I stepped in puddles, cursed, felt the magic of the massage quickly dripping off onto the wet streets, gave up, and hailed a cab. The cabbie bitched at me when I told him that I needed to go back to Brooklyn. He said it was a good thing I was beautiful or he would have kicked me out of the cab. (Note to non-New Yorkers: this is illegal. No cabbie can refuse to take you anywhere unless it's, like, Florida.) I told him to shut up and drive, since it was my 30th birthday. He responded that he would charge me double. Whatever. Just take me some so I can nap.

Once home, Husband and I went to the greasy spoon diner for breakfast. Then I napped, for 3 hours. Now that is a birthday.

Cut to Saturday. I went to my music lesson, but instead of being in Williamsburg it was in Wall Street. Going to that part of Manhattan is always sort of a treat for me because if you look past all the Rite Aids and Ann Taylor Lofts and tourists with their guide books held firm like bibles, you see the oldest part of the city. You see the narrow, winding cobblestone streets. You can imagine the sort of New York from long, long ago... the kind of New York that Pete Hamill writes about with such loving detail. Beyond all the street barriers are the ghosts and echos of what made this city, and if the day is right, you can hear them. After my lesson, feeling very moved by all of this, I went down the water's edge, to Battery Park. This is tourist central, for it is where you catch the boat to Liberty and to Ellis Island. I am also always very moved by both of the landmarks, because I like to let my thoughts wander on various ancestors arriving in the harbor. I am terribly sentimental about history.

As I stood leaning against the rail, watching the boats pass and staring into space in the warm sunshine, I decided that I was going to play my cello for these wandering tourists. I've never played in front of anyone, really, except for my teacher and my husband. And I've really only been studying for 8 months, so I am nowhere near good. But out came the cello, and I played a few scales and shoved my case under the bench so people wouldn't think I was trying to earn money with my shaky attempt at public performance. Some around me perked up a little to listen, some ignored me. I played a few wrong notes, but all in all it was a delightful experience. I played what few songs I know very slowly and mournfully (they sound better that way) and when the people moved on and new listeners moved in, I played the same mournful songs again. (Thus discovering one secret to busking.) After about half an hour I was hot and beginning to get sunburned so I packed up and headed to the subway. On my way down the stairs, I heard someone say "Hey! There's that girl who was practicing by the water!" I was secretly proud that a) she knew I was just practicing and therefore did not judge my crappy sound and b) that I had dared to do it in the first place.

As I boarded the subway, a pirate exited. I don't know if he was a real pirate, having been separated from his vessel and therefore forced to take public transport, but a pirate nonetheless. Once inside the subway, it was discovered that he has left behind a very beautiful and complex balloon hat that quickly became the fascination of a young brother and sister across from me.

I love New York. I really, really do.

Good thing I have the day off...

2007-08-08T13:44:00.000-05:00

We awoke this morning (I'd say around 4:00 or 5:00 am) to torrential, slamming rains; wild non-stop lightning, and the loudest thunder I have ever heard. Ever. (And let me remind you that Chicago offers up some pretty impressive thunderstorms.) Some crazy, unpredicted storm had cruised into the Tri-state and decided to wreck us.

After we (okay, after Rick) sopped upped the puddles of rain that had streamed in our open windows, we finally got back to sleep as the storm wore off. When we woke back up around 9:00, we found out that every single subway line in the city was completely screwed. The G train (our neighborhood train) was down. The F train, which I use to go to work, was down. And as of 2:00, they are still down. Along with the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, E, Q, R, M, etc etc etc...

The MTA issued notices for people to just stay home. To not even try to go to work. Great. The greatest city in the world, and we are crippled by 3 inches of rain. Okay, so three inches of rain that fell with in 45 minutes.

As much as I sound like I am bitching, I actually kind of like the excitement, because it's my day off.

Bridal Drama in Park Slope...

2007-07-25T09:18:00.000-05:00

...I am somewhat used to. Being that the wedding industry is the field in which I earn my living. (And also the reason we eloped.) But THIS, ladies and gentleman of the jury, takes (tops?) the wedding cake:

a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMZxENZ0tds/RqdcYNhWfbI/AAAAAAAAAFE/937bGzl4Vg0/s1600-h/873873369_a4d063b7a4.jpg">
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Read the story here.

From the far roots of my family tree:

2007-07-13T19:41:00.000-05:00

How cool is this? I am totally going to memorize these phrases. I can't believe I have been here almost a year and still don't speak a lick of Polish. It's a damn shame.

http://www.greenpunkt.com/polish.html

Daily Adventure

2007-07-09T21:33:00.000-05:00

I thought that kids only played in open fire hydrant streams on Sesame Street and in Spike Lee movies. However, I was wrong. When I went to Williamsburg this afternoon for my music lesson, there were no less than three hydrants that had been relieved of their caps and were sending raging streams of water into the street. The temperature was almost to the century mark and there were dozens of kids romping around in the splashy street. I was totally jealous. If I didn't have a cello strapped to me, I would have joined them.

In other news, while I was at my lesson I left doggy home by herself to bask in the air conditined coolness. I practiced our usual low-key departure routine so as to not get her all riled up. I made a peanut butter-filled Kong for her to lick, I left some NY Times by the door for her to toss around. I slipped out quietly and returned after my lesson, about 90 minutes later. As I came up the stairs, I heard her bark a big-dog bark. I expected to open the door, and to find her usual "I've read the paper" mess that she leaves us. Which I did:

But I found no doggy. No wiggly, crazed animal to greet me. Then I heard a bark and and a yowl and scratching from... inside the bathroom. That crazy animal had somehow gotten herself locked in there, and proceeded to freak the hell out. I opened the door. She came rushing out and scrambled around in her torn papers. And then proudly told me all about how she accomplished the following during the time she had been stuck in the bathroom:

1) tore my new bra in 2 seperate but equal parts

2) ripped exactly 4 new holes in a perfectly good towel

3) slobbered all over and chewed a new(ish) pair of underwear to an unreconizable state

4) dumped and scattered the contents of the trash bin

5) chewed corners of aforementioned trash bin

6) bled a little bit on everything.

Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I present you with photo evidence:

Inside your head, man. Not mine.

2007-07-08T15:04:00.001-05:00

This morning, while doing our daily early constitutional around our leafy park, we stopped to pet/sniff/play with two dogs that sat with their owners near a bench. We were exchanging the usual friendly dog-owner banter about breeds and playfulness and these sorts of things when a black bug flew by, sort of lazily. This was the conversation that ensued:

Guy on Bench: Whoa... are you seeing that bug? That really weird-looking bug?

Chick on Bench: Yeah...

Guy on Bench: That's like a really weird kind of bug, man.

Chick on Bench: Like the kind that fly inside your head and eat your brain?

Me: (sarcastically, playing along) Yeah, I hate that kind of bug.

Guy on Bench: (blinks.)

Chick on Bench: (blinks.)

Guy on Bench: No, it's really weird cause it's one of those bugs that looks like that futuristic aircraft, you know?

Chick on Bench: (nodding.) Yeah. Yeah.

This scene has been brought to you by AM High, or Can I Get a Little of What You Took.

Boom. boomobooomboom.

2007-07-04T22:35:00.000-05:00

Greenpoint sounds as though it is under attack. It has for the past 5 hours or so. Sure, we could see and hear the massive fireworks from the river betwixt us and Manhattan, and those were some pretty big booms. We could see the finale through the trees in the park. But it also seems as though ever other household in this neighborhood has an illegal fireworks cache purchased straight outta Mexico City. And we are not talking pretty, sparkly, spinny do-it-the-middle-of-the-driveway type fireworks, we're talking shoot-them-in-the-sky-and-hope-they-don't-hit-the-house-across-the-street-holy-shit-that-was-LOUD kind of fireworks.

The terds across the street from me are, on a good day, the most annoying kids on the block. They are the tools who play football or baseball in the middle of the street with no regard for slamming into someone's parked car. (Editor's note: I am fully aware that we live in an urban environ that limits certain types of outdoor activity - but I also live across the street from one of the best parks in the neighborhood. Go play fackin' football there.) Anyway, these fools have been shooting off exploding crap towards our side of the street for about 2 hours now. What husband and I can't understand is why no one cares but us. I have watched flaming stuff smack into several houses this evening. Ugh, and the noise... it hasn't stopped for hours. Not just booms, but screaming, wailing, annoying nonsense coming at us from all angles.

Why do people like to blow things up?

Because of the evenings events, my dog has spent the past few hours curled into a shaking, panting, slobbering ball in the furthest reaches of the bathroom. We dragged her outside so she could pee, but she just curled into a ball in the grass. Once we got back inside she ran back to the bathroom and has not shown herself since. I guess the bathroom is a good place to hide.

So as not to sound like a totally whiny bitch, I will finish off this blog with two positive notes:

1. I have 2 (two!) days off in a row!!

2. We saw "Ratatouille" at the movies today and it was GOOD. Go see it.

2007-06-20T08:27:00.000-05:00

The following was lifted from the Overheard:New York site. Props go to my darling friend in LJ for the link. And for what it's worth, G train = Greenpoint.

I Meant Nowhere White People Would Want to Go:

Blond Tourist Bimbo: I've never even heard of the G Train.

Blond Local Bimbo: Yeah, it's a ghetto train.

Blond Tourist Bimbo: Where does it go?

Blond Local Bimbo: Nowhere.

Black eight-year-old boy: Except my home, bitch.

--G train Hoyt/Schermerhorn station

Me and that Eight-year-old kid are the best or friends now.

Fireflies (lightning bugs?)

2007-06-18T20:35:00.000-05:00

If there's one thing that the children who grow up in California are deprived of, it's fireflies. Seriously, they are the coolest bugs. Ever. I saw my first firefly of the season this evening while we walked Jacky in the park, and I shrieked with the delight of a four-year old getting pie.

In other news...

On Saturday night we had a date to see Shakespeare in the Park, which is at the De La Court outdoor theatre in Central Park. My brilliant other half has always spoken highly of the experience, but I had never been. It was sort of hectic getting uptown to Central Park, as I was coming from work and he and I had agreed to meet at a particular train stop that was, this particular evening, not running. Each of us, on our own, devised identical plans to circumvent this train mishap and continued up town (now racing against the clock to get to the show on time.) As the A train that I was riding pulled into 59th Street, it announced that this was the last stop. But I had to get to 81st Street... crap. I hopped off the train with all the other irked and confused passengers and tried to decide how I was going to make it to the park in time. As I climbed the steps out of the subway, I saw my darling husband... he had been on the same train and, gleeful as we were to see each other, we needed to be at the ticket window by 7:30 or they were going to release our tickets. No choice but to grab a taxi. He asked if I had any cash, and I said no. Neither did he. We hailed a cab anyway. And giggled about not having any money to pay for it. (We ended up having the driver drop the husband off at the park and he drove me to an ATM. They I ran all the way back to the park, cause it was faster that having him drive me.) Rick got the tickets just in time and all was well.

As we took our seats, it was sunset and the stage was surrounded by trees and birds and all manner of lovely Central Park ambiance. We saw Romeo and Juliet (for the zillionth time - I never tire of it), and I have to tell you it was one of the best theatrical experiences of my life. It was absolutely gorgeous... the sets, the performances, hearing the birds sing and watching the play as the sky turned black and the stars came out... the breezes were blowing and all sorts of serendipitous little elemental things kept happening throughout out the performance. Romeo bursting upon Juliet's balcony scared away the cranes that were sleeping in the trees above the stage. There was, at one point, a raccoon that wandered onstage and came very close to stealing the show. And, best of all, when Juliet stabbed herself and collapsed onto Romeo's dead body, an owl came out of nowhere and let out a low who-who as he flew across the stage, past the dead couple. It was a lovely night.

In yet other news...

I had a brief (they're always too brief) sojourn to the Homeland (California) earlier this week. I didn't tell anybody I was coming because I needed some good-old-fashioned hangout time with my family. I always feel like they get the short end of the stick when I visit, so I made a special trip to just sit around and veg with the peeps who know me best. And, other than the horribly cramped seats and shitty service of American Airlines, I had a great time.

The Subway Series: A lonely photo montage on the G train

2007-06-03T19:16:00.001-05:00

Bad Blogger.

2007-06-01T21:33:00.001-05:00

Oh, I've been bad at blogging.

I have been a slave to the stationery work world (not to be confused with the stationary work world.) Things here have been fairly normal and quite warm, which is fantastic.

The clerk at the food store talked to me in Polish for about three minutes while she rang up my food. When I didn't answer she said "You don't speak Polish, do you?" No, I told her and shook my head. She laughed and said, "This whole time I thought you did... you look so Polish!"

Greenpoint, I have arrived.

Blogglets here and there

2007-05-18T19:00:00.000-05:00

So, here's the usual excuse: I have been working a lot so when I get home at night, I try to avoid the computer a little so I can spend time with my dog and my husband. But the other half is off at a show, so here I am to catch y'all up. On what, I'm not so sure. Right now I'm just kind of trying to contemplate the place my belly is in, after me having eating nearly an entire bag of blue corn chips and a full jar of creamy southwestern ranch dip. Sounds good, right? It was.

Last Saturday, husband and dog and I went to the "dog beach" in Prospect Park. (That's the giant, huge, massive park in the neighborhood of Park Slope.) Park Slope is to Brooklyn what Lincoln Park is to Chicago, only a little crunchier and a lot richer. The strollers are big, parking is nil, and everyone has a dog. But I digress. We went to the Big Park and found the little, tiny dog beach. It was a portion of shore fenced off from the rest of the lake, perhaps thirty feet long and twenty feet deep. And for a dog who was used to frolicking up and down the longt beaches of Lake Michigan, it just wasn't worth it. If Jack could have given this beach the finger, she would have. Of course this led to me removing my shoes and wading into the putrid, icy water and trying to lure her in against her will. I did succeed in luring in a giant chocolate labrador, and was thusly splashed from head to toe. Good times.

Husband of mine is now officially done teaching for the year and has begun The World's Longest Summer Break. That is, of course, until he begins his second official job as a PhD student. Please wish him luck. Of course he's been getting email after email from his students professing how much they love him and how much they enjoyed his classes. What can I say? He's born to teach, for him it is truly a gift. My gift is an uncanny abilty to convince people not use comic sans or papyrus on their wedding invitations. See? We are each and all of us unique and wonderful snowflakes.

I get to attend the National Stationery Show here in New York this week... it's sort of like the Mother Ship is calling me home. Me and acres and acres of beautiful paper products... I might die of happiness. When I am not dying, I will be trying to suss out new and fun printing companies that we can represent in the shop. All other moments will be spent rolling around in piles of lovely letterpressed sheets and finely engraved papers. Yes, paper cuts may happen.

Summer is really trying to arrive here, but today it's been freakin' cold. I sense California wants to send me some sun, though.

New York Movie

2007-05-08T19:55:00.000-05:00

The neighborhood where I take music lessons is a largely Puerto Rican section of Williamsburg, just outside the super-ultra-hipster section but still cool enough to snag a great apartment above some scrappy little bodega without paying $2000 a month. There are all sorts of colorful characters peppering the streets and I am always reminded of the obligatory New York Movie scenes where kids are sitting around on porch stoops hollaring at each other or playing handball in a deserted school playground. Tinny-sounding music wafts around from where ever and it smells like all manner of fried, crunchy things. It is, like so many things, very New York. Or maybe, it's very Brooklyn.

Yesterday I arrived at my music lesson early, so I stood outside of the building just soaking up some sunshine and watching time pass me by. The building is big, the kind where you have to be buzzed in, and there is always a steady stream of people going in and out who always offer to let me in without knowing who I am. I supposed they assume the big, black cello-shaped back pack that I have strapped to myself is indeed actually a cello and not some frightening torture device with which I will terrorize the residents. So, yeah, as I am waiting in the sun about four people asked if I needed to go inside and I declined. Continued sunning myself.

An older grandmotherly-type woman was crossing the street toward the front door of the building and stopped to talk to some guy in a car as he waited for the light to change. I saw her reach into the car and warmly grab his hand, and then when he took off and she walked toward the door, where I was standing. In a wonderfully thick accent, she asked if I needed to be let in. I told her no, thank you, but I needed to wait. She smiled and turned to the door, but then she turned back to me. "He is such a nice young man now." I realized she was talking about the guy in the car that she had just been talking to. She continued, "I was so worried about him for many years... I didn't think he could get it together. But now, when I see him, I see that he grew up all right." I smiled at her and muttered something lame, I can't remember what. "I guess you grow up and you smell the coffee," she said and grinned.

"Yeah, I know I did," I told her.

"Okay," she said. "It's good to see you. Take care."

I told her it was good to see her, too. Even though I had never seen her before. Because it was good to see her. It's nice when someone shares a pleasant thought with you for no reason, you know?

So the time had gone by and I buzzed and then plodded up the five flights of cracked, sloping marble stairs to my lesson.

Photo montage

2007-05-02T18:09:00.000-05:00

Happened upon some racks of free clothes that had been left behind by some TV costume crew. They were mostly mens clothes, and my husband is the happy new owner of the following items: a London Fog trenchcoat, a formal alpaca coat, three brand new pairs of Levi's and a nice button down shirt. He also got two new pairs of black leather gloves, which were hidden in the pockets of the coats. It must have been a crime drama shoot...

Some fleurs in the park...

This adorable little girl on a poster in the subway taunts me as I wait for the ever-so-slow G train.

Cool ships abound at the Southt Street Seaport. Sort of like Pier 39 for you Californians.

Urban turkey who seemed pretty content to hang around Lower Manahttan.

spring observations

2007-05-02T13:31:00.000-05:00

You watch and you wait, and there in between the watching and the waiting you think about a time when the cold sticks that pretend to be trees won't be cold sticks anymore. You think about open windows and street sounds wafting through a lazy apartment on a lazy day, or walks to work that don't include puffy coats, silly hats and an ice cold wind finding the spaces that you forgot to cover on your self.

And then, all at once and altogether too slowly, the trees begin to have specks of green and puffs of pinks. The sun hangs around much later than it did in January and dares to remind you of steamy summer evenings that have yet to arrive. Spring is here, and my East Coast Spring (unlike my West Coast Spring) takes its sweet time to reintroduce itself to us. But I am ready.

I am reminded of the house that I refer to as my true Childhood Home on a little cul-de-sac in Fresno. When I think of Spring, I think of that house and it's wide open windows. I think of sunshine streaming in and catching specks of dust in the air of my bedroom and I think of green shag carpet and a backyard that offered endless opportunities. I think of Girl Scout meetings on the back porch and of bottle-brush trees blooming red and buzzing with bees. I think of open garage doors and hydrangas and calla lillies. Nostalgia is a beautiful thing.

Sunny Side of the Street

2007-04-25T19:28:00.000-05:00

So my father paid us an extended weekend visit and we did many fun New York-y type things such as:

* see a show at Radio City Music Hall (Loreena McKennitt, quite nice)

* visit the new Hall of Human Origins at the Museum of Natural Histroy

* eat at our favorite Ukranian restaurant

* ride the subway, a lot

* ride the subway, a lot more

* guess as to why the Empire State building was lit green (Earth Day, Dad was right)

* buy stuff off sketchy street vendors

* visit the ships at South Street Seaport

* take picture of bad-ass old buildings

* walk across Central Park

* witness a tv show being filmed in our park

We had a great time because with him my father brought the California weather.

We rejoiced and frolicked in the sun; all was well.

Back to rain, back to work!

Comments

2007-04-21T18:08:00.000-05:00

I've disabled my comments because I'm sick of having to delete the snatchy remarks some people have been leaving.

To my loyal friends and family readers, you can email me comments if you like. I will continue to update you on my life here because I miss you people and wish you were here with me.

To my readers who find themselves so bored with my "excuse for a blog" that they have to leave me messages telling me how lame it is, I pose this question: if it's so bad, why have you come back to leave the same comment every time I delete it? Haven't you some other blog to spat upon? Cheers, pal. You win the "Cooler Than Me" award.

Visitation

2007-04-20T00:03:00.000-05:00

My father's here for a visit, and here's what that means: the evening was spent playing the following instruments with much enthusiasm and little skill: cello, guitar, piano, violin (after much tuning)and singing various crazy songs that he seems to remember from god-knows-where. We discovered that Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" seems to have inspired Mason William's "Saturday Night at the World" and spent a good amount of time getting creative with musical forensics - it was sort of like CSI, only with late 60's music instead of dead bodies.

I actually have a couple of days off of work to entertain my guest (shocker!) and tomorrow we are going to wander the Pretty City known as Manhattan. He's already seen Greenpoint and the only comment he had was that the Cheap Aluminum SIding Salesman really cleaned up when he came here. That's my hood... you want vinyl siding?! We got vinyl siding!! On every precious street.

In other exciting news, it's supposed to be 77 degrees on Monday. I can't fucking believe it. I mean seriously, I've been waiting a long time for Spring to show up so I'm trucking out naughty swear words just to make sure you know how excited I really am.

La la la

2007-04-12T20:53:00.000-05:00

I couldn't think of a better title. Sorry.

Let's see... New York news: Yesterday while waiting for the L train into Manhattan there was a girl singing and playing her guitar on the subway platform. She had the kind of voice that I would kill to have; the kind of voice that I would give up all my other talents for. Textured, original, not too pretty, but soulful and versitile. No one was giving her any change even though she sounded amazing, so I gave her $5.00 for her efforts.

And the other day as I was coming out of the F train to go to work, I spied a mom trying to a) hang onto her stroller with her toddler while b) she flailed about behind herself unsuccessfuly to grab the two long straps that had come loose on her baby-in-the-front carrier. She was juggling to kids and couldn't manage. With out saying a word, I came up next to her on one side while a workman passing by came up on the other. We each grabbed a strap, circled around her and pulled them into her waiting hands and she was able to re-tie her carrier. And then we all laughed at our little impromptu ballet and went on our way. It's moments like that when I am glad that I live in a close-quarters city where people really do look out for one another.

Jacky and I took a long walk home this evening, stopping at both of the dog parks on the way home. It rained all day so she had a great time chasing her dog friends through the mud and dirt. (Of course she just had a bath yesterday. Couldn't stay clean for too long.) They have been giving tickets/summonses to people who have their dogs off leash in the park by our house so we have had to be careful about playing only in the actual dog park instead of letting her play ball or stick in the open grass. This is not exciting news. I have no idea why I am telling you guys this.

Alrighty... off to do some sort of "Bring Spring and/or Summer" dance and try to will away the cold.

Winter Redux

2007-04-05T20:08:00.000-05:00

This morning there were snow flurries. Last week it was 65. The constant about New York weather seems to be its ability to screw with me on a weekly and sometimes daily basis. I want June. I need June. Please send June.

In other new and exciting news, I got some new glasses. Two pair actually, and both have the correct presciptions in them. For the first time. Ever. See, the thing is that I have actually needed glasses for about 4 or 5 years now, but when I went to Sears so many years back they succeeded in a)giving me pink-eye so badly that I ended up the ER and b)giving me the wrong prescription and being mean to me when I went back to get it fixed. So I kept the glasses (with the incorrect lenses), and wore them on the rare occasion that I felt I could stand the headache that came with them. But now the world is beautiful again, thanks to health insurance and a really great eye doctor. I was literally stunned at how well I can see now. It's quite fabulous. But I had no idea that so much dog fur had settled in the nooks and crannies of my house.

In Greenpoint Neighborhood News, we seem to have some sort of a local Guerilla Theatre group. A Middle-aged Polish Man Guerilla Theatre Group. Of which all them members/performers seem to be drunk by about 9am. But they really enjoy hanging out in large numbers by the dog park and lately they have taken it upon themselves to sing, dance, and (the kicker) play the harmonica. (I use "play" lightly. Really they make the kind of harmonica sounds that I used to make as a 7-year-old who thought she was playing the harmonica.) Occasionally one of the members/performers will wander over the the dog park fence and then Jack takes it upon herself to berate the aforementioned with extremely loud large-dog barks and taunts. It really is a sideshow of glee for all involved.

I'm still playing the cello (well, still studying the cello) and still not very good at it. My main problem is a complete and utter lack talent, follwed closely by my inability to just relax and breathe. Lame, especially since I spent so many years in school learning how to breathe (yeah... acting school really prepares you for the real world.) I do have a good time plugging away at trying to learn the thing (the cello that is, and I have named her Misty. Because she's a cheap girl with a shiny finish, kind of like a stripper. Or a My Little Pony.)

This concludes our update.

Editors note: My husband gets credit for the "Guerilla Theatre" joke.

Man, you're tall.

2007-03-25T19:11:00.000-05:00

Today, as I walked home from work through the park, there was a guy on ten-foot stilts.

And he was dressed in Victorian era clothing. Lots of black velvet and such.

Yep. Gotta love it here.

Poetic justice.

2007-03-17T10:43:00.000-05:00

How nice is it that, after I have written two days ago about how lovely it is outside, that yesterday it snow-iced 4 inches? Yes, indeed. Let's hope this is winter's swan song becuase I can't take much more sleet-in-the-face.

Today is Saint Patrick's Day. Parade, revelry and drinking - none of which I am participating in. But let's reflect: Saint Patrick's day in New York makes me think of a day exactly four years ago, which for me was another Saint Patrick's day spent in New York. I was a senior at Fresno State, performing in a show, trying to graduate in two months and knee-deep in the Grad School panic. In Februray of 2003 in San Francisco, I auditioned for Tisch and the graduate acting program at NYU. I got a much-desired callback and on the 16th of March, I flew on a red-eye to NYC to secure my education for the next 3 years - or so I thought. I was trying desperately to convince myself that an MFA in acting was worth the $100,000 in loan debt that would follw me around for 35 years after graduating from such a pretigious school. I was trying to pretend also that I actually enjoyed acting - that it was something that I wanted to continue doing and it wasn't just something that I did because people said I was good at it.

Let's just say that I did not present myself well at this particular callback. In fact, I venture to say that it ranks number one as my Worst Audition Ever. However, if I had gotten into NYU, I never would have accepted my offer at the Chicago Conservatory of Performing Arts. Now, y'all know what I think of that "educational institution". But it took moving to Chicago and going to a super-crappy school in order to arrange my life path so that it would cross that of my darling husband. And now look where we are... in New York, on Saint Patrick's day, four years later. The Empire State Buling is lit green and I am in the same green sweater that I wore four years ago. (Even though I should be wearing orange, but we won't go into that.)

And now I shall go scrape the ice-snow off the car before it solidifies into an ice-block that won't melt until June.

All the windows are open...

2007-03-15T09:47:00.000-05:00

...in our apartment. Right now. Cause it's beautiful outside.

Things are pretty okay in this fair city of ours. Aside from working entirely too much and sort of fighting off the mild depression that comes with having been sick for a week, I am okay. I am also a little (LOT!) bummed out because Nicole and her husband have decided to leave our little Polish ghetto for sunnyier skies, specifically Los Angeles. You can't actually get further away from here in the continental U.S. and now one more person who keeps me sane is going back to Cali. It is safe to assume that aside from my husband, the people that I care about most almost ALL live in California. Which leads to me ask the following: why don't I live in California?! To tell you the truth, I do love it. But I love New York, too, in a completely different way. I feel like this is where I am supposed to live, and not for some lame existential reason but for the simple fact that it feels good to me. It feels especially good to live here, despite the percieved rat-race overtones of it all.

Last night as I walked down into the F train to come home from work, I heard what sounded like cello music. And there, on the subway platform, was a guy tuning his cello. I was surprised because he looked (as best as I can describe) like Kevin Federline. By which I mean he was a little scrappy, a little bit gangsta, and not someone who you would immediately associate with Bach, which is what he began to play. I asked him where he was last night, cause last night I had my cello with me down here and we could've jammed. He got a kick out of that. Then when the F train came, he got on with all the rest of us, sat down, and began to play the prelude from the Bach Cello Suites. It was so beautiful, no where close to technically correct, and as the train climbed out of the tunnel and became an "el" train you could see out of the dirty windows the glittery Manhattan skyline against the sunset. It was truly a magical New York moment to be on the train, and I was instantly and deeply glad to be where I was. He finished the piece with a flourish and I applauded wildly, alone. He said thanks, got some change donations from some fellow riders, and hopped off as the doors were closing.

I think I shall practice on the subway playform one day, too. I don't sound nearly as good as that guy, but who will I offend? Yoyo Ma? I don't think he rides the F train very often.

I will conclude this blog with a plea to my friends and family: As it gets warmer here in the New York City, I urge you to think of just how much you long to come visit. Don't try to hide it; I know you lay awake at night thinking of ways to fly out here and visit Lonely Me. Think of the things we could do together... frolic in Central Park, eat at Katz's Deli, take pictures of skyscrapers. Doesn't that sound super-fun? And if you haven't met Jack the Dog, well... you should.

What day is it?

2007-03-04T23:01:00.000-05:00

My lack of new and interesting blog posts is directly related to the fact that all I have done lately is work. I get up and go to work, and then I come home. I think there mught be some dinner-eating in there somewhere, and maybe a little bit of tv watching, but really all I have been doing is working. Good thing I like my job as much as I do. However, I feel a cold coming on and I'm in the middle of working about 7 days straight. Who knew the Brooklyn wedding industry was so demanding...

That aside, all is well. My better half has been accepted to a PhD program and plans to begin this Fall. Doctor in the house! Exciting.

In other news, our doggy has overcome her tremendous anxiety and can once again be left alone for hours at a time. Anyone who knows us knows what a commitment it has been to help Jacky through her trauma, but we love that damn dog so much it's been worth every minute. She is the best. She has also learned the trick "gimme five". Except that she expects a treat everytime she "gives you five". So, we'll be sitting on the couch, watching tv, and she walk over and give us her paw. And then blink at us like "where's my treat? hello?" It's pretty amusing.

We had one day of Spring on Saturday... it was 62 degrees. It was lovely. I went for a run and then (of course) had to go to work. Story of my life. Now the temperatures are supposed to drop again, back into the 20's. Aw, crap. Here I am, talking about the weather. I am so boring.

And tired.

ps - my fingers hurt really bad from practicing the cello. However, I have the sneaking suspicion that I'm not getting any better...

!

Not New York...

2007-02-24T22:45:00.000-05:00

...but a visit last week to the mountains of Arizona:

Dog Show!

2007-02-14T11:54:00.000-05:00

Yesterday my friend from work and I attended the Westminster Dog Show at Madison Square Garden. It was quite an experience. The best part, by far, was being able to be "backstage" in the benching area where the dogs hang out and get primped for their big show moment. We watched some of the best of breed judging, but that part actually takes a really loooong time. And to my eye, when you put 50 Vizla's in a ring they all look alike. Cute, every darn one.

The other awesome thing is that Pedigree (dog food company) sponsered the show. What's so great about this fact is that Pedigree is in the middle of one of the biggest campaigns ever that promotes shelter dog adoption. So here you have these hundreds and hundreds of pure-bread dogs showing off their stuff, but the main sponser of the event is saying "don't forget that shelter dogs makes great pets, too!" I was really impressed by them. As you all know, Jack is a sehlter dog that we rescued. She was one day from being put down, and we saved her furry little life! Pedigree was handing out swag bags as well, and me and Mal got knitted ski hats that say "Dogs Rule" and treats for Jack and a frisbee, too. Good times.

I have put together a slideshow of some of the best pictures that I took backstage. It was too dark in the arena to take shots, but these will make you smile.

http://www.rockyou.com/show_my_gallery.php?instanceid=55516618 (here's the link to copy and paste if the promt doesn't send you to the slideshow.)

Ps: 3 inches of icy snow on the ground this morning!

Greenpoint, Home of the Largest Oil Spill Ever in the Whole Universe

2007-02-12T12:06:00.000-05:00

Came across this tidbit in the New York Times the other day.

Seems my quaint little Polish-ghetto of a neighborhood is still suffering the effects of a massive oil spill that happened 50 years ago. (we're right on the water in the northern-most point of Brooklyn.)My favorite part is where they talk about the silt from the river being one-tenth toxic oil.

Sweet. The ground here is literally soaked with oil. That's really great.

Cosmic Collisions and Dinosaur Bones

2007-02-08T17:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday the husband and I took a trip to the Museum of Natural History. It was nearly tourist-free, which was nice. Actually, it was nearly empty. Which was really nice. Not that I mind tourists, I just like an empty museum experience a lot more.

We said hello the dinosaurs, stood in front of models of Pangea, and weighed ourselves on the moon. (I weigh about 20 pounds on the moon.) We sat in one of those huge dome theatres and watched an interective film about star collisions in the universe, and it blew our minds. Well, the film didn't blow our minds, but the general idea of the universe blew our minds. Trying to understand the enormity of it all blew my mind. The we had heated discussions about how awesome and wonderful science is and how people who don't believe in it or trust it must be delusional. I wish I had become a scientist instead of an actor sometimes.

We poked around in the gems and rocks and I (as I often am) was bewildered by the fact that so many people demand diamonds to wear when there are so many very beautiful and amazing stones in the world. We explored the Earth science section and watxched earthquakes happen all over the world (Hello, Central Valley!) and we jumped on a special spot that recorded our shockwaves like a little quake. We stared in awe at a slice of a tree that began growning in 1444 and didn't die until the mid-twentieth century. (!) We decided that we should take a vacation to Yellowstone someday.

We saw the big, blue whale that hangs from the ceiling of the sea life room. Nicole tells me that every child growing up in New York remembers this huge, life-sized whale from field trips. We saw a crab-spider that was about the size of Jack (ew) and learned that there are many species of sea-dwelling things that light up on their own. Which I think is pretty darn cool.

So, that was our day. Good times.

I heart science, and I heart NY.

New York, New York. The city so nice...

2007-02-06T23:14:00.000-05:00

...they named it twice.

My dad sent me this link.

If you even like New York City a teensy bit, this website will fascinate you.

Monday

2007-02-05T14:00:00.000-05:00

Monday: A log

Bundle on as much clothing as possible, head outside to freezey cold wind.

Take the G train to the E train to the C train to the 1 Train.

Almost get hit by taxi while crossing street to go to doctor's appointment, late. Because I had to take 4 trains, which takes a while.

Get poked by way too many needles... things like tetnus shots and whooping cough (is that even an issue anymore?) and flu shot and blood drawn for things like cholesterol. Needles are not my friend, so I had to sit in the office for half and hour before I could walk away without passing out. I took four trains for this?

Pop into nice, New York land-mark tpe coffee shop for OJ and scrambies, so I can take four trains home without going into shock from my needle adventure.

Buy prosciutto. $4.99

Buy sunglasses. $9.99

Take the 1 train to the C train to the E train (get lost in 42nd street station) to the G train.

Gads... it's only 1pm and I feel like going back to bed.

Catch... and release.

2007-01-27T13:58:00.000-05:00

This morning, while out walking, Jack and I came across the most wonderful bit of sidewalk trash.

One of the many Catholic churches in the neighborhood had thrown out a big, old, wooden pew. One of the very long ones that would hold maybe 8 or 10 people. One of the side-panel-arm-rest-pieces was detached and therefore it was no longer standing on its own. Being that one girl and one dog could not schlep both the cool, carved wood end piece as well as the bench part itself the 4 blocks home, I opted to just take the beautiful (and heavy) end part. It was gorgeous, and I thought I might hang it on the wall of just prop it in a corner.

We passed a guy who asked with a smile "Did you steal that from the church?" and I told him that no, I didn't steal it from the church. But I did steal it from the gutter in front of the church. So we drug the item home, and hauled it upstairs, and then turned around to go back out and continue our walk. When we got back into the park,I could see across the street to the church where someone was now loading the pew (sans decorative end cap) into an orange PT Cruiser. A fellow sidewalk shopper! I ran over to him and asked what he was going to do with it. He said he didn't know, but he couldn't pass it up. I told him I had the other piece. His eyes lit up. "There's another piece?" he asked. I told what I'd taken, and then made the split-second decision that he needed to have that part as well. "Do you want it?" I asked. He very obviously did, so I told him to meet me on our street and I would give it to him.

Jack and I walked home and I hauled the wooden monstrosity back down the stairs and out to the street where the guy and his orange PT Cruiser were waiting. He was so happy. He said we was going to put it back together and make a couch. He also seemed to not comprehend why I was giving up my sidewalk treasure, but I told him the pew would be happier if was all back on one piece. He thanked me again and drove away.

I should've taken a picture before I gave it away, but I didn't.

I wonder if those cool, little old windows are still sitting on the curb over on Humbolt Street...

Okay, winter. We get it.

2007-01-26T08:52:00.000-05:00

Actual temperature: 11 degrees.

Feels like: -5.

Ack! Send palm trees and tropical breezes, asap.

In the catagory of "overheard"

2007-01-21T21:52:00.000-05:00

This is a (fairly accurate) transcript of a conversation that I overheard on the bus this evening. Imagine a girl my age, but with a slightly Americanized British accent. Her phone rings, and it goes a little something like this:

Hello? Hello? Mummy, where are you? No, where are you? What? You're in Dubai! Yes... I'm sorry I missed your call this morning, I was so disappointed! No, no-- it's good that you called. Mummy, I'm on the bus. I'm on the bus because the G train isn't working but it's nice to be above ground, no? I rather like it. Mummy, I have news! You know David? Uncle David? Yes, Uncle David... I've spoken with him, Mummy, I've spoken with him and the most wonderful thing... I'm going to Connecticut, Mummy to see him, but it's because --yes, to Connecticut-- it's because Grandpa's being admitted --no, listen, Mummy-- Grandpa's being admitted to the Hall of Fame! There'll be a ceremony and Uncle David invited me! It's wonderful news! Oh, and Mummy, it was sort of sad today because it was Aria's last day. But she went and got a tattoo today, a tattoo of a red Corvette on her foot, because she loves Prince so much. And Mummy, we all went with her and got tattoos as well. Yes, I got one on my foot... because I really wanted to Mummy, I really did. I got "pula" written in very pretty script. You know, for Botswana. It means so much to me and there really isn't anything more Botswana than "pula." It's so pretty, Mummy. I love it. David got a skull on his hand, and Heather put "mother" on her back. And Jeff got a little triangle on his wrist. Yes, a triangle. It's for protection, he says. But I'm just so exhausted Mummy, we were there for six hours. It just takes so much energy, and I went last. I'm just so tired. It hurt so much I screamed the whole time. Yes, Mummy, I'm so glad you phoned. I'm so glad. Have a lovely trip and I love you massive amounts. Massive amounts! I love you. I love you. Mummy, I love you. Okay. Bye then.

It was quite an interestinf conversation to overhear.

I heart NY.

At long last...

2007-01-19T20:07:00.000-05:00

January Check Up

2007-01-10T23:45:00.000-05:00

For the record, I did not smell any weird smells the other day, despite what all the news shows said about New York being smelling-like with natural gas. Then again, I was in Brooklyn... specifcally Greenpoint, which is always smelly. Smelly like bums and and booze, but that's what makes it charming. Oops, I mean cheap.

Let's see... what else. Went into Manhattan today, and it was COLD! We actually had flurries this morning, thanks be to the weather gods.

While my better half had a meeting to go to, I tried to find a new pair of pants at Urban Outfitters. Which ended up just making me feel old and grumpy, because their music was too loud and all the pants too weird. And my back and shoulders hurt, so I grabbed some clothes that I didn't even really want to try on and went into the dressing room, where I proceeded to do yoga stretches.

My latest celebrity sighting was a few weeks ago in Brooklyn; I saw Heath Ledger. He didn't recognize me.

We through the Christnmas tree out the window the other night. It was dropping needles like... well, like a tree that's been up for a month. We did it in the dark of the night and then my landlords cleaned up the needle mess outside before I could. I felt bad and apologized.

We watched "Little Miss Sunshine" and "An Inconvenient Truth". Both good; but not everyone will like them as much as I did. The Al Gore movie convinced me to buy those expensive light bulbs that use less energy and last five years. And of course, to continue walking everywhere and taking the subway. But since I'm too terrified to drive anywhere, I guess that wasn't really a problem.

Most of family probably thinks I'm delinquent because I didn't get the holiday presents out in time. So sorry about that, but I have been literally working my butt off and my husband is trying to get into a PhD program, so we've had our hands full. Hopefully none of you are offended by the fact that your Christmas has been extended a bit.

Ugh, this blog is really boring. Sorry 'bout that, it's late and I'm sleepy. But I miss you all desperately!

Where's my East Coast winter?

2007-01-03T23:17:00.000-05:00

Not much is happening these days in our neck of the woods. Lots of working (for me, anyway. My other half is on winter break from the University.) We spend our days off together wandering around the hood or going into Manhattan to see movies or museums or just hang about.

What's really weird about all of this is the fact that it has been an average of 50 degrees here in New York, every day for the past few weeks. As most of you know, I grew up in Fresno and therefore never had a real "winter". Just dampness and fog. Lots of fog. Some mornings, you can't see the house across the street. It's a special kind of quiet that goes with that kind of fog, and I kind of miss it.

Then I moved to other parts of the country where they have seasons and where winter means more than just fog... it means snow! Snow like you see in movies... and I fell in love. I fell in love with all kinds of snow and with real cold. It's a beautiful thing. Snow on the beach in Chicago... Snow even made Arlington, Virginia an acceptable place to live. (The picture was taken in February of 2006 in Arlington.)

But there has been nary a flake here in the New York City. We haven't gone this far into winter without snow since 1887 (or something close to that.) People, it's supposed to be 60 degrees on Friday. Al Gore might be right about the Republicans causing such intense global warming. (That is what his movie is about, right?) Anyway, tonight I don't have anything insightful or deep to say about New York life or life in general, I just really wish it would get cold and snow.

Now, without furthur ado, is a picture of Jack wearing twinkly Christmas lights.

Merry Photos, Happy Camera

2006-12-20T23:30:00.000-05:00

All of these pictures were taken today, most were shot in my neighborhood. So without further ado, I present to you "Wednesday: A Photographic Frolic."

The Tide (Subway) is High

2006-12-16T16:52:00.000-05:00

Don't let the stories that you might hear fool you -- the New York City subways are not always jammed with freaks and urchins. Sometimes they are full of really boring, normal people who offer no interest to my daily ride/rides.

And sometimes, you're sitting there minding your business and on wanders the following:

Two relatively average-looking people who happen to be wearing knee-high yellow rubber boots, captains hats, and bright orange life vests. They also happen to be carrying huge, 8 foot oars and syrafoam lifesaver-esque floatation devices.

I don't think that they were trying to save anyone's life. They weren't moving all that quickly. Perhaps they were just well-prepared, in the event of an water landing emergency.

And I was ill-prepapred, as I didn't have my camera. Again.

December

2006-12-10T23:18:00.000-05:00

Did I really already go to California? Did I already come home? It was so fast and such a blur. Too bad. I need to make longer visits more often. I came home and went straight back to work and haven't really looked up since.

Today I...

...had to take the subway all the way from Brooklyn into Manhattan and then back into Brooklyn to go to work. (Weekend track work on my usual line.)

...saw a girl sobbing on the corner by my store, and by the time I got tissues and ran outside to give them to her she was gone.

...heard a guy singing "Somewhere" from West Side Story off-key in the subway. It was cool.

...did invitations for a client who is getting married at the UN.

...opened a package containing a lovely piece of art that I purchased from the Mississippi artist that I mentioned a while back.

...thought about starting a charity for people who don't have enough money for their vet bills when thier dogs and cats get sick.

...saw a little boy eating a grilled cheese sandwich and it looked so good I got myself one from the diner down the street.

...was forgiven by aforementioned diner for being thirty cents short for aforementioned grilled cheese.

...wore green striped long johns under my jeans.

Tomorrow, I will do more.

Is that a cello on your back or are you just happy to see me?

2006-11-27T21:30:00.000-05:00

I have been taking cello lessons for exactly one month. My teacher is a charming young professional cellist and composer and we have a good time as I squack (skwak?) my way through each hour while she tries to be supportive and helpful. Here is the main thing that I have learned during my month as a student of the cello: it is HARD. I mean really friggin' difficult. For anyone thinking that they may want to start a new instrument --particularly a string instrument-- be prepared to sound like a dying swan for (get this) the entire first year. Good times, eh?

Try to also imagine navigating the subway turnstiles with a cello-sized backpack. This was a pure comedy when I first tried it, but now I have it down to an art. I slip through the flipper-spinner things like a hot knife through butter. People marvel at my ninja-like grace. (Okay, maybe not. But I imagine they might.) And each and everytime I take my cello for a subway ride, some dumbass asks "Is that a violin?" And then a little bit of me dies inside for the lack of arts and music education funding in schools.

My fingers and hands and wrists hurt like hell, but I have been fairly diligent about practicing. I rock Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The only bad part about practicing is that yes, 99% of it sounds really horrible and I feel bad for our landlords below. I imagine they look at each other when I start "playing" (I used the term loosely) and then simultaneously reach for fuzzy earmuffs to drown out the sound of goose-murder above. I try to play when they are not home.

In other news, I got my little art room and adjoining art closet organized. Nicole has started referring to it as Carrie's Dirty Pillows room. You know, the closet where Carrie's mom sends her when she's been bad... never mind. You had to be there.

Thanks and Happies

2006-11-25T20:33:00.000-05:00

Hello family and friends, and a belated Happy Thanksgiving to you. Here are some pictures that I've taken in and around my neighborhood the past few days. I promise a wordier blog later.

Can my dog come with me into the fitting room?

2006-11-13T22:12:00.000-05:00

Today I walked to Williamsburg, which is the next neighborhood over from my own. It has a repuatation for being So Cool That it Hurts. I had Jack with me and together we went into the Hipster Vintage Clothing Store (not it's real name.) "Can she come in?" I asked the Cool Girl behind the counter, and gestured toward Jack. "Sure!" the Cool Girl replied. And gave Jack some pets.

Doggy and I looked around for a while until we found a nifty sweater and a dress. I just sort of draped her leash on her back and let her follow me as I wandered. I headed toward the fitting room, where again it seemed like no big deal that I had a small German Shepherd following me, and they ushered me into a curtained room where I proceeded to try on my Hip Vintage Garments. As I pondered the (sadly) too-big dress that was barely hanging on my body, I realized that Jack had decided to leave the confines of our little curtained dressing room. "Jacky!" I said, peeking out of my curtain. And then I spied her wagging tail... she had helped herself to another (occupied) curtained dressing room.

"On my god! I'm so sorry" I yelped as I grabbed her leash from the floor and pulled her out of the foreign changing room and back into my own. "That's okay," came a non-chalant voice. As though it's no strange thing to have a random, one-eyed dog just wander into your dressing room.

I love New York.

PS: I bought the sweater.

Run, Marathoners, Run!

2006-11-05T19:35:00.000-05:00

Today was the world famous New York Marathon, and it happened to wind itself right through Greenpoint. Our Little Poland was mile marker 12, and before I hopped onto the subway to head to work, I stopped to watch some of the participants run by. Only I didn't actually see any "runners", but I did see lots and lots of guys on those big trike-bike things. I got to see the Marathoners who didn't have legs, or for whatever other reason couldn't use their legs. It was pretty amazing.

It was also a lot more emotional that I anticipated. I mean, I have absolutely zero connection to this event and I was very moved. As I approached the roped off area that was the race course, the competitor's pathway was lined with neighborhood people. The old guys who usually spend Sundays hungover on the park benches were all in a line, cheering their gruff hearts out at the guys whizzing by on their three-wheeley-machines. Moms and kids in church clothes were there, a band was playing, and our neighborhood firemen were there with the lights on their rig flashing. And every time someone flew by, the crowed yelled like it was their own family member out there. It was very, very cool. You could feel (and literally almost see) the energy coming off of the Marathoners. I can't imagine the feeling at the finish line.

When I got on the subway to actually go to work, it was full of people visiting New York (from all over the world and lots of locals, too) who had balloons and big signs that said things like "Run, Jenny, Run!!" or "5th Marathon's a charm!". They were all getting off at various stops to make sure they caught their runner at just the right junction to cheer them on. It was a very neat vibe.

So, I still have no desire to run 20-some-odd miles myself, but I am excited to take NYC Marathon Day off of work next year so I can go cheer on people I don't know. And my family and friends who have accomplished this feat, way to go. Amazing.

In other news...

The musical that My Talented Other Half directed last month got the "Best Of" award for the festival that they produced the show for.

And tomorrow I am going to Ikea. And that is very exciting.

not dead, just busy.

2006-11-01T11:22:00.000-05:00

I am a neglectful (is that a word?) blogger. I am also, during this business, a neglectful corresponder. We are knee deep in the moving-into-a-new-and-wonderful-apartment process, and real life takes a backseat when everything you own is hidden away in cardboard boxes. Not to mention the fact that I can't find any pots or pans and I have the sneaking suspiscion that I threw them all away before we put everything in storage. Which seemed like a good idea at the time...

Let's just say that between myself and my better half, we have 17 boxes of books. And that's not counting the boxes that already made their way to work with my husband. Bibliophiles for life!

Crime at the Dog Park

2006-10-26T12:23:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure when the episode will air, but the cast and crew of Law & Order: Criminal Intent overtook the local dog run and the surrounding area for a couple day's worth of filming. They shot up an ice cream truck (poor Mr. Softee) and had people running all over doing cop-like stuff.

It was fun to see just how much goes into location shooting. I mean the money spent of lighting the shots alone must be insane, not to mention how much all the PA's get paid for just standing around and telling me not to walk my dog through the shot. Jack wasn't too pleased about the fake gunfire, but who was? Even funnier were the kids who were playing handball nearby, yelling and screaming at each other like they do everyday that I walk past their game. They were just doing their daily after-school game, and over and over they had to be told to be quiet during filming. They didn't really care. Their neighborhood, right? Heh... that's New York for you.

Anyway, if you happen to tune into an episode of Criminal Intent and see the ice cream truck, you'll have seen some of my neighborhood. The show is on Tuesdays, NBC.

Sleepy Hollow

2006-10-24T20:39:00.000-05:00

Our jaunt to Sleepy Hollow and the surrounding little towns was exactly what we needed it to be. The further we got from the city, the more colorful the trees were. We did not see any headless horsemen, but we did see a whole bunch of unlucky deer on the side of the road. Oh, deer. They just don't navigate traffic well, do they?

While driving past a glorious, old stone church in Sleepy Hollow, we happened upon a bunch of old furniture at the curb. Turns out the church was throwing out all the stuff that didn't sell at their rummage sale, and so we left with a couple of old wooden shelves (that need a bit of TLC and some paint) and great old Shaker style chair that I plan on hanging on my kitchen wall. (It is at this point that I realize the shelves would serve me better hanging on the kitchen wall, but I like idea of a chair on the wall. Less functional, but terribly artsy.)

So, in other news, tomorrow begins another day of trying to get by in New York City. It's sort of sad that after only 2 months I already understand why people move away from here. It's not an easy place to live. Which is not to say that I am ready to leave. But it is very easy to get lost amongst the 8,000,000 other people here. However, I am combating the my misgivings about this city with entertaining challenges that keep me on my toes and keep my mood lifted. Like next weeks challenge: Halloween. See, everyone I know is working all day on Halloween, and I don't really want to go to any parties that night. But I do want to dress up. So I am thinking up a costume, and I have decided that I am going to spend Halloween day, in costume, exploring the Metropolitan Museum. And I can do that, cause I live in New York City.

Fall

2006-10-22T21:37:00.000-05:00

Fall is upon us in New York, and it is upon us with a fury. I have spent many an evening in the crunchy brown and orange leaves on the park lawn, playing ball and stick with Jack. It's quite idyllic, what with the breeze and the sweaters and the fireplace smells. There are more houses with Halloween decorations than those without and plastic ghosts and pumkins are everywhere. I love it, and I think that I might be quite happy if it were October for most of the year.

Tomorrow we are taking out first day-long road trip to the Historic Villiages of Westchester. This includes visiting Sleepy Hollow, which I am terribly excited to see. I have a feeling it's probably not going to yield any screaming romps through the forrest while being chased by the headless horseman, but one can dream.

In other news comletely unrelated to anything NYC, I came across an amazing blog by a woman named Lori K. Gordon. She is a Gulf Coast artist who began making collage/assemblage sculptures of the ruined bits of her and her neighbor's lives after Katrina. I have been chatting with her via email about her work. I expressed interest in purchasing something, and found out that the one piece that I was completely intent on owning is $1000.00. So if you were wondering what to get me for Christmas, here's your hint. But truly, take the time to view her site. There is some wonderful, immensely emotional work to be seen there. Here is her description of the piece that I love most of all: The Home Place is a haunting piece which tells the story of the many beautiful homes which used to line the Mississippi Gulf Coast. There are only ghosts left of these homes now, whether they are photographs, memories or a few battered pilings left standing. The piece is made from a badly damaged etching in its original, battered frame, mounted on a salvaged tabletop adorned with pieces of a plant stand. 48" x 19"

2006-10-11T14:06:00.000-05:00

As I started writing this post, breaking news on the television told me that a helicopter (or some smallish flying object) just crashed into a very tall apartment building on the Upper East Side. Well, I thought, I'm going up on the roof to see if I can see anything. So onto the roof I climbed via the old, rusty fire escape. And sure enough, to the northeast across the river, the tallest building in that part of the skyline had huge plumes of black smoke pouring out of it into the cloudy sky. And seeing that was enough for me. Down I climbed, and crawled back in through the kitchen window and picked up my ringing phone. It was Brooke, calling to make sure I wasn't on the Upper East Side. Awww. I love my friends.

What I had originally intended to tell all y'all is that we just put down a deposit on a wonderful apartment 4 blocks from here. A fully refurbished, brand new floors-walls-cabinets-and-bathroom 2 1/2 bedroom apartment on a quiet street with great parking. AND they told us we could move in early. AND they like Jack, who had an "interview" of sorts. AND it's only a two family flat. (See, the fewer families that live in your building, the fewer bad cooking smells that infiltrate your private domain.) I am so very happy to have a space of our own. (Let's just hope that one more move doesn't snap Jack's fragile little doggie brain.) Now all we have to do is have our stuff shipped up here from Virginia (where it's been in storage) and I get to actually LIVE in New York instead of just... I don't know... float.

In other news, I love my job. It's a wonderful shop on a bustling corner and I work with delightfully friendly and creative girls who remind me lots of my Papery girls in Arlington. I'll actually be working more once the holidays near, and because I'm completely insane I actually LIKE working amongst all the Holiday Craziness. Good times. My printmaking classes are sort of tedious, but it's good because the guy who teaches is demanding really high quality stuff from us. Challenging, but I am learning from the best.

Today we took Nicole's little pug-dog, Emmy, to the vet for surgery. She has not been well, because she likes to eat things like carpet and cloth and paperclips. It had been discovered that she had a large foreign something or somethings in her belly that was making her a very, very sick and sad girl. So today she had the lump removed, and she needs your good thoughts to heel quickly. And also not to east anymore carpet or paperclips.

Fall is arriving in New York City. The leaves are changing and you can feel November hinting in the evenings. I love it. I love it a lot. And, if I'm not mistaken, it has just now started raining.

And by the time I finished writing this blog, four more people have called to make sure I'm okay. Yay.

Greenpoint Historical Factoid

2006-10-04T10:08:00.000-05:00

I just found out that the USS Monitor, American Civil War submarine, was manufactured here in my neighborhood of Greenpoint. There are dozens of statues all over, dedicated to the vessel and it's history. Just thought I'd link you up to a historical site so you can do some book learnin' about the sub -- building, fighting, loss and eventual recovery. Pretty interesting stuff, considering it was only a few years ago that they found the remains of this monster off the coast of South Carolina.

Blogging Randomosity

2006-10-02T18:21:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I get busy with life and I don't blog as diligently. You should be happy for me and the fact that I no longer spend 12 hours a day in front of my laptop, doing nothing. Anyway, here's some recent tidbits and little stories to snack on.

I always like seeing New York City cops around the neighborhood, which is not a difficult thing to achieve since there are just fewer than 45 million cops in the city itself. So there's pretty much always a cop on any given corner. In the past week, I have seen cops doing the following charming activities: 1) helping a little girl wash dog poo off of her shoes, 2) helping a teenage kid change the flat on his bike and 3) buying soft-serve ice cream from the ice cream truck. I think that's pretty great; and a smile was brought to my face each time.

We live just a few blocks south of several tv and film production studios. When you see a bunch of fluorescent pink studio fliers go up on the telephone poles, you know that that particular block is going to be commadeered (how do you spell that?) by miles of cable rigging, massive lighting structures, craft service tables and make-up artists. To an aspiring star, it's the chance to maybe be seen by someone who matters. To us, the residents of Greenpoint, it's the loss of many, many good parking spots and the need to come up with an alternate "taking the dog to pee" route. For the record, the following TV shows are filmed in my neighborhood, at least in part: Six Degrees, The Black Donnely's, Kidnapped, and they just did an Herbal Essence commercial around the corner. Good times.

I found the printmaking studio in Manhattan that I had been told to look for by my former Chicago print teacher. I signed up for an advanced etching class and booked some studio time, so I'm very excited to get to working again on some prints. If I produce anything good, I'll put it up for y'all to see. Too bad half my good plates are in storage.

In keeping with the good news, I also got a job. Yes, I will still be designing stationery. My former boss from Chicago got in touch with a Brooklyn/New York stationer, and low and behold they we're lookin' for the likes of someone like me! So I start on Friday. Email me if you want to know the details. I'm not going to post it here on the Wide Web. Do you think I want stalkers?

Today I went with my Better Half into Long Island. Rick worked and Jack slept in his office. I drove for the first time in a month, and found myself in front of my very favorite store in all the land, Anthroplogie. And I am happy to report that I walked out of that store with $400.00 worth of draperies for just over $28.00. Now that's what I call a friggin' bargain. Regular price: $98.00. Sale price: $7.00. Hot damn!

Now you have been updated, and I am so full of Thai food that I fear I may die. Which is nonsequiter, but a funny visual nonetheless.

Good night, and good luck.

Walk Across the River

2006-09-27T09:21:00.000-05:00

Yesterday my husband and I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge from Manhattan to Brooklyn. It's a beautiful jaunt either way, and impossible not to be awed by the structure itself. Which reminds me, once we watched an incredible series by Ric Burns called New York: A Documentary. There was a breathtaking look into how the Brooklyn Bridge was built... absolutely terrifying and wonderful, all at the same time. I highly recommend it. Anyway, here's a photo I took.

Tinfoil Yalmukas

2006-09-24T18:43:00.000-05:00

I wish, wish, wish with my happy heart that I had thought to pull out my camera when this happened...

Myself and my better half were walking past the park, headed to the subway, when ahead of us I see a young couple walking their two dogs. One was a Weimeriner, and the other was just sort if scrappy and small. And they both had some sort of tinfoil hats tied with yarn to their furry heads.

As we stopped to pet the dogs, I asked "Are they wearing yalmukas?" thinking that this is New York where anything can happen and quite often does, and perhaps these people and their Jewish dogs were celebrating a late High Holy Day with tinfoil yalmukas. Could happen, right?

But no. They said, "Actually it's helmets to keep the aliens from hearing their thoughts."

Riiiight...

Then I remembered that stupid Mel Gibson movie with the Aliens and the tinfoil and we had a good laugh. Turns out the couple was actually looking around the neighborhood for a dress-up dog parade which was to be starting soon. I wish I had known about the parade, I could have dressed Jack up. It probably would have pissed her off some, but I would have had a good laugh.

We left the couple on the corner and headed to the subway. When I looked back, both tinfoil yalmukas had fallen off and the dogs looked much happier. But now their unprotected doggie brains were just sending out messages to space...

Just a little off.

2006-09-22T15:42:00.000-05:00

I do not enjoy the Busy Bee Food Exchange. They operate a noisy business and are not friendly, and it smells bad inside. It is a family-run store. I'm sure it's some Polish family who has been in the area for generations and therefore are somewhat discouraged that their neigborhood is being taken over by the likes of me and my kind. "My kind" being the kind who swoop in from somewhere else, say Chicago, and proclaim instant Brooklyn Resident Status when really, I've only been here for 5 minutes and they've been here for 80 years. (Never mind that I, too, have a lot of Eastern Eurpoean blood in my veins... does that count for anything? Probably not.)

That being said, I think it's pretty funny that this is the clip art that the Busy Bee Food Exchange uses for all of their posters. Somehow, I can't imagine the Polish ladies behind the counter choosing this image for it's irony and kitch value. But I laugh every time I walk by. I wonder what Matt Groening would think.

Score! !

2006-09-21T15:05:00.000-05:00

My loving parents passed on to me a gene that makes it impossible for me to resist cool pieces of junk, miscellaneous nifty items on the side of the road, or any old something that looks like it has a story behind it.
That being said, I could not pass up this wonderful item that was laying near some trashy cans down the street. I think that it might have been a roof hole-cover. That's my guess. It's heavy as sin, and me and Jack had a pretty good time dragging it home. I mean, it took me a while to decide to actually take it. I made sure it was not within the "area" (that's the little fenced in spot in front of your house). Yep, it was definitely out of the area. But who would throw this away? This was collage gold! Art waiting to happen! I called Nicole to get a second opinion on helping myself to it, but she didn't answer. Finally, I just sucked it up and took off with it, hoping that no one would run after me screaming "Hey! That's my hipster art project in the making!" At which point I just would have yelled "Attack, Jack, Attack!" But then Jack would have just looked confused, because she has never been commanded to attack. But I think she might, if it were for the sake of art. But no one stopped us.
Anyway, it's a thick wooden frame with a wooden back piece, which I assume was once the "top", if it was indeed a cover to something. It's covered with a layer of metal that is beautifully rusted and degraded. Finding this cool art object makes up for having to pass on the two huge, green Japanese vases that someone left out for the taking the other day. I couldn't even lift one of those, much less two. Oh, Brooklyn city streets, what gold you yield!

A Totally Effortless Day in The City

2006-09-19T19:54:00.000-05:00

President Bush was in town today. La dee da, that doesn't mean much when you've lived in Washington DC and have had to deal with motorcade after motorcade pushing you aside on some crowed street.

Today I navigated my journey exactly right and it put me in such a good mood it was all I could do not to sing out loud as I walked jauntily down 53rd Street. (I was listening to The Greatest Hits of Simon and Garfunkel and "Mrs. Robinson" always makes me want to sing.) My destination was the American Museum of Folk Arts, and it was delightful. I had to pay, though... I forgot that not all museums are free like they are in Washington! I was terribly inspired by all that I saw and took lots of notes so I can find out more about some of the artists I'd never heard of. There was lots of Henry Darger, who I find to be a bit creepy but fascinating nonetheless. I was so inspired that I came home and finished a painting. I would have gone to the MOMA, but the DaDa exhibit is still there, and I saw that like 3 times in DC.

I wandered up 5th Avenue, past 30 Rockefeller Center to H&M. For those who don't have an H&M in their town, let me explain... it is a mecca of cheap, hip clothing and it takes a dedicated person to weed through the crap to find a few trustworthy items. Today I won the H&M treasure hunt and got myself a classic black raincoat. It's really a timeless item and it makes me look like every other person in New York, but I've never had one before and it makes me feel very East Coasty. I also picked up a very structured, very 1960's winter white cocktail dress. Then when I got home and tried it on for Rick, I realized that my bravery did not translate beyond the dressing room, and the 1960's white cocktail dress was just a little too much. I will be returning the cocktail dress. This is why shopping alone is tricky.

Okay, so this was kind of a boring post. But it was kind of a boring day. Except every once in a while, I looked up at some amazing, incredible work of architecture and was reminded that there is no place like this in the entire world.

Mexican Cow Painting

2006-09-17T09:19:00.000-05:00

A few blogs ago, I mentioned that I was sitting at my kitchen table painting a Mexican folk-art inspired cow. (See blog "Smell-o-rama and Aural Collage," from September 10th.) Anyway, here's the finished product. It really has nothing to do with New York, other than having been painted in New York.

Yesterday's Lament

2006-09-16T08:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday as we came up out of the stinking subway on to the soaking, noisy, littered, windy streets of our neigborhood, Nicole said "A bad day in New York is like the worst day ever anywhere else."

Ain't it the truth.

This is not an easy city to live in. I can't imagine packing up and moving here with nothing, like zillions of people do every year. Yesterday was one of the days when New York City just pissed me off, from the time that I got out of bed until I finally made it home to collapse onto the couch.

See, part of the madness stems from the apartment that we are subletting. You guys, this place is a shithole. I'm not joking. If you saw this place in Fresno, you'd either laugh out loud or ask where the crack dealers were hiding. It is huge by NYC standards, I'll give it that. But it's shitty. I'm talking floorboards-haven't-been-cleaned-in-8-years kind of dirt around here... The bathroom (which is in the kitchen, about 3 feet away from the table) has this door that might as well be attached with masking tape, and it doesn't close all the way. The lights flicker, and I always suspect that a fire is going to break out in the walls at any moment. I guess the worst part (other than the dirt and danger and exposed bathroom) is the "subletting" aspect of it all. When we got here, there was stuff everywhere. Bad art on the walls, food in the cabinets, books and jewelry and clothes and stuff, all of which was not mine, laying everywhere. I know that subletting means taking over someone else's space. I know that. But if I am going to pay you that astronomical rent that you are asking --and for several months, you'd better fucking move your shit out of the way so I can bring mine in. Is that too much to ask? So I have been shovling all this random stuff into cabinets and drawers and just trying to get it out of my way, so for the next month or so I can at least pretend that we live here.

The living situations here, they blow my mind. I have always thought of home as a nest, a retreat... somewhere you want to go. But people here, they compromise that so that they can live here in this city. Why should a landlord bother cleaning and repainting and repairing his apartment when he knows that there's someone out there who will take it as-is? And for ten times what it's really worth? I know there's great places here in New York. I have seen them, they exist. And we can afford some of them. I just have to get one. Which is not easy! GOAL: To be out of this place by Halloween at best, Thanksgiving at the latest.

So anyway, yesterday's crappy day involved going into Manhattan to try and meet Nicole after her audition and of course getting lost, and of course it was raining and windy and generally it felt like the city was taunting me. (Let me just say that I thank the gods above that my eventual move to this city was not to be an actor. I always thought it would be the reason I came here, and it is very freeing to not worry about headshots and auditions. I will live vicariously through Nicole's acting career. That's enough for me.) So the morning was crappy and no one seemed to care when I was standing in front of Starbucks in midtown screaming and kicking the wall as hard as I could (while Nicole, ever my friend, stood sliently by and understood my need to kick the wall.) Not to mention that I have successfully navigated subway systems all over the world (Chicago, London, Washington DC) and my inablity to get from point A to point B on the NY Metro frustrates me greatly. It shouldn't be this hard! I have a feeling I am making it more difficult somehow...

Eventually we met up with yet another Fresno State theatre alum who lives here and together we three ate Mexican food and drank margaritas like any good Californians should on a cold, rainy day in New York. And once we got back to Brooklyn, I retrived Jack from doggy daycare and we had to make the long, wet trek home. I changed out of my soaking clothes, dried off the dog and passed out on the couch, exhausted from having accomplished absolutely nothing.

But I'm not angry at New York this morning, as the clouds have cleared and I know in my heartest of hearts which subway stop I am supposed to get off at for my errand downtown. But I can see easily why people get tired of living in the "big city." Sometimes, all you wanna do is hop in your car and drive to Target for a cheap, suburban thrill. And that is not an option here.

A Happy Ending

2006-09-13T09:27:00.000-05:00

When I moved to Greenpoint 2 weeks ago, these lost cat posters were plastered on every corner of the neighborhood. I felt so sad for Gizmo the Cat's family. But this morning, when I went out to walk Jack, this is what I saw! On every poster that we passed.

September 12th Reflections

2006-09-12T20:30:00.000-05:00

I have written and rewritten this blog about 4 times since yesterday, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say about 9.11. (And in the interest of blogging integrity, I must say that I first published this blog this morning on another of my sites. I have made few changes.)

One of the prevailing thoughts that I have is that I haven't really a right to stand and weep in the streets of New York over the loss of life and change in the world that came about on that day. I wasn't a New Yorker; I wan't here on 9.11. I was asleep in my bed 3,000 miles away, in California. About as far removed from it as you could possibly be. I was spared the live images, the noise, the smell and the white-hot fear of not knowing if I was going to make it through the day. My husband, whom I did not yet know, has exactly the opposite position: he was in lower Manhattan when the shit hit the fan. My memories of that day involved an attack on America; his memories recall an attack on his home. Where he lived; where he worked. Our experiences couldn't have been more polarized.

Which is not to say that we who were not present in New York that day do not deserve to grieve for the families of the victims. We totally have that right. God knows I cried enough that first week over missing persons posters, dust-covered images, and tired rescue dogs with burnt paws. I even made those red, white and blue ribbons cause I didn't know what the hell else to do. We had every right to mourn.

But I think it's time to stop ripping open this wound at every opportunity. I realize that yes, a 5-year anniversary is a milestone that marks a lot of things and calls for reflection and remembrance. And people have every right to respect a somber date and pay tribute in ways that they see fit. But yesterday in New York City, most people weren't pausing their lives to mourn afresh and lament over our unsafe, terrorist-rich world. They were shopping and working and taking pictures with the Naked Cowboy in Times Square. I saw them. Everyone knew it was 9.11, no one was hiding that fact. But instead of bloody broken limbs, September 11th has become a bright red scar. It can't be ignored and it still aches when it rains. But people wear their scars proudly, and New York City knows it.

My observations as a "new" New Yorker are this: this is not the 9.11 of your coffee table memorial books and stupid George W. Bush speeches. This is a different animal altogether, and now I live in a city where those who were here on that terrible day have such strong ties to each other and to the simple geography of the place that I will never fully comprehend it. But I think that's okay. I have my memories of that day, they have theirs.

In closing I will say this: keep your wits about you. Do not be swayed and emotionally manipulated by the inevitable evocations of 9.11 bravery paraded through upcoming political ads and campaigns. We are smarter than that, and the victims and their families deserve better.

Smell-o-rama and Aural Collage

2006-09-10T16:17:00.000-05:00

So you may have heard that New York City stinks. It does. It smells like garbage, especially when you are near some... garbage. (Duh.) But the stink also just sort of floats along randomly, waiting to assault you unxpectedly. It's pretty offensive. I mean, I've lived in big cities before. Chicago isn't exactly little. But Chicago is far less offensive than New York City when it comes to odor. I guess what do you expect with a gazillion people all living in tight quarters? But since I don't want to insult My New City, here are some things in New York that do not smell bad at all:

-My dog (who has always been sweet-smelling for a dog)
-The Laundromat (good smells abound)
-Cafe Grumpy (a coffee shop that smells like coffee)
-The Polish Bakery (which smells deee-lite-ful, as you could imagine)

Less offensive than the smells is the ambient noise that comes with living on top of other people. Well, some noise I could do without (garbage trucks, motorcycles, drunk people at 4am outside my window yelling at eachother.) But I actually quite enjoy hearing Brooklyn neighborhood sounds drift in through my open windows. Today, I sat at the kithen table and painted a small, Mexican Folk-art-inspired cow while listening to the following:

-classical piano sonatas from radio somewhere below
-kids playing next door
-occasional dog barks
-birds in the tree outside my window (Disney-esque, but true)
-someone clumsily strumming a guitar on their fire escape
-loud, Brooklyn-dialect heavy conversations between neighbors (was far enough away so as to not be annoying)

Tomorrow I am putting Jack in doggy daycare and going into the city to wander. I'll have a full report for your reading pleasure. I'm sure there will be something to note, because it is the 5th anniversary of 9.11. We'll see how that goes.

Empire State Building Lighting Schedule

2006-09-08T19:17:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Alison (friend and former New Yorker) who reminded me that there exists a schedule online that spells out the lights on the Empire State building.

Check it out:
http://www.esbnyc.com/tourism/tourism_lightingschedule.cfm

I heard that the Chrysler Building is the "feminine" answer to the masculine lines of the Empire State building. I actually like the Chrysler building better, but they do compliment each other nicely.

Random Photo Montage for Your Pleasure

2006-09-07T16:07:00.000-05:00

Location, location, location.

2006-09-07T14:37:00.000-05:00

That saying exists in the real estate world for a reason.

So the next time you are apartment shopping/house hunting, remember that adage. Think twice about that space just steps around the corner from a bustling street. Because while it may be charming to stumble across the way to fetch some milk and a paper in the morning, it is not charming when the huge rumbly delivery trucks begin to make their riotously loud commute down your narrow street at 6am. It is even less charming when a semi truck nearly demolishes and then wedges itself neatly (and rather inexplicably) between your car and the sidealk loading dock. (I'm sure you can imagine, this was not a quiet affair. Many of the neighbors were quite upset. Our street is very narrow. After you park cars on either side, it doesn't leave room for an SUV, much less a semi tractor trailer. Add the fact that it was 6:30 in the morning, and you've got a situation brewing.)

Ce' la vie. Such is New York, I suppose.

Today I saw a plane skywriting, although I have absolutely no idea what it wrote.

They have those amazingly bright lights lit up at Ground Zero that project two beams of light into the night sky. It's sad and beautiful and not enough.

"Wash & Fold" and Other Miscellany

2006-09-05T08:01:00.000-05:00

Across the street from my apartment is a laundromat. There are actually many, many laundromats in our neighborhood because when you live in Ye Olde Row House, you probably don't have a washer dryer in your teensy living space. I used a laundromat frequently when I lived in Chicago, and I actually really liked it. Maybe that's cause I'm a nutter, or maybe it's just another one of those environments where all kinds of people are forced to mix and face the fact that no matter who you are, you will eventually have to wash your clothes.

But hark... I spied a sign on the local laudromat that said "Wash & Fold Services." My husband told me that he used to always use Wash&Fold when he lived in Manhattan, and I thought the idea of someone else washing and folding your dirty underwear was kind of skangy. But being a New New Yorker who feels compelled to immerse herself in new things, I decided to give it a try. I dropped off two big laundry bags to the lady who ran the place. My bags weighed 12 pounds each, and for her to Wash&Fold them would be at total of $16. She said they would be ready later in the day. I have to admit, I was afraid something would go missing or come back ruined. Or that I would be judged on my dirty clothes or something.

But guess what? When Rick brought the clean laundry home, any resistance I might have had melted clean away into the piles of perfectly folded, sweet-smelling, fresh-from-the-dryer clothes. Oh, this was the good life! It was like when you wake up on Monday morning as a kid, and your mom had done all the laundry the night before. Utterly divine. I am forever sold on the Wash&Fold.

Now if they only offered dishwashing services...

Other things:

* I can see the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building from my neighborhood. Where we are in Brooklyn is right across the river from their homes in Manhattan. They look so cool lit up at night! The lights on the Empire State Building change depending on the holiday or season. Right now it's red, white and blue. I'm not sure if this is the default setting or if it's cause the 5th anniversary of 9.11 is next week.

* Last night we witnessed a group of adults running desperately after a softee-serve ice cream truck yelling "Ice Cream Man!!! ICE CREAM MAN!!! COME BACK! Waaaiiiit!!" It was pretty funny. We caught up with him later in the evening, and promptly spoiled our dinner with choco cones.

* This is not really a New York thing, but I need to say something about it anyway. I am really sad that Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter, is gone. Maybe that's silly to some, but I think my bosom friend Nicole said it best when she said that we rarely get to see someone so joyfully performing the exact job that they were put on this Earth to do. And if you ever saw Steve Irwin on Amimal Planet doing his "job," you understand. We should all be so lucky as to immerse ourselves in an occupation and lifestyle that makes us as happy as it makes those around us. Well played, Steve Irwin.

Mission for today: find the nearest mailbox and the DMV.

Serek Truskawkowy (homogenizowany)

2006-09-02T12:42:00.000-05:00

I'll be you didn't know that says "Strawberry Soft Cheese (homogenized)".

Let me tell you a little about my new neighborhood, Greenpoint. It's a largely Polish community. When my dear college friend and fellow Greenpoint resident Nicole forewarned me of this, I thought "How charming. I can buy good sausages." What I did not expect were entire stores -nay, entire blocks- of solidly Polish-speaking New Yorkers.

It's this kind of situation: You go into a local store, and everyone there is not only speaking Polish, most of the signage is written in Polish. So you fumble your way through the dairy produts trying to find a suitable spread for your breakfast bagels. You end up with Serek Truskawkowy. At least it has a picture of a strawberry on the package. This seems safe enough. Remembering you still need a shower curtain, you venture up to the register to ask if they have any. The clerk looks pained when you open your mouth and English comes out, and no. They don't have any shower curtains. Rejected and desperate for a hot shower, you opt instead for a plastic party table cloth. You are a smart girl; you'll figure out a way to make it into a temporary fix.

I hear Greenpoint is on the fast track to becoming gentrified. Which is to say that in ten years, there probably won't be as many Real Polish People. There probably won't be a "PoleMart." (Yes, really. There really is a store called PoleMart.) Anyway, I think that's kind of sad because it's neighborhoods like these that make big cities fun and diverse places to be. So, in the meantime, I will learn a few Polish greetings and maybe I can say hi to the old man next door who peeks his head out every time Jack and I walk by.

And as for the Serek Truskawkowy, it's kind of like a cross between Strawberry yogurt and cream cheese. Next time, I'll try the blueberry.

In the clearing stands a boxer...

2006-09-01T15:45:00.000-05:00

Paul Simon is from Brooklyn. But I haven't seen him yet. Welcome to my new blog about being a New New Yorker. A Virgin New Yorker. Eyes wide open.

In other words, scared shitless.

In my first three hours as a New New Yorker, I have been unsuccessful at the following:

* getting keys duplicated

* finding/buying a shower curtain

* eliminating the gas smell in my sublet

* speaking Polish to the ladies at the corner market

* getting my traumatized doggy to eat her dinner

Daily "Only in New York" moment: Opening the fridge in my sublet to find that the landlord had left two six packs of beer for me. Sweet.