Same difference

I've moved! You can find me here.

Better left unsaid

I have been back in Texas for a week and I still don’t know where my cowboy boots are. If that’s any indication to you of what my closet looks like right now, then I should be ashamed of myself.

I have a new blog in the works which I’m currently working on- but for now I’ll continue to direct traffic and analyze life from here.

Let’s start with DeAnna, the Bachelorette. She could use some analysis right about now considering that at the end of tonight’s episode the thought she had “just made a huge mistake.”

Oh DeAnna. Tonight was a rose ceremony for the books, my friend.

Jesse- Hilarious and entertaining from day one. I wish he would cut his hair, but everything else about him has grown to be endearing. I was thinking he would totally blow it trying to teach DeAnna how to snowboard, something that can be hugely frustrating and tiring, but he totally charmed her and even carried her down the mountain. Any guy who can carry you piggyback AND make you laugh while snowboarding is a keeper. Let’s not also overlook the fact that the preview for next week’s episode show’s Jesse being skeptical of the Fantasy Suite offer (which, ew, new name for that please) because he hasn’t met DeAnna’s dad yet. I know; I literally can’t wait.

Jeremy- She keeps using the word “perfect” to describe him, but I just keep thinking of that other “P” word whenever Jeremy is on the screen: predictable. I think she likes him and clearly they have a bond, but I get the sense that DeAnna doesn’t see much potential for adventure in a life with him. He is clearly a good man and sincere in his emotions, but he’s a bit pretentious and I was over him this episode when he showed her into his room, where he had an entire wall of notes and charts he made while studying for the Bar exam. WE GET IT- you’re a lawyer and you’re successful because you work hard- GOOD FOR YOU.

Jason- Okay props to DeAnna for being 26 and open to the idea of marrying a guy who has a kid. She must really care about Jason if she’s willing to be a mom from day one of being a wife. Ty, Jason’s son, was probably his biggest selling point in this episode though. Any girl would be a sucker for that little guy- he was precious, even when he named all of the ducks in the park “Ted”.

Graham- Oh Graham. This was where things got ugly this evening, which is ironic because Graham is such a hottie and DeAnna has been mooning over him for the past few weeks. This was the guy who was still trying to play it cool, and who completely “shut down” tonight as DeAnna tried to get him to open up in their awkward good-bye conversation on a bench in North Carolina. It probably didn’t help his cause that his own mother had just told DeAnna that he had always had commitment issues and didn’t ever let people get very close to him. Not exactly selling points when you’re in the market for a husband.

So as we all know, DeAnna let Graham go at the end of tonight’s episode. She was clearly distraught and upset and having to do so, and my mom and I both gawked at the TiVo when he pulled a letter for her out of his jacket as he said good-bye and climbed in the limo. Everything he wanted to say to her but couldn’t, written down for her eyes only. She could never get him to open up to her, and his parting shot was a letter for her, saying everything he could never express with words.

Kill me now, this is getting GOOD.

“To be able to say how much you love is to love but little.”
-Petrarch

I'll always love you though, New York

So tonight was my last in New York as a Manhattan resident.

Here I sit in my boxed and packed up room, leaving on a flight back to Texas and the suburbs of my youth in less than 12 hours, thinking that this time last year I was planning and dreaming of my relocation up to the city.

I've been noticeably (or unnoticeably) quiet on the blog front recently, and that is because New York and I had to have a DTR about a month ago and things didn't go so well. I love this city, but I don't love living here. New York is an incredible place and I am so thankful for the time I have spent here and the people I have been fortunate enough to meet, but I have to do what is best for me, and that is to move back to Texas.

There is nothing I regret about my decision to move here, and I think I would have always wondered what life would have been like in another place had I not tried it for myself. Now I can move forward with the confidence of a person who tried and decided to go a different direction.

The part I don't like about the moving forward is not leaving the city, but leaving AV and KR. That's the hardest part, because I love living with them and the roommate dynamic we have developed over the past nine months. In breaking up with New York I leave them here, luckily together. I was more or less a basket case all of Memorial Day weekend in the Hamptons, and when I told them I wanted to go back to Texas, I was so humbled by their reactions. While I had already acknowledged in my own mind the fact that it would be a rough transition for all of us when I left, and while I knew how hard it would be for me to walk away from living with two of my favorite people; I was completely taken aback by them.

Did I think they would be equal parts upset/mad/confused/concerned about me leaving? Yes to all, that's what I assumed. I just couldn't believe how sad they were. This was something we had all set out to do together, and my leaving suddenly meant that it wouldn't be the same. Let me make it clear, if I haven't already, that I have the strongest and most wonderful friends and could not have dreamed of better people to talk to and see on a daily basis. It's common knowledge, among all of us, that we all feel this way. But sometimes you forget that other people feel that way about you in return, and thus talking things through with them that afternoon on the couch, and seeing how sad they were at the idea of not having me here everyday, was heart-wrenching.

To watch people you love mirror what you're feeling and understand you completely is one of the most painful and comforting things you can ever experience. My leaving has nothing to do with either of them, and at the same time it has everything to do with them because they have been my whole life for the past nine months and everything we do affects the other two.

I want what is best for the other girls, and what's best for them is to stay here now. I'm excited for them and I will surely always feel a pang of jealousy when I hear about a fun new restaurant they tried or new people they've met or that it's "snowing and freezing" in New York, while I'm rolling my eyes at the 60-degree Dallas winter.

I got to live and work in New York in my twenties. Regardless of income and status and all they can access in this city; everyone is jealous of the twentysomethings... especially the women in elevators who glare at my friends and I went we bemoan the idea of turning 25 in two short years and then watching life go downhill from there. Point being- I'm only 23. There's a lot I still want to accomplish and living away from home for nine months has been part of my growth process.

Strangely enough, the road back to Texas is one that I'm paving for myself. My decision to move back is one of the first novel ideas I have had about my own future since I graduated a year ago. I tried a new city, it was not a fit, and now I'm moving home; back with my parents for now, no less!

So to you, New York, I must offer my gratitude. Thanks for everything you have taught me about myself over the past nine months. I am a better person for having lived here, and while I'll miss my trips across Central Park to Bloomingdale's and the Met, I'm blessed to have been given the opportunity to learn from you and gain a different perspective.

Until we meet again, my friend.

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt, Paris 1910

It's better in the Hamptons

East Hampton called our names last weekend, and we answered.

Actually, AV’s friend AH from Texas barely had time to get in the door in the three-bedroom house she is living in for the summer before we officially invited ourselves out for a three-day weekend excursion.

‘Memorial Day in Montauk’ has a nice ring to it, no?

Tipped off from a Hamptons-savvy coworker, we got off of work early on Friday for the long weekend and high-tailed it to the Hunters-Point stop in Queens to get seats on the Long Island Railroad (LIRR). The LIRR, as we found out, was complete with leather seats and bartenders in every other car.

The three of us sat in a set of four seats facing each other and were joined by a seven-year-old girl named Victoria whose father sat her next to us and promptly disappeared behind his copy of the Wall Street Journal. I could see why.

Said child proceeded to chat our tired little ears off for the entire hour and a half between the Jamaica and West Hampton stops. We heard all about the first grade, her many sisters, summers spent in the Hamptons and winters in West Palm Beach. I told her we were born in 1985 and she spent about 90 seconds figuring out how old that made us, which was the most quiet and peaceful minute and a half of the entire ride. Her guess was 33 and I was pretty much ready to get to her station by then.

We got to the East Hampton station and since we were waiting for AH to finish working, we found a little Italian deli and grabbed dinner. It was then when I realized that while I had gotten off the train in East Hampton, my wallet was in fact still on the train to Montauk. Obviously freaking out, I found a few MTA police officers who were helpful and eventually located my wallet… still on the train to Montauk. We ended up waiting at the station and getting picked-up by AH and taking a night-tour of the Hamptons while we went in search of my wallet, which was in West Hampton with Victoria and her summer home.

We went out that night and it basically felt like spring break for young professionals dressed in their madras best. We also witnessed a Range Rover pulling out of a parallel parking spot, running into a Taurus, which hit another Range Rover, which ran into a Porsche. Expensive weekend.

Saturday we woke up and wandered around on foot while AH was working, and made it about halfway to the beach before we were deterred by the clouds, cold late-May winds and sprinkling rain. Sugar melts in the rain.

We went to a late dinner and enjoyed the rare pleasure of a leisurely meal with friends. Good wine, good steak, good company. What more can a girl ask for?

We rented bicycles on Sunday (because, why wouldn't we?) and had a sunny day to ride around and see more of East Hampton. We ate breakfast from a local bakery on a bench outside the store, then got our bathing suits and headed for the beach. The weather could not have been more perfect, and we took advantage by abandoning our knowledge of responsible skin protection and baking in the sun for a few hours.

No, we were not hideously sunburned, and yes some 15-year-old girl at the snack bar had the audacity to charge KR and I each a dollar for a cup of ice. When we told her that was ridiculous, she simply poured them out. I wanted to tell her that for a dollar I could by an entire bag of ice from a convenience store and hit her over the head with it.

I didn’t, but I definitely entertained the idea. The same snack bar was also selling biscotti, alongside nachos and hot dogs. I didn’t know people ate biscotti at the beach. I also didn’t know people deemed it appropriate to wear so much madras at one time, but apparently it’s possible.

Sunday night we went to a hotel restaurant/bar right by the water to meet up with some of AH’s coworkers. We walked out on to the back deck that opened up to a harbor full of yachts, packed with clusters of white tables with blue and white chairs. AH’s coworkers were dressed in their preppy-best, and we were in business for the night.

That’s how they do it in East Hampton.

"What do I want to take home from my summer vacation? Time. The wonderful luxury of being at rest. The days when you shut down the mental machinery that keeps life on track and let life simply wander. The days when you stop planning, analyzing, thinking and just are. Summer is my period of grace."
-Ellen Goodman

She's so Raven

There have been many developments in the past few days. AV’s hair has been three different shades of boxed color; there was the much-anticipated finale of ‘Gossip Girl’ as well as the much-anticipated return of ‘The Bachelorette’, and a bag of dark chocolate M&M’s thrown in for good measure.

Let’s start with the hair. Good hair is hard/expensive to come-by these days. We all remember KR and her great bangs debacle of December. I finally broke down myself and went to a get a proper haircut on Saturday afternoon. There’s probably nothing more relaxing than having someone massaging your skull and blowing our your hair to voluminous perfection. It must be awesome to be Jessica Simpson.

Sunday morning I went to church then called AV and KR to see what they were up to- which was running errands at the drug store. I didn’t think much of it until I got home and found them squirreling around with a box of hair color called ‘Soft Black’. AV had decided, spur of the moment to dye her hair darker.

No stranger to the art of the at-home dye job, and removed enough from the past traumas associated with it, she went ahead with it. As promised, it turned black. The only thing about black is that once it’s on your head, it’s not that soft-looking. KR and I amused ourselves by saying that everything she did was “so Raven” and singing the first few notes of ‘The Addams Family’ for about 24 hours.

Moral support- what else are friends for?

She called her friend LO in Las Vegas, who knows a thing or two about hair, and she told her about a paste-like hair-stripping product to get to remove the fake color. So Monday night, in the midst of the TV shows and all the drama of Lily and Bart's wedding on 'Gossip Girl', AV’s hair got stripped. After washing it out, she concluded that it looked more like a calico cat than it had before. It stripped the black, but it was also reminiscent of an eighth grade run-in with Sun-In. (We all experimented with it, roughly around the same time boys our age were wearing pooka-shell necklaces and Abercrombie cologne).

We took a round three stab at AV’s hair with a concoction that was a play-doe shade of purple in the bottle. Should have been a red flag. I painted her head once again as DeAnna, the new Bachelorette made awkward introduction after painful hello with her house full of bachelors. She employed a forced, double-hug maneuver that was particularly hard to watch. She didn’t know what to do, and kept hugging everyone repeatedly. Judging by the fact that there were no fewer than an oyster farmer, a marshal arts instructor, a chef, a professional basketball player, a dad and a high school football coach sipping cocktails and pulling stunts to get attention, it’s looking like a solid season.

After ‘The Bachelorette’ narrowed the field down to 15, AV washed her hair once again. The purple bottle so liberally applied to her hair manifested itself as a deep red. Red. That was three strikes for the at-home hair color.

AV disappeared into the hands of the professionals tonight at Aveda and returned a new woman- complete with new and evenly colored dark brown hair.

We can laugh about it now because her hair is back to normal.

I’m still calling her “Raven”.

“Hair is the richest ornament of women.”
-Martin Luther

Trivial Pursuits

My generation is dealing with a lot of confusion these days.

KR, AV and I were watching a classic 60's beach movie the other night called Shag (think of how Gidget would have played out if she had friends) and dreaming of how great life would have been in a different decade. I then compiled this random list of great questions troubling 23-year-olds everywhere:

Political Correctness: Is she supposed to be called a "stewardess" or a "flight attendant"; a "secretary" or an "assistant"?

Nutrition: What should I believe about carbs? Good for you, bad for you, irresistable? And let's talk about "gourmet" food for that matter: at what point did it divert away from delicious, well-made dishes to just becoming strange and hideous food combinations at ridiculous prices? No, I don't want to eat marrow and liver or other irrelevant animal organs- or else just hide them in a hot dog and I'll never know the difference.

Love & Marriage: There is no such thing as dating anymore. The majority of my friends fall into one of two categories: serious relationships on the fast-track to marriage and serial singletons. The transition/middle ground between these two could be likened to the bridge Prince Phillip had to cross on his way to save Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty*; treacherous and unsteady with a fire-breathing dragon looming overhead. Impossible? You tell me.

The Solar System: Why isn't Pluto good enough to be a planet anymore?

Economics: Gas prices are more than twice what they were when I started driving... seven years ago. Not exactly a significant amount of time considering cars have been around for about 200 years.

Pop Culture: Is anyone else concerned about the weird names** celebrities are giving their children these days? Suri, Shiloh, Kingston, Romeo, Cruz, Harlow, Phineus, Maximus, Pax. The game of Red Rover that they will inevitably play together when they all start pre-school in Hollywood will clearly be divided along lines of kids with the names of Disney heroines and those named after Roman soldiers.

Justice: If American Idol was not completely rigged, then Michael Johns would still be around. Anyone who saw David Archuleta singing Chris Brown's "With You" could not say differently, because that was about the most dysfuntional performance I have ever seen on the show with the top three left in contention. He could totally rock a cameo on High School Musical, but I could also see him going the way of Clay Aiken in Spamalot. It's 50/50 at this point- he's still a teenager which is a huge liability considering he is also male.

Like I said- there are just so many things keeping a girl up at night.

Any time we think we were born in the wrong decade, I try to remind myself what life would look like for women everywhere if there were no CHIs. I can handle rising gas prices, but frizzy hair? There is no room for frizzy hair in modern-day society.

"Well don't play hard to get, you might miss something."
-Buzz Ravenal, Shag

*KR was consulted for confirmation of the bridge scene in Sleeping Beauty. She has never seen it, but confirmed nonetheless.
**KR was also consulted for the names of celebrity children, which she was able to recite on cue.

I must be losing my touch

When we first moved into our apartment, KR was notorious for losing things.

One night in October we had friends in town, were walking out the door to see a show on a Saturday night and she realized she didn’t have her wallet. Panicked that she had left it at a work event that day, or that it had possibly been stolen, she cancelled everything and was inconvenienced for days until her mother received a call from a cab driver the next week, telling her he had found the wallet of a Ms. KR in his cab. I don’t know what kind of experiences others have had with their NYC cab drivers, but I’m fairly confident not all would return a wallet, contents intact.

Later on it was her Aggie ring- something every student at A&M carefully counts their credit hours to get and which some Aggies wear their entire lives- that went missing. We turned her closet upside-down looking through shoes and scanning the floor, only for KR to find it days later in the pocket of pants she had worn a few days prior.

For my part, I found my debit and Metro cards to be missing last fall after roaming around Central Park for an entire morning in the fall, which were never recovered. Another morning I was in a frenzy trying to get out the door for a job interview and could not find my keys, so I automatically assumed KR or AV had taken my pair and then had to meet up with KR later in the day and then return to the apartment, only to find my keys under a magazine on my bed.

When living with our friend MK back in the fall, I misplaced an envelope full of cash for a solid two weeks when we moved there. I only found it when I was looking for the charger to my new camera before leaving for a wedding weekend and saw it sitting in the box that my camera had been packaged in.

Last Thursday night I was out with coworker friends and had kept my phone in the pocket of my jacket to periodically check the time. When I got in a cab, I reached into my pocket for my phone again and did not find it there. In typical fashion I freaked out, asked the driver to pull around and bolted from the cab in search of my phone. Problem #1 was that I was in the Meatpacking District and it was midnight and people were everywhere, Problem #2 was that I was wearing heels that night, and the streets in that part of town are cobblestone, allowing for many falling opportunities.

I gave up my search and returned to the cab, moved my bag and trench over, and there was my phone. All of that running in heels for nothing… and I’m sure it was less glamorous and more melodramatic than I envisioned at the time.

AV, on the other hand, always knows where to find things. This is why she is in charge of rent, bills and Netflix. The important things, really, because we all know how quickly this party would disband if she put “Juno” on the queue before “27 Dresses”… I don’t even have to say it, but heads would roll.

"In view of the fact that God limited the intelligence of man, it seems unfair that he did not also limit his stupidity."
-Konrad Adenauer

By George

For years in college I had a picture of a man in a suit, giving his signature look to the woman in his arms that I had taken from a magazine and taped to the refridgerator I shared with my house of four girls. At the bottom of the picture I taped a notecard that read: "male perfection -AH".

The man in the picture was George Clooney, and yesterday was basically one of the best days of my life.




At 10am yesterday morning, one of my assistant friends, LM, ran over to my side of the office and said "George Clooney is downstairs- let's go!" As if on cue, the female assistants all abandoned our desks and bolted for the elevators. We had experienced a false alarm on Tuesday; there was an event in my building for a prominent fashion designer and George Clooney's girlfriend Sarah was in attendance... but not George himself.

You would have thought there was a fire drill taking place, that's how many women were in the massive foyer in my building. He was there this time, in all his beautiful glory.

I have not seen many celebrities since moving to New York, but regardless of how many I see while I live here and who they are, I'm certain that all will pale in comparison to GC. He is the textbook definition of handsome; a word that is now so rarely used and somehow fits him perfectly.

He's better-looking in person than on-screen. As evidenced by yesterday's crowd, he appeals to women of all ages, and this was no shopping mall, mind you, this is a place of business full of college-educated people.

And yet there we were, shamelessly trying not to blink and watching his every move. Luckily KR had the foresight to have her camera in her purse, and took plenty of pictures for evidence.

If age is just a number, then I'd say 47 looks good on George.

"He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Weekend Travels- Providence

November, is that you?
Newport, RI
The Breakers

For the first in what will undoubtedly be many weekend trips touring New England, we went to Rhode Island. More specifically, we went to Providence to see our friend KJ.

After chaos and confusion at the Port Authority on Friday evening, we found the bus terminal where we were to depart from, and determined in our search that there are in fact, as many bus terminals in the Port Authority as there are days in the year. We found out that you get what you pay for, and a $37 roundtrip ticket will buy more than you might have guessed, which was mostly an earful from Mr. Talks-Too-Loud-On-His-Phone-To-His-Mother Guy and sheer amazement at the guy sitting in front of KR and AV who drank an entire two-liter of Sunkist and never had to use the restroom.

KJ picked us up in Providence and gave us a car-tour of the city before taking us home for wine and popcorn. We got to catch up and see her apartment and went to bed since it was Friday and we were all exhausted from the work week.

We woke up and made the bad decision to forego showers until later in the day (bad because bedhead is only inexcusable for a certain number of hours, especially in damp weather), and KJ took us to a bakery for breakfast. We drove to Narragansett and stopped by KJ's family's beach house to say hello to her parents on the way to Newport for the afternoon. KJ's parents had just gotten in town from Texas to get the house ready for the summer, so we hung around for awhile, then got on the road again.

The beauty of the state of Rhode Island is that you can drive 15-30 minutes and basically be anywhere in the state. I've driven through El Paso ONCE in my life on a roadtrip from Dallas to Arizona and swore I would never do it again because it was just that boring. Rhode Island on the other hand... the highways aren't crowded, trees everywhere, everything is close by, you can still go to the ocean and be back by dinner time. Kind of ideal. They even have Diet Dr. Pepper, if you are visiting KJ's parents, which is always a selling point.

We toured the Breakers mansion on the beach in Newport, which is a scenic beach town and reminded me of an older, more refined and Northeastern version of Seaside, Florida. I visited Newport for the first time with KJ five summers ago, and was convinced if I ever felt inclined to have an outdoor or destination wedding, I would have to get in good with the preservation society in Newport. Jackie Kennedy pulled it off- surely I could too.

KJ and her roommates had a Cinco de Mayo party Saturday night, and we got to meet a few of her friends and her boyfriend. Sunday we went to her favorite brunch place after dodging marathon traffic, took a driving tour of Providence during daylight that included an impromptu open house tour and a trip to the Providence Place mall. Oh the days of the indoor mall and the air-conditioned car, how we miss you.

All in all it was a great trip, and we already invited ourselves back for a weekend this summer.

Pulling Teeth

To say I have anxiety about going to my new dentist later today would be a vast understatement.

Horrified would be more like it.

If I did not have a molar with a dull ache right now, I would hold out until June when I will be returning to Texas for a long weekend.

Like many people, or not so many people, I am a creature of habit. I exercise at the same time on the same days, I get cash from the same ATM, go to the same grocery store, I walk the exact same way path to and from work, I'm a stickler for timing and I am fiercely brand-loyal. I also like my doctors, but the problem is that they're all in Texas.

Some of my most frequently-visited doctors: my dentist, optometrist and orthodontist, are all trusted family friends. My dentist, however, holds the particular distinction of being the only dentist I have ever been to, period.

People scraping and poking around mirrors in my mouth is basically like torture for me. It is, for me, to the mouth what nails on a chalkboard are to the ears. I will do any and everything I can to maintain the cleanliness of my teeth between visits because it is worth it to me to minimize time in The Chair. I brush twice a day, I floss regularly, I keep order... not to mention the fact that it is my right as an American to be vain about my teeth.

Adding to my stress is the fact that I will be using my employer's insurance (MINE- not my Dad's, MINE) and have not attempted to use it before now.

The idea of someone other than my trusted dentist of the past 23 years looking around in my mouth with tools sends shivers down my spine. I'm already nauseous.

I've been told these are the same symptoms of falling in love, which sounds hideous if you ask me.

"We all basically go back to being children when we're in a dentist chair."
-Arthur Benjamin

Thank goodness yesterday was Thursday

Thursdays are one of my top three favorite days of the week.

In college, Thursday meant the end of the school week, for all practical purposes. As many semesters as scheduling permitted, I had no Friday classes at all, making Thursdays all the more satisfying.

In the real world, and specifically in our apartment, Thursday is the elected day of relief. Relief because another week of work is almost over, weekend plans are in the works, because Friday is tomorrow and because most importantly, it is pizza night. Work is always manageable on the fourth weekday, and there's so much great DVR'ed TV to go home to.

Yesterday I went to the gym after work (it is May/swimsuit season, after all), dropped off my things at home and went to get a manicure and pedicure. Not a weekly indulgence, but every time I get my nails done I can't help but think "I should do this more often". It's a quick and fairly inexpensive way to simultaneously relax, get your feet massaged and leave more put-together than you came in. Totally brill.

While sitting in the window at the salon, hands and feet drying under fans, I couldn't help but notice an alarming trend. Directly across the street from the nail place was a Crocs store. That's right- an entire store devoted to hideous footwear (unless of course you are four years old and everything you wear is cute). Inside the Crocs store, I counted no less than a dozen patrons browsing the neon selection. I also had to wonder at the fact that enough people buy them as to substantiate an entire store, in Manhattan no less.

No offense if you own any- I never got on the Choco's bandwagon either. I remember going to work at a camp after my freshman year of college and thinking everyone was crazy for paying upwards of $75-$100 for those things. Guys wearing sandals is always a little tricky in general, but I even openly questioned the girls who sported them. There is no reason that "practical" should have to mean "ugly".

Anyway, back to the greatness that is Thursday.

I left the salon, which is always a tricky maneuver because when you get your nails done you touch everything and walk like you're investigating a crime scene. To add to the dysfunction, it had dropped about 15 degrees and was raining when I walked outside again. To paint a picture: 50 degrees, dark, raining, Nike shorts, long-sleeved t-shirt, toe separators, flip-flops, umbrella in one hand, cell in the other.

I called AV, who was at the post office, and we met up to get pizza, which was conveniently right across the street, which is also right by our place. Done and done.

Pizza in hand (white pizza being my personal preference, regular cheese for the girls), we made it back inside at 8 PM to settle in and watch... nothing. Eastern Standard Time translates to: The Office and Grey's Anatomy both don't start until 9 PM. 9 PM! I know, that's so long to wait. We usually try to clean up a little and in the case of last night, pack, but to no avail.

As far as planning our weekend, we've already had our plans for this weekend in the works for some time now. The proximity of New England cities to one another make weekend trips inexpensive and easy to plan, which is something we have not taken advantage of until today.

This evening we leave on a Greyhound that's Rhode Island- bound to see our friend KJ, who lives in Providence. I, for one, have not been to Providence since the summer before college started, when I went with KJ to see her college campus while visiting her family at their beach house. I also recall buying a cute orange sweater set at the Gap in the Providence mall that trip, as well as legitimately fainting* in the home of one of their close family friends one morning in Connecticut the day of my first visit to New York. It also rained that day.

Great memories.

I'm told that you've never really celebrated Cinco de Mayo until you have spent it in Rhode Island... I for one, am just amazed by the sheer fact that it's May and I'm still wearing a coat.

*Another story for another time

"To the European, a Yankee is an American.
To an American, a Yankee is a New Englander..."
-Old Yankee joke

Next time I'll ask to borrow a cup of sugar

There’s a guy in our building who we have deemed “hot guy” for obvious and superficial reasons. He exudes the tall, dark and handsome ivy-league banker vibe. He also smokes and may or may not have a lady friend, which is why we admire him from a safe distance of three floors. No amount of good looks can cover up those two red-flags, we have enough good sense between the three of us to know that much at least. Look but don’t touch.

It never fails that one or a combination of the three of us always sees Hot Guy when we are either just waking up and running out on a quick errand, carrying arms full of groceries or pizza boxes, coming home sweaty and gross from the gym or the park, or in any other state of unawares the universe can come up with.

Usually makeup-less un-showered, un-manicured and unfit for public exposure. Pretty much any girl’s nightmare when seeing a guy she doesn't know very well.

I was on the phone walking home from work and the gym the other night, when I spied Hot Guy walking 10 paces in front of me. “Perfect,” I thought as I admired him in his gray pinstripe suit, “he won’t see me THIS time.”

As he rounded the corner to our walk-up, I kept moving to the next block to pick up my laundry. Enjoying the fact that it was Friday and that I had avoided another unappealing run-in with Hot Guy, I was dumbfounded when no sooner had I pulled out my keys in front of my front door than I saw the very same polished black loafers I had been admiring staring back at me on my front steps.

Slowly looking up at the face I already knew I would see, all I could do was smile half-heartedly, gulp in the most lady-like way possible, and say my usual, groundbreaking “hi”. He smiled his usual bad-boy banker smile, returned the pleasantry, and still in his suit he stepped down the stairs to have a cigarette. Typical.

Also typical that when we left the apartment a few hours later, dressed exceptionally well to meet friends down on the LES for dinner, he was nowhere to be found.

I think we’re all convinced he would not recognize us fresh-faced in the morning, hair blown-out and ready to conquer another day at the office, or under any other circumstance under which we would otherwise look presentable.

Life would be way too easy if that were the case.

"Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously.... Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."
-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, 1811

Shoe fly

None of us are talkative in the mornings. We wake up in sequence and get ready for another day at work with VH1 playing in the background and we go our separate ways (or our together ways, if you're KR and I).

It was completely out of the ordinary, then, when KR screamed after putting her English muffin in the toaster this morning. Was there something wrong? A broken glass? Mold on the muffin? Pigeon attack? (All things that have happened before).

Nope. It was an insect. A disgusting water bug/roach- undoubtedly sent to plague us all.

The little guy was legs-up in the sink, and had all the appearance of death around him, so we left him there until it was time to leave. No sooner had the excitement of bug #1 died down, than bug #2 was discovered. Another scream, another commotion- this time in the bathroom.

I never saw him, but I'm sure he was gross as well. He was described as a centipede with invisible legs. Terrifying.

I was elected by default to deal with bug #1, and I thought it would be fairly painless, since he was dead and all.

Nope, not dead. He was very much alive. KR offered the same heel of her shoe that we previously used to assemble furniture before we had tools- but the idea of a smashed, dead roach in the kitchen sink sounded particularly unappetizing, so we had to come up with a Plan B.

I trapped him under a glass as he scurried around the sink, slid a napkin underneath to make him portable, and flushed him, which was met with another scream from KR as we speculated as to whether or not he could swim.

This is what happens when the weather gets warmer, so we'll just have to regulate, and by regulate, I mean perform insect genocide within the confines of our apartment.

I'm fine with nature, as long as it stays outside. AV is the one who sleeps next to the open window at night, so if any animal comes to attack I'm confident it will get her first. This helps me sleep at night.

Mosquito: "Hey bartender! Bloody Mary, O-Positive."
-'A Bug's Life'

Allergy season never looked so good

Photos from the game:



The weather this past weekend restored New York in the eyes of New Yorkers… or maybe just Texans up North.

Either way, we finally had a weekend of nice weather, and by ‘nice’ I mean I didn’t have to wear a coat the whole time. It also meant I could visually see the particles in the air that are causing both AV and KR to sneeze and get sinus headaches. Driftwood, cottonwood, pollen, whatever it is- it's out there.

I walked into Whole Foods in Columbus Circle Friday evening after work to pick up a few things, and the line was all the way back to the bagel/muffin case, near the random salad buffets. Lines of this nature are usually only found when one waits to use the women’s bathroom after a movie or on tax-free weekend at the Gap.

I deduced by the number of people wearing sunglasses on their heads and sandals that most of them were grabbing food to go enjoy the park for the evening. One girl was really pushing it by wearing a strapless dress with no cardigan in sight.

I forgot how small sidewalks could be in New York. Restaurants wasted no time in expanding their clientele outdoors, packing tables closely and edging the walkers out onto the fearsome streets of the Upper West Side.

AV was in Texas all weekend to see her family and nephews, so KR and I had to make our own fun. We were invited by our friend SF to a cook-out on the roof-top of her building in Alphabet City. The weather being optimal, we enjoyed being coatless and outdoors as long as our weary post-work-week selves would allow, then headed home at a reasonable hour.

We slept in and ran errands on Saturday, then headed to the park to lounge with books and magazines for the late afternoon. I was confused, for a moment, after entering Sheep’s Meadow right inside the park at 67th Street, thinking we had happened upon Woodstock ’68. It was literally the equivalent of an outdoor concert with no musical guest appearance.

We found a grassy area and planted ourselves, abandoning all hopes of reading with all the great people-watching opportunities before us. Our friend MN joined us as we got settled to watch the carnival of people we had happened to find. First there were grown men and women hula-hooping… their hips did not lie. Secondly, there was the dude with Lincoln’s face tattoed on his ankle playing with his Boston terrier. Third, there were the guys who were taking turns doing back-flips in jeans. We were certain/hopeful that one of them would get injured, but to no avail.

It was windy enough for kids to fly kites and for plenty of unsuspecting nappers to get pelted with renegade footballs and badminton birdies. We also decided that there will have to be careful discernment between what appear to be Southern guys and what actually might be Cape Cod guys, both of which came out of the woodwork with everyone else. Nashville and Nantucket look awfully similar tossing a football in colorful khaki shorts from a distance. They’re not the same- trust me.

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.”
-Anne Bradstreet

Our visit to the House that Ruth Built

Otherwise known as Yankee Stadium.

We experienced yet another in our lives as New Yorkers last night- our first Yankees game. Actually- our first Yankees vs. Red Sox game as well. Yes, one of the most prolific rivalries in sports, in a legendary stadium that will soon be torn down. We were there.

We arrived at the stadium, were on the complete wrong end of the stadium from where we were supposed to pick up our tickets and had to back-track, met up with our friend DT, then proceeded to wait in line at the wrong gate to get in.

Apparently it was amateur hour at the ballpark.

We got hot dogs and Diet Cokes and found our seats, and spent about half of the first inning readjusting everything and trying to get situated. I should first mention that restaurants and stands in New York never have regular yellow French's mustard, much to the chagrin of KR and AV. It's always the spicy or grainy kind. The ballpark was no exception to this rule.

So spicy mustard and all, we settled in and no sooner had KR put her Diet Coke on the bleacher in front of us, than the 18-year-old chick in front of us knocked it over and didn't apologize... four dollars down the drain.

We bought our tickets yesterday morning and they read "Bleachers- No Alcohol", and with good reason. The bleacher fans needed no further encouragement for their antics. At one point we had a tally going of the number of fans that had been kicked out, but we ultimately lost count because it happened every five minutes and baseball games are nothing if not long.

We had a great time- though I still find it odd to be in attendance at an outdoor sporting even when it's not 105 degrees outside. I was tempted to wear shorts last night out of habit until I saw the forecast for the evening, with a low of 47 degrees. Not exactly shorts weather, even in New York.

We lasted most of the game, but left a little early when the Yankees pulled ahead so that we could avoid the insanity of getting on a train afterward. We discovered that AV had multiple peanut shells in the cuffs of her jeans on the subway ride home- which made the fact that rats and squirrels were chasing her less peculiar. Kidding.

We came, we saw, we stole some kids' cigarettes (it's okay, he was obnoxious and they were subsequently returned... after we allowed him to panic for 10 minutes and almost break his Marc Jacobs for Chinatown sunglasses).

All in all- great night at the ballpark.

"Fans don't boo nobodies."
-Reggie Jackson

Home on the Range

I went home to Texas- God's country, for the weekend.

Alright, so maybe when I say "range" I'm not talking so much the open prairie as the driving range. Or the golf course, for those of you who don't keep up with Tiger. There ARE however, cattle visible from the driving range near my parents' house... make no mistake. This is still Texas we're talking about here.

My parents were hosting a party on the porch at their new house, and once I was told that Salt Lick barbeque would be involved, I booked my flight to Dallas. I really don't mind traveling so much, as long as I don't have to wait on a long security line, my flight doesn't get delayed, I make my connecting flights without having to run 'Home Alone' style through airports in arbitrary cities, and I don't get stuck on the runway.

I don't think that's too much to ask... I'm actually just thankful I'm not one of the people whose flights were cancelled altogether this past weekend. No barbeque for them.

There was actually no barbeque for me, either, because by the time I had made the rounds and talked to my parents friends and friends parents, it was time for me to split and head to Dallas to meet up with friends on Saturday night. It was strange to drive, especially since we hardly ever use transportation in the city that our Metrocard or feet do not cover.

Once I had gotten to my friends SR nd MK's apartment in Dallas and found out that they had been doing laundry and watching Lifetime movies earlier in the evening, we all decided to slowly sink into the couch, chat, eat chocolate oatmeal cookies and have coffee the rest of the night. My friend AG regaled us with the story of one of the teachers she works with who had a blind date over spring break and claims to have fallen in love. These are the exciting lives of 23-year-olds.

After dropping off my friend CC at her house, I made it back home by about 2:45 AM. I blame it on the coffee.

I am in a general state of caffeine-induced frenzy when I go home because my parents have the best coffee maker of all time. Even my brother, a recent coffee-convert after experiencing college life with 8 AM classes will come home and drink espresso from a tiny white cup. And he's not the tiny white-cup type whatsoever- the coffee is just that good.

It was great to see my family and also my friends. I've decided that even though weekend trips are short, they're worth it. Since good airfares are hard to come by these days, I try to take advantage of them where I can.

Making everything easier this trip was the fact that KR and I were on the same flight home. She had been in Houston to watch her brother play baseball, and so I flew from Dallas to Houston and met up with her at the airport.

Fortunately, we got to sit next to each other. Unfortunately we were in a row with a guy who got up about six times during our flight for various reasons unbeknownst to us. All we know is that he was traveling with models and none of them ate anything other than raw almonds. We, on the other hand, were quite the pair with a frappucino and a huge box of popcorn. The pickings were slim in terminal C, alright?

It made traveling easier, having a friend with you, except for the fact that KR got a bad sunburn on the tops of her legs and arms Saturday and was uncomfortable for most of the flight. We passed the time by watching about half of 'Fever Pitch' until KR's portable DVD player battery died, then could only wonder why the movie chosen for our in-flight entertainment had been 'Money Talks' of all things. I also had to wonder why so many people were actually buying headphones to watch it- did they know the premise of the movie? Did they not? I concluded that people will do anything to avoid reading, even if it means watching a really pointless movie.

Waiting for her bag at the airport, I wish I would've had my camera on hand for the moment when KR was standing there, sunburned and tired, watching as a huge box labeled "human blood: keep at room temperature" passed her on the baggage claim.

Priceless.

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."
-Leonardo Da Vinci

Fashion Fridays, an explanation...

To clarify for those of you who don't read Big Mama... you should read Big Mama. Among her many other talents, she does Fashion Fridays every week and THIS WEEK ONLY the rest of her readers got to join in and do their own post about their own style in celebration of Fiesta in San Antonio, Texas.

You can click the icon on my previous post and see many other Fashion Friday Fiesta posts from Big Mama readers. Enjoy!

My Very Own Fashion Friday

I work for a magazine in New York City. This is what I look like on a daily basis (I'm on the right, that's my lovely cousin on the left)...
...my trenchcoat and I are inseperable.

This is what I looked like on a daily basis this time last year...
...when I was footloose and fancy free as a senior in college at Texas A&M. I could drink caffiene at late hours with reckless abandon and not have to deal with the consequences.

Those were the days.

I know what you're thinking- there's a lot of difference in hair length going on here, which is not currently up for discussion because I'm growing it out. But that's neither here nor there.

Back to the fashion at hand.

My building consists almost entirely of women who all work for magazines. I live and work among the Clackers- the real-life Devil Wears Prada magazine community, who ascend the escalators daily in Wolford stockings, Christian Louboutin heels, and chic dresses or black pants. Depending on the magazine you work for and which department you work in dictates your dress (sales, editorial, marketing, art, corporate, etc.) but most everyone wears clothes that are well-pressed and carefully-selected. I wear heels nearly everyday.

I can't live without elastic-waist pants and Nike shorts (for the gym and the weekends), my tall Hunter rain boots and my black Longchamp purse- which has the capacity to hold my sneakers, heels, lunch, wallet, book and notepad at the same time. I'm looking forward to no-pantyhose weather, though they saved me during the winter months in the city. A popular weekend go-to in the city is a pair of sweatpants tucked into Uggs with a long-sleeved t-shirt and fleece or puffy vest. And yes, this is worn by the same women clad in their Bergdorf-best during the weekdays.

I look forward to light layers for spring and summer months- nice camisoles, cardigans and wraps for the mild but not quite summer weather. I am a huge fan of dresses as well- mine are all very comfortable and easy to wear. My favorite clothes are the ones that don't have to be ironed.

I don't go ANYWHERE without a pair of flat shoes on standby, a lesson I learned the hard way one night, schlepping myself around West 4th Street looking for an elusive restaurant with friends. I had enough blisters to keep Dr. Scholl's in business for months from that night alone. I recently had to retire a faithful pair of Seven jeans (seen in the above picture), which had a few holes that eventually grew and would now officially not be okay to wear out of doors.

Which reminds me, I need to go shopping for a replacement pair. All in a day's work.

Thanks Big Mama for giving the rest of us a chance to share in the greatness that is Fashion Friday!

“Balenciaga once said the secret of elegance is elimination. I believe that.”
-Audrey Hepburn

Just a Walk in the Park

AV in the afternoon.

"I feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside.
Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years.
And then I realized, you just say,
"Hi."
They may ignore you.
Or you may marry them.
And that possibility is worth that one word."
-Augusten Burroughs

Ignorance is Bliss

One of the most satisfying parts of the weekend is going to bed Friday night and turning the alarm to the “Weekends: Off” setting my phone. I prefer using my phone to an alarm- it keeps in theme with the continual and general darkness of my room.

That and the fact that nothing screams “GOOD MORNING” better than a blinking red light and your inbox filled with new unopened envelopes staring back at you.

The weekend was pleasant and uneventful- we had ‘Into the Wild’ waiting for us from our friend Netflix, so we popped that in for our Friday night entertainment. Based on a true story and seriously tragic, we had to balance it out with something light-hearted for our standing Sunday morning date with the movie theater, and opted for ‘Leatherheads’.

I came away with one conclusion: the only thing better than George Clooney and John Krasinski is having both of them in the same movie. It’s not often two people on my Top Five show up in the same flick… at least not since the ‘Ocean’s Eleven’ trio. What is this Top Five I speak of? That will have to wait for another day.

KR and AV came home Saturday evening with rosy faces from an afternoon spend in the sun. KR even had sun on her shins, of all places, because she had rolled up her pants. Nothing says “Spring is here” quite like sunburned shins, if you ask me.

I’d like to take a moment to commend the people who do my laundry- I dropped it off at 11 AM and it was ready by 4 PM. Yeah that’s right- we take our laundry and pay someone else to do it. With the way those machines function, I’m convinced we are coming out ahead. I also hit up the dry-cleaner across the street, both to pick-up and drop-off, meaning I actually dropped about $50 on clothes-cleaning in a period of 10 minutes. Brutal.

I stayed at home while the girls went to Brooklyn with KR’s friend LK who is in town interviewing for jobs- I wanted to watch the Final Four games, and now March Madness is all but over as far as I’m concerned. My bracket was busted when Memphis beat UCLA, and Kansas added to my troubles by crushing UNC. Has anyone else noticed that the first and second-round games in the tournament are always the most exciting? The Final Four is always so anticlimactic.

And I’m not just saying that because my bracket is now useless.

So who is ready for the NBA play-offs? I can’t believe I’m obliged to the painstaking final weeks of the season, watching the Mavericks try and claw their way into a spot this season. They did, however beat the Suns today, so things are looking up.

Equally as foreboding as going to sleep on Friday nights is comforting- coming home from church on Sunday nights, knowing that everything starts all over again in the morning is the ultimate weekend-ending moment of realization. There’s always a second when you forget- regardless of the fact that you do the same thing everything- like that moment when you wake up to your alarm in the morning before realizing what day it is and where you have to be, or that split second after the previews and before the feature presentation in the movies when you forget what movie you’re actually there to see.

I never know where the weekend goes or how it evaporates so quickly- but the moments of ignorant bliss make everything worth it.

"Time is a created thing. To say 'I don't have time' is to say 'I don't want to.'"
-Lao Tzu

Pot-Stirrers

We’ve made some great meals in our close kitchen/living quarters, but Wednesday was not one of our greater nights. We had to improvise- “make it work,” as Tim Gunn would say.

On our way home from the gym at work, KR and I decided we should try and eat at home instead of grabbing food out before we left to go to Bible study. Easier said than done, especially when you haven’t been to the grocery store in a few weeks.

We checked and possibly stretched a few expiration dates, and after a few minutes we had pots boiling, since dry pasta was in abundance. It usually takes about 75 seconds for the temperature in the room to burn through an ozone layer, so we tried to get things moving. Having limited counter-space, oftentimes pots and pans spill over onto the coffee table, the fridge or the microwave. At one point I had one on top of the toaster- not at all a fire hazard, thanks for asking.

In the midst of the cooking frenzy I realized I couldn’t reach the farfalle noodles in the highest cupboard over the stove, therefore forcing me to stand on the arm of the couch, over KR and her boiling pots, to get it.

It started feeling like we were in a quick-fire challenge on Top Chef, what with our limited ingredients, hazardous cooking conditions and minimal time. Instead of the show’s head judge Tom Colicchio, AV arrived during part of the frenzy and watched us from the couch, ultimately choosing to stay home for the evening and cook “baby-sitter food,” as we now refer to chicken nuggets and Kraft macaroni and cheese.

At one point I was so impatient waiting for the water to boil that I microwaved a corn tortilla with cheddar cheese for ten seconds just to stave off my hunger. My “amuse bouche” of sorts, as KR called it; I could only laugh and wonder where she heard that word… it was probably from Tom, she loves that guy.

We watch way too much Bravo.

AV and I had a date last night that involved slices of white pizza and banana pudding- an excellent combination. Right up there with cheesy tortillas and pesto pasta. In preparation for the new episodes of The Office, which start next Thursday night, we watched several episodes from the couch and neglected getting our laundry and dry-cleaning altogether. It was lovely.

KR went to Nobu 57 with her boss and some clients, after lengthy research and discussion regarding the menu. A celebrity hot-spot and known for their sashimi, I was IMing her such entrée options as “braised sea urchin” and “jalepeno yellowtail.” There’s nothing like a great sea urchin to get you going on a Thursday night, right? We clarified the difference between sushi and sashimi before she left- sushi being the rolls and sashimi being the rice with strips of raw fish draped over them, in case you were wondering.

She reported back that everything was great, and that the bill was about equivalent to one of our paychecks.

Looks like no sea urchin for me, darn.

“It's been sitting in my car all day. Sun beating down on the mayonnaise. Just, you never know.”
- Michael Scott, ‘The Office’- Cocktails episode

Hello Old Friend

We went to Good Burger for dinner after church on Sunday night, right off of Union Square, and I couldn’t help but notice, and linger slightly, in front of the Chipotle next door.

Obviously, I’ve been able to think of no other burrito chain restaurant since then, and have craved a burrito bowl since realizing that months have literally passed without one. So today I made the difficult but necessary decision to forego my workout for sake of my craving, and even persuaded AV to join me.

We met up for dinner and noticed something different about the menu immediately- there were numbers next to everything. Much to our dismay, we quickly realized that the numbers were, in fact, the calorie counts of each dish. What a bad idea, Chipotle. Why would you do that? What happened to the days when a girl could eat guacamole and chips without an alarmingly high three-digit number blazed into her mind?

I have news for you- those days are long-gone. If you’re reaching for the salty, crispy tortilla, they’re going to give you a visual of what it’s going to look like sticking on your thigh.

Strangely enough- it didn’t stop me from eating any of it. Go big or go home. Or, as AV said “GET big and THEN go home.”

We walked home from the Rockefeller area WITHOUT COATS ON, which was a big day for us. It was in the low 60’s this evening, so we were content to walk up Sixth Avenue, through Central Park and back home.

By the time we reached Central Park West, I had one of those “do I really live here? Does this pseudo-grown-up life belong to me?” moments, and AV voiced a similar sentiment while we walked across the street to our block.

Dinner was wearing thin after about 20 blocks and 15 minutes of American Idol- so after watching a few Dolly Parton numbers we hiked it down the block to Magnolia Bakery… because that is what you do after you’ve eaten half your body weight in rice and beans.

I became a believer in their banana pudding tonight, a treat KR and AV have known about for quite some time now, and there’s no turning back. One bite of that whipped, creamy goodness and I was converted. Who cares about sugary cupcakes when there is pudding to be had?

I tried to exercise self-control by eating half and putting half back in the fridge, but 30 minutes later I polished off the rest of it.

Quitting while ahead is vastly overrated.

"A thing moderately good is not so good as it ought to be. Moderation in temper is always a virtue; but moderation in principle is always a vice."
-Thomas Paine

Three's Company

All number one seeds have officially made it to the Final Four. Who would’ve known? My bracket would be pointless by now had I not the extensive basketball knowledge and foresight to pick UNC and UCLA in the finals.

I still have a chance.

We are coming up on the end of a weekend of just the three of us. After six consecutive weekends of friends and family visiting- we had a weekend to ourselves without an agenda. It was glorious.

Friday night we made plans and met at a little (and by little- I MEAN little) Mexican restaurant on Ninth Avenue called El Centro. We met up with some friends, and then called it an early night after dinner and all went back to our respective homes. I caught up on basketball highlights from the evening and my eyelids felt so heavy that I called it a night at around 11:30. Brilliant.

Saturday we woke up at a leisurely but not lazy hour, made coffee and pigs-in-a-blanket and chatted with VHI in the background all morning. I’m fairly confident it was exactly the sort of morning we’ll all miss one day down the road when we have children who wake up early, regardless of the day of the week, and want to be entertained at all hours. It makes me tired just thinking about it.

We shopped around Columbus Circle and Fifth Avenue for the afternoon, and ended up at the flagship Sak’s location. To make things clear, we are not frequenters of this store. AV had a gift card from Christmas from her boss to use, and wanted to check out the make-up counters to find some new products.

We roamed around, looking much like little orphan Annie’s to the Sak’s personnel, and as we were leaving the Bobbi Brown counter a bored Giorgio Armani make-up artist lassoed us to a mirror. Undoubtedly inspired by our naturally glowing and make-up-less complexions, the woman proceeded to lecture us for 30 or 40 minutes on the relative merits of her products. Not sure whether to laugh or cry, we all had our turns with her as she attacked our “blotchy redness,” “uneven skin-tone” and “un-sculptured eyebrows.”

Affronted, yet bearing free samples of the Armani foundation and countless perfumes, we finally left the store of the unhelpful but grossly over-eager sales people poised in attack-mode with their perfume and back into our own territory- Anthropologie. There was a brief period of browsing and surveying of new merchandise, and I eventually found AV and KR half-asleep amid the kitchen section of the store on a huge distressed-leather couch.

We returned home, only to instate a mandatory naptime from the hours of 6-7:30 PM. Evening naps are tricky- and must be handled properly. Sleep too long and you’ll be worthless the rest of the evening, go to bed for real and wake up too early the next day. Don’t sleep at all when you should and you’ll be Party Pooper yawning at the bar out with your friends later on in the evening.

We had pizza and wine for dinner, got ready and made our way down to the Village for our work-friend MT’s co-birthday party. It was at bar called Fiddlesticks with a decidedly college-feel that we had been to once before. The best part was that the bar was packed, probably due to the fact that they were showing the NCAA games, but MT and friends had rented the back room for their party, thus separating us from the dog-eat-dog riff-raff on the other side of the curtain.

We felt special indeed, filtering in with a nod from the dude with the earpiece, while the commoners in the main part of the bar could only watch with curious jealousy at what was going on from little glances when the curtain would part. They had a great turnout, so the room we were in filled up as well.

This morning we braved the sunlight for a few moments to catch the early showing of “Stop-Loss.” Apparently the older crowd on the Upper West Side has gotten wind of the Early-Bird Special at the movies on Sunday morning, since even though we were 10 minutes early, we were surrounded by gray hair and newspapers who had set up camp for the morning.

We had brunch and the roamed around the park for a while, admiring the early signs of Spring and the quality of roller-blading talent that had shown up for the day, and then called I called it an afternoon. Apparently AV and KR were near each other, sprawled out on separate rocks in the same area, because they both came home separately talking about a group of grown men practicing self-defense moves and gently throwing each other on the ground like it was completely normal.

We ended the weekend and started the week by going to church tonight.

Like I said- glorious.

"Hand me my purse, darling. A girl can't read this sort of thing without her lipstick."
- Audrey Hepburn, as Holly Golightly

Grace

Hope everyone had a great Easter!

Brussels, Belgium

Chartres, France, Cathedral of Chartres

London, St. Paul's Cathedral

London, Westminster Abbey

He is risen indeed!

"There's nothing left now,
There's only grace."
-Matthew West, "Only Grace"

A Day in the Life

Figure I: Scheming and dreaming
Figure II: Manhattan; as seen from Brooklyn

I just spent 15 minutes deleting all of the voicemails on my phone that have accumulated over the past 24 hours. I get really stressed out seeing unchecked e-mail or voicemail on my phone- those little envelope and cassette-tape-looking are such a source of anxiety to me. Here’s what I had waiting for me:

Mom: “Hi hon, just wanting to see if you need me to pack this pair of shoes…”
Friend KJ: “Hi- we keep playing phone-tag, I’m driving to____, call me!”
Friend MH: “Why isn’t your bracket posted on Facebook yet?”
Mom: “We’re on the plane- we got on an earlier flight and are now sitting on the runway for an hour…”
Friend MH: “You have ONE HOUR left to post your bracket!”
Friend JP: “I love having friendships with voicemail-boxes…”

My parents rolled into town tonight- we had Italian food, Magnolia and a little NCAA basketball for dessert. Texas A&M survived BYU and put up the “W”, and Duke almost screwed up the South region of my bracket by getting into a close one with Belmont. I didn’t predict Kansas State beating USC either, which figures.

I’m exhausted tonight- I stayed up late last night finishing My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult, and I had been warned of the dramatic ending. I didn’t know what exactly was going to happen, but I was anticipating something big. KR and I have both been reading it, so when she’s finished we’ll discuss it.

My curiosity got the best of me, and so I found myself crying on the couch at 12:45 AM, quietly albeit, because AV and KR were already asleep. It’s pretty gut-wrenchingly tragic, if you’ve never read it, but don't let that deter you- it's an amazing book. I'm strangely okay with sad endings for whatever reason.

I’ve heard before that if you look at yourself in the mirror when you’re crying that it will make you cry harder. I can say that I stopped crying immediately upon seeing myself in the bathroom mirror with a blotchy face and my day-old frizzy hair.

Call it vanity, if you will. I probably would.

"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see."
-John Burroughs

Bracketology 101

There comes a point in every girl’s life when she has to make a choice:

To embrace the madness, or not to embrace the madness.

I, for one, embrace the month of March. The promise of spring in the air, the newly found hour of daylight, and of course, this year’s NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament. 65 teams (64 now- Mount St. Mary’s beat Coppin State tonight, which I predicted, thank you very much), and an entire month of the best college basketball games of the year for your viewing pleasure.

Oh yes- the RPI’s have been calculated, everyone who cares or has no life has spent the better part of the weekend catching the end of the conference tournaments and trying to see who was “hot” and who was “not” going into selection Sunday.

Let's just clarify one thing, quickly. I'm a girl. I'm a girly girl, if we're going to get specific. The peak of my athleticism is my golf game, I was in a sorority in college, I like to cook, I would be best friends with Nancy Drew and Elizabeth Bennett if they were real people, and I would rather wear a dress than anything else in my closet. Not everyone takes my sports knowledge very seriously- but I also never claimed to know everything.

I just like watching sports- period. Especially basketball.

Many of my female friends who have rolled their eyes at my affinity for college basketball or not paid attention to any of it altogether were suddenly interested this year- many now in the male-dominated financial industry, given the choice between suffering over lunch-hour conversation they won’t understand for 30 days or succumbing to fever, biting the bullet and joining in the office pool. I, for one, happy that a few of my friends finally care, have been e-mailing statistics and predictions to my friends who have solicited my assistance.

AV joined in the fun with me this year, and she’s already sucked in. We both pored over all of the information we’ve collected over the past few days on our coffee table- articles printed and highlighted off of espn.com, the sports section of the Times, random lists and notes made from credible sources, etc.

KR and our friend AR both joined forces and decided to be the only two people in the nation to believe that Gonzaga will win it all. I can live with that- I let KR watch The Gauntlet in peace, and she allows me the same freedom with college basketball. AV enjoys Scrubs, and I’m fairly confident I can speak for KR when I say neither one of us really ‘gets’ that show. We’re all okay with our arrangement- it works for us.

At the end of the day we can all come together and watch American Idol in harmony, and that’s all that really matters. That AND my teams winning… winning also matters.

The field has been set, the numbers are there- all we can do now is sit back, relax and enjoy an entire month of hearing the word “Cinderella” over and over again as that one elusive mid-major team fights through round after round, only to finally get beaten- probably in the Elite Eight- by a team everyone remembers was picked to win anyway.

It’s so beautiful, this month of March. I’m picking UCLA to win it all.

“It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness.”
- Seneca the Elder

Saving daylight

It's strange how an hour later of sunlight has suddenly given everyone a whole new lease on life?

Attitudes have changed, everyone feels like they are leaving work earlier even though they aren't, and for some reason I figured all of that meant I could give myself permission to eat Reeces Easter eggs everyday at lunch this week.

Somewhere in the move up North, our eating habits went South. I blame it on all the walking, but I'm fairly confident we have eaten more pizza in the past few months than most college-age males do in their four or five year tenures at school. We have a once-a-week pizza policy that's loosely enforced.

Luckily we DO walk everywhere and there are now trips to the gym included in our schedules, as well as power-walks on the weekends. Salads are great for summer months, but when it's 20 degrees outside and I've been gone all day I'm not in the mood for something a rabbit would eat.

We also often make something sweet when people come to visit, which is always. We don't have to bake so much anymore though, considering everyone always wants to go to Magnolia Bakery. We even instated a cupcake-sampling tour of the Upper West Side while AV's mom and brother were in town.

Speaking of visitors, our dear friend AR showed up on our doorstep, pink suitcase and pillow in tow, promptly at 7 AM this morning. I had hardly had time to fumble around and find the switch to the leopard lamp above our refrigerator before AR was changed into a pink (of course) plaid nightshirt and hopping into my bed.

I felt sorry for her- she was stuck with a middle seat for her five-hour red-eye flight on her way here from Phoenix, which she was actually preferable to her original seat on the aisle, in the back of the plane by a couple and their baby and across the aisle from a woman with a parrot.

That's right- a parrot on an airplane. Why? I mean really, why would you do that? In what context would that ever seem like a good idea?

In any case, I went ahead and started the getting-ready process and drew her a map to show her how to get to KR's and my office to meet us for lunch. It had arbitrary landmarks and a cartoonish- vibe, but she actually made it. For someone who has never been to the city before, I'm surprisingly unconcerned with her ability to get around.

How lucky we are, to be so loved by our friends that we hardly spend weekends without the company of one or a group of them... Either that or they just want to come to see New York. Either way, we hardly ever have reason to feel homesick, because we have 'Texas' as a guest most weekends.

"When one is young and has little money, it is prudent to spend that little on the unnecessary, the emotional dividends being higher."
-Clifton Fadiman, Writer

Birds of a Feather

While I was flying around town with my aunt and cousin, who came to visit, KR and AV made a trip to the suburbs.

That's right- they went to Target AND Chili's. And to be quite honest- if I hadn't just been to Texas last weekend and found a cute pair of peep-toed heels and southwestern eggrolls along the way, I would have been jealous.

We had serious rain on Friday and Saturday, and New Jersery was not spared. KR and AV hopped on the Path Saturday morning and spent the day roaming the well-stocked and un-crowded aisles of Target. I returned home from my afternoon at the Met to find their always-tidy room askew with new lamps, wedge espadrilles, boxes of granola bars and a multitude of red and white plastic bags everywhere.

Despite their clearly damp jeans and soaked ballet flats, they were in high spirits. Sometimes nothing puts a smile on your face more than finding a cute sweater in your size, as well as your favorite breakfast bar within arms reach of each other.

They received lots of eye-rolls and "are you serious-es?", but they continued on their journey, and were rewarded with inexpensive toothpaste and free refills.

And you know what? Maybe everyday in New York isn't glamorous, but we are never lacking in entertainment.



We make our own fun.

"Off we go,
Into the wild blue yonder..."
- U.S. Air Force anthem

Now You See It

The newly re-opened Modern Art wing at the Met...


... apparently they added ghosts.


My cousin KH, admiring a Monet.


Such the happy little artist.

"Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways."
- Oscar Wilde

Party of Five?

There’s nothing I love more than hearing about snow in Dallas, while enjoying sunny, 45-degree days in New York.

Unfortunately the change in temperatures has also brought the flu to the city. I started feeling under the weather Friday, and have been nursing a sandpaper throat and fire-breathing dragon-cough ever since. Lovely. Especially since I started coughing during the most inconvenient time possible this evening- the prayer before Communion at church. To further make matters worse, our service meets in a beautiful old Episcopal sanctuary with great acoustics. Not a person within earshot was spared.

I learned the hard way this week the near-impossibility of making brunch reservations in Manhattan on Easter Sunday. Thinking I was such the responsible hostess for planning three weeks ahead of my parents’ upcoming visit- I made a list and started making phone calls.

To say I was met with resistance would be an understatement. You would have thought I was asking some of these people to give me one of their kidneys, the way they scoffed at me. AV even solicited the help of her NYC-savvy coworkers, who threw out suggestions left and right and gave her a page of places to try calling.

As we have come to learn in New York, brunch is an art form. Manhattan-ites are serious about it- weather it’s a corner booth in their favorite neighborhood diner with the special and a copy of the Times, or a white table-cloth affair with the in-laws- it’s the perfect weekend indulgence.

Some places were booked solid, some would not take reservations for parties of fewer than six, some will be taking walk-ins but seemed reluctant and others will essentially be free-for-alls the day-of, and are not taking reservations period. I’m envisioning women in pastel shades and fantastic hats, bustling around trying to pretend like Easter in March is occasion-enough to pretend like it’s not still 40 degrees outside.

For a brief moment of insanity I tried to think of how we could somehow manage to get my brother up here for the trip. Not that I wouldn’t love his to see him any other weekend, but primarily because he would make our brunch-party the ideally round number of six instead of the frowned-upon five.

Yeah, I actually thought this was feasible. Flying my brother to New York and using him as a warm body to sip mimosas in a collared shirt and blazer? Sure, why not? Sarabeth’s, Penelope, Pastis, Balthazar, Five Points and many other brunch locales would certainly suggest it. Otherwise?

“My apologies, ma’am, but we’re all booked.”

"I went to a cafe that advertised breakfast anytime, so I ordered French Toast during the Rennaisance."
-Stephen Wright

Weekend Traveler

I went home Friday for the weekend. I punched the clock at straight-up five to get to La Guardia in time to mill around and do nothing for 45 minutes.

I found a book store and continued to mill, looking for something to read and preferring something other than the 42 magazines I read last week. I also decided I didn’t want to read some random bestseller that I would usually be happy to bury my nose into, and a stark white cover caught my eye.

That’s right- I looked, I judged and I purchased. That's about as shallow as the prospective book-buyer can get.

My book of choice was CAD: Confessions of a Toxic Bachelor. Definitely not my usual literary choice. It was an impulse purchase, but I wasn’t about to pick up another Jane Austen wannabe and also not in the mood for something sappy, so I went with the clear alternative.

I really didn’t like the guy for about half of the memoir, but I found that I really enjoyed his writing style and I had nothing better to do during my layover in Charlotte, NC, so I stuck with it.

Other than his hideous substitution of women’s names (he didn’t use their real ones for obvious reasons) with names like Tabitha, Chloe and other things people name cats, I actually really enjoyed the book. I wouldn’t touch the guy with a ten-foot pole after reading about his goings-on, but he won me over via prose and I recommended it and passed it on to my work pal MT Monday morning.

So in between readings of the CAD novel, I was in Texas. I enjoyed my quick weekend,; back among my SUV-driving kinfolk I’ve missed so much. You can talk to people everyday if you want to, but nothing beats seeing their smiling face in 3D again. That was really the point of the whole weekend for me; enjoying my parents and friends in person. Quality time. And good Tex-Mex… food is also always somewhere near the bottom line.

My friends MK, SR, CC and KW all came to my parents’ house Saturday night for dinner and drinks. My dad cooked out on his grill (rib-eyes and chicken) and my mom fixed twice baked potatoes and asparagus. We ate outside on the screened-in porch and my dad even came around the table making wine suggestions. For dessert we enjoyed Light Chocolate Silk Blue Bell and Cool Whip, in mom’s cute Anthropologie bowls every girl has/wishes they had.

I snuck upstairs Saturday before anyone was at my house to catch the sunset, the view from the upstairs balcony facing full west to catch it perfectly. That’s one thing I need to resolve to do this summer in Manhattan is find the best place to watch the sunset on the weekends.

KR got to spend the weekend with her mother, who was in town, and AV stuck to exploring the Upper West Side with some of our other friends who are also in the neighborhood. We had a lovely 55-degree day on Monday, and KR and I went for a walk down by Riverside, only to return home to an e-mail from my mom with full reports and picture-proof of snow in Texas.

Looks like March Madness got an early start this year.

"Believing something doesn't make it true; refusing to believe it doesn't make it false."
-Know Why You Believe by Paul Little