Many of you have asked about what's changing my body, diet, mind, soul, and everything else to do with my life. I've attempted to report on my progress numerous times, but it's been changing so much I haven't been able to keep up with it by blogging! (#sorrynotsorry) I'll work on that, gentle readers. This is too good not to share.
In the meantime, watch this video made by one of my faves on earth... Mark Fisher himself!! Basically his 8 tools in the video encompass what I'm doing. Bam.
*If you're offended by sex, South Jersey language, gorgeous people, unicorns, and truth, my apologies... actually no...
When planning an adventure-date to that far-away Island of Staten, we did not count on all of the education we would receive before the night was over. Here's our story:
After work Friday, the boy and I met up downtown to catch the 6:15 Staten Island Ferry to make our dinner reservation -- him wearing a gold chain and wife-beater A-shirt, me sporting a bump-it and perpetually pouty mouth (ok, not really but we did threaten these to each other). My native New Yorker found himself at the Statue of Liberty Ferry dock because "just walking toward water" made sense when he arrived at the Whitehall Station. Lucky for him, he's super cute with a great smile, so the 6:30 ferry was totally fine. We boarded the ferry and went straight for the snack bar to grab a can of beer so he could fit in with the locals, while I fittingly matched the tourists by photographing the water, Ms. Liberty, and our developing new skyline.
We arrived on the landfill.... er, island and found our way to Enoteca Maria. We had learned of this restaurant from the Cooking Channel and decided we needed to check it out for ourselves.
Fully expecting to be amongst the "Joeys" and "Ginas" of Staten Island complete with SI accent, we were slightly disappointed that the restaurant had only a couple of men in gold chains and women in pink leopard print. We sat at the bar where the owner/sommelier provided an impressive wine list. He added a lot of flourish as he swirled the "Grandpa Chacha" wine we ordered ironically at which point we caught each other's eye in appreciation of what was suddenly turning out to be exactly why we made the venture.
Teresa was our chef for the evening, and the menu was extensive and glorious. From the imported mozzarella appetizer, to my entree of rolled beef and green beans and his entree of rabbit, the food was lovely. Our well-chosen vantage point allowed us to watch everything Teresa did as well as take stock of everything the owner engaged in.
Throughout the evening we watched our sommelier do odd things like balance wine corks and pennies on a scale. He even filled his hands with water from the sink at the bar once and proceeded to run his wet hands through his hair. Russell and I looked at each other silently noting the growing peculiarities of our wine-loving "friend." For each bottle of wine he opened and every glass he poured, he seemed to check it out for himself by taking a swig thus creating a more, how can I say it diplomatically... "loose" demeanor. I kid you not, gentle readers, the next part actually happened.
We had pulled up the Yelp reviews to read some of the negative ones (as we are wont to do), and as we were reading our favorite, it came to life, playing out before our eyes:
"The problem: The sommelier (inferred that he is the owner) is a complete jackhole. He seemed personally offended that we didn't order wine, gave us a hard time over it, and asked several times how our water was. He was visibly inebriated on a Paula Abdul kind of level, ate at the counter, and was blasting really questionable music selections. At one point singing along to Smells Like Teen Spirit turned up so loud it was making my silverware vibrate. Which let me tell you, I think $25 a plate for pasta, I think impromptu drunken Nirvana karaoke." -Brady B., 2/26/2012
I wouldn't call him a "Jackhole" (thought don't think for a second this isn't my new favorite slang), but he was definitely eccentric... or, well, tipsy. However, he - almost as if he knew we were reading this particular review - made fun of my prosecco order and ate his stuffed mussels at the bar directly in front of us. Shortly thereafter Nirvana came over the sound system, and this dude turned it up, sang along, and even gave an air drum/air guitar performance. It was awesome. Awesome good?? I'm not sure. But awesome nonetheless.
Eventually the place was hoppin'. People who looked like they stepped out of "The Sopranos" began filling the joint. There were WonderBra cleavage and waxed chests everywhere we looked. After our plate of Teresa's amazing cookies, we paid the bill (cash only if you decide to go) and reluctantly headed out to catch the 25-minute ferry back to civilization.
Here's where the story turns from awesome to one of the best dates of my freakin' life. On the way to the ferry terminal we were almost tempted to pop into the local bar full of Top 40 hits and every can of beer imaginable. We forged on (with me getting my hip poked over and over by his attempts at figuring out the implausibilities of The Astoria Penetrator) and arrived at Slip 6 where we had about 15 minutes to people-watch -- a span of 15 minutes my awkward-loving self wouldn't have minded lasting longer.
What seemed to be every 20-something Staten Islander had come out to head into the big bad city on the 10pm ferry to go clubbing, drinking, whoring, and/or partying. The outfits on these party animals were amazing. I so wish I had pictures to show all of you, but we were already staring at everyone as though they were zoo creatures, and I don't think the camera would've been welcomed. Our two favorite groups included wanna-be frat boys complete with a fanny pack, wing tips being clicked together incessantly in a Dorothy fashion, a girl who was NOT happy to be there, and a salmon-colored dress worn by a girl who I'm 97.3% sure was wearing a butt lifter. For those of you unfamiliar with a butt lifter as my sometimes-simple boyfriend was, see below:
My degree of confidence in her undergarment of choice was due to Salmon Dress Girl's salmon dress being so incredibly tight I could see the thong and butt lifter through the material. We're dealing with super class, ladies and gentlemen.
The other group of derelicts we loved to hate (or hated to love) included a handful of young pretty girls in dresses that were sure to get the attention they were looking for, complete with taped-up boobies, five-inch stilettos they were definitely not making it far in without changing into flip flops, and plunging v-neck ballet-type costumes. The ring-leader of this group, however, was a young lady with a beautiful face, pronounced clavicles, and a cute little tank top that showed off her arms (which she unfortunately covered up with what I'm gonna assume was a Members Only jacket non-ironically). The problem with Clavicle Girl was her lower half. Before I continue, please note that I have never considered myself a supermodel and I'm sure I've left the house in pseudo-situations of attire-regret. But just follow me here...
Clavicle Girl had a pear shape. She had a white girl booty. I know this because she had on a white spandex skirt topped off with horizontal piping. Underneath the skirt was a black string thong bikini. She had also awkwardly tucked in her cute tank top and bunched it up at the waistline, so as not to cover up her pear shape. Her super tight, super short mini skirt was not hiding her trouble areas thus creating an incredibly obvious cottage cheese look. (Stay with me, gentle readers... I'm not being cruel for cruel's sake.)
We got on our 10pm ferry, sat outside for approximately 8 minutes, and got up because we HAD to go see what the party animals were up to. We find Clavicle Girl's group near the exit (already changing into flip flops...do I know my non-heel-wearers or what?!) taking pictures of each other (complete with pouty mouths...not to be confused with potty mouths). Right about the time I had decided to hate Clavicle Girl's friends for letting her walk out of the house in the outfit of the lower half of her body, Clavicle Girl found a new friend. An older gentleman was sitting across ogling her and making it known to her and all of us that he loved the dimply booty showing through the skin-tight garment (I'll spare you his quotes). She adored every second of it. I was shocked. I'm not often shocked. Staten Island Clavicle Girl was in heaven, and her friends were jealous! Maybe I should add this to my wardrobe too...
When we departed the ferry, we shared the R train uptown with Salmon Dress Girl and Crew. We made bets about which stop they would exit and how many times they would shout, "Woooo!!" I won the station exit bet, Russell won the number of woos. So I guess we were even.
Seriously great date night. We've both laughed about it for the past 3 days. And now I've happily shared it with you. Doubtful that you did as much as myself, but I hope you enjoyed my recap.
This song speaks to me. I think it could to a lot of New Yorkers. I think it could to anyone who desires to have their bills paid by their creativity. I know my loves who have chosen the grueling life as a performer will. This is for you... you know who you are.
January has been quite the sportsfest up in here!!
Last Week
My friend Shawn got a swwwwwweeeet job with the NJ Nets, so we took a field trip (and saw Kris Humphries play in the meantime. I felt like a Kardashian.
OF COURSE I got my picture with the mascot, but I really wanted to have one with the little guy...
This Week
I went to my first hockey game. And it was freakin' awesome.
The goal song can be heard HERE. I love it. I even dreamed about the song.
As much as I hate violence (and blood and teeth being knocked out), this fight happened and it was kinda cool. I would definitely go again.
To quote Selby's words and sentiment, "Painful Beauty. It's what I need."
We're seeing Follies tonight. I need it. That kind of beauty that only comes from incredible art. Not to mention that when I first saw the show in early 2001, I was moved like I had never had theatre move me. It made me know I needed to be a part of something like that. It sealed the deal to move to NYC. It solidified a number of things on a much deeper level than I even knew I had. I think I can honestly say it changed my life. And I hope to recapture some of that tonight. I need the reminder. I need the inspiration.
Thank you, Stephen Sondheim, for lyrics like this...
You take one road,
You try one door,
There isn't time for any more.
One's life consists of either/or.
One has regrets
Which one forgets,
And as the years go on.
The road you didn't take
Hardly comes to mind,
Does it?
The door you didn't try,
Where could it have led?
The choice you didn't make
Never was defined.
Was it!
Dreams you didn't dare
Are dead.
Were they ever there?
Who said!
*Also excited to see how Bernadette Peters handles a role like Sally... We shall see!
Every year on 9/11 I've spent a few minutes thinking about that day 10 years ago. As a New Yorker though, it's something I think about on a semi-regular basis. The anniversary doesn't have to trigger thoughts.
Each morning I get an update from Pat Kiernan and the oh-so-adorable Bobby Cuza on NY1 as they provide a progress report of the construction. Upon meeting someone new, the question of how long I've lived here always comes up. My response, "September 2001," never fails to bring on the questions of whether I considered leaving after the attacks. When kayaking on the beautiful East River, seeing the hole in the skyline is a constant reminder. Tourists ask how to get to Ground Zero (tourists always ask me for directions - less since I'm not a blond anymore... funny). Reading "World Trade Center" lit up as the final stop on E train will always spark a memory of the first time I took it downtown in 2001 when Gina Garner came for a visit. I was not prepared for what I would see -- smoke still emanating, streets blocked off, and most vividly burned into my brain, an office desk atop the heap of debris. The desk that someone sat at. A desk similar to my own at work.
This year there seems to be an eerie quiet sitting top of the usually bustling city. It's a bit deserted. We've been issued warnings about terror threats which has kept a lot of people in the outer boros or pushed them out of the city altogether. I, however, will be spending money tomorrow (ya know, boosting the economy). I'll go for a run in the morning and view the skyline as I know it in 2011. Then I'm heading in have brunch with a friend and see "Book of Mormon". After that I'll hang with more people who make me smile. I plan on laughing. A lot.
While I appreciate all the American flags, moments of silence, and send-ups to NYC, DC, and PA on Facebook, I still hate that "Never Forget" slogan. A slogan for something dreadful that I lived through. New Yorker magazine has a special tribute this week to 9/11. I've tried to read some of it, but it's just too difficult. I was fortunate enough to not actually know anyone in the towers, but the vivid pictures and stories brings back the intense melancholy that I felt in the days, weeks, and months following that day. Never forget? How in the world could I?
My skyline before and after 9/11/2001
*After Osama bin Laden was captured, I wrote a recap of my personal 9/11/2001. You can find it HERE if you really need yet another recap of that day.
I love NYC. This is nothing new. But in times of potential crisis, I somehow love it all the more.
New Yorkers bond together. We don't freak out. We do what we have to do. We help our friends and neighbors. And then we make the best of the situations that are out of our control.
Also... we're fun. While the note below isn't exactly how I roll, I love my friends who do.
My experience today has been people smiling, people helping neighbors carry up water and groceries, even people patiently chatting with one another while waiting for the Muslim bodega owner to finish his prayers before checking us out. I love this.
I also love Mayor Bloomberg's recent press conference. In reminding the less than 1% in low-lying areas to evacuate, he also reminded the rest of to stay inside from 2am to 2pm Sunday "even if the thought of walking around in a hurricane sounds cool and tempting" - where else would that be an issue?! I love it. When asked if there were concerns about looting, he responded "This is New York. That doesn't happen here." Arrogant, but kinda true.
My day (for those of you who'd like an update) has consisted of a run in an oddly non-windy yet extremely humid Astoria Park, last minute ATM and bodega runs, laundry, washing and braiding my hair, playing with Indy, and watching a press conference or two. I think I'm bunkered down for the rest of the weekend. Fingers crossed my power and cell service remains intact. "Mad Men" Season 2 to commence momentarily...
As you may or may not know I have a few very specific pet peeves. Near the top of that list - only behind hearing or seeing anything in your mouth (food, gum, braces, kissing, etc.) - is improper shoe/sock combinations.
This morning on the train a serious infraction entered at Queensboro Plaza. I sighed internally, pulled out my trusty iPhone, turned the sound off, and oh-so-discreetly made sure the angle was just right so no one around me saw me photograph this poor fellow's feet... I wouldn't want to look like a creeper or anything. As I snapped the shot, the light of God shot forth from my phone - I forgot to turn the flash off.
I turned my phone off, put it in my bag, affixed my sunglasses back on my face, and feigned sleep. Just another subway ride in NYC. But I did get this beauty...
Ridiculous shower sandals with white non-socks embroidered with "Champion" on the grey toe
*Note my purple travel bag in the bottom left corner... I'm heading to Boston for the weekend to hang out with the beautiful Boston Babes - Lauren & Heidi. Woohoo!!
UPDATE: I spoke with Lauren who is pretty sure this dude is a Bostonite. I failed to mention his top half - Celtics t-shirt, covered by an open Red Sox jersey = South Bostonite. She is going to take me there tonight to find my soulmate... and if you believe that's my soulmate, please re-read this blog from the beginning.
And, Gentle Readers, I apologize for my sporadic posting of late. The ole workplace has had me busy - some with fun stuff, some with work stuff.
And to my lovelies who sit behind me on Intern Row... I can't believe your time here at Disney has come to an end. You have no idea how much I'm going to miss you young'ns. Anytime you come to the city I will take you to Vintage, see a show, and discuss one of the following topics just for old times' sake: Cars, Boys, Baby Funerals, Smurfs, Rubber Bands, or... Seafood.
I mean, seriously, how could you NOT love these guys?
And, yes, I totally ganked this pic from Melanie's FB page. Sue me.
Last week I went out with my favorite mohawk boy to celebrate his nomination for a Diana Jones Award! Congrats, Jared!! He designed a fantastic game... send out good vibes that he'll win. Ok, I haven't played it yet, but the concept seems fantastic... anyone wanna come to a game night??
We decided to head to Ali's Kebab Cafe in my neighborhood. We were greeted by Ali, the owner and chef. An adorably charming and wonderful man, I was instantly in love with Mr. Ali. I mean... look at that face. I would totally hang out with him. Why did I not get my picture WITH him?? I'll have to go back I guess :)
The restaurant has no menus. Ali simply finds out what kind of food you like, what kind of food you hate, what kind of food you're allergic to, and what kind of food you're willing to be subject to. We started with a warm beet salad and lamb cheek. Both were to die for delicious. I told Ali that I wanted something safe but that I was ready, willing, and able to get adventurous by eating off Jared's plate. I was served chicken on a bed of lentils cooked in what I can only imagine was a bit of heaven. Jared was served brains, not to be confused with sweetbreads, mixed with bell peppers and a whole lot of perfection.
I know if you know me well, you're sitting in amazement either at the fact that I ate brains or the fact that I ate with a boy at all. But Jared hasn't steered me wrong yet on the whole food sitch, so I'm down with the exploration. I can't say I LOVED the brains, but I definitely thought it was good. Next time we go back, we're calling ahead and ordering cow's udder. It's how we do (ok, it's how he does and I go along for the story). Maybe I'll try something vegetarian, or maybe some pork.
I did some online research for this post, which some of you will be proud to know I'm making progress in (right, Suzz?) and found this video from Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" from 2007. He eats at Ali's and interviews him. Gosh, I love this neighborhood.
As Ali told us the other night, "I don't judge you. You don't judge me. And we don't judge the food." Not 100% sure what he meant, but feeling as though I'd been given advice from a sage, I share with you, gentle readers.
My tat twin is threatening to remove her matching "eagle" tat!! (how have I still not shared my tattoo stories with you all?)
Ok. In fairness, she's threatening removal if I don't get myself to the Alexander McQueen exhibit at The Met... which I admit, I've completely fallen down on my love for McQueen by not going yet. I hope to go sometime in the next 5 days so stay tuned. Let's just hope I don't go klepto and steal the likes of these...
As I mentioned in my previous entry I am one unhappy camper. For the past 10 years I have lovingly enjoyed some Tony night goodness. Even in sucky years, I was with them. Sometimes in person. Sometimes with friends. Never alone.
Let's pretend I'm wearing this tonight. In fact, just envision me sitting around the house in it. Darker hair now of course. And more toned legs.
And here I sit. With my swollen tonsils - and you! So enjoy or ignore. This one's for me.
Opening
Neil Pats! I dig that we're singing about Broadway being for straights too!! I will love Stephen Colbert until the day I die. Good God, Edie Falco looks fantastic.
Featured Actress in a Play
Whoa. Ellen Barkin?? I SERIOUSLY thought Edie had this one. I'm seeing "The Normal Heart" next week. Anyone wanna go with?? Warning - I may cry.
H2$ Performance
Go Charlie, you insanely cute chorus boy!! How many CHS alum does this inspire? (And Sisters too!!) And look at that gorgeous Ellen Harvey (you shoulda been nommed, girl)!!! Love her. Daniel Radcliffe has really worked out his choreo abilities! I'm loving this... great job getting people to our neck of the woods, guys.
Catch Me If You Can Performance
I know 3 people who like this show. I am one of them. Unfortunately this number (and crazy multiple camera angles) did not prove my theory that it's a good show. Tourists (and straight guys), go see it. You'll love it. And now it has a lead actor win too.
Scottsboro Boys Performance
How did I miss this show? West coast 2012. I'm there.
Book of Mormon Performance
Oh. I'm so in. Somehow touching and irreverent and smart and hilarious and so much more... I may pay have to pay full price for a house seat.
UPDATE IN ASTORIA 9:15pm:
Writing/Viewing Partner For The Night
Dinner for a champ
NPH vs Wolverine
Two beautiful men singing and dancing. I do so love Broadway. It's moments like this that make me proud to be in this business. For reals.
Spiderman Performance
Really?
Sister Act Performance
Loving that hat, Whoopi. C'mon Patina. Sing it, girl. "Raise Your Voice"!!! Yay, Ladies!! (Did anyone notice my Indy in this number??) Go see this for a fun night at the theatre.
Memphis Performance
In tears. Seeing kids love theatre this much and with such gusto does my heart good. Maybe I'll go see "Memphis" again just because of this.
Best Play
Am I gonna have to see "War Horse"??? Hmmm... I have trouble believing it's better than "Jerusalem". (Plus the speeches were so odd.)
Anything Goes Performance (this is the party I'm supposed to be at... ugh)
Sutton better dance!! Dear lord I love me some hoofers... makes me wanna get my taps out! And let me just say Bill Ryall is one of the best dancers on Broadway making his debut in this show. He makes those ensemble numbers POP!!! I'm seeing this'n again too.
Company Performance
Do I really need to say much?? Or shall I just reference thisor perhaps this? Needless to say I loved it. Good job, guys. Can't wait to see you on the big screen later this week.
In Memoriam
Tyne looks fabulous. So many greats were lost. I'm so glad they included Shannon Tavarez. So beautiful.
Lead Actress in a Play
Yay to Nina Arianda - your day will come, pretty lady. Frances McDormand, is that a denim jacket? And did you forget a comb??
Priscilla Queen of the Desert Performance
I really wish I liked this show. Alas, I did not. But look at those costumes (so glad Chappel & Gardiner won for that). And did Neil Pats just tell someone to quit touching him???
Lead Actor in a Play
I seriously don't think loving Mark Rylance more is a possibility. If you don't see "Jerusalem" and you have the opportunity, you are wrong. Just plain ole wrong. GO SEE JERUSALEM, NOW.
Best Musical
I can't believe I haven't seen this yet. I'm about to be $137 lighter. And I kinda loved that he gave props to Joseph Smith.
Random Thoughts
Viola Davis. Work.
Trey Parker. You rarely do anything wrong anyway, but I'm diggin' that sparkly shirt.
Marianne Elliott. LOVING that purple dress. Hmm... It's a 2011 rendition of the picture above.
Angela Lansbury. 70 years. Wow. Please let me have that kind of legacy... ok, something comparable.
Brooke is some cray cray. I kinda love it though.
Patrick Wilson will forever be the love of my life.
To quote Larry Kramer, you "are an exceptional people and [your] day will come". To so many of you, thank you for letting me be such a part of your journeys.
From my friend Matt Cavenaugh - "Anthony Weiner, The Musical starring Aaron Lazar". Possibly never were truer words written.
Great show. Sorry I'm not at Bowl-Mor with Shawn Baker and the Roundabout peeps. Congrats on the wins for "Anything Goes" and Sutton as well as the many other nominations!!
When people say (or have signs, or attach bumper stickers, or anything of the sort) "Never Forget" in reference to September 11, 2001, I cringe.
A pleasant sentiment. A catchy cliche. But a saying that is redundant to those who lived it and were directly affected by it.
I was one of those.
After President Obama's announcement that Osama Bin Laden had been killed, I was instantly taken back to that day. A day that changed so many lives.
I moved to NYC on September 1, 2001. Wide-eyed, young, and completely naive I was ready to conquer this concrete jungle and take it by storm. A planner, we planned to be completely unpacked in 10 days so we could have some fun doing touristy things for the two weeks prior to starting my job. We each got cell phones on September 10th - the first sign of being true adults (and also a sign of showing my age...). I called my mother and told her our plans included a trip to the World Trade Center the next morning - the day was supposed to be beautiful. After hanging up, we treated ourselves and Indy to a bodega sandwich and walk around the neighborhood (big spenders at the age of 22). As we walked it occurred to us that we had set up the office all wrong. We went back to our new apartment and went to work on the final room until 3am.
On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, we slept in.
8 miles from Ground Zero. Safely tucked away in Queens. Securely asleep while the world collapsed.
I was startled awake with, "Joy. Wake up. I think the Two Towers were bombed."
There was no television - the towers housed the tv antennae. There was no telephone - lines were jammed for days. There was no internet - the modem wouldn't be installed until the following week. We noticed through the rolling snow of the tv screen that the first tower had just fallen. We managed to get a radio to work. A woman had called into the radio station. She said, "I think I just saw my husband jump from his office in Tower One." Selby and I looked at each other and realized this was much more than a bomb. We needed to get in touch with our families.
I walked to the closest payphone - no dial tone. I jogged to the next - a line of frightened people. I sprinted to the next. Over a scratchy signal I heard the ringing. "Mother?" I asked as the other line picked up. I heard a sigh of relief and then tears. I asked what happened. My mother quickly gave me an overview of the morning's events as they had unfolded.
Static filled the conversation. The line of antsy people behind me grew. I asked her to call my dad and Selby's parents. I told her I didn't know when I'd be able to call next. I told her I loved her.
Numb, I walked through my beautiful new neighborhood, in the boro of the city where I dreamed of living. Ambulances screamed past. Fire trucks overtook the streets making their way toward Manhattan. Entering the apartment I saw Selby's transformation from college actor to grown-up caretaker on a mission. He had hacked into the building's cable, strung the line through the foyer, and was watching the news reports.
"This is horrific," he said to me as I sat down on the living room floor in fear.
For the next four hours we watched the towers collapse over and over. We heard fighter jets flying overhead. We had no friends in the city yet (certainly none in the towers). We had no telephones. We had no internet. We had stolen cable. We were 22 years old, 1500 miles away from our families, but we had each other.
By the end of the day we had been formally introduced to a character named Osama bin Laden. He was responsible for this fear. These tears. This despair. This hopelessness. This helplessness. I hated him.
In the following days we holed up in front of our stolen CNN. We finally decided to go see some of the destruction. The subway wasn't in service, so we were forced to see the new skyline from atop the KMart parking garage on the edge of Queens and Brooklyn - a sight I will never forget. This was my new home. This was worth sticking around. In those few days I went from wide-eyed southern baby to full-fledged New Yorker. They say it takes seven years... for us it took seven days.
The unity the city embraced made me proud. Proud to be a New Yorker. Proud to be a part of something by obligation. I fell in love with the city, the people, the tenacity. As much as the hate lived on for Mr. bin Laden, my pride overwhelmed me.
These past near-ten years has buried some of the anger and all of the fear I felt in those days of September 2001. But tonight seeing that vision of hatred, sadness, and murder killed provoked all of the emotions of that time.
And once again I am proud. Proud to have voted for Obama. I don't understand the celebrations that are happening... is someone's death ever reason to celebrate?? It's a time of remembering. It's a time of reflection. It's a time to never forget - and another day I will never lose.
The Triboro Bridge takes my breath away. I run under it 4 nights a week and am always taken aback by the beauty the city casts against the quietness of Astoria Park. The only thing this picture is missing is a traditional ability to wish.
I love wishing on stars. It's one of the things I miss about Arkansas. But in the absence of stars to wish on, I've found myself wishing on an empty sky. Not a cloudy sky, not a sunlit sky, but an empty night sky. It happens only in bright urban areas. And I love that it belongs only to us who live here.
Let's wish, my fellow urbanites... and let's trust that all our dreams come true. We are, after all, in the place where dreams are made.
The news promised a snowstorm for Saturday night, then Sunday morning, then kept pushing it back. So when several friends/family called asking if the blizzard had hit, I just said I didn't think it was gonna hit NYC. I was wrong.
Outside my apartment this morning...
Waiting for the train in 4 foot snow drifts...
Outside my office on 42nd Street... (wonder if they'll get this all cleared up by Friday for the NYE bash)
Sexy zippy boots as promised.
Trekked out in Astoria tonight to grab some pics. Astoria Blvd near the bridge is below. I did, however, fashion a fabulous wintry ensemble to wear, but I failed to get a picture of it. It included my Razorback hoodie, black leggings, red legwarmers, a red hat, and my new black rubber boots purchased today sans zipper.
The streets have clearly not had much of a plowing, but the sidewalks had a skinny little walkway.
Snow! from White Christmas...
Snow
It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow
Snow
I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow
Snow
I long to clear a path and lift a spade of snow
Snow
Oh, to see a great big man entirely made of snow
Where it's snowing
All winter through
That's where I want to be
Snowball throwing
That's what I'll do
How I'm longing to ski
Through the snow-oh-oh-oh-oh
Those glist'ning houses that seem to be built of snow
Snow
Oh, to see a mountain covered with a quilt of snow
What is Christmas with no snow
No white Christmas with no snow
Snow
I'll soon be there with snow
I'll wash my hair with snow
And with a spade of snow
I'll build a man that's made of snow
I'd love to stay up with you but I recommend a little shuteye
Go to sleep
And dream
Of snow!!!
Powers that be at ABC, listen up. NBC has a 4th hour of the Today show starring Hoda and Kathie Lee, and they are obnoxious. If you want a fresh new look at trends, fashion, politics, parenting, as well as a whole heckuva lotta fun, let this picture be the platform off of which to jump.
.
Hire Katie Mohr and Joy Sims to follow Robin and George. You won't regret it. We're already friends with all the peeps there...
