Cool Hunting for Fall

So it's been awhile since I wrote about some fun new products/things I've been loving- but it doesn't mean I haven't been finding them here are some of the highlights!

1. Band-aid Blister Block- This stuff is genius. Sure it looks like a mini deodorant stick and when you put it on in public people stare, but it works. I've used it many a time this summer on shoes that usually give me blisters and for the most part I've been blister free! The only time it does not work is if you already have one developing, which is clearly warns you of on the box. Seriously, this stuff was a fantastic find and really does work! Try it!

2. Mr. Clean Wipes- So we all already know what a big fan I am of the Magic Eraser and in the past I tended to lean towards the Clorox Wipes, but I have to admit, I like the Mr. Clean wipes better. They come out of the container much more smoothly, they have ridges for really getting stuff cleaned and just feel a little tougher, how could you not with an image like that on your products!

3. Downy Wrinkle Releaser- Okay, so I haven't actually used this product yet, but I'm so excited to try it. I saw a commercial for it recently and the next day ran to Duane Reade to pick it up, alas they didn't have it! I'm so excited for the next Target trip to pick it up- and if anyone has used it, what do you think??

4. Al Fresco Chicken Sausages- I love these chicken sausages. LOVE. They are quick and easy to cook, taste great and are healthy! An added bonus is that Matt who doesn't like sausages really enjoys the buffalo flavor which makes it even easier for us to have these for dinner at least once a week. YUM.

5. Lilla P Sweater- I recently got (aka stole) one of the new Lilla P sweaters from my Mom and I'm obsessed with it, I think I'd wear it everyday if I could. It is the perfect fall wrap, and honestly the kind of wrap I've been looking for! It is soft, comfortable, breathable and you can wear it a ton of different ways. Best of all, I get complimented on it constantly. I love it. All of their clothes quickly become favorite pieces, honestly.

Photography 101

I went back to school last night. As I left work, on the way to class, I realized how unprepared I was. I should have brought a backpack, instead I was carrying my purse and a notebook and pen, but maybe that's how its like in school now. As I thought about my lack of preparedness I realize it was because I was a little nervous about doing this and thus I ignored it and did not accurately prepare. Its not like I enrolled in an MBA, or any kind of a program, its a one time thing, a photography class so I can learn more about the technical aspect of taking pictures and become better at something I think I'm already pretty good at.
I left work a little early, anxious about getting there on time, and was there too early. A bunch of us stood around in the hallway leaning against lockers waiting to get into the class room. Finally one guy just pushed the door open and we realized not only was it not locked, there was no one in the room. A typical first night of class move, no one wants to take the initiative in the first place, and as soon as one person is just standing outside the class room everyone will be.
The room was crappy, I'm not going to sugar coat it. I was kind of expecting a more "state of the art" facility. Clean, roomy, white boards, overhead projectors, camera equipment, nice desks. This was the opposite. Tags all over the black board (yes, black board and chalk), tags on the desks, trash from other classes.
The teacher says fuck every other word. And loves that its part of "who he is". He calls himself "a scary guy" I just think he's making up for some lack of self-confidence and its going to get grating to watch him do it for 3 hours every Monday for 10 weeks.
But the teacher knows what the fuck he's talking about and he's good. I'm going to learn a ton...and I don't have to lug my camera with me every night, I just have to make sure I practice when I get home.
When I went to get a water on the break the guy at the bodega gave me eyes. But they have seltzer and I'm probably going to have a secret admirer to deal with every Monday night now cause I'll definitely go back on breaks, you gotta leave on breaks- right?
As I left I passed a ton of Baruch students leaving their night classes, and the 6 train at 23rd street filled with them. It felt kind of cool and new to be part of the group of students getting on the train.
Its fall, I'm back in school and it feels good!

Playing with Photoshop

Shiva

Wednesday night was much fuller and my memory is such because of it. The house filled up quickly with people wanting to attend the service. I dressed quickly and went downstairs to wait at the table. If I risked laying down I may never want to get up.
My parents dentist was there. Not your typical older man dentist. He was younger and dressed in tight pants and a jean jacket. I knew he had a colostomy bag under it. My parents used to say they could hear it gurgle sometimes when he leaned in close to them. It was really sweet of him to come, he really like my Dad.
He mostly talked with Sammy, but I saw him eye me a couple of times. When he asked me how old I was, I saw his eyes light up a little to learn I was 25. My shirt was kind of tight and I knew he must be eying my chest. It felt kind of good to be looked at with eyes that said, “Nice rack.” Rather than, “That poor child.”
I eyed the door, knowing Helena was coming. I wanted someone other than temple people to be with me. The Rabbi came before she did and it meant the service would begin. We made our way into the living room so we could sit. I made Matt sit with us. I needed him by my side. The service was short and I read along with out thinking. Standing to say the Mourners Kaddish was no different to me in that moment, I always stood, there was always loss to mourn. When I was younger and hadn’t known war yet, it was victims of the holocaust, soon enough it was soldiers in the war, then it was family members, now it was my Dad. I would always be standing for it.
Helena arrived and we sat at the head of the table, her nibbling on a dessert and telling me funny stories of mishaps on dates. One guy had just quizzed her on Hamlet. I wanted to hear about the things happening in her life, not have to remain focused on mine.
The door opened and I looked up to see an old friends Father walk in. He hadn’t changed since I was 18 and getting ready to head off to college, not knowing that the friend and I would hardly talk after then. I got up to greet him.
“Adrienne,” He said hugging me, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was even sick.”
I played the greeting part and shook my head with a crooked frown, “Yeah, it happened really quickly.”
“I was just sitting at the table eating my bean soup and drinking a beer and I saw the announcement in the Suncook Sun and my mouth dropped. I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Thank you,” I responded. I knew he wanted to hear how and what had happened so I told him about the original diagnosis, the reoccurrence, how he had tried to find a way to fight it, how there wasn’t, that we had called in hospice.
“Wow.” Was all he could say.
“My mom is in the other room if you want to say hello.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He was speechless as he turned to go into the living room, “Grace,” I heard him begin.

Black Dress

When she first walked in front of me I thought, "Damn, that girl is fierce." Then I started to look at her more closely and realized how opposite we were. She wore a flowy, but fitted black dress with a leather section on the back. I wore a simple cotton black dress. She was strutting down the pavement in knee high black stiletto boots, I was flopping along in black flip flops. Her head was shaved, my hair is past my shoulder blades. She carried a large designer black leather bag with gold buckles and zippers, I was clutching my small turquoise wallet.
I was really taking this in, thinking how different we were, how funny that she had stepped in front of me to walk down the same block and how immediately I had started to pick up our differences, but it was because of our similarities, both young women in black dresses walking on a cool September morning.
As we neared the coffee shop I was heading to, I thought how cool it would be if she walked in, and then she did and held the door for me.
We both ordered iced coffees. I noticed the tag on the shirt she had under the dress, H&M, the tank top I wore under my dress was H&M too. She got her coffee first and left the chocolate they give you with your order, I did the same. I was still lost in thought before I realized she had already quickly walked out.
As I headed back to the office I thought about how in a city so big and diverse there are still the small things that connect us, and maybe we aren't so different after all.
Although, she put sugar in her coffee, and I never do.

Laundry Day

Living together is great. Especially when your significant other isn't doing much over the summer and can be a house husband. Some days he laxes... "I just didn't have motivation to do anything today." I can understand that, although you get really used to coming home to a made bed everyday.
One of the biggest perks is that he'll do the laundry. After a few trips with much complaining, now he's committed and over the weird faces the women who run/work in the laundromat give him.
There have been a few mishaps... I came home one hot Friday evening after having to walk 40 blocks because my train decided to stop running.
I walked in sweaty and mildly annoyed. But I was ready to keep the energy level up and wanted to head to the gym. I looked at the drying rack. There were many many more wet clothes than should have been on the rack, and many of them were clothes that could have been put in the dryer.
I turned to Matt, who had an "oh shit" look on his face.
"Why is all of this stuff just lumped on here? Why didn't you dry my exercise shirts?"
"I didn't know which ones I could dry or not so I just wanted to play it safe."
"But, we went through it. I told you which you could and couldn't dry?"
After the mostly broken cheap Target drying rack actually broke and I had moved shirts to other locations throughout the apartment to dry appropriately, and Matt and I had had a voices raised discussion that ended in us both laughing and realizing our ridiculousness (Mine at getting so upset about this, his at not just using common sense when it came to what can be dried) we headed to the gym, and came up with a new system. Stuff that goes in the dryer goes in one bin, stuff that doesn't goes in another and he does two loads. No fail, right?
For a few months it was.
One day, knowing Matt was doing laundry, I commented that since there weren't many clothes in the "to be hung" bin why didn't he just toss the sheets in too. He agreed and I left for work.
The first GChat conversation was about trying to get out of doing the laundry. I didn't back down, being pretty much out of gym socks and underwear.
The second GChat conversation asked me about washing things in cold water. I was busy so I didn't think much about it and just answered that I usually wash everything in cold since I don't seperate colors. He seemed appeased.
I came home that night with plans of working out, doing some writing and a little cleaning. I had the house to myself and was excited about it.
When I walked in I saw the bottom sheet hung over the opened doors of our kitchen closet. "What?" I thought. I walked into the bedroom and there was the top sheet strewn about over our open closet doors. "Why wouldn't you dry the sheets!"
I started fuming with frustration. I tried to calm myself by putting on workout clothes and just trying to ignore it. It didn't work. The sheet was taking up basically the whole room and I couldn't avoid it as I changed. So I changed my plans and began the process of laying the sheets out over the couch and bed to get maximum air coverage and started using the hairdryer. I was cursing the situation under my breath the whole time and just shaking my head at how he would think he couldn't dry the sheets. My shirts I can understand, but he must have washed his own sheets before, right?
I started to calm down later into the night, and had a funny conversation with my Mom about training hetero males. She remembered a conversation she'd had before Dad died about what a great man Sammy was becoming, but that he still needed training on how to be a good roommate, as most men do.
When Matt got home close to 12:30, he came into the bedroom to see if I was awake.
"We have to talk." I began
"What?"
"Why didn't you dry the sheets?"
"What do you mean? I asked you about this."
"No you didn't, you asked," Matt interuptted
"Hold on a second." He turned to walk out of the room and I knew he was going to get his computer to prove that he had asked me.
"You asked me about the water temperature!" I called after him
He came back, computer in tow and kneeled at the bed to look up our chat.
"Oh...," His plan of proving me wrong via computer failing, "You're right. I got confused."
"Yeah, you just asked me about washing in cold water."
"I guess I figured that meant you hang it up to dry, because I usually wash the stuff going in the dryer in warm water."
I just laughed.
"Sorry Bear," He said looking at me sheepishly.
"It's okay." I said laughing. Really I wasn't ever mad at him, just frustrated at the situation and underneath it all lusting for an apartment with a washer and dryer hook up. When I related this to Matt he exclaimed, "I like having the laundry to do, I like that its my thing."
The next day as I folded up the now dry sheets I noticed how soft and fresh they smelled. When I pointed this out to Matt he responded, "I know, that's what I intended!"

A little bit of this, and a little bit of that

This year was so much better than last. I was in the moment, I was enjoying each moment, I was loving it for me and for Dad like I wanted. Friday, our last full day, it was rainy most of the morning and when the sun finally popped out around 2 I hurried into my bathing suit and down to the dock for sunning. I wanted those last few rays to warm my skin, I wanted to be able to hold the feeling, the warmth and color on me for weeks after I'd left.
There was a family with an infant playing in the water and as I lay, eyes closed and face up I smiled and laughed along with them. It was just the four of us and it was great. The sun started to move behind the trees surrounding the dock and I kept moving my lounge chair further and further to the edge of the dock to keep the sun on me. At one point, when there was no one there, I just stood on the furtherest edge and basked in the light. I was craving it and didn't want to give in and head back up to the cabin. When it finally moved well beyond where I could reach it, I turned and gazed out at the lake. The sun was still sparkling magically on the eerily calm water and I thought, "Why don't I just get in the kayak?" So I did. It was a total Dad move. Decide you want to get out there and just go. Normally I may have just paddled to the middle of our part of the lake and lounged, but instead I kept paddling, even beyond the edge of Great Island that marked our entrance to the rest of the lake. I saw Sunset Rock in front of me on another Island, a place we'd stopped at during many family kayaking trips. I hadn't gone all last year, and now was the perfect time.
I felt great as I glided through the water. I let the sadness I had been feeling all week flow through me and pass over me and release. My arms, my shoulders, my body were in rhythm and I hummed the song that Dad would always reference as he explained the best speed of your paddles, "A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a little bit of this, a little bit of that."
As I reached the rock, I saw there was a young girl laying on a blanket reading near the water. Someone like me, I thought. Looking for somewhere to get away and just be.
As I glided to a stop and pulled the kayak up onto the rocky edge I realized I hadn't brought a towel, or anything to lean on, or lay on. Oh well. I immediately jumped into the clean, clear water and let myself slip into the cool comfort I feel when being underwater. I came up for air and swam a little bit further out before coming back and climbing onto the rock hot with the days sun.
I leaned back on my hands, closed my eyes and tilted my head up. It felt great to just sit there and be bathed in late day sun. I tried mediating, just breathing deeply and clearing my mind. I was able to for a bit, and then more people started to gather on the popular rock. I thought, if I had brought a towel I probably would have stayed for hours.
I climbed back into the kayak and began paddling back towards the tip of Great Island and then back. As I neared the Island, I slowed down my stroke debating whether to stop at some other rocks I had seen. I heard a splashing to my left and looked over as a loon emerged from the water about a paddles length away from me. I was frozen for a second as I looked at the large black and white bird and his, or her, red eye fixed on me. Loons are beautiful creatures, and large when you're as close to them as I was. I wish I didn't get scared and paddle a bit more quickly away, but I did and as I turned to look at the bird again I saw him, or her, rise a little ways out of the water and flap his, or her, wings. Territorial, I thought. Good thing I paddled away.
As I made my way back to the cabin, I felt happy and proud. I had gone into the week wanting to be able to let myself just take in and enjoy where I was, do things for Dad, and myself. And I had, and this kayak gave me a renewed since of, I'm okay. And, after a week of being in a small house with lots of people coming in and out it was nice to have some alone time too, although I didn't feel totally alone.


Too see them all

Post Vacation Depression

I've had little to no motivation to do anything at work this week. I get home late every night and just sit on the couch and catch up on the two weeks of TV I've missed (lame!). Then I lay in bed trying to fall asleep and toss and turn with anxiety over all the things I haven't done (clean the apartment, put things away, cook the fresh veggies from Mom's garden, spend time with Matt). So all things considered, I think that points to PVD.

Now that I know, I definitely feel more motivated to get some shit done this week and since we'll be sailing all day tomorrow, and I part of the shit I want to get done is work related, today's the day. I started work with a bang and have been blasting through some projects I've been pushing to the bottom of the pile for weeks. I cleared my schedule so I could have a CFF (Commitment Free Friday) and go home, have QT with the Fiancee and do some cleaning/organizing. I'm more excited than I have been all week.

It feels good, like I'm back into the grove I'd gotten into before vaca. I'm excited about the small things, I'm feeling good about work and things are good. I think its why I haven't blogged really all week. I was just blah. But Squam was wonderful and there are so many pictures to show and things to write about besides that list I made.
Even though this is slightly tounge in cheek and I'm not really depressed just suffering from a vacation hangover, it is so true that once you can verbalize the problem, or admit to having the problem, it all becomes so clear. I feel the motivation returning, I want to accomplish and achieve at work and am ready to tackle getting things in order for the upcoming weeks, cause really after this week I don't get to use the vacation excuse anymore.

Oh Oprah, you teach me without even knowing it.

So I was at the gym today and caught some of Oprah- she was having famous women talk about what they would tell their younger selves and what they know now that they're "older". It got me thinking about what I would tell my younger self- and it was all the same mush- love yourself for who you are, beauty comes from inside, blah blah...
And then I had a bigger revelation. We can tell our younger selves these things because we've learned them from being who we were.
If we were all confident, loving, self affirmed teenagers we probably wouldn't be who we are today which is usually happier, healthier and proud of what we'd accomplished. I think I would be snobbish, stuck-up and lonely if I didn't have the baggage and yucky teenage years to have taught me about loving myself, helping others feel loved and what confidence is. It we start out with everything, we've got a lot more to lose rather than gain.
So, I guess I'm happy that being a gawky teenager sucked, because all the goodness I've found inside and out feels that much better.

Week on Squam

Sparkling light on water
Pre-storm breezes
Post-rain steam lifting above fields
Rays of sun through clouds
Deep late light on plush green hills
Loon calls
The white of a loon's belly
Lake air wiping around and through me on the boat
Sun
Raft wood against my breasts and stomach
The clicking of my camera

Squam

Work's picking up, just as I get ready to go back to Squam for the week, our annual family vacation. Although over the years it has turned into much more than just a family vacation. Girlfriends and Boyfriends (now fiancee's) come too, family friends stay next door, visitors constantly in and out.
Last year, quite honestly, it sucked. Dad had just died, we were all raw. It was his most favorite place to come, to go, to be and then we were there without him. He was missing it, we were missing him. There was just missing. We were all still retarded by grief, unable to take in Squam, take in activities we loved on Squam. It was hard, it was good to be there, but hard and again, it kind of sucked.
This year, of course it will be hard, but I think it will be that much better for the year having passed. (It's all about time) We've all grown, we've all processed, A LOT, and I'm ready, excited, looking forward to it.
I've got wedding magazines and books to look at on the deck as I sip strong drinks and feel the rush of alcohol through my blood. I've got urges to run and swim and kayak. I want to feel the lake and sun, take it all in (with SPF 30 of course), without a constant layer of sadness.
Last year I told my Mom, "The first couple of days are going to be horrible, but then we'll let ourselves go a bit and it will be nice to be there." And it was, I was right. This year, I think it will lessen, the first couple of hours will be hard and I'll let myself go a bit more readily.
On the phone last night Mom told me about talking to a colleague about going to Squam, how the summer has been hard, but better, how there are still so many pieces that are missing Dad, that Dad's missing and Squam is a big part of that and there is a big part of her, and me too, that hurts when she thinks about going back there again without him. The colleague passed something on to her, which I'll translate here with my own interpretations.
When you're there, honor him. Do the things he loved to do and while you're doing them, make it more about honoring him and how much he would have loved to do it. Kayak to a place he loved and just meditate on the honoring of his memory, his enjoyment of the place, your enjoyment of being in that place with him.
It instantly resonated with her, and I took it in quite similarly.
Often my grief is selfish, I miss what I've lost in his death. But there are many times when it is also about what he's missing. I wish he were here because he would so enjoy this, I'm sad because he's missing it. That is what Squam is about.
So, this year I am going to honor him. When I feel the grief creep up I will be glad that I can still do the things he loved so much and I'll do them more for him. It doesn't mean pushing it down or willing it away, it means enjoying the moment for him, and remembering the times you were in that place, doing that thing with him. It is the memories that help sustain us in times of sorrow, he was with us for so many summers at Squam and they were wonderful.
So, I'm ready to keep making them wonderful, for Dad and for me.

Cool Hunting- Restaurant Week

Week 1- 1 Restaurant, Lunch Menu
Morimoto- Fast seating, fast service. Lovely soup and salad, loved the dressing with crunchy scallions. I got the chicken, curious and thinking it would be interesting. Matt got the Chef's Sushi Sampler. Everything was uninspired. I was hoping for much more. Sure it was good, and it was fast, but come on- its Morimoto- Iron Chef- give me something good! The decor was (although I'll sound nerdy) really really cool. Worth the trip for the bathrooms for sure- although the heated seats were broken. I'd go back to try some rolls, but wish I was given more incentive. Out of 10- 7.

Week 2- 4 (yes 4) Restaurants, all Dinner Menu

One if By Land- Two if By Sea- Beautiful. I walked in and immediately loved it. We were seated upstairs and it was warm and cozy. Each table has its own white candlestick and two fragrant roses. Great touch. The brick was dark and warm, the carpet a deep burgundy, so dark and elegant. When I got up at one point and walked downstairs towards the rest room a waiter on the stairs held out his hand and made sure I got down the stairs with ease- classy. Every dish was lovely and delicious. I got the sea bass and Matt got the chicken. The sea bass was soft, moist and light with delicious tapanade. The chicken was tender and flavorful and served with lovely whipped potatoes. The raspberry sorbet was fantastic, I adored it. Really. Out of 10- 10.

Tribeca Grill- Good, solid meal and a nice atmosphere. The rolls were chewy and warm, the beet salad light with sweet baby beets. I got the Sea Bass (again, I know, nothing else I liked offered) it had a nice light flavor and was against moist and perfectly prepared. Matt got the Ravioli which was packed and mushroomy (I don't like mushrooms). Others at the table got the beef dish- it was packed with well paired flavors and moist- yum. I had the panacotta for dessert- light and sweet, a good ending to a good meal. Given the price it won't be worth returning for me, but its a good place over all. One note- in the handicap bathroom on the first floor- the paper towels were dispensed at the top of the dispenser- way out of reach of many handicap patrons...hmm. Out of 10-8

Mesa Grill- Started with a yummy peach margarita- definitely recommend it. This place had the worst service over all. The hostess was a bit snobby and we were not seated promptly (at the 4 other restaurants, all pleasant and prompt). Our waiter then ignored us most of the night and we hardly got our water filled and when we did it was room temp. I had the chopped salad and tried the tortilla soup- both good and light enough for an appetizers. We all had the chicken. It was yummy and moist- very Texas (fitting). The blue corn tortilla with basil butter was the highlight for me. The dessert was a bit off putting for me, and not that inspired. I had the peach short cake and others the chocolate cake- and all were so so. Overall, I was underwhelmed and wouldn't head back there. Out of 10-5.

Kobe Club- I walked by it 3 times before I found it. I guess they want to be cave like- and they achieve. This place has such cool decor. I loved it. The knife ceiling- awesome. The light fixtures, warm and interesting. The way they give you the check- so cool. I tried pretty much everything on the menu. All delicious. The raviloi- so flavorful and a good saltiness- I love salt. The tartare, so fresh it was tasteless, perfect. The 50 year old aged balsamic- yummy with perfectly ripe tomatoes. I had the chicken, the portion was huge and it was tender and nicely flavored. The two beef dishes were moist and flavorful, I don't love beef- but everyone at the table raved. We tried the mashed potatoes (leek and wasabi) both were so smooth and yummy and the wasabi had just enough bite. We also tried the peas and pearls- they as Matt said, "Taste like good peas" Well- yeah. The berry's and creme were a perfect ending to the meal. I think I enjoyed Kobe club the best- such a great atmosphere. The only bad thing- they tried too hard with the bathrooms and they are just weird. Having to press a foot pedal to run the faucet? Needing the strength of a brute man to close and open the doors? Come on. Out of 10- 9.

So there you have- my crazy full restaurant week. I know, I know, it's over now and you can't try them at the reduced cost. But keep this post in mind for the return of restaurant week in the Winter! And if you need a great restaurant to go to and are willing to pay full price- I highly recommend One if by Land-Two if by Sea or Kobe Club.

The Wind in my Hair

I was a bit chilly when we climbed into the cab on Monday night, but I left the window most of the way down. I love the feeling of moving fast through the city streets, the windows down, the wind in my hair and on my face. It is admittedly one of my favorite parts of taking cabs at night.
We were stop and go on 6th for a bit, but as soon as we hit the park and the cab turned left on Park, we were off. I put my head back and turned my face to the open window. I felt calm, at peace, happy to be in that moment. I reached my hand across the seat and Matt took it. He was in the moment too. It really hit me that this was my life, and I was happy. I was in a city I love, with the man I love and the wind was flying across my face and through my hair, I felt alive. I didn't want it to end, but as we exited the cab, Matt took my hand again and we walked slowly down our block still a bit entranced.
And then, in front of our first place together, he made the moment even longer by getting down on one knee and opening a box to a sparkling diamond ring. And I said yes. Of course. And there were kisses and, "Oh my god we're engaged!"
As he walked me around the block to help us come back to reality he gave me something my Father had written in January of 2006 at my parents annual New Years Eve party. It was his prediction for the year and it said, Adrienne will get a ring. Maybe it was a little late, but I did, and he was there, full blessing and all.

Friday

The mid-summer cool breeze washed over me as I walked across 91st and neared home.
I felt it stir around me, and looking up 91st towards Park noticed the full green trees that shaded the street, the quite people walking down it, how the cars were a part of the street darkened by the leaf cover, and everything just kind of fell silent for a moment. I can feel it now coming in the open windows. It feels like home.

Rainy Omens and Selflessness

I woke up at 3 wondering what the noise was. It was the big round drops of rain on our AC unit. I pulled the shade out a bit and looked out the window. Ick.
I woke up again at 8 and hit snooze, 5 times. Ick.
When I finally got up, I had to turn on the light to get dressed, thus waking Matt up way before he probably wanted to, "No, its okay, I should get up, its okay." That's why I love him.
I had already planned on wearing a dress, Thank God. Jeans don't cut it in this weather, you'll be soaked to the mid thigh by the time you reach the subway.
I walked outside and put up my umbrella, it would be helpless in this downpour, but I tried anyway. I turned around at the end of my block. I walked inside and buzzed upstairs, "Will you bring me down my raincoat?" Again, this is why I love him.
When he opened the door to hand it to me, I asked, "Wanna drive me to 86th St?" I was mostly kidding and he said no anyway. He's not completely selfless, but who is?
The rain had let up at that point, so it wasn't as bad as I thought anyway.
As soon as I signed on to email when I got to work I got a gchat: "I feel so guilty. As soon as you left I thought, oh man I should drive her and tried to call." Okay, this is why I love him.

But besides the complete selflessness of my boyfriend that makes me adore him, I should have known the rain was a sign.

Tonight my 6 train pulled into 14th st. and there was a 4 waiting across the platform, the typical train switching happened, and both sat, doors open. First they told everyone the 4 train was out of service. So they all go on our 6. Then they told us the 6 was out of service, so we all got off. THEN they told us there were no east-bound trains running. So we all left the station.
Crap. At least it wasn't raining anymore. I had to cancel my plans and feared I'd have to venture to a bus... a bus?? I'd never taken one of those, how does it work here!!
Luckily again, my there in a call boyfriend looked up that the NRQW's were running, so I got on a surprisingly not too crowded one and, I think, got to the last 6 train out of 59th st. And, when I got home sweaty and tired, he had already turned the AC on in the bedroom for me.
So, although the rain turned out, as I feared, to be a bad sign, there was some silver lining on the clouds.
God, that was cheesy.
But, in all seriousness- I feel for the people that were truly affected by the transformer explosion.

Fireflys

So I do this thing when I've got plans that involve putting forth out of the ordinary efforts. I want to bail out last minute. Say, I've got plans to meet friends somewhere that requires trains I've never taken before and many transfers and will result in me not knowing how to get home from said place. I'm usually gung-ho when we make the plans and then as the day comes and the time to leave approaches, I want to call and say, "Sorry, I'm out." I'm pretty sure it is because I don't want to put in the effort, and am a bit nervous about getting there. But if I had stuck it out, and gone anyway despite my hesitations I would probably have had a blast, seen a new part of the city and gotten more comfortable with the transit system, so how come I can't see past my ehhnes?
Perfect true life example:
I bought Summer Stage Decemberists tickets about a month ago. I was totally pumped. I'd been listening to Crane Wife since the beginning of the year and was really getting into it. Many weekends in February and March had been spent at home with Mom, Decemberists blasting and us writing at the kitchen table. Enough back story, I was excited.
Then, all of a sudden it was the Sunday before the concert. I didn't know what time the show was, where the stage was, and what the plans with my friends were. I started to get a little anxious.
E-Mails were flying back and forth on Monday, and it was determined that the working girls would meet the non-working girls inside the venue close to when we figured the Decemberists would go on. We would miss the group dinner and find it on our own, sad. I felt rushed at work, we had spent most of the day at another location meeting people, and I almost felt like canceling, working till 7 and just chilling at home with Matt. What didn't help was that I'd had a busy full weekend and Monday hurt even more when it came. Again, I wanted to cancel. I'd been so pumped when I'd bought the tickets and now, I didn't care. I was able to see a great up-and-coming band, in the middle of central park on a gorgeous day and I didn't want to. What's wrong with me?
Well, I didn't back out- really how could I? Instead I took my time at dinner with my other working-girl friend and causually strolled over to the park and Summer Stage entrance. I tried not to rush myself, or stress myself out, it wasn't worth it.
When we got inside, the non-working girls weren't even there yet! We sat around and people watched as Grizzly Bear played, I wasn't that into what they were playing at the time, and waited. When the full group finally came together we pushed our way into the crowd and got pretty good standing room seats.
Grizzly Bear played their last song, and I loved it, and then the Decemberists came on and they were fantastic. They tell such great stories with their songs and put on a great live show. They were all dressed as if for a garden party and started the show with summery songs. I only know their most recent album and I loved the new-to-me songs and want to download their other albums after I post this.
While we were clapping and yelling for them to do an encore I thought about my hesitations earlier in the day and how glad I was that I'd ignored them. I was standing in front of a small stage, seeing a fantastic band with great friends, a cool summer breeze was blowing around us and firefly's flickered beyond the stage. "I have to remember this feeling next time", I thought, and hopefully I will.

Club Duties

We were driving back from Tybee and the Crab Shack, we had just seen dolphins, had dolphins swim 50 feet away from us. We were headed to Sonic for frozen drinks. It was lovely. The AC was pumping and we were full of crab and clam and still a little wet from the beach, but it was good. I saw a friend call me for the second time and thought, "hmm I should pick this up". She had bad news. She had just heard that another friend's* mom had committed suicide and he and his dad had found her. I was devastated, and I didn't want to be. I hardly knew him anymore, but I felt his pain. I wanted to enjoy the moment I was in, I didn't want my head clouded with grief, I didn't want to be taken to a place of sorrow, I was frustrated with the process. Even though I really had no connection to him anymore I still felt so strongly, my heart was open to it because of what I'd been through. You can't control these things, I tried to and it kept flowing back, so I just let myself feel it. I drifted out of the conversation in the car, I sat back and watched the Spanish moss covered trees fly by. I drank my frozen drink slowly and silently. I let myself feel it, and then I was able to enjoy the moments around me again.

I'm sending him this card today:

Eric,

The easiest way to start is to say I'm sorry. I'm so deeply sorry for your loss. I know the pain, grief, frustration, anger, sorrow, heartbreak you are feeling. Although our losses are different and we are different people, I think in some ways what you'll experience will be similar to me, and I want you to know that if you need anything don't hesistate to let me know. If it's to vent, ask questions, just be around someone who "gets it", I'm here. Someone told me last summer, who had also experienced a great loss, "it is possible." That is been something I've thought about often as I waded through the mourning process. It is possible to get out the other side and feel a bit better, it is possible to continue your life, your "new normal" as I call it with a huge gaping hole in your life, it is possible. Again, I'm here if you need anything. The entrance fee fucking sucks, but once you're in the club, the other members are very nice and will do anything to help a new member.
Wishing you peace and serenity in this process.
Love,

Adrienne




*He is a guy I went to camp with, who I was fairly close with 10 years ago on our camp trip to Israel, but I haven't seen him in probably 6 or 7 years. Matt plays poker at his apartment sometimes, but he isn't always around.

Warp Speed

I move fast, but everyone moves fast in NY so generally I don't notice it so much. Lately I've noticed how fast I'm trying to move in relation to how slow the people around me seem to be moving, generally they are moving into my way so that helps with the noticing. Have I sped up?
My Mom stayed in our apartment when we were in Mexico, she loves NYC and jumped at the chance to have our apartment to herself (and her two friends) for a weekend. My Mom also moves fast, and in Concord, NH it is like warp speed. She commented to me several times after being here for the weekend how great it felt to be moving fast and have no one notice, because they're all moving fast too. Generally I agree.
But, as I said, lately I must be going a true warp speed because I'm bumping into people, falling over myself to get around them, walking in the street to avoid masses of slowpokes, etc. What's up with that? I noticed it Tuesday as I walked to work. I thought, "hmm, am I really walking so fast or are there just more slow people around me?" I know what you're thinking, its the tourists, but I live on the UES, there aren't really tourists up here at 9:20AM, are there?
Then today as I was heading into train I almost pushed the man in front of me to get him to move down the stairs, couldn't go around him he was too big and there were people coming up). Once he finally got down the stairs I had to make a quick football like move to get around his big frame instead of either bump into him, bump into the wall or wait behind him as he slowly took out his card and moved toward the gate.
I sighed as I walked onto the platform and started to fast walk to my spot. Then, in front of me I saw a grandmother walking hand and hand with her granddaughter. I watched as she looked down at her with the biggest and most genuine smile on her face, such a look of love and devotion that I slowed down.
"Wow," I thought, "Look how happy she is to just be in this moment sharing it with her granddaughter."
I walked at a normal pace, passing them as they sat on the bench near my spot. Maybe I have been walking too fast, maybe I needed to slow down, maybe all the slower people around me were little signals singing Simon and Garfunkel to me, "Slow down, you move too fast..."
I guess sharing that moment in the grandmother, granddaughter relationship, clearly a purely loving and tender one, is what it took. People around me walking too slowly aren't going to do it, its the people around me, who they are and what they can share with me, that will.

Car Talk

"Hold on."
"What?"
"I want to write down our conversations on the trip."
"It'll be a short list" snicker
"Whaaat?!"

"Isn't that a little weird?"
"What?"
"Colbat SS"
"What does it stand for?"
"I don't know, but isn't it a little weird?"
"Why?"
"Cause of the Gestapo?"
"Oh..."

"I want one of those watches you slap on."
"A slap bracelet watch?"
"Yeah! Slap bracelets were awesome!"
"Totally."
"Whatever happened to them? Didn't someone get hurt?"
"I think so, yeah"
"That's one of the problems with our litigious society. Someone gets hurt by something and then it's gone. Why can't they just put it out there that someone got hurt and then have a little fun with it?"
"Yeah, I don't know. How do you spell litigious?"

"NJ revolves around the turnpike- that's the truth. A fun game to play is looking at all the stupid town names. Maybe we'll get to see my least favorite town name."
"Yeah, I think I remember this."
"Mmhmm."
"So what is it?"
"Well, I don't know if we're going to pass it or not."
"Just tell me the name."
"Lodi New Jersey."
"Right, I remember now."
"I haven't seen the name of every town across the US but that is definitely low on my list of good names."
"I like the name Lodi."
"Maybe if there was a town like Matt Sucks, I'd like that less."
"Yeah, Mattsucks New Jersey."

"What are you thinking about?"
"I don't know. What are you thinking about?"
"What you're thinking about."
"You're thinking about what I'm thinking about?"
"Uh-huh."
"Okay."
"This was a good conversation."
"It doesn't have to be over."
"Mmhmm."
"I'm thinking about passing this guy," Said as he passes a guy.

"Is that the moon?"
"That red light?"
"NO!" pause, "That!"
"Woah, it is red."
"Yeah, it's on the horizon."
"Woah"
"(mocking) That red light."
"I was gonna say, if you thought that was the moon you're way off and we're about to pass it."

Savannah

Slowly

People move more slowly here. I'm moving a bit more slowly.
We stay up late and sleep late, we move through the day at our own speed. Having lunch at 3 and dinner at 9.

We sit in air conditioned rooms and talk, we walk through hazy hot streets and comment on the Spanish moss trees. We grill every night and comment on how good it tastes, how Kate and Eric are going to grill every night even after we leave.











We stood and watched the fireworks over a crowd of people and drank beer out of plastic cups, our own beer, it's allowed here. I put $1 into a juke box and we didn't hear my songs, but it didn't matter. We walked three blocks too far in the heat only to find what we were looking for across the street from where we started, but it didn't matter.


We sit in Adirondack chairs under the shade of old trees while we watch dogs play in wood-chips. Everyone knows each other via the dogs and all watch throughly entertained as two bigger ones wrestle. Its enough amusement to fill a lazy afternoon.





I move more slowly here.

Before I get in the car for 13 hours

I'm off to Savannah- to see
Kate- the bestest
Eric- The boyfriend, and also awesome

Looking forward to:

Funny conversations with Matt
Seeing beautiful landscapes
Writing in the car
Having an excuse to eat bad food
Watching the types of people at rest stops change
Getting to Kate's front door
An open stretch of road
The adventure

Not looking forward to:

Driving in a car for 13+ hours
Being nervous that if I fall asleep Matt will get sleepy
Criticizing Matt's driving (Doing it doesn't mean I like it!)
Eating bad food because we're on the road
My totally anxiety and pushiness about "just getting there"
Traffic

Look for:

Updates from Savannah to come, and lots and lots of pictures

How I spent my Sunday

It was just as I wanted it to be. Bagels, Clean Apartment, Sunny Bedroom, Inspiration, and a Computer in my lap. Now all I have is a two day work week. Driving down to Savannah to see Kate and Eric on Tuesday. Great way to start what is looking like a great week.

I want what I have

Lovely summer days with a light breeze through my hair
To be recognized for my writing
A fresh manicure so I don't pick at my nails
A good camera
To take great pictures
A clean apartment
A lovely closet and everything organized
Happiness
Antiqued frames with pictures of flowers hanging on a previously blank wall
Comforting linens
A venti iced anything to hold as I run errands
Blooming orchids
Vases of flowers
Enough money
Arms full of fresh things; vegetables, flowers, fruits
Nights of entertaining friends
Veggies and dip
Full wine glasses and delicious foods
Warm, wet, passionate kisses
Full journals and sore hands
To be thin
Alcohol induced buzzes and a table of good friends to share in it
An always made bed that I can't wait to unmake as I climb into it
The seasons to change on time
Popcorn
To devour books, so I can read them all
To send and receive cards and letters
To do lists with things crossed off
Weekends with nothing to do

Favorites

I hardly ever pick favorites. I don't really have favorite movies, favorite songs, favorite artists or even really a favorite food. I usually say it's because I'm fickle. I change my mind too quickly to pick a favorite. But now, maybe its more related to fear or laziness. Why can't I just hammer down what I like best and stick with it? What happens if my favorite changes? Can't I just say I have a new favorite? Is that better than not picking one at all? Isn't one of the joys in life to have a favorite something and relish in the enjoyment of getting it, hearing it, seeing it?
So here is an exercise in favoritism- where I try to pick some different favorites, just one of each. Okay maybe sometimes two... finally*.

Favorite Song-
I thought about this a lot today in preparation for writing this post. I finally picked one. "You Can't Always Get What You Want" - The Rolling Stones. Maybe its because every time I hear it I think of my Dad's story about hearing it played on the radio for the first time. He was young, rebellious, out on the beach smoking with his buddies and the DJ garbled over the airways something about a new one from the Rolling Stones, the soft instrumental introduction and then "I saw her today, at the reception..." They were silent listening to it, and then the cops busted them. No one allowed on the beach after dark, especially not a bunch of "kids" smoking. As they drove away they turned the radio up as Mick sang, "You can't always get what you want..." Maybe because I can listen to it over and over and not get sick of it. But mostly because its a damn good song and certainly good words to remind yourself of.

Favorite Movie-
For a really really long time my favorite movie was Empire Records. I watched it constantly. In high school we got a used Nordic Trak from friends and I would come home from school, get on it and watch 40 minutes of the movie, until I finished it and then I'd just restart it. My brother would just sit and watch it with me, and we would have contests to see who could speak along with the movie the best- really it just became us yelling over one and another. To this day I can't watch the movie with other people because I uncontrollably just speak along with it and it drives them crazy. I haven't watched it in years, so maybe its not my favorite anymore? But I really don't know what to replace it with. There are so many movies I can watch over and over, so many movies I get excited to see are on TV even though it means commercials and I could easily just pop my DVD in instead. There are so many classics I haven't even seen and could probably easily become a favorite. So for now I'll stick with Empire Records. It holds some great memories of snow days or sick days or any old day with my brother, yelling out the script in each others face without even watching the actual on screen action.

Favorite Book-
How do you pick? I find this one to the be the hardest. So many books touch me, and always in a different place and way. I could read something that totally blows my mind and feel so passionately about and two weeks later finish another book that totally blows my mind in a completely different way and satisfys me even more fully. But, I think the book that may have affected me the most was "She's Come Undone." - Wally Lamb. I would wrap myself up in a chair in my living room for hours and just sob as I read his words. I would often, probably every other sentence, turn back to the author bio just to make sure it was actually a man capturing these emotions so truly. I was in high school when I read it, maybe only 14 or 15 and just starting to truly expand my literary repertoire and yet, to this day, I'm not sure any novel has given me the same feeling as that one. I never wanted it to end. He so beautifully captured her passage through life, not only her coming of age, but her coming out of the coming of age and just being. I would cancel plans, or not care if I was stood up for plans if that book was in front of me, and when you're 14 or 15 and a freshman in high school- what you do on Friday night is everything. I remember sitting and waiting for some guy friends to come over one Friday night, what was to be the highlight of my week, hanging out with my crush and his cool friends. I picked up the book to pass the time and they never showed up. But I didn't care. At any other moment I would have been absolutely crushed. Sure, I've read many many amazing books since then. And some honorable mentions are deserved.
"The Hearts and Lives of Men"- Fay Weldon
"One Hundred Years of Solitude"- Gabriel García Márquez,
"The Unbearable Lightness of Being"- Milan Kundera,
"Everything that Rises Must Converge" - Flannery O'Connor
But in the end, I believe it was this book that gave me the understanding that a novel can change you, can make you more whole, and it opened me up to that and deserves the favorite spot.

Favorite Flowers-
I've always loved Gerbera Daisy's. The vibrancy of their colors matched with the simplicity of a daisy appeals greatly to me. I feel warm when I see them. I want to fill rooms with their colors, matching decor the yellows, fuschias and reds.
They are by far my favorite flower. However... there is a strong contender in the Peony. Their soft, subtle grace and beauty. How they explode with layers of petals in bright pinks and white. And their smell. It fills a room so smoothly and isn't overbearing like the Lily can be. I love how peonies fit so perfectly in rounded glass vases, like they are meant to put in small vases and set on coffee tables, counters, bedside tables and on bathroom counters.

Favorite Food-
So this is a really really hard one. But I have to pick, so, it will have to be pasta, all kinds with all sauces. When I'm in one of those moods where you're hungry, but tired and bored and just don't know what you want, its always Pasta that sates me. I love it. The carbs, the fats and dairy's you can mix it with. I sometimes am happy when a stomach bug has its grips on me and I can only eat pasta... what a great excuse.

Favorite Athlete-
When I got home last night, Matt said, "Okay, I loved your post (He's always trying to get me to pick my favorites) but I have some questions. I want to know more." So he asked me who my favorite athlete is. First I picked Drew Bledsoe because it was he who got me excited about the Patriots and ultimately made me become a football fan. But since he's not a very good athlete anymore, I decided to pick someone more current. It was actually easy, David Ortiz. Yes, yes, I'm a Red Sox fan. I grew up in NH, and went to school and lived in MA for 8 years and come from a family of Red Sox fans, its in my blood. People marvel at how a Yankees fan and Red Sox fan can make a relationship work, well we're living proof, but that's off topic. I've always loved Big Papi. He's a fun player to watch, sure he can only hit, but when he does, man it is good. He's very likeable too, that smile, his size, he's like a big teddy bear. And, one time I touched his fur coat when he was celebrating his birthday at a bar I was at. Sigh. I to this day want only for him to pick me up and bear hug me. So he is definitely my favorite athlete.

Favorite TV Show-
This was a toss up, and I ended picking a current favorite and a syndicated favorite. The Office is my current favorite, although really it would be one of the reality competition shows I watch but I figured I had to pick a "real" show. I really enjoy Steve Carrel, I think The Office is a witty and fun show, and I got a bit choked up when Jim came into the conference room and asked Pam out to dinner. YAY. My favorite syndicated show is Friends. It was close tie with SATC, but Friends always gets me. I've watched that show since high school and still enjoy every minute of every episode I've watched 30 times. I would get excited for Monday and Tuesday night TBS marathons when they were on. There are sometimes still episodes that I've missed pieces of and I get so excited when I'm watching something I don't remember seeing before. Sometimes I even think, could this really be an episode I've never seen before?? But then I see something I recognize and remember, there is no way I've not seen an episode.

*As I think of new favorites I will add them to this list so it truly becomes a collection of my favorite things

Everybody Poops

Monday night, we lay in bed together. You pretending you're going to bed in order to sneak in some pillow talk with me. Me, knowing you are pretending and letting you come chat with me as it helps me fall asleep, until you are too chatty and I have to kick you out of bed. But anyway.
I fantasize with you about our upcoming CFW (commitment free weekend) also our 7 year anniversary weekend. I declare that Sunday will be the day.
"I'll wake up, and we'll go get bagels. Then, I'll work out, come back, clean up, shower and then get into bed. Well, maybe I'll go for a run first, and you can go get bagels.."
"No," You interupt, "We have to get the bagels together, that's part of the thing." "Okay, you're right. I'll go work out, we'll get bagels, come back here, clean and then get into bed."
"What about taking a dump?" You joke.
"I don't take dumps."
"You don't?"
"No, I poop."
"Oh, just poop? How does that work?"
"Every morning, I get up, I putter around until I'm ready and then I poop. Then I get ready for work, and leave. When I get to work, I have my coffee and then I poop again."
"You only poop twice a day?"
"Yes. I don't use it for sport like you do."
You crack up, loving that we're talking about poop.
"Oh bear."
"I might make this a blog."
You laugh again.

Symbiotic

The ants crawl around the buds as the petals press hard against their green skins. Eager for release, to let their thin layers explode into the June air. Looking towards the sun, their blossoms tilted up even as they lay against the brick walk way, brought down by the rain and the weight of their petals. Each so delicate, so soft, yet together heavy with beauty. The ants help in the process, pick away at the outer shell, enabling, allowing, the pressure relieved. They have a symbiotic relationship. The ants help the peonies bloom, the peonies give the ants a livelihood, a meal, a purpose. When you bring them inside, the ants follow. "There are ants all over the counter now." I observe as my Mom comes in to admire the arrangement. "Yeah, I find they don't last long in the house." They're not house ants, they're peony ants.
As I drive back to New York, one climbs onto my hand. The peony buds I've taken have carried him in. I flick him off and watch as he climbs along the dashboard. Lost. I want him to find the peonies I've brought. He won't.
I open the window, hoping he'll find his way outside. I'm driving fast, but maybe he'd survive the wind. He approaches the open window and gets low against the sill. I watch as he lifts just his head up, his antenna expanded, weighing his options, taking in the change in scenery. He lays for a while, letting the wind speed over him, figuring out his next move, the peonies a distant memory. Now, all he knows is getting back to the green he sees outside. I let him sit like that, wanting him to find his own way, not wanting to intrude too much, feeling guilty that it may indeed kill him. I don't dislike this ant, because he's a peony ant, he's part of the beauty of the flowers. He makes his way closer. I give him a little shove, finally. I need to put the window up, my ears are popping from the pressure. He sneaks into the space between the lowered window and the door, and then begins to climb back out and that's when the air takes him. I see him cling for a moment to the rearview mirror and then he's gone. I roll the window up and look at the peony buds in their vase next to me, they're starting to bloom.

Serial?

As I texted my Mom I walked to meet Hannah and Deidre. I started to cross a smaller street and realized that a red hand stood firm in front of me, I then looked to my right and saw a car careening towards me, eager to make the green light, I had just enough time to hop, skip, run to the other side of the street. "oops," I thought to myself.
After meeting them we had to update our 4th, Allie, who was still at work as to our change of plans. "I'll text her." I offered, "I can text and walk." "Oooh" they both mocked. I paused, about to tell them what had just happened to me, but decided against it- there were two more people who could watch out for cars for me now. "Adrienne," Hannah asked, "Are you a serial texter?"

We sat at dinner, well really drinks, later that night, still on the subject. Hannah was relaying her disblief when she had started dating at the prevlance of texting. "Every guy would just text me, never call. Why can't he just pick up the phone?" She had gone deep into texting as primary commnication with one, her first, serial texter. "He'd call when we were on like opposite corners of an intersection to say, 'Where are you? Okay, I'll come over.' That was it." We all shook our heads. But Hannah had learned to turn the tables, she had gone deep into texting and learned some secrets along the way.
"I started texting him first. I would write 'What are you up to?' and he'd respond, 'I'm downtown at a bar, I'll be right there.' It was completely instant. If I called, it went to voicemail and I had to wait for the text reply, but if I texted him first, bam."
All three of us had our phones next to us on the table, and when we'd pause in conversation, we'd look down at them. I was waiting for Allie to let us know she was on her way. Deidre was waiting for a call, not even a text, from a recent dated. Hannah, had just received a text and was eagerly trying to not respond too soon. She'd open her phone every once in awhile and look again, maybe for another one, maybe to will herself not to type anything in response. I'd just hit a button to make mine light up, seeing if the new message icon was displayed. We'd all read the text Hannah had gotten and approved it as sweet, interested, and not blowing her off. She was musing over what to write back. We'd help her edit it later.
I got a text back from my mom, a long one, and mid conversation with Deidre was texting her back while responding to questions, offering advice and listening. Really, I was doing it all at once. The alcohol, topic of conversation, and ease of friendship combined made it okay.
Later, I would sit on the 6 train home and think back. Texting was the theme of the night. Sure there were various topics of animated conversation, our phones were put back in our bags as we walked to the next bar, our concentrations mostly solely on those present. But still, hours had been focused on what to text back, if the person had texted yet and, "Oh, let me just read you this text I got!" Maybe we were all serial texters?

Clean, Crisp, White, Comfy

When I knew I was moving to New York without a job, but enough money to sustain for at least a month, I dreamed of just writing all day. Sitting in my apartment, sitting in coffee shops, typing away, pouring my memories of the last year into a memoir. I lusted after that vision, wanted so badly for that to be what I was able to do once I arrived. Of course it didn't work about that, unstructured days turned into lazy ones, spent on the couch, my typing doing little more than entering email address and sending off resumes. Which, of course was necessary, but I didn't write.
Now I'm lusting after that vision again. Now that I'm working, planning, filling my days with structure again, I want to go back to the dream I didn't fulfill. Here's how it plays out in my head.
I want to clean my whole apartment, really scrub it clean. Get under the couch, pick up all the little things that are left in odd places on the floors and shelves. I want to feel dirty with my apartment clean. Everything in its place and a place for everything. Then I'll shower, a long hot shower.
I'll wrap my wet hair up and put on comfortable clothes, my bathrobe on top. I'll pump up the A/C, then shut the bedroom door, pull the blinds to the top and climb into my double comforter bed with my little laptop. I'll spend the day there, a tray of drink and food next to me, my phone on my bedside table, and I'll write.

The Second

I feel the urge to write about his Father's Day, as last years so was close to the death and I was still so raw and unhealed from my Dad's death. It is my hope that this one is a sign, of what each coming Father's Day will feel like, be like, how I'll experience them.
I woke up early, to fit in our Sunday morning bagel ritual. We walked down an eerily quiet Park Ave. towards 86th and made our way East from there. The sidewalks were wet with dew and hose water, doormen were still just peering out from their buildings. I felt awake, happy to be out, anxious about time. I had a 10:00 appointment I didn't want to be late for. I'd made the spa appointment anxiously earlier in the week. I'd said for weeks that I would be doing a spa day on Sunday, since I've heard and read that when you don't have the parent to celebrate you should do something for yourself. Now, I had to actually live up to it.
I had looked up the spa online and found the prices expensive but reasonable, mostly because a sibling of the owner worked at my company and I'd get a discount. I almost didn't do it, I almost convinced myself that just getting a manicure and pedicure would be enough. Then, I just picked up the phone and booked it. I felt good after, excited.
I had an anxious stomach all morning, i.e. the runs, and I associated it with going to a place I'd never been, having an experience I'd never had. As I walked to the train, alone this time on the quiet UES streets, I realized why. A sadness came over me, I was doing this because my Dad was gone. I didn't have him to celebrate today, or maybe I didn't have him to celebrate with, because I certainly celebrate who he was. It was really the only time sadness would overcome me.
I got to the appointment right on time. I was taken back, to a low lit hallway with small rooms to the right and left, treatment rooms, locker rooms, a nook with comfortable pillowed couches and lime infused pitchers of water.
I lay on the facialists table and let her massage countless products into my skin, and then skillfully remove them with warm towels, the feel of her hands on my face amazed me, relaxed me. I felt my body melt into the table with the first treatment. "Oh," I thought, "this is going to be nice." And it was. I felt completely relaxed and refreshed after and floated through the manicure and pedicure. I dove into my book and before I knew it, my time was up and I was thrust back into the hot June Sunday. But, it was okay, I continued to float through the rest of my day. Shopping, Sushi, quick train rides home, an afternoon in my white linened, walled and softly sun lit room. I finished my book, had my favorite snack and cuddled in bed. I let a call from a friend go to voicemail and when I listened later she said, "I hope you're doing okay today, I just want to let you know I'm thinking about you today." "Oh," I thought again, "that's right, it's Father's Day." My mom called later and asked, "How sad were you today?" And that's when I realized, only this morning, on the walk to the train.

Giving

Back in the day, aka freshman year of college, I was a pretty hardcore "protester". I was in all the "Peace" related groups like "Peace Works". I hung out with people who smelled like dirt, sweat and vegetarian soups. I sewed patches into jeans, and wore screen printed t shirts with fists, and groups of smaller fish eating the bigger fish. I really believed that we could make a difference, we would make a difference, that the IMF and World Bank would topple with our voices. I also enjoyed being around people who were so passionate about what they were fighting for, who wanted to plant trees, tend to community gardens, raise awareness, sign petitions and hand deliver them. I joined MassPIRG and started sending in video petitions to BP to stop the drilling in Alaska, recycled Post Cards to support Tree Farms. I couldn't afford to give money, so I gave time and energy. I rode on a school Bus to DC and stayed in the lobby of a church to protest the IMF and World Bank meetings. I saw people sprayed with tear gas, and throw themselves in front of traffic to get their message heard. It was all very exciting, passion inducing and thrilling at the time. I look back on the pictures I took and think, I did that?
I started to get disillusioned as time passed and I didn't feel any differences had been made. Instead of getting heard for what we were in DC to stop, we were heard for the chaos a select few had caused. Unruly kids cause a ruckus and getting themselves imprisoned, instead of passionate young adults who are rising up to make change where it matters. And the people I had surrounded myself with would judge me for not becoming vegan, not living in their commune, not buying in to everything they were espousing. Sure I wanted our environment to be protected, I wanted to help stop the increasing poverty line, I wanted to fight for a lot, but I knew I couldn't, I knew I had to pick what really mattered to me. To them, everything mattered and you had to put your all into it all. That wasn't what I wanted, and wasn't this all about individual choice and having the freedom to make that choice and live by it? Why was I different because I wanted to drink milk and live in a comfortable room? Oh, and in addition, I did have to attend school. It suddenly became more about the image of being passionate for causes, then about actually doing productive work to make a difference.
I stayed with MassPIRG because there I felt like I was being productive, I could send in the petition and see that the bill hadn't passed, I could watch the people going into grocery stores donating their money so we could buy formula and diapers for Worcester's poorest.
Overtime that interest faded too, and I focused on graduating, writing a thesis and enjoying my last year with all the friends I'd found at school. I'm still passionate about protecting our environment, that was always the cause that interested me the most, but anytime I would try to put energy into it I got confused. There were so many organizations, so many people who needed the time and money to protect the oceans, the endangered species, the trees, the air, the soil. I can still see myself now, walking through a room of environmental organizations my head spinning with all the campaigns, the needs, the endangered. Who did I give to if I couldn't give to everyone? I just didn't give. I avoided it. I walked out of those fairs with lots of pamphlets but not decisions. Instead I signed up for a credit card that would give back to environmental organizations with every purchase I made. It was easy, I could feel good about it. It still wasn't enough though.
When One.org started gaining momentum I was excited, it was an idea I could get behind- except not what I was the most passionate about. Then I heard about Earthshare.org through BzzAgent. Here I can give and know that my money could be helping everyone. I don't have to pick and choose, I can just give.
And they have some great ways to give. You can check out their Market Place . I'm probably going to buy the Dutch Tulips, its the best way to raise money- give the people something they can see, something they would probably want anyway and let them give back.

To make this long story short- It feels good to find a way for me to finally get involved and give back without the group pressures, the unease of knowing if its the "right" organization, or the worry of picking and choosing.
So, are you going to give? Do you give? How? What do you think about Earth Share?

Thursday

I was standing at the sink brushing my teeth this morning running through a list of things to write about and it became a list of my week thus far.

My sample sale and dinner night last night, walking back to Union Sq. feeling like I fit here.

Booking my spa day on Sunday, why I booked it, how I feel about it, etc.

Taking the time to soak my feet and exfoliate them a couple of nights ago but staring at my eyebrows every morning and night for the last week thinking how I have to pluck them and not doing it.

That last night I had to yell to Matt to come into the bedroom to kill a bug I saw, when if I was living alone I would have just gotten it up and done it myself.

Noticing the little routines I've started like, packing my gym bag each night, putting my clothes on the bed when I put on my sleep clothes, but only putting them away when I come in to actually go to bed.

How much fun I had spending all day Saturday in the park and how calm and light I felt walking back home along 5th later that day.

How with all of that sometimes I still feel like I'm just kind of floating through and not really living here. Like, is this it, am I living in NY? I guess its only been 3 months, but sometimes it still doesn't feel real to me, and yet when I look back on the list made up of just this weeks doings and thoughts, I am living here, this is my life now, those are my daily routines, and my comings and goings and how I'm living. This is it.
I mean its not IT, but I'm here, I'm doing it. Maybe I'm still in the adjustment period of the change, maybe in another few months it will really feel concrete and real, maybe not. I don't know if I really prefer it either way, cause I'm really happy and having a ton of fun and I don't think that will change either way and I do think that that is really what matters.

It's a Big Sky

For months after my Dad died I was drawn to the sky. It was so big, so vast, so beautiful. The summer was turning to fall and the clouds were different everyday. I would sit at my desk at work and stare out the window into the sky, the cloud formations, the changing colors as the sun was setting, always mesmerized, not necessarily the beauty of the sky or the shapes the clouds were making, just drawn to staring at it.
I was completely baffled by how I hadn't noticed how expansive the sky was. Sure, you know the sky is big, but all of sudden it was completely striking to me how far it went on for, how uninterrupted it was even in Boston. I remember sitting in my car driving West on the Mass Pike one evening just totally taken by the sky, how far it stretched for beyond the city and suburbs around it, how interesting the cloud formations were and different in various parts of the sky. I took picture after picture wanting to capture it, doing so to some extent.
I've stopped looking at it as much, maybe its because I'm in a bigger city, maybe I just move too fast now to remember. I found the pictures I took that evening and it got me thinking about the sky again, how taken I was with it months earlier, how much a part of my daily life it was. What did it mean? I have some hypotheses, but it all points to the passing of time and how it changes you, heals you, gets you to a place where you don't have to look up as much to know where you are.

Cool Hunting ala Moving

This is a Cool Hunting post I've been meaning to get to for some time, so finally, here we go and it is my 100th post!

So, as many know I recently moved. Not only was this a big move because it was from Boston to New York and it meant finally moving in with Matt after 6.5 years of living in separate cities (besides an 8 month stint in adjacent cities, Cambridge and Somerville), it was also the first time I would get to decorate with all my own stuff, which really meant a lot of shopping. mmm, shopping. I thought it would be fun to highlight the places and things I'm most proud of just in case you need some new furniture, you feel like redecorating, or your bored at work and want to internet window shop.

1. Ikea
Duh! This is where many many 20-somethings go to purchase items for a new apartment. I <3 Billy Bookshelves- They were easy to put together, sturdy and look really sharp
Hemnes Bed Side Tables- I'll admit, one has a drawer that doesn't sit right on the rollers, but overall, they're sleek, stylish and have tons of storage. I've always wanted matching bedside tables!
365+ Dinner Ware- I love clean white dishes with no frills, but I didn't want to be totally boring and get the typical circle dishes, or go too retro and get square dishes so this style was perfect. They were cheap enough that I stocked up for those long periods between running the dishwasher and the typical "oops I broke a plate" moments.
Poang Arm Chair- This was probably our biggest splurge at Ikea since we don't sit in it, but Matt was really gung-ho about it and I didn't want to pollute his small bit of Ikea love so we got it. It is really comfy, and totally completes our living room, and right now it's a great storage place.

2. Crate & Barrel-
I really really love C & B. I think they're products are classic with a great contemporary feel and they have a great outlet and often the prices aren't that ridiculous. I really see myself buying more and more C & B products as I move in to bigger places. We got a lot of little things there since I used my Amex points to get gift cards, but the most favorite was-
Leaning Bookshelf & Leaning Desk: I don't know what it was about these, but years ago I saw them and immediately wanted them for my NYC apartment. Luckily with skillful designing and great space management I got to purchase both of them. I honestly really think they make the room. I have a lot of "things" (not quite chotskeys) that I needed a place to put and the leaning bookshelf was a perfect solution for that. The desk has worked out really well, and is a great space solution since it has two bookshelves on it to keep other "things" (really they're not chotskeys).

3. Pottery Barn-
Pottery Barn is a bit of a guilty pleausre for me. Most of their home goods are a bit too expensive for my budget, but I often find myself browsing their sale pages online, hoping for a great deal. Its what I found when I came upon the following-
Office Organization Daily System: I immediately knew that the letter bin and office organizer would be perfect for our short on space, big on height apartment. Not only a place to put our keys and other various items we need to grab quickly on our way in and out of the apartment, but somewhere to put take out menus, magazines and have some space for a decroative box or two also! They're still on sale and have a lot more pieces than just the two I got. If you need to decorate or are in the process of putting together a home office, kitchen, entryway or even a bedroom these are great pieces to have. Bonus, they were really easy to put up too.

4. Totally Furniture: Our kitchen, while being big for standard and having all the appliances we need, only has room for you to stand in it. I quickly came up with the idea of getting a breakfast bar table that would fit along the wall next to the kitchen and not only be a table when we needed it, but also extra storage. Online searches took me to one I loved on Amazon.com, but it the shipping was ridiculously expensive. I searched more, hardly ever coming up with what I wanted, most tables only came with two stools and I wanted four, most were light wood and we were going for dark. Then, I found this site and the shipping was dirt cheap.
The Winsome Breakfast Bar Table- was exactly the same as the amazon.com one and the shipping was $60 less. It has been great. Not only do we have a table when we want to use it, but a lot of extra surface space to put mail, etc. I love this table. If you are short on space, or are truly looking for a breakfast bar table, this one is great. The stools, I heard, were pretty difficult to assemble, but that's the only complaint! If you are also looking for furniture to order online and overstock.com doesn't have it with $2.95 shipping then come here next, its worth it.

So those are the finds, deals and favorites from the move. Some places that provided many shopping opportunities and deserve honorable mention were Target (of course), Bed Bath and Beyond (can never go wrong there), and Marshalls/TJ Maxx/HomeGoods (I miss being able to hop in my car and drive to one or all of them when the shopping bug got me).
Enjoy the internet shopping fun and let me know if you end up buying anything suggested and how it works out for you!

Wagon Hill Farm

Can We Reschedule?

This isn't a rant, nor am I complaining, but I just gotta write about it.
I made plans with 3 different people on 3 different nights this week and all 3 of them canceled/rescheduled. After the first two, I thought, "Okay, there is no way the 3rd isn't sticking." And then, this morning when checking email I got the note- "Can we reschedule?"
I'm all about canceling. I've always been pro-canceling. If I don't feel up to plans I'd made for whatever reason, I'm going to cancel or reschedule. Sometimes it was detrimental, when plans are rescheduled again and again and just never happen. I do regret that, but eventually you finally get together and then you have the perfect jumping off point for the time together, "Can you believe how long it took us to get together?"
If you need to cancel, just cancel, I'm totally okay with it. I became even more flexible about it after my Dad's death, I would make plans to fill my evenings and then ultimately get to the plans and back out, too fragile, too tired, etc. I was told by multiple people who'd experienced great loss, "Making plans feels good, but if you have to cancel, just do it, its okay, taking care of yourself, whatever that means, is most important." It wasn't just for myself that I became more pro-cancel, but if other people needed to cancel too. That's why these plans all falling through is cool by me, I'm not upset. I just think its a bit crazy that all 3 people who are normally not cancelers at all, one even said, "I'm not usually flaky!", had to reschedule this week. Why is that? What is it about this week?
I'm finally back in NYC for the foreseeable future, no more trips, etc. I've got a job, a routine, a life I'm starting to really live here. Going out with friends, exploring different parts of the city and building these new relationships is a big part of that, I was just starting to get into it. I was really looking forward to all the plans, admittedly the ones Monday night were refreshing to have canceled since I was completely exhausted. Why is it the all were changed? Sure I got some more free time and I'm relaxed and well reseted this week. I got to spend more time with Matt which I never stop enjoying (duh, I moved in with him) and I got more time with myself and saved some money along the way. I guess all of that is why I'm okay with canceling, there's always an upside for me. So I don't get to catch up with an old friend, I'll get some r & r on the couch with my man.
But seriously, all 3 in one week? Come on!
Here's to plans made for next week!

Bedroom Window

At night the buildings look like a stage backdrop. The light of the city mixed with moon light filtered by darkness falls just so that they're muted and almost look fake. Some lights stay on well into the night, but not so many that it over exposes the picture and causes them to stick out, more real than they are. The world is my stage, I suppose. And, if I'm continuing down that path is the bedroom where the main action takes place? Its where I found myself lately doing my best thinking. Just laying in my bed, staring out into the night, letting the thoughts melt into me, around me, out of me.

When I lay flat against the bed, my head hilted towards the window I can look up through the last fire escape and see the bursts of blue sky, bright against the rusty green of metal. A fitting juxtaposition to city and nature. I find my body yearns for the green of grass, ongoing neverending grass, and the blue of sky, unbroken big country skies, the comforts that natural setttings provide. Yet I feel at home in this city, THE city. Maybe the mixture is just right here, enough vibrance and ongoing "stuff" to keep me statisfied and the bursts of nature and sky just outside my bedroom window give me comfort and cleaner air to breathe. The gardens behind our apartment are no blooming with life and spring time greens. The trees cover most of the outdoor living spaces and if we open the windows at night wind chimes lull us to sleep, masking any city noises. Maybe it is just the right blend. As I lay and look out I see a flicker of black wing and beak against the green tree, I just miss it in my vision as I move fully into unobstructed view to catch it.

With the window open last weekend I could hear voices mixing together with music, a party in a back yard patio. What a perfect way to spend an early June night, sitting together with buildings rising above you and trees blocking the views from windows. Good food, good drinks and most of all good company. Maybe I could live here into my adult years, although a patio would have to be part of the deal.

A balloon floats into the sky above, lost from a child's grip.

Tal Bagels

"Dad! They are so behind the times, they still have hamantashen!"

Father laughs and shakes his head.

"I'm right though, right?"

"Yeah." Dad says trying to keep a straight face, but clearly very amused. "You're right."

Saturday

We walked slowly up the short blocks to 5th Avenue. I taking in the people strolling by, the couples walking hand in hand, the young parents with their small children some in, some just out of strollers, the older marrieds their comfort with each other obvious. He talking of places that used to be, a coffee shop with a triva question each day providing the right answer with a free coffee, an ice cream store that had a phone to make local calls with. We walk into the park the light low, the shade comfortable in the heat of the first June weekend. We stand on the resevoir track, gazing at buildings across the park, musing how easily you could never know this existed here. I watch an elderly couple crest the stairs, remarking on what they've found. "I knew it was here, I just didn't know it was here". They walk across the track and stand next to the fence looking around, taking it in. Each wearing a neatly pressed button up shirt and khakis. There hair similar length, their smiles as they look around. I lean against a stone wall, marking the boundaries of this hidden water, watching them. The runners silently jog by, in synch with my breath, thinking of life, living and the future. The urge to close my eyes and take in the surrondings fills me, I lean my head against Matt's shoulder and slowly close them, slow my breathing and smile. I hear the crunch of the gravel, the soft voices of people walking by below us and around us, I hear the breeze fluttering through the trees that curve into each other, branches forming crosses and twists, I can almost hear the water laping against the concrete that holds it in, holds it back from rushing the streets below. "Do you know why this is here?" Matt asks. "No." I say opening my eyes and looking up at him. I smile and focus just on him, just on us here together. "It used to be the Mayors bath tub." He turns to me with a straight face. I laugh and close my eyes again, leaning my head back into him.

Snapshot

3 young boys, riding down from the Bronx, maybe 9 or even 11 years old in blue button up shirts with ties. They passed the sports section of the newspaper back and forth. Glancing at other pieces, but always turning back to the sports. At each stop, as the doors would open and passenger would exchange places, coming and going, the middle boy would lift his head up looking to see which stop it was, nervously awaiting his own so he could pull his friends off and make it to school on time. I wondered who had woken them that morning, rushing them to get dressed, their shirts still wrinkled in some places. I thought of Matt and his friends, riding the train to their school so many years before. I pictured them doing the same thing, passing a newspaper back and forth, filling up on sports news, passing over the world news, looking up at each stop, ensuring they didn't miss their own.