Been a short summer that flew by like a bird that I saw a brief moment and then it whisked away. All is well, although I caught a random summer cold that kept me in bed for 2 summer weeks. Sucks.
Past weekend, I spent planning some activities and a couple of trips. 3 days off next week for a Stay-cation - some coffee house musing, maybe a long bike ride up to the Cloisters before summer completely runs away. But I am also planning a week in New Orleans over Halloween - mmm....Creole goodness and powdered beignets, chickory and Hurricanes. Voodoo Fest, the Halloween Parade and even a bike tour through the Garden District.
I was just musing with a co-worker that life is good. We both got a promotion this year and were quietly celebrating our good fortune. From burning out to enjoying life....too happy!
The man-friend is away part of this weekend and I miss him. However, it does give me some time again to take care of things like laundry, cleaning out all the old cupboards and sweeping out the attic of my brain. It's odd, I realized today, I had forgotten the names of two of my ex-boyfriends.
Isn't life grand?
Showing posts with label Living. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Living. Show all posts
Monday, September 20, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Wonder.
I'll try to express the wonder and joy of riding home from work along the esplanade in Battery Park City. I was able to leave work before sundown tonight - (still shaky from my recent crashes), I rode more gingerly. I felt the crush of other madly joyful NYers shaking themselves out of down coats and big winter hats.
Runners on the path, large groups of strollers and...meanderers, kids running screaming races to imaginary finish lines...burly manly-men self-conciously stretching pecs and leg muscles. Warmth! Heat! A sundown that lasts two hours, as though reluctantly, the day didn't want to end. The sky went from brilliant blue clarity to sunsoaked yellow, salmon pink mixed with tangerine, then violet and royal blue to grey flannel.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Exhausted. Today was like San Francisco was...super sunny, a very sharp seabreeze blowing through the streets and making the walk to the subway that much chillier. I watched outside my (office) window as families played with kites along the water and the long lines wound throughout Battery Park to board ferries to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.
Sucked having to work today.
These past couple of weeks, I've had, not one, but TWO bike crashes on the Westside Greenway! My hands are skinned, my eyebrow sports a bright red gash, and the left side of my face is swollen - I look like a victim, or that I am part of a Fight Club.
I walked my bike home unhappily today from 42nd Street westside for about a mile and a half home, not knowing that the entire left side of my face was streaked with blood from the cut above my left eye. I love NYers. 5 people stopped me, asking if I was ok, one girl stopped a phone call, a group of young kids in the park asked me if I was attacked, a couple on 42nd street....in other places I lived, when I was hurt and by myself, no one asked if I was ok. (Gosh, in California, after I flipped hard over the handle bars of my bike in a very full park on a Saturday, people actually stepped over my body, completely unconcerned that anyone was hurt or needing any medical attention, not able to focus on anything but what was 1 foot around themselves. They blow.)
And that's why I love NYC.
Sucked having to work today.
These past couple of weeks, I've had, not one, but TWO bike crashes on the Westside Greenway! My hands are skinned, my eyebrow sports a bright red gash, and the left side of my face is swollen - I look like a victim, or that I am part of a Fight Club.
I walked my bike home unhappily today from 42nd Street westside for about a mile and a half home, not knowing that the entire left side of my face was streaked with blood from the cut above my left eye. I love NYers. 5 people stopped me, asking if I was ok, one girl stopped a phone call, a group of young kids in the park asked me if I was attacked, a couple on 42nd street....in other places I lived, when I was hurt and by myself, no one asked if I was ok. (Gosh, in California, after I flipped hard over the handle bars of my bike in a very full park on a Saturday, people actually stepped over my body, completely unconcerned that anyone was hurt or needing any medical attention, not able to focus on anything but what was 1 foot around themselves. They blow.)
And that's why I love NYC.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
A long time passes....why did I stop blogging? Tonight, I got immersed in reading the history and tales of an old-old friend from a past life - she, now a writer, is "memoir"-ing. SPINSTER (no, I am not being judgy, she calls herself that, read her blog....) waxes introspective and revisits the past to understand the present.
Over here, it's been steady and quiet. Percolating and humming along. Life, I mean. I am surprised that I can live happily and comfortably on a very little income, but still, all dreams are coming to fruition. Back here where I belong in NYC, it's been almost a couple of years of bliss now and I am forgetting my relocations, painful relationships, and embarrassments because...well, I've just been busy.
Biking to work every day, reaching almost a zen-like contentment kanoodling past the Hudson River, yanking up my bike onto the 42nd Street crosstown bus, eating candlelit dinners in trendy-tiny-yummy cafe's, and breathing again. It's going by so fast, the days are getting longer again, and it's warm out. The sun sets at 7 now and everyone is walking a slow languid stroll and looking from side-to-side-to-side.
I planned a few travels, for leisure! Not business, not visiting family, not....moving away...just sitting on the beach in the Dominican Republic for a couple of days, playing rummy with my oldest childhood friend, and then chatting for short spurts with the girlfriends of my best friend.
The Carribean was lovely. The rest was amazing.
When I came back, my sister informed me...it was my turn to use the family timeshare. Anywhere. And so, and so....laissez les bon temps rouler...the condo was transferred to the Big Easy, and I am in for a week of crawfish and gumbo and beignet si vous plait.
The condo is fantasy place, its own kitchen (yeah right, I'm cooking in one of the most artistically gastronomic parishes in the world), a courtyard with wading pool and old sculptures under weeping trees, and a couple of blocks from the French Quartier....yep, I will trade my mis-timed quips for a low-slung drawl and just hit every single well-known and little-known bar, resto, alleyway, major thoroughfare, and neighborhood in NOLA.
Lastly, and bestly, I am going (all stars aligning) with my....
Over here, it's been steady and quiet. Percolating and humming along. Life, I mean. I am surprised that I can live happily and comfortably on a very little income, but still, all dreams are coming to fruition. Back here where I belong in NYC, it's been almost a couple of years of bliss now and I am forgetting my relocations, painful relationships, and embarrassments because...well, I've just been busy.
Biking to work every day, reaching almost a zen-like contentment kanoodling past the Hudson River, yanking up my bike onto the 42nd Street crosstown bus, eating candlelit dinners in trendy-tiny-yummy cafe's, and breathing again. It's going by so fast, the days are getting longer again, and it's warm out. The sun sets at 7 now and everyone is walking a slow languid stroll and looking from side-to-side-to-side.
I planned a few travels, for leisure! Not business, not visiting family, not....moving away...just sitting on the beach in the Dominican Republic for a couple of days, playing rummy with my oldest childhood friend, and then chatting for short spurts with the girlfriends of my best friend.
The Carribean was lovely. The rest was amazing.
When I came back, my sister informed me...it was my turn to use the family timeshare. Anywhere. And so, and so....laissez les bon temps rouler...the condo was transferred to the Big Easy, and I am in for a week of crawfish and gumbo and beignet si vous plait.
The condo is fantasy place, its own kitchen (yeah right, I'm cooking in one of the most artistically gastronomic parishes in the world), a courtyard with wading pool and old sculptures under weeping trees, and a couple of blocks from the French Quartier....yep, I will trade my mis-timed quips for a low-slung drawl and just hit every single well-known and little-known bar, resto, alleyway, major thoroughfare, and neighborhood in NOLA.
Lastly, and bestly, I am going (all stars aligning) with my....
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Seattle trip
I love Seattle, it's an amazing city, but Bainbridge Island has won my heart. The moon was a weird, perfect white sphere, traversed by skudding clouds above craggy mountain tops, mirror lakes and acres of pine.
We set out the first day from Bainbridge heading west over Olympic National Park.
My father wanted a drive to see the ocean, and our best route was a three hour drive from Bainbridge into the National Park, around cresent lake, then past Port Angeles and Forks (the "treaty zone" in Twilight...) and landing finally at magnficent La Push Quileute Beach.
We set out the first day from Bainbridge heading west over Olympic National Park.
My father wanted a drive to see the ocean, and our best route was a three hour drive from Bainbridge into the National Park, around cresent lake, then past Port Angeles and Forks (the "treaty zone" in Twilight...) and landing finally at magnficent La Push Quileute Beach.
Amazing.
The next several days were spent on Bainbridge or in Seattle, with a tour of the Underground, and a day on the Duckboat.
I could live there.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Brompton on the Upperwest Greenway, NYC
At 42nd Street and the highway, majestic Intrepid museum. Next door, the Norweigan Cruiseline dock.
Waterside parks, suntanning lads, old piers, new piers, under bridges, over tennis courts. Past the boatbasin and into Riverside Park, up to Columbia University where the bells tolled.
My new bike
More on this later, but another long term wish is fulfilled.
Spent the summer riding the city on my new wheels.
I LOVE MY BROMPTON!
Been riding to work every morn via the bike path along the Hudson River, all the way down to the World Financial Center and into Battery Park. It's true love. I can take it on the bus, in the subway, stow it in a corner of my office near my desk, and take it up in my bldg elevator.
Sigh. I've already ridden the ferry with my baby to Governors' Island for picnic overlooking the Harbor.
Tomorrow...GWB and the little red lighthouse!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
One of those lists...
25 Random Things About Me
[I'm doing this for Samantha, this actually makes me really nervous, because I don't have 25 interesting things about me. So I will make some up.]
1. I love chocolate, not Skittles, not Yellow Cake, not Strawberries, not Cheesecake, not Sweettarts, yechh. I don't put sugar even in my coffee. Example, when I dated someone years ago, I asked him on his birthday, "What kind of cake would you like for your birthday, honey?" He replied, "Lemon Cake with Raspberry Filling." Being the excellent girlfriend that I was, I ran all over the city trying to find the best Lemon Cake with Raspberry Filling that NYC had to offer. On my bed, we sat crosslegged, opened the box, and oohed and ahhed at the most excellent cake I could possibly find that fit what he wanted. What a fun evening.
My birthday came a few months later. I waited for him to ask me, "What cake would you like for Your birthday, D?" Waiting...waiting...and he shows up on the day of my birthday, box in hand, smile on face. I was doubtful when I opened the box.
What was in the box? Lemon Cake with Raspberry Filling. Sigh.
My opinion is that the federal government should mandate that cakes are only made out of dark CHOCOLATE, in the form of a layer cake with creamy frosting...mmm.
Moral of story? ALWAYS ask what cake the birthday girl wants. Not what you want. Even if you think you're bringing the "best cheesecake or whatever" in the world. They may not want it. It may cause some eyerolling.
2. To continue with the theme above, French Chocolate, dark and yummy. Think...Maison du Chocolat, Vosges, Marie Belle, Jacques Torres, Richart, Michel Cluizel, Patrick Roger. Not Hersheys Kisses, (whatever!). In San Francisco, I loved Ghirardelli of course, and lived near Ghirardelli Square, visiting chocolate festivals every year, and sipping hot choco overlooking the smoky bay.
3. Other notes on luxury. Spoil yourself, enjoy yourself!! You need it, you deserve it. I'm not a spa person. I don't like being touched by people I don't know, especially so intimately while wearing very little. Gives me the Heebies.
To spoil myself, I get fun haircuts and strange haircolor. I buy excellent shoes and handbags and coats in all colors, for all seasons. I'm starting a collection of quirky and fashionable blouses I love. Some people like t-shirts. I do occasionally, if they fit right.
Fashion's about what looks good on ya. What takes 10 pounds off the silhouette. What makes you tall and slim and glam.
My formative years were spent in Ocean County New Jersey, mecca of mallrat ripoffs, haphazard skater-wear, and blue eyeshadow...BIG hair. In the 80s. It was embarrassing.
Thus, in fashion, I’m attracted to sleek simplicity and slimming colors, something flattering but comfortable, permitting movement with grace, where one can scale a 40 story building in Midtown, flash my cool techno-gadgetry, and slip into a short slim gown in the elevator on the way down for a drink at some dark, swanky bar with a giant mural, take rides in the limo, and claim a seat at a show during Fashion Week. I love clothes that go from work to exciting nights out. (I'm heavily influenced by James Bond movies, obviously).
4. I moved to San Francisco, then to Boston, to see what's out there. My 20 some-odd years in the Big Apple were action packed, fulfilling and interesting on a minute-by-minute basis, but when the opportunity came to see the world, I took it. Um...saw alot. Ate alot. Met alot of people. Ran back home to NYC after less than 3 years. I clicked my red heels and said, "there's no place like home."
5. I'm certified in sailing on SF Bay. The experience was amazing. I wasn't a total newbie though, since I grew up on Barnegat Bay in NJ, another center of sailing culture. We'd spend whole weekends fighting fierce winds, choppy waves, and getting tangled in our own canvas and lines. One time we blundered haphazardly into a professional regatta as the sun went down and wind turned. More seasoned and more suntanned gentlemen and women were swearing at us to get out of the way. I met some great people, and had some good hard practice. I never did sail in Boston, where the public marina lets you sail on the Charles for less than $300 for the entire summer.
6. When I was 16, I accompanied my cousin on a tour of Europe in the 1980's. Europeans generally seemed much much more aware of American politics than the average american teenager. After my 3 week tour through more than 15 countries, I studied International Relations and Journalism at NYU. I visited Europe about 3 times since then. It's been about 10 years since I traveled like that. I miss travel, but it's so darn expensive to pick up and go nowadays... One day though.
7. My favorite country to visit is Italy. Food, culture, music everywhere, food everywhere, people smiling and friendly…and the ART. The frescos, the architecture, just walking down stone galleries, winding streets, wide staircases and shadowy doors…most romantic country I can think of to fulfill the senses.
Followed by that and for similar reasons, France. Not as friendly, but so much to do. Reminds me of NY, actually.
8. I have a theory that sitcoms have changed the way Americans communicate. (Yes, I watch too much tv). Doesn’t work start to feel like that NBC TV show, The Office? Aren’t we speaking a bit snappier since Seinfeld? Sex in the City? Yup. Ouch.
People are a lot of funnier and more bewildered than ever before.
9. I love McDonalds. I eat there 3 times a week. I only eat the Big Mac meal. When I was very tiny little baby in Queens, my grandmother from the Philippines took care of me while my parents were gone all day at work. From birth to 4 years old, she fed me, took me in the Stroller on the subway to go shopping, taught me to read and write, and hugged me every day. Eventually she had to go back to her life….and then she was gone.
As a baby, I couldn’t understand what was happening. I cried for three weeks. I couldn’t sleep. I crept about the apartment, looking in the oven, looking in closets, in pantry cabinets, but she wasn’t there. My parents grew alarmed, then frantic. I looked at them with tearstained face, not recognizing them for who they were.
In the middle of the night on the third week of not eating or sleeping, my father and mother took me for a drive through Queens in the middle of the night to stop my night terrors, hoping the motion of the car would rock me asleep. My mom was crying. It was very late. Down Queens Boulevard, before the overpass, a sight inspired me to stop crying and I lifted four-year old self to the window, then pointed. My mom immediately understood.
“She wants to go to McDonalds,” she told my dad, and we sat on the formica plastic seats, near Hamburgler and Ronald, under yellow arches, munching fresh French fries quietly. I didn’t have trouble eating or sleeping again after that night. My father decided I had separation anxiety from my grandmother and wouldn’t let me be imprinted by anyone else but my mom and he ever again.
27 years later, I relayed this touching story to my friends in a NY city cab one late night after rounds of drinks. They howled with laughter, rolling around on the floor of the cab.
“LOLA….” Laughed my friend, mimicking my childhood grief, imagining mini-me chasing a plane down the runway, taking my grandmother away.
Whatever.
They wanted me to sell that story to McDonalds. McDonalds saved my life. Seriously.
10. I wish I spoke Tagalog. Then Carol and I could make our snide comments in another language. (Just kidding, we’re really nice people.)
11. My dream is to have 3 homes, one in each place:
A. New York
B. San Francisco
C. Venice
12. Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana.
13. I don’t ski, although I have, once. I do swim though. Long ago, we were on the Metedeconk River Yacht Club swim team, and no matter how athletic the guy is that I am with, I still swim better than he does.
14. I read Sci Fi. Most girls don’t. I was part of a book club about 10 years ago, full of intelligent, high-end, glossy, college-educated women. We read Proust (well, we read a lot of interesting books)…EVERY time I brought up sci fi, I was looked upon with pity and disbelief.
I looked elsewhere for my sci-fi camaraderie.
My favorite night was not with them, but around the same time, when my group at work would meet at some dingy bar in the financial district after work, our dot-com sadly winding down, and after most of the people had left, we moved our wooden barstools into a circle and discussed Stephen Hawking’s Universe in a Nutshell. I miss our talks!
15. I love Vinyasa Yoga. There are some great studios here in NY, where I get a better workout than NY Sportsclub has to offer, and have met some spiritually intereting friends along the way. In my heyday, I could do pushups on 3 fingers of each hand. Easily.
16. I’m a Catholic.
17. There are 3 criteria for a movie that I will spend money to watch:
A. Magic
B. Kung Fu
C. Spaceships
No teary-eyes, please!
18. September 11th was pivotal to my world outlook. I was in the city during the time, and when I opened the shades of my apartment and looked South, I watched Tower 2 fall.
The days after were heroic and hysterical, outpouring of emotions, lots of hugging and crying. Old friends called to check everyday, although we hadn’t been in touch much before.
It was incredible.
19. Lawschool, well, I don’t regret it one bit. I am one of those non-practicing attorneys that wanted to spend my days NOT talking much with other lawyers. I’m glad I found a rewarding career NOT being a lawyer. I smile more than they do.
20. I love NJ. At least the shore. I know every exit on the Garden State Parkway, and drove my friend’s convertible from NY down to Atlantic City when she had a whim to play blackjack. I need a red convertible sportscar, badly.
21. I don’t have kids or a husband. Yet.
22. I write a lot. About different things. Kept journals all my life, mostly titled after my boyfriends…”The Book of S”, “The Book of R”, “The Book of H”.
I burned them soon after.
23. My friends are my family.
24. I love being back in NYC.
25. I am waiting.
[I'm doing this for Samantha, this actually makes me really nervous, because I don't have 25 interesting things about me. So I will make some up.]
1. I love chocolate, not Skittles, not Yellow Cake, not Strawberries, not Cheesecake, not Sweettarts, yechh. I don't put sugar even in my coffee. Example, when I dated someone years ago, I asked him on his birthday, "What kind of cake would you like for your birthday, honey?" He replied, "Lemon Cake with Raspberry Filling." Being the excellent girlfriend that I was, I ran all over the city trying to find the best Lemon Cake with Raspberry Filling that NYC had to offer. On my bed, we sat crosslegged, opened the box, and oohed and ahhed at the most excellent cake I could possibly find that fit what he wanted. What a fun evening.
My birthday came a few months later. I waited for him to ask me, "What cake would you like for Your birthday, D?" Waiting...waiting...and he shows up on the day of my birthday, box in hand, smile on face. I was doubtful when I opened the box.
What was in the box? Lemon Cake with Raspberry Filling. Sigh.
My opinion is that the federal government should mandate that cakes are only made out of dark CHOCOLATE, in the form of a layer cake with creamy frosting...mmm.
Moral of story? ALWAYS ask what cake the birthday girl wants. Not what you want. Even if you think you're bringing the "best cheesecake or whatever" in the world. They may not want it. It may cause some eyerolling.
2. To continue with the theme above, French Chocolate, dark and yummy. Think...Maison du Chocolat, Vosges, Marie Belle, Jacques Torres, Richart, Michel Cluizel, Patrick Roger. Not Hersheys Kisses, (whatever!). In San Francisco, I loved Ghirardelli of course, and lived near Ghirardelli Square, visiting chocolate festivals every year, and sipping hot choco overlooking the smoky bay.
3. Other notes on luxury. Spoil yourself, enjoy yourself!! You need it, you deserve it. I'm not a spa person. I don't like being touched by people I don't know, especially so intimately while wearing very little. Gives me the Heebies.
To spoil myself, I get fun haircuts and strange haircolor. I buy excellent shoes and handbags and coats in all colors, for all seasons. I'm starting a collection of quirky and fashionable blouses I love. Some people like t-shirts. I do occasionally, if they fit right.
Fashion's about what looks good on ya. What takes 10 pounds off the silhouette. What makes you tall and slim and glam.
My formative years were spent in Ocean County New Jersey, mecca of mallrat ripoffs, haphazard skater-wear, and blue eyeshadow...BIG hair. In the 80s. It was embarrassing.
Thus, in fashion, I’m attracted to sleek simplicity and slimming colors, something flattering but comfortable, permitting movement with grace, where one can scale a 40 story building in Midtown, flash my cool techno-gadgetry, and slip into a short slim gown in the elevator on the way down for a drink at some dark, swanky bar with a giant mural, take rides in the limo, and claim a seat at a show during Fashion Week. I love clothes that go from work to exciting nights out. (I'm heavily influenced by James Bond movies, obviously).
4. I moved to San Francisco, then to Boston, to see what's out there. My 20 some-odd years in the Big Apple were action packed, fulfilling and interesting on a minute-by-minute basis, but when the opportunity came to see the world, I took it. Um...saw alot. Ate alot. Met alot of people. Ran back home to NYC after less than 3 years. I clicked my red heels and said, "there's no place like home."
5. I'm certified in sailing on SF Bay. The experience was amazing. I wasn't a total newbie though, since I grew up on Barnegat Bay in NJ, another center of sailing culture. We'd spend whole weekends fighting fierce winds, choppy waves, and getting tangled in our own canvas and lines. One time we blundered haphazardly into a professional regatta as the sun went down and wind turned. More seasoned and more suntanned gentlemen and women were swearing at us to get out of the way. I met some great people, and had some good hard practice. I never did sail in Boston, where the public marina lets you sail on the Charles for less than $300 for the entire summer.
6. When I was 16, I accompanied my cousin on a tour of Europe in the 1980's. Europeans generally seemed much much more aware of American politics than the average american teenager. After my 3 week tour through more than 15 countries, I studied International Relations and Journalism at NYU. I visited Europe about 3 times since then. It's been about 10 years since I traveled like that. I miss travel, but it's so darn expensive to pick up and go nowadays... One day though.
7. My favorite country to visit is Italy. Food, culture, music everywhere, food everywhere, people smiling and friendly…and the ART. The frescos, the architecture, just walking down stone galleries, winding streets, wide staircases and shadowy doors…most romantic country I can think of to fulfill the senses.
Followed by that and for similar reasons, France. Not as friendly, but so much to do. Reminds me of NY, actually.
8. I have a theory that sitcoms have changed the way Americans communicate. (Yes, I watch too much tv). Doesn’t work start to feel like that NBC TV show, The Office? Aren’t we speaking a bit snappier since Seinfeld? Sex in the City? Yup. Ouch.
People are a lot of funnier and more bewildered than ever before.
9. I love McDonalds. I eat there 3 times a week. I only eat the Big Mac meal. When I was very tiny little baby in Queens, my grandmother from the Philippines took care of me while my parents were gone all day at work. From birth to 4 years old, she fed me, took me in the Stroller on the subway to go shopping, taught me to read and write, and hugged me every day. Eventually she had to go back to her life….and then she was gone.
As a baby, I couldn’t understand what was happening. I cried for three weeks. I couldn’t sleep. I crept about the apartment, looking in the oven, looking in closets, in pantry cabinets, but she wasn’t there. My parents grew alarmed, then frantic. I looked at them with tearstained face, not recognizing them for who they were.
In the middle of the night on the third week of not eating or sleeping, my father and mother took me for a drive through Queens in the middle of the night to stop my night terrors, hoping the motion of the car would rock me asleep. My mom was crying. It was very late. Down Queens Boulevard, before the overpass, a sight inspired me to stop crying and I lifted four-year old self to the window, then pointed. My mom immediately understood.
“She wants to go to McDonalds,” she told my dad, and we sat on the formica plastic seats, near Hamburgler and Ronald, under yellow arches, munching fresh French fries quietly. I didn’t have trouble eating or sleeping again after that night. My father decided I had separation anxiety from my grandmother and wouldn’t let me be imprinted by anyone else but my mom and he ever again.
27 years later, I relayed this touching story to my friends in a NY city cab one late night after rounds of drinks. They howled with laughter, rolling around on the floor of the cab.
“LOLA….” Laughed my friend, mimicking my childhood grief, imagining mini-me chasing a plane down the runway, taking my grandmother away.
Whatever.
They wanted me to sell that story to McDonalds. McDonalds saved my life. Seriously.
10. I wish I spoke Tagalog. Then Carol and I could make our snide comments in another language. (Just kidding, we’re really nice people.)
11. My dream is to have 3 homes, one in each place:
A. New York
B. San Francisco
C. Venice
12. Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana.
13. I don’t ski, although I have, once. I do swim though. Long ago, we were on the Metedeconk River Yacht Club swim team, and no matter how athletic the guy is that I am with, I still swim better than he does.
14. I read Sci Fi. Most girls don’t. I was part of a book club about 10 years ago, full of intelligent, high-end, glossy, college-educated women. We read Proust (well, we read a lot of interesting books)…EVERY time I brought up sci fi, I was looked upon with pity and disbelief.
I looked elsewhere for my sci-fi camaraderie.
My favorite night was not with them, but around the same time, when my group at work would meet at some dingy bar in the financial district after work, our dot-com sadly winding down, and after most of the people had left, we moved our wooden barstools into a circle and discussed Stephen Hawking’s Universe in a Nutshell. I miss our talks!
15. I love Vinyasa Yoga. There are some great studios here in NY, where I get a better workout than NY Sportsclub has to offer, and have met some spiritually intereting friends along the way. In my heyday, I could do pushups on 3 fingers of each hand. Easily.
16. I’m a Catholic.
17. There are 3 criteria for a movie that I will spend money to watch:
A. Magic
B. Kung Fu
C. Spaceships
No teary-eyes, please!
18. September 11th was pivotal to my world outlook. I was in the city during the time, and when I opened the shades of my apartment and looked South, I watched Tower 2 fall.
The days after were heroic and hysterical, outpouring of emotions, lots of hugging and crying. Old friends called to check everyday, although we hadn’t been in touch much before.
It was incredible.
19. Lawschool, well, I don’t regret it one bit. I am one of those non-practicing attorneys that wanted to spend my days NOT talking much with other lawyers. I’m glad I found a rewarding career NOT being a lawyer. I smile more than they do.
20. I love NJ. At least the shore. I know every exit on the Garden State Parkway, and drove my friend’s convertible from NY down to Atlantic City when she had a whim to play blackjack. I need a red convertible sportscar, badly.
21. I don’t have kids or a husband. Yet.
22. I write a lot. About different things. Kept journals all my life, mostly titled after my boyfriends…”The Book of S”, “The Book of R”, “The Book of H”.
I burned them soon after.
23. My friends are my family.
24. I love being back in NYC.
25. I am waiting.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Menages, the Economy and the Oba-Messiah
Weekend Past~
Cindie, an old friend from the Dmind Corp days, came into New York for the annual International Print fair, to set up her gallery space's corner in the Armoury on the Upper East Side. Halloween night in the city, we watched the "freaks" dressed up as naughty nuns and jail birds, Governor Palin and rock stars, ("...some girls should NOT be wearing those outfits, that's supposed to look good on her, right??") but we opted to skip the Parade of Ghouls downtown in West Village (it would be overrun) and caught up over ravioli at a nearby trattoria midtown near my apartment.
Next morning, looking out the window down 42nd St, we caught part of the practice run of the NYC marathon, also slated for the weekend. We had diner food delivered up to the casa for breakfast, and then she took off in anticipation of her day - friends from the fine art prints world, customers with the wherewithal to drop a cool $8K on a first edition....whatever. I shook my head, "Can't afford it..." I replied when she asked if she should leave a ticket for me at the entrance. "I am only at the 'Dogs Playing Poker' buying class at this time.'". While my friend was at Print Fair, I caught the downtown bus on 2nd Ave. to Union Square's farmers market, intent on finding a couple of houseplants to bring some life and air into my little space. A dealer from Long Island set up a canvas tent in the busy square. I came home happily with a rubber tree variant, and a larger ginger tree hybrid, with a grizzled- tough look and spice-red foliage. The trees made the air fresh in the apartment, cleaner, and when I open the door at night, it smells so good in there!
At night, we agreed on shrimp tempura sashimi and a film down at the Angelica after the weekend workday was over. I love the Angelica theatre, it's alive with artistically inclined folk in dark drapery and pale pallor, arguing philosophically but amicably over black cigarettes. Inside, tables and a small coffee shop let the movie-goers sit under artwork and discuss the latest arthouse offering. We caught Vicki Christina Barcelona, a visual homage to Barcelona's visceral fusion of art and urbanism ~ a debate whether passion is at odds with a "normal" life. Personally, hot though Javier Bardem is, I'm not tempted to overthrow a lasting, growing and committed relationship in favor of artistic passions, untraditional menage~a~trois, and the constant threat of gunplay and knife throwing. Over alcholic coffees at the King Cole bar in the St. Regis midtown after the film, Cindie was in favor of the Bardem, Cruz, and Vicki-Christina question.
Here was the question: When you have a loving, traditional, growing-old-together-with-kids-and-grandkids, house in the burbs type of relationship, is it understandable to want a passionate sexual attraction to moody, crazed, romantic and rather...dangerously wild painters in a foreign country? Just, is it understandable? My own read was this: I had a million crazy passionate encounters, but a dearth of the real, loving ones. My opin: I would pay a million dollars for the real thing and to erase the scars of two decades of singlehood in 3 major cities. Cindie, on the otherhand, is experienced both sides, now in a loving committed and long term relationship in Conneticut. AND they are both artists too (like Bardem and Cruz in the movie...) Her perspective, well...passion for passion's sake.
I love the King Cole bar for late night champagne, the crowd is returning from some party or art opening, some gala ball or board meeting, and we swanked a bit with millionaires who earnestly debated their own concerns in Gucci and Prada leathers. It's a wonderful background set for our debate du jour. (d'Noir? du Nuit?)
Here was the question: When you have a loving, traditional, growing-old-together-with-kids-and-grandkids, house in the burbs type of relationship, is it understandable to want a passionate sexual attraction to moody, crazed, romantic and rather...dangerously wild painters in a foreign country? Just, is it understandable? My own read was this: I had a million crazy passionate encounters, but a dearth of the real, loving ones. My opin: I would pay a million dollars for the real thing and to erase the scars of two decades of singlehood in 3 major cities. Cindie, on the otherhand, is experienced both sides, now in a loving committed and long term relationship in Conneticut. AND they are both artists too (like Bardem and Cruz in the movie...) Her perspective, well...passion for passion's sake.
I love the King Cole bar for late night champagne, the crowd is returning from some party or art opening, some gala ball or board meeting, and we swanked a bit with millionaires who earnestly debated their own concerns in Gucci and Prada leathers. It's a wonderful background set for our debate du jour. (d'Noir? du Nuit?)
Through last week~
Well, of course, we were all taken by the election and the possibilities for the future. Rockefeller Center ice rink hosted "Election Central" - a giant map of the country imprinted upon the ice, and updated minute-to-minute in red and blue as voting boothes closed and the counts rolled in. Anticipation and celebration lasted all night long in Harlem, midtown, and all boroughs on the warm evening, and we all knew what would happen.
Well, of course, we were all taken by the election and the possibilities for the future. Rockefeller Center ice rink hosted "Election Central" - a giant map of the country imprinted upon the ice, and updated minute-to-minute in red and blue as voting boothes closed and the counts rolled in. Anticipation and celebration lasted all night long in Harlem, midtown, and all boroughs on the warm evening, and we all knew what would happen.
Hope. And celebration. "I love you...Vote Obama," I would say in closing on the phone to my closest friends that week. In response from one loved one, "[blah, blah, blah]... the Oba-Messiah..."
"Yes," I said, "...but your voting platform is based solely on legalizing marijuana, so..."
And similar convos. An historic event, I'm glad to be alive now.
With the economy still tanked, I am holding off on major furniture shopping for the apartment and am still sleeping on a doggie bed on the floor. It's hard to commit to any kind of spending right now and I am willing to wait out the weeks until the money is there to buy the bed and chair that I need before this place is relatively complete.
I did get a print from the Met, though, a montage of photos and sketches of Christo's The Gates installation a few years ago in Central Park. At the time, NYC was again beset by a tight depression. I think I was in between jobs and life was scary and uncertain and cold. The Gates, a path of orange flags tracing a looping trail through Central Park, could be seen out my window from some major lawifrm I was working in, and I would think, in deepest, coldest winter, when I had no permanent job, and very little cash, it was art's response to...despair? Go outside, take a walk through the Gates, ignore the cold and all of the things that can worry a person.
And it was a really inspiring display.
"That's why people buy prints," Cindie replied.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Explorers' Club
I've been wondering what other people my age have done with this time on earth (while we can still run, skip, jump...) It started to obsess me. I know my little world and my small industry, I know some fun exciting events, people, dinners, symposia and can identify much useless information in the course of my day. I can impress paralegals and attorneys when I use the phrase "xls", can scare people by running "scripts" and nod my head knowledgeably when someone speaks of "spoilation."
So what....
Last night, I stumbled across an old institution here in NYC that hosts interesting lectures once a month on adventures and exploration.
Here's what I read that made me grab my coat, run out of my office and head uptown:
The club's mission is to encourage scientific exploration of land, sea, air and space, emphasizing the physical and biological sciences. Its headquarters is the Lowell Thomas Building on East 70th Street in New York City.
Over the years, membership has included polar explorers Roald Amundsen, Robert Peary, Matthew Henson, Ernest Shackleton, Vilhjalmur Stefansson, Sir George Hubert Wilkins, and Frederick Cook; aviators Jimmy Doolittle, Charles Lindbergh, Richard Archbold and Chuck Yeager; underwater explorers Sylvia Earle, Jacques Piccard, Don Walsh and Robert Ballard; astronauts John Glenn, Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong, Sally Ride, Kathryn Sullivan, and cosmonaut Viktor Savinykh; anthropologists Louis Leakey, Richard Leakey and Jane Goodall; mountaineers Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay; former U.S. Presidents Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin D. Roosevelt and Herbert Hoover; and thousands of other notables including journalist Lowell Thomas, newspaper cartoonist Mel Cummin and pioneer explorer Thor Heyerdahl.
Anyway, they throw lectures once a month. The building is a converted old mansion on the Upper East side, with flowery wrought iron terraces, solid old libraries, fireplaces, exotic rugs, pictures of astronauts on the walls, a stuffed polar bear, a sled that has crossed the North Pole, giant ivory tusks, and books about land, sea, air and space expeditions. I bought my ticket, entered the main library and had wine and cheese with scholars, historians, and explorers.
The lecture started when a vibrant guy about my age stood up at the podium and was introduced to the audience. He was a combination of Tom Cruise and Indiana Jones. His video and slides were about his exploration and plotting and conservationist efforts for the caves in the Yucatan Penninsula - Mexico. His name was Sam Meacham, and he is a part of Cindaq, an organization dedicated to conservation and exploration of fresh water resources and underwater geography underneath the Yucatan.
A cenote is an opening in the jungle terrain filled with fresh water and is a passageway into the limestone cave-system underneath Tulum, Cancun and all of the surrounding tourists areas of the Yucatan.
He and his team walk or fly through the jungle, locate the Cenote, put on diving gear and bring 400 lbs of underwater lighting equipment, and dive downwards, following the underground rivers. Past dinosaur bones, ancient sacrificed skeletons, pottery sherds, ancient sloth, and underwater architecture of the Maya, dodging stalagmites and stactites before the caves were overrun from the rising oceans. He spoke about walking down carved Mayan stairs, past an underground stone alter, and down into the dark pool of freshwater under the jungles.
He and his team experienced previously undiscovered plant life, fish, crustacean, and even mammal remains.
Footage and scientific measurements were sent to National Geographic and various scientific institutions for examination of flora, fauna and water chemistry, especially as it is affected by the tourism of the Yucatan and explosive population growth.
Anyway, we were all ooh'ing, ah'ing, and I felt inadequate.
This is what people do with their time?
Update:
Just read a curious little post about the Explorers' Club Annual Dinner at the Waldorf Astoria this year (attended by an old roomate of mine, one of the first groups of women invited to join the society.)
Anyway, on the menu:
Earthworm Stir-Fry
Roasted Goat, Pork Chitterlings, Eyeballs, etc.
Maggot- and Bug-Covered Strawberries
Scorpions on Toast
Duck Tongues on Belgian Endives
Lotus Stalks
Sweet & Sour Bovine Penis
"You foolin' me?? For real?"
"Ain' no lie."
Full article on Epicurious.com's blog.
So what....
Last night, I stumbled across an old institution here in NYC that hosts interesting lectures once a month on adventures and exploration.
Here's what I read that made me grab my coat, run out of my office and head uptown:
The club's mission is to encourage scientific exploration of land, sea, air and space, emphasizing the physical and biological sciences. Its headquarters is the Lowell Thomas Building on East 70th Street in New York City.
Over the years, membership has included polar explorers Roald Amundsen, Robert Peary, Matthew Henson, Ernest Shackleton, Vilhjalmur Stefansson, Sir George Hubert Wilkins, and Frederick Cook; aviators Jimmy Doolittle, Charles Lindbergh, Richard Archbold and Chuck Yeager; underwater explorers Sylvia Earle, Jacques Piccard, Don Walsh and Robert Ballard; astronauts John Glenn, Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong, Sally Ride, Kathryn Sullivan, and cosmonaut Viktor Savinykh; anthropologists Louis Leakey, Richard Leakey and Jane Goodall; mountaineers Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay; former U.S. Presidents Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin D. Roosevelt and Herbert Hoover; and thousands of other notables including journalist Lowell Thomas, newspaper cartoonist Mel Cummin and pioneer explorer Thor Heyerdahl.
Anyway, they throw lectures once a month. The building is a converted old mansion on the Upper East side, with flowery wrought iron terraces, solid old libraries, fireplaces, exotic rugs, pictures of astronauts on the walls, a stuffed polar bear, a sled that has crossed the North Pole, giant ivory tusks, and books about land, sea, air and space expeditions. I bought my ticket, entered the main library and had wine and cheese with scholars, historians, and explorers.
The lecture started when a vibrant guy about my age stood up at the podium and was introduced to the audience. He was a combination of Tom Cruise and Indiana Jones. His video and slides were about his exploration and plotting and conservationist efforts for the caves in the Yucatan Penninsula - Mexico. His name was Sam Meacham, and he is a part of Cindaq, an organization dedicated to conservation and exploration of fresh water resources and underwater geography underneath the Yucatan.
A cenote is an opening in the jungle terrain filled with fresh water and is a passageway into the limestone cave-system underneath Tulum, Cancun and all of the surrounding tourists areas of the Yucatan.
He and his team walk or fly through the jungle, locate the Cenote, put on diving gear and bring 400 lbs of underwater lighting equipment, and dive downwards, following the underground rivers. Past dinosaur bones, ancient sacrificed skeletons, pottery sherds, ancient sloth, and underwater architecture of the Maya, dodging stalagmites and stactites before the caves were overrun from the rising oceans. He spoke about walking down carved Mayan stairs, past an underground stone alter, and down into the dark pool of freshwater under the jungles.
He and his team experienced previously undiscovered plant life, fish, crustacean, and even mammal remains.
Footage and scientific measurements were sent to National Geographic and various scientific institutions for examination of flora, fauna and water chemistry, especially as it is affected by the tourism of the Yucatan and explosive population growth.
Anyway, we were all ooh'ing, ah'ing, and I felt inadequate.
This is what people do with their time?
Update:
Just read a curious little post about the Explorers' Club Annual Dinner at the Waldorf Astoria this year (attended by an old roomate of mine, one of the first groups of women invited to join the society.)
Anyway, on the menu:
Earthworm Stir-Fry
Roasted Goat, Pork Chitterlings, Eyeballs, etc.
Maggot- and Bug-Covered Strawberries
Scorpions on Toast
Duck Tongues on Belgian Endives
Lotus Stalks
Sweet & Sour Bovine Penis
"You foolin' me?? For real?"
"Ain' no lie."
Full article on Epicurious.com's blog.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Pushing wind, rain and sirens
Storm and wind kind've changed alot of semi-conscious planning I had for today. After an inhouse day in PJs, I bit the bullet and took the 6 train downtown to shop for necessary items. I've been a barbarian, sitting on the floor, eating takeout with plastic forks and stuffing greasy paper bags into the fridge.
I took my first step in buying stuff for the studio - hit CB2 just off Canal Street. Everything...everything was wonderful and perfect for my little space, but I started with just some plates, bowls and some basic flatware.
By the time I came back, the asphalt glistened and umbrellas were being pushed sideways by the wind, pedestrians soaked and shaking their fists at the grey sky.
Tonight, it's a black - loud night. I can feel the storm whistling into the room through wrought iron window panes, see lightning bursts flash just outside my window from up on the 27th floor, and the Manhattan Bridge is melting as I watch through sheets of water pouring down on the glass.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler...
This week in Gotham, the industry held its 12th Annual Electronic Discovery and Records Retention Conference at the Jumeirah Essex House Hotel on Central Park South. Luminaries from top ten mega-lawfirms and giant multinationals graced the silver carpet into Essex's grand ballroom for a tech Ho-Down.
I was invited to join my company's directors in attending the cocktail hour, where we had a booth to display large screens offering native review in Korean and Japanese. I met up again with friends from the past - Dmitriy (my Yoda), now at Debevoise, Jason (once a vendor-Business Partner, now at Metlife in Long Island City)... and made some new drinking companions in this strange, wild world of litigation support technology.
Our company later sponsored a dinner for clients and friends at Shelley's Trattoria, on 57th near the hotel. The wine flowed freely. The seafood was crisp and light: calamari, and I again tried some pan roasted scallops, even finer than last week.
A client from Texas and Jason from Metlife became fast friends, swapping southern stories in slurry drawl; Dmitriy and I caught up on 3 years of living...Patrick's side of the table kept drawing more and more staggering folks over to discuss fantasy football - we were all eager for a good time.
I also had my review this week, that same night actually. Earlier in the day, I receive a rather cryptic email ordering me to show up at my boss' hotel room for my review. My boss' hotel room? For my review? Good thing she's a girl!
The room was modern and sleek and elegant, with theatrically dim lighting hidden strategically behind borders around the room and cast an interesting purple glow about that reminded me of Star Trek - The Next Generation.
Review went well - I get along with my coworkers, my technical background helps me talk to my clients good, and I have won my clients respect....my division director introduced me as the latest Rockstar of her group, and I was relieved.
I turned into a pumpkin early in the evening, too high heels, too much wine, not enough real food, and an early day at the office the following day. Jason from Met took Metro North home, fell asleep on the train and went way beyond his stop all the way to the end in Connecticut - took a cab to his car, which ran out of gas at 2 am...and he was back at work at 8:30. Patrick fared similarly.
Headache all the next day, blistered feet from a night in 4 inch heels. All of us decided not to attend the b-Disco monthly industry bar night the following evening.
The week quieted down much more on the social front, although I met up with a friend for shopping in Rock Center where he was to advise me on which suit to purchase (this is my kind've metro-sexual friend that I mentioned earlier). His good news: new job came through. Even in this stunted economy. I guess the suit and shoes and colonge from France really were a good investment. I didn't buy anything that night though, we just talked about life. Rockefeller Center opened up the ice rink early this year - skaters and tourists twirled below the giant art deco square and danced beneath golden Prometheus. Soon, Christmas will be coming, we're all feeling it.
Tomorrow, it seems I've got the weekend to myself. I'm thinking of going to a cool steampunk-themed faire called the Grand Chrono'nauts Tea, in Carrol Gardens. Daily Candy suggests "think Jules Verne-inspired trinkets and top hats with petticoats" - the sci-fi version of the Victorian Era. Sign me up.
Also, I have to get ready for my first houseguest. One of my close friends, a curator, will be attending the International Print Fair next week, and I have to find a blowup bed for her to sleep on.
I was invited to join my company's directors in attending the cocktail hour, where we had a booth to display large screens offering native review in Korean and Japanese. I met up again with friends from the past - Dmitriy (my Yoda), now at Debevoise, Jason (once a vendor-Business Partner, now at Metlife in Long Island City)... and made some new drinking companions in this strange, wild world of litigation support technology.
Our company later sponsored a dinner for clients and friends at Shelley's Trattoria, on 57th near the hotel. The wine flowed freely. The seafood was crisp and light: calamari, and I again tried some pan roasted scallops, even finer than last week.
A client from Texas and Jason from Metlife became fast friends, swapping southern stories in slurry drawl; Dmitriy and I caught up on 3 years of living...Patrick's side of the table kept drawing more and more staggering folks over to discuss fantasy football - we were all eager for a good time.
I also had my review this week, that same night actually. Earlier in the day, I receive a rather cryptic email ordering me to show up at my boss' hotel room for my review. My boss' hotel room? For my review? Good thing she's a girl!
The room was modern and sleek and elegant, with theatrically dim lighting hidden strategically behind borders around the room and cast an interesting purple glow about that reminded me of Star Trek - The Next Generation.
Review went well - I get along with my coworkers, my technical background helps me talk to my clients good, and I have won my clients respect....my division director introduced me as the latest Rockstar of her group, and I was relieved.
I turned into a pumpkin early in the evening, too high heels, too much wine, not enough real food, and an early day at the office the following day. Jason from Met took Metro North home, fell asleep on the train and went way beyond his stop all the way to the end in Connecticut - took a cab to his car, which ran out of gas at 2 am...and he was back at work at 8:30. Patrick fared similarly.
Headache all the next day, blistered feet from a night in 4 inch heels. All of us decided not to attend the b-Disco monthly industry bar night the following evening.
The week quieted down much more on the social front, although I met up with a friend for shopping in Rock Center where he was to advise me on which suit to purchase (this is my kind've metro-sexual friend that I mentioned earlier). His good news: new job came through. Even in this stunted economy. I guess the suit and shoes and colonge from France really were a good investment. I didn't buy anything that night though, we just talked about life. Rockefeller Center opened up the ice rink early this year - skaters and tourists twirled below the giant art deco square and danced beneath golden Prometheus. Soon, Christmas will be coming, we're all feeling it.
Tomorrow, it seems I've got the weekend to myself. I'm thinking of going to a cool steampunk-themed faire called the Grand Chrono'nauts Tea, in Carrol Gardens. Daily Candy suggests "think Jules Verne-inspired trinkets and top hats with petticoats" - the sci-fi version of the Victorian Era. Sign me up.
Also, I have to get ready for my first houseguest. One of my close friends, a curator, will be attending the International Print Fair next week, and I have to find a blowup bed for her to sleep on.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Aurora with Victoria and Sohini
Met with the girls in downtown Soho. We sat at a rustic wood and brick bar eatery fronted by a metal porch, lit with candles. We caught up on the 4 or 5 years of things that have happened since the DMIND Corporation shut down and we were left to make our way in the world.
Sohini and Arka, their romance was a tale woven while the sun went down and the leggy fashionastas of Soho came out (- from downtown corporate offices - from catwalks in the meatpacking district - or from tall storefronts midtown.)
Victoria started a new career - a new sort of marketing, managing BUZZ - for clients like HBO, some video gamemakers, for celebrity personalities. Image management? What did she call it, there is a term of art...Rumor management? She generates and manages image and rumor and excitement in the new media: the blog-o-sphere, chatrooms, clubs and dance floor, back rooms of fashionable bars, and behind closed doors in boardrooms. She always was motivated...
The grappa flowed freely. It was a long and fantastic evening. I ate perfect seared scallops on top of a vinaigrette salad on rough wood tables worn smooth and layered with softwax.
Everyone's so beautiful here.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Chillax, it's the Weekend~
OOH - thank goodness.
On the agenda:
I need to visit at least one of the food craves I haven't satisfied in the past three years: maybe it's time for a cupcake tour of Manhattan. Magnolia Bakery: It's downtown, it's hip, and the line goes around the block. Near all of my favorite shopping, good restaurants, and very much a chillax vibe, especially while the weather is still good. We used to have a monthly bar-night at my old job, about 4 years ago. One of my friends was not allowed to come to bar-night unless there was a chocolate cupcake from Magnolia inside his briefcase. Indeed, I have warm and caring friends.
But enough about desserts: Shopping at Lolli in LES. I have no money and economy is so bad, but they are having a SALE, and the stuff is soo...urban goddess. Um, because that's me, right?
Apparently, this weekend is also the I Kiffe NY: a French-NY urban festival with gritty movies, performing and visual arts, and...wait a minute, Les Nubians is playing at Joe's Pub? Man, tickets are going to be sold out by now, why am I only finding out these things now? I miss being plugged in. Well, I'm going to have to do something about that.
I would have loved to go...
Ok, next, I could seriously use just a good ole stroll in Central Park. It's probably one of the last warm weekends in NYC, and seeing some green by the duck pond may be in order. Did I leave my rollerblades in San Francisco? Must have.
Also, on the friends note, I may stay the night in Sunset Park to see my niece and maybe grab some items of furniture from the basement of my best friend. Another of my best friends offered to meet up Sunday Night for a Soul Dinner.
Anyway --- I better catch the sunlight while it's still here.
I would have loved to go...
Ok, next, I could seriously use just a good ole stroll in Central Park. It's probably one of the last warm weekends in NYC, and seeing some green by the duck pond may be in order. Did I leave my rollerblades in San Francisco? Must have.
Also, on the friends note, I may stay the night in Sunset Park to see my niece and maybe grab some items of furniture from the basement of my best friend. Another of my best friends offered to meet up Sunday Night for a Soul Dinner.
Anyway --- I better catch the sunlight while it's still here.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Out My Window, Superheroes and Supervillians
The Green Goblin's House.
Spiderman's View, west.
Superman and Lois Lane's meeting.
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