new(york)comer

Same difference

2008-07-02T14:04:00.004-04:00

I've moved! You can find me here.

Better left unsaid

2008-06-24T01:30:00.003-04:00

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

2008-06-16T23:41:00.003-04:00

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

2008-06-03T21:08:00.004-04:00

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

2008-05-21T00:12:00.004-04:00

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

2008-05-15T16:49:00.002-04:00

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

2008-05-14T00:20:00.001-04:00

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

2008-05-08T14:29:00.003-04:00

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

2008-05-07T23:36:00.004-04:00

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

2008-05-05T16:10:00.002-04:00

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

2008-05-02T15:19:00.002-04:00

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

2008-04-28T23:01:00.004-04:00

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

2008-04-25T14:33:00.002-04:00

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

2008-04-22T00:20:00.004-04:00

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

2008-04-17T15:50:00.002-04:00

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

2008-04-14T23:44:00.007-04:00

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...

2008-04-11T10:53:00.001-04:00

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

2008-04-11T00:08:00.007-04:00

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

2008-04-08T00:33:00.002-04:00

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

2008-04-07T00:41:00.003-04:00

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

2008-04-04T20:41:00.003-04:00

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

2008-04-02T00:01:00.003-04:00

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

2008-03-30T22:08:00.003-04:00

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

2008-03-24T23:57:00.005-04:00

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

2008-03-20T23:26:00.002-04:00

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

2008-03-18T23:49:00.003-04:00

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

2008-03-14T15:56:00.002-04:00

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

2008-03-10T21:30:00.003-04:00

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

2008-03-10T20:16:00.008-04:00

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?

2008-03-10T00:13:00.002-04:00

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

2008-03-05T00:04:00.004-05:00

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

Either Or

2008-02-29T16:39:00.001-05:00

Last night, four nights after the Oscars and tucked in her bed, KR finally decided to admit that she still could not differentiate between 'No Country For Old Men' and 'There Will Be Blood'.

It came up because we had discussed the relative merits of the Some E-Cards website we have all recently frequented and circulated amongst our coworkers. They recently posted cards regarding Oscar favorites, and one said something about how the recipient should have won an award for pretending to understand the ending of the 'There Will Be Blood'... or maybe it was 'No Country For Old Men'. At one point KR even tried to blend them together and convince us they were the same movie.

Either way, clearly we did not see either.

There was enough press on both movies to warrant knowledge of the general subject matter of both movies, but they still seemed to be running together, so we came up with a way to distinguish them from one another:

'No Country for Old Men':
- Chili-bowl haircut
- Tommy Lee Jones (it helps everyone remember actors when they have three names)

'There Will Be Blood':
- Yelling about a milkshake
- Yelling about a boy
(AV tried to suggest "period piece on the oil industry", but it wasn't ringing any bells)

I know what you're thinking: it's a miracle we graduated college.

I should also mention that seeing Will Ferrell dressed as Ron Burgundy, interviewing Tom Brokaw at his comedy show on Sunday night was the highlight of my week. That or watching him sing Alicia Keys' "No One" while wearing Capezio dance pants and Uggs.

It was much more entertaining than the two award-winning movies we didn't bother to see.

"I must learn to love the fool in me- the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool."
-Theodore I. Rubin, MD

Live From New York... It's Saturday Night

2008-02-25T22:51:00.001-05:00

Another weekend spent with RM… another for the books.

He had us up late Thursday night; we ate pizza and relaxed Friday evening, which ultimately had to suffice the entire weekend as far as rest was concerned.

His one request was that we try for Saturday Night Live tickets, which included waking up at 4:30 Saturday morning. 4:30 came early, as it were, and we all got out of bed before we gave ourselves another moment to question our decision.

For two hours we waited as it snowed, waiting in line among other crazies who had slept outside all night on air mattresses and college students who had never gone to bed in the first place. AV and RM left in search of coffee soon after we arrived and found the businesses in Rockefeller Center to be lacking. They happened upon an establishment called Bagelfella Center, complete with bottom of the pot, burned coffee.

We grabbed our rehearsal tickets when they were released promptly at 7 AM, figuring we would have a better chance getting into that than the actual show, and were back home and settled in for a long winter’s nap by 7:15.

We awoke refreshed by 12:30 in the PM, and bopped around the stores on 34th for the remainder of the afternoon.

We returned to the scene of the standby ticket crime, 45 minutes early as per our tickets, only to hurry up and wait yet again. The NBC Pages were out in full-force, all of their blazers newly dry-cleaned to remove the writers’ strike mothballs, anal-retentive as ever as they attempted to manage the crowd.

We were four of the lucky 40 or so who actually got in to the show and see Tina Fey in all of her comedic glory. There was a lot of commotion as the elevator opened onto the floor, Pages throwing wristbands at us and literally telling us to run down the hall and get seated as quickly as possible.

We enjoyed two hours of SNL’s finest- Steve Martin and Mike Huckabee ever made appearances. They had plenty to throw in the way of Barack, Hillary and John, as well as Bret Michaels and the casts of all the ‘Sex and the City’ wannabe shows plaguing this season.

Brilliance. Worth every minute of our pre-sunrise wake up call.

The rest of the weekend will have to be recapped tomorrow, seeing we were all awake at 4:30 AM every morning for the past three days…

Including today.

Liz Lemon: Why are you wearing a tux?
Jack: It's after 6 o'clock Lemon. What am I, a farmer?
- Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin. ’30 Rock’

The Simple Life

2008-02-21T22:04:00.004-05:00

Figure I: Day off at the Met
Figure II: AV's birthday snow
Figure III: Jersey, as viewed from Manhattan

"Rest and be thankful"
-William Wordsworth

Tuesday is the new Monday

2008-02-20T00:07:00.003-05:00

Can I first point out that American Idol will be on T.V. no fewer than THREE NIGHTS this week? Yeah, we’re totally on board for that.

The writers’ strike may be over, but I’m not about to watch Lipstick Jungle, which is just white noise next to Cashmere Mafia, nor will I stoop to watching Real World/Road Rules Gauntlet, which allows random 30-year-olds to somehow have a career based on doing absolutely nothing of value. I’m not saying everything I watch on T.V. has merit, but I have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.

Remember when I said I wasn’t considering going home this weekend? That was a big fat lie. I spoke with my mother on Saturday morning, she had found an inexpensive flight leaving Saturday evening, and we booked it. I was perusing Barnes & Noble when I received the telltale call from the airline, telling me my flight would be delayed three hours. We quickly cancelled it and decided we would try another weekend.

I should have had a premonition when my mother sent me pictures of golf ball sized hail along with my flight confirmation Saturday morning that the plans would not bode well. I’m not great with spontaneity, and the delays take the fun out of it. I’ve spent many a late night at JFK, and I’ve learned my lesson.

We dragged ourselves out of bed for a pre-noon showing of ‘Definitely Maybe’, having been in the midst of not only a T.V. drought but a movie one as well. AV’s mom even got up and joined us as well.

One thing we did while AV’s family was here was a cupcake sampling, if you will. We went to Crumbs on Friday night and they stopped by Magnolia on Saturday to get the best of both worlds. Struggling with my decision, I had to go with the vanilla on vanilla cupcake from Crumbs as my favorite. It’s a bold claim; this I know for sure.

Our three-day weekend in the city continued with an unseasonably warm 60-degree day yesterday. I took my free day and walked to the Met, getting in for free with my I.D. from work. Ever the nerd, I had seen that there would be some new exhibits and that the new galleries for the European paintings, and wanted to check things out for myself.

I have a penchant for getting lost in museums- the time I visited the Louvre I wandered off to find The Coronation of Napoleon and ended up looking at an upside-down French map of the building, running frantically through the Egyptian Antiquities trying to find the inverted pyramid. Much like something out of a Dan Brown novel I’ve read before…

I digress.

So I found myself in a room with a huge formaldehyde-preserved shark, suspended in glass in attack-mode. Lucky for me I’ve never seen ‘Jaws’, so I ventured over to the front of the tank and looked at the shark dead-on.

I. Who knew sharks had that many teeth?
II. I don’t care if it WAS dead, I stared at it for about five seconds before I felt completely unnerved and moved on.
III. Formaldehyde still reeks as bad as it did in freshman-year biology.
IV. I’ll be hard-pressed to step one big toe in the ocean ever again.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."
-Ambrose Redmoon

Spice Up Your Life

2008-02-15T22:45:00.004-05:00

Happy belated Valentine’s Day, all. Or Singles Awareness Day, unofficially, depending on how empty or full your love glass is this February.

Hope everyone got to spend their day watching deliveryman after messenger deliver blooming bouquets and sweets to your building of primarily females, as I did. And then to walk home alongside every Joe hurrying home with said flowers and candy, obviously coming up with some ploy as to come across as “not forgetting” the occasion.

My parents actually sent me a Valentine’s Day care package and cookies from a bakery in our hometown. Delicious, if not nutritious.

The roommates and I celebrated by trying out a hot dog place on the UWS called Gray’s Papaya. They serve hot dogs and different types of juice and sodas. That’s it. They had a sign for a “Recession Special” which was two hotdogs and a beverage for $3.50. I can say with certain confidence that it’s the cheapest meal we’ve eaten here. I can definitely envision stopping there on our way to Riverside Park for a lazy Saturday afternoon in the spring.

We also stopped by a place in our neighborhood to get manicures and pedicures for the very appealing price of $19.95. Few things are less expensive in New York than in Texas, but frankfurters and French nails are two of them.

I got on the subway the other night, and at the stop after mine an entire gaggle of British students and their chaperones got on the same car as me. They were all dressed in their Euro-hipster garb, chatting away about teenage shenanigans, and that’s when it hit me.

The Spice Girls were in town.

And by “town” I mean they came to New Jersey. My friend MT at work got to go see them and reported back that they were just as awesome as my middle-school self remembered them to be. You start feeling old when bands (okay Posh & Co. aren’t so much a band as a “group”) you once enjoyed start having kids and doing reunion tours.

I talked to my Mom last night and she didn’t realize I had a three-day weekend for President’s Day. She suggested plugging some numbers into flight websites and trying to find a random, inexpensive flight to get me home for the weekend, which seemed like a good idea when I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 8:30 this morning.

The plan lost its’ luster when 5:00 rolled around and all the flights I was pulling up were minimum $800 and would require me to have layovers all day Monday and possibly sleep in the Atlanta airport. I gave up and went to the gym.

AV’s Mom (JV) and younger brother (DV) arrived this evening in the city for a weekend visit. DV has never been here, and as JV treated us to dinner tonight and DV laid out his plan for his first trip to the Big Apple, we watched AV’s eyes got bigger with every mention of the Empire State Building and Yankee Stadium.

‘Empire State Building’ translates to “Herald Square Hell”, and “Yankee Stadium” means, “who even knows how long it will take to get up to the Bronx on a Saturday on the A train”.

I’m sure she will do it all, because she’s great like that. In the meantime, KR and I have big plans for an all-weekend sleepover and probably a lot of sleeping in and hopefully a movie, if there’s time. We have a lot of sleeping to do.

Goodnight, cyberspace.

"Love wins. Love always wins."
-Morrie; "Tuesdays With Morrie"

Dreaming of a White Birthday

2008-02-12T19:06:00.000-05:00

AV joins our ranks today, as a 23-year-old adult. As her friend and roommate, and most importantly, being 27 days her senior, I feel it my duty to impart my knowledge and wisdom to her.

Who am I kidding? AV is way more of an adult than KR and I put TOGETHER.

I first met AV prior to our freshman year of college at Fish Camp. I was introduced to she and her BFF4L- JS (now JP) one “theme night” by my friend and roommate ES (now EL). Bear with me, people. I know I lost most of you at BFF4L. Anyway- we were reunited on move-in day on the steps of Mosher, our dorm and home for our first year of college. And the rest is basically history. Not even the fact that she lived in the basement, and I lived on the fourth floor of our building would keep us from becoming friends. It was a LOT of stairs- I had great calves that year…

AV and I lived in the same apartments sophomore year, one building away from each other. I distinctly remember calling her, needing a breather after a long day and finding her outside 10 minutes later, sneakers on and ready to walk lap after lap around the complex parking lot while I vented.

I recall watching the “Felicity” DVDs AV “borrowed” from her sister during the dead days leading up to our midterms junior year. We had heated ‘Ben or Noel’ debates- talking about how many misconceptions of college life we had derived from that show. I don’t particularly recall how we did on those exams, though.

When we came to New York to visit before last Christmas, AV, JP and I went roaming one morning while the other girls went to see ‘The View’. After seeing the Brooklyn Bridge and going to the top of the Empire State Building, we found ourselves in my least favorite part of Manhattan: Canal Street. Wanting to leave as quickly as possible, JP and I followed AV and a tiny foreign woman as she led us down a street off next to a basketball court. JP and I literally watched AV climb into a VAN with STRANGERS, violating every rule elementary school safety patrol ever taught us. She emerged victorious, carrying knock-off purses and wallets and ready for anything else New York had to offer.

I have fond memories of our last semester of college spent suffering through Math 141, studying at Starbucks everyday after class until I would entice her to either start chatting and abandon her calculator or go next door to Potbelly to get an Italian on wheat.
I remember knowing the day JP was getting engaged, and wondering what took her so long to call with the good news, only to find out that she had not been able to get in touch with AV to tell her first, and she refused to call anyone else until she got to talk to her. Unbeknownst to JP, AV had flown to Phoenix to surprise her for the weekend. I also remember flying home to Texas for JP’s wedding, listing off everything that would contribute to AV’s emotional weekend: seeing her new baby nephew HV for the first time, seeing her grandmother in the hospital and watching her best friend get married.

“Thanks a lot, I hadn’t thought about it,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been anticipating it for you,” I replied.

I’ve admired AV since I met her, but never more than moving to New York with her. I’ve grown accustomed to her acute dislike of foods that mix salty with sweet, her classic Jennifer-Aniston-esque style that fits her quite nicely into the Manhattan landscape, and she has also been so kind as to adopt me under her wing for my lack of music foresight and knowledge. She would be an official member of the Lyrics Police if they would just hurry up and mail her a badge already.

For all of these reasons and many more intangible ones that go almost unnoticed in our day-to-day lives, AV is a dear friend. Her determination to move to New York and succeed here has been as much a part of her since the day I met her as it remains today. She takes nothing for granted and people fortunate to know her well are blessed by her reassuring presence and warmth. The beauty of our friendship is that it has never been forced or uncomfortable, it just happened naturally.

I know that a large part of our success here has been our ability to laugh about everything, and I never let myself miss Texas that much because I have you and KR here with me. Being in the presence of both of you daily gives me a piece of home I cherish daily. Happy 23rd, AV!

"So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find away to say that life has just begun"
- John Mayer "Stop This Train"

"Milk was a bad choice..."
- Will Ferrell as Ron Burgundy, "Anchorman"

"I felt it shelter to speak to you."
- Emily Dickinson

Grin and Bear It

2008-02-08T08:15:00.000-05:00

I bit the bullet on Wednesday and joined the gym in my building. I spent all four years of college with a set routine, adapted to fit my class schedule each semester but always keeping a consistent regimen. Even going home for the summer I made the effort.

Then I moved to New York.

Living with MK in Murray Hill, we would make a half-hearted effort every once in awhile to take the elevator to the fifth floor and screw around on the elliptical machines while watching “She’s the Man”. Yeah- not our finest hour.

After the other girls had started working I still did some exercising, but the seriousness was never there. When we moved, things did not change much either. I think part of me has always made the excuse that we walk everywhere, so as to justify the lack of further physical activity. That all ended today.

Today I entered a new gym, dusted off my running shoes and got back on the horse, so to speak. I’m convinced that going back for the first time was the hardest thing to do, even if I’m sadly already feeling the ache of it.

We finally got AV back tonight- she has been waking up early and staying late at work this week because of meetings going on with her company. It’s a good thing, too, because if she would not have been here tonight, she would not have been able to see my dramatic reenactment of my morning.

Suffice it to say, no sooner had I removed my coat this morning that I became painfully aware of the fact that I was wearing the same shirt as a male superior in my office. And no, it wasn’t just some green sweater or blue polo, it was a purple gingham button-down. Just in case you were wondering- there is nothing more obvious in all of fashion than PURPLE GINGHAM.

KR made a remark about us having similar shirts once, and suggested how hilarious it would be if we matched, but what were the chances that we would wear them the same day? “Slim to none” I thought, as I grabbed it from my closet this morning. Thank goodness I had the sense in the my early morning brain to buffer it with a long-sleeved khaki sweater, or else it would have looked like we tried to coordinate some sort of Twin Day on our floor. When KR arrived at work a few minutes after me this morning, I bee-lined to her desk and asked: “what would make today perfect for you?” Her little Sherlock mind saw what I was wearing and figured it out in a split-second. She loved every awkward minute of it.

My co-worker and I acknowledged each other’s keen fashion sense and I made the executive decision that MY shirt will now be relegated to nights and weekends.

"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward."
-Vernon Law

The Wedding Diaries

2008-02-05T23:24:00.000-05:00

Someone asked me the other day about when I plan to go home next. At a loss, I did not have an answer other than the end of June, for a friend's wedding, which is five months from now. I think I need to plan better.

It certainly got me thinking that this time last year I had just finished my first winter tour on the wedding circuit. In mid-January of 2007, I attended three weddings in eight days. First was my friend EL, my freshman year roommate and friend from high school, who got married on a freezing cold Friday night in January in our hometown.

After a late night out with friends, a group of us woke up early the next morning and drove down to Austin for KR’s sister’s wedding.

Five in tow, we headed southbound on 35, and about halfway there we realized we did not actually know what time the wedding started. We didn’t want to call KR or her family to bother them, so we tried calling everyone we could think of, even checking theknot.com, but ended up as clueless as we had started. Throwing on our black dresses and heels once we got to Austin, we also argued back and forth as to whether weddings started on the hour or the half hour.

We made it to the church, thinking we were early because no one was outside, and opened the doors to see the backs of KR and her brother, a quarter of the way down the aisle. So that meant- yes- there were her father and sister, having a Kodak moment before walking down the aisle. We explained to her what had happened later- and we were forgiven. Talk about wedding crashers.

I spent the night by myself in my brother’s freezing cold apartment in Austin and woke up at 3 AM to meet my family to go skiing. We returned Thursday; I threw my bags down and was out the door, and then had a whirlwind three days surrounding my friend MD’s wedding.

Three different black dresses, several sparklers and rose petals and different versions of the electric-slide later, I had three newly married friends and returned to college for my spring semester, exhausted. My first busy wedding season was nothing if not absolutely great and absolutely tiring.

Now all of those people have celebrated their one-year anniversaries, and AV, KR and I continued on to travel to weddings during the other respective seasons, and now find ourselves living in a city where people scoff at the idea of marriage before 30. People in New York also live without central air-conditioning and eat things involving sheep tongues and squid ink, so I don’t think anyone should be pointing any fingers in the ‘weird and ridiculous’ category.

And I should hope there isn't anyone who doesn't love wedding cake. Surely anyone who will eat something raw with tentacles would enjoy some vanilla and buttercream every once in awhile.

"Someday somebody's going to ask you
A question that you should say 'yes' to..."
- Old 97's

Maybe Next Year

2008-02-04T00:30:00.001-05:00

Happy Super bowl Sunday, all. Hope everyone is enjoyed their evening of deliciously guilty bite-sized food and “the best” commercials of the year. I, for one, will be looking forward to the parade later this week.

While I don’t claim to be a big Giants fan, I think Boston has had their fair share of sports victories this season (the Red Sox winning the World Series and the Celtics who have the best record in the NBA).

I took a gander over to the East side this afternoon and all the Maclaren strollers were out in the sunshine in full-force, touting small children decked out in Giants paraphernalia. Little do their parents know they will one day grow up and decide to attend the rival of their parents’ Alma Mater. THEN they’ll get ambitious and decide they want to strike out on their own and move thousands of miles away to be “independent”, all the while keeping their Dad’s Mastercard number, security code and expiration date memorized for safe-keeping.

No? Maybe that’s just me.

KR and AV are now in their room, cooing over something on Animal Planet called the “Puppy Bowl”, which is basically a bunch of tiny mutts running around on a mini football field, wagging their tails and trying to look as precious as possible. Did the SPCA sponsor this or what? I think if I gave any indication of being okay with having a dog in our apartment, we would have one here by the end of the day. My main problem is leaving one alone all day, along with the cost of keeping dogs in general and the ever-present lack of grass in Manhattan. Not to mention I won’t let myself love anything enough to follow it around multiple times a day with a plastic bag.

Just call me Cruella DeVille.

Mike Ditka: [to the Tigers team] This is gonna be the hardest thing you've ever done in your whole lives. But when it's over…
Phil Weston: Don't get emotional.
Mike Ditka: When it's over…
Phil Weston: When it's over...
Mike Ditka: You guys are gonna be champions!
Phil Weston: Champions!
Mike Ditka: Now let's get out there and kick some butt!
Phil Weston: On three, 'let's have fun'
The Tigers: One, two, three, Let's Have Fun!
Mike Ditka: ‘Let’s have fun’? What’s THAT?
- Will Ferrell and Mike Ditka, “Kicking and Screaming”

My Thoughts Exactly

2008-02-01T18:24:00.000-05:00

My day at work on Tuesday made me feel more like a second grader, and less like a young professional than usual.

I was greeted in the morning by big red signs on easels that read “FIRE DRILL TODAY”. I thought fire drills were supposed to be unexpected, but apparently when you work in a building housing 40 floors of employees in the middle of Manhattan, you give people some notice.

Then I clicked open an e-mail in my Outlook regarding a mandatory employee-review demonstration. So after lunch I sat with about 50 other people, watching a presentation in a dimly-lit auditorium. Instead of reprimanding children for smacking gum, the woman leading the presentation was giving the stink-eye to everyone who spent the hour clicking around on their Blackberry.

The fire drill on our floor was announced by a bunch of men in suits with earpieces. Apparently they are responsible for the security in our building or something. All we did was walk around to the other side of our floor and listen to a man with the same last name as a pizza place on my block talk about safety procedures. The only things I could focus on were how much my feet hurt from standing in my heels for more than ten minutes and the fire drill man’s ridiculously Long Island accent.

The other night AV and I settled in and watched the Texas A&M/UT basketball game. It was so strange to look at all of the baby-faced freshmen in the stands- whooping and sawing off horns and what not, and to think we were sitting where they were this time last year. So unreal. Then I read an article about A&M on ESPN.com today, which explained the lack of understanding the outside world has of our school. It was clever and light-hearted and I thought it captured my view of A&M so fully.

What I wouldn’t give to be the Erin Roberts of the NCAA Men’s Basketball circuit. She’s got the best gig in town.

We might be a bunch of crazies- but I would bet that not one of those little engineers painted maroon and white, skipping studying physics for the night for sake of good seats and a chance to see school rivalry in action regretted time not spent in front of their TI-82 calculators.

I feel like my fellow assistant-pals and I spent an inordinate amount of time talking about college this week- trying to figure out some way to swing a spring break next month to no avail.

Half of me would give anything to be back in the stands in my white t-shirt, yelling my heart out with 13,000 other students, and the other half you couldn’t pay to be anywhere but here- in the 30-degree cold listening to my recently purchased tunes on my iPod in the mornings on my walk to work and glancing down Central Park South to steal a glance at the sun pouring over the trees in the park lining the street as far as the eye can see.

"Zeroes are important. A million seconds ago was last week."
- Denis Hayes

Feng Shui, Or Something Like It

2008-01-29T23:32:00.000-05:00

Our apartment has been completely redefined. I don’t even recognize it some days, and mornings when it’s still dark outside my feet have recently had some run-ins with our new hallway furniture on the way to my toothbrush.

Did I ever mention that my room is a cave? I may or may not live with bats- it’s questionable. We've all has started to make vampire-hissing noises when we walk outside in the morning- the cheap gallery lighting in our place keeps playing tricks on my retinas.

AV and KR went to a hardware store Saturday morning, and I returned from a sample sale to find the sidelined wooden dresser we found the other night looking almost unrecognizable. They had taken out the rusty gold handles, spackled some holes and painted it black. I even took one for the team and stopped by an Anthropologie to get new drawer pulls. I know, so self-sacrificing. Kind of like how KR “allows” AV and I to wake up before her on the weekdays, staying in bed so as not to monopolize the bathroom. It’s all about balance, really.

Late Saturday afternoon I went for a walk/jog down Riverside Drive, right by the new buildings lining the river on the West side. I ventured down near the water, and it was practically deserted. That’s one thing about living in Manhattan- you are rarely alone. There are always people everywhere. I took full advantage of it as I ran up and down the stretch of pavement, admiring the view, and eventually found a pier to walk down. I walked to the very edge and turned around to take in the full view of the city.

I almost wished I had brought my camera along, but I also liked the fact that I was the only one seeing the West side in the setting pink sunset. Well, me and everyone in Hoboken, New Jersey, right across the river.

I read an article about brunettes this weekend, and it used words describing us as being perceived as “trustworthy” and “responsible”. We can’t even get “mysterious”? The only thing those adjectives will come in handy for will be the next time I run for student council secretary of my fifth grade class.

Speaking of fifth grade, I survived my headband yesterday, a la Blair Waldorf. It may have actually been the first time in my life I’ve worn one for an entire day. I am a weak being indeed, considering I did not last two hours before taking ibuprofen.

Hey, the article didn't say anything about a high pain tolerance.

“Show me a girl with her feet planted firmly on the ground and I’ll show you a girl who can’t put her pants on.”
– Annik Marchand

We Asked For It

2008-01-26T00:03:00.000-05:00

Figure I: "Fate has me highly skilled and loaded with talent." -Vince Vaughn, "The Break-Up"
Figure II: My bag of tricks

So, Ikea. Again.

As the saying goes- fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

The thing this- we were not fooled, we just ARE fools. We awoke on Sunday morning, the subject of going to New Jersey levitating over us as we had our coffee and cereal, and finally the decision was made.

We would go.

Dragging RM by the heels- KR and I led onward to the Port Authority. We got on the bus, and 40 minutes later were dropped off in front of the Swedish furniture and meatball-making house of horrors. It was even more chaotic and crowded than I remembered- if that’s even possible.

We had a list of what we needed, and having made mistakes the last time, we crept our way through the store with the rest of the herd determined to make our trip as short as possible. A desk, a bedside table, an ottoman and a dresser later, we realized that we would be requiring a plan B for returning home. And that is when renting a car became a viable option.

Lucky for the millions who are car-less in the Tri-State area, Ikea has a rental car company situated right inside the exit doors. So when you’re desperately wheeling your huge cardboard boxes into the freezing cold, you have the option of breaking down and paying the $85 because you're under the age of 25.

And who even has a map of New Jersey? Not I. Not KR, and definitely not RM, who was the driver-elect. Lucky for us, though, we and our furniture made it through the Lincoln Tunnel unscathed.

The hitch in the giddy-up was the fact that the Kia had to be returned to New Jersey the same day, or else we would be charged more for dropping it off in Manhattan, or we would be charged for keeping it an extra day. How very inconvenient.

So to Manhattan we went to haul the furniture upstairs, and back to New Jersey we fled, wanting to make it back before the 6 PM bus left. There was a small altercation with a man and his P.A. system, but we lost him somewhere under a bridge headed to Jersey City.

Sunday night we went to dinner in our neighborhood, then to see 27 Dresses. It received our high approval rating- probably because of all the weddings going on with friends our age these days.

Monday morning we woke up to face the music of all the long skinny boxes lining the even longer and skinnier hallway that stretches the length of our apartment. Alright, so we woke up at 11:15 and the day got started a little late- don’t hate me because my employer celebrates National holidays.

I bought RM a latte got him to join me at Best Buy- which wasn’t hard seeing as he stared in awe at the wall of huge televisions watching old college football highlights while I was on the phone with my Dad, asking which to purchase. He took advantage of racking up points on his Best Buy reward cards as I paid, which made me feel better about asking him to carry it home.

We got down to business assembling furniture (with the help of the $9.99 toolkit purchased at Ikea) and may have actually finished assembling everything we purchased. We were all so proud, too. AV and AV II got back from running errands and I was so eager to show them what I had made- talk about creating a new sense of self worth. You would have thought I was a newly potty-trained toddler.

We hammered and nailed things and finished in time for our reservation at Butter- an NYC celebrity-spotting haven… or so we read about the next morning. While we were enjoying our pea soup and osso buco, courtesy of Restaurant Week, we kept a shrewd eye out for anyone noteworthy. The music was well-selected and the food was rich, but I left with little more than a matchbook and the sinking feeling that my nice long weekend was winding down.

Imagine my surprise when Kristen sent me a link to a celeb-spotting website Tuesday, confirming that Giselle and Tom were seen dining a few tables away from Leonardo Di Caprio Monday night.

At Butter.

“Should we have stayed home and thought of here?”
- Elizabeth Bishop

We'll Talk About This In The Morning

2008-01-21T23:45:00.000-05:00

“Three day weekend” is officially my new favorite phrase.

How glorious to wake up on a Monday morning, realize you’re late for work, subsequently realize that it is freezing outside, it is indeed a holiday, and go right back to sleep for two hours.

Our weekend with RM was nothing short of whirlwind, which is what he always promises on his trips to the city. Friday night AV’s sister AV (we’ll call her AV II to avoid confusion) flew into town for the weekend. RM had already been here- I was greeted in my room by his two big bags full of business professional/business casual/weekend city GQ sprawling in all directions. The three of them left and went to see Mary Poppins, and KR and I were content with a night indoors.

Saturday we woke up to a deceivingly sunny day. It was also frigid. KR and I dragged RM out of the house and out to the new Magnolia Bakery, which is now located in dangerously close proximity to our apartment. They grabbed cupcakes and we jumped on the C-train going downtown to Union Square.

RM browsed the artists in the park while KR and I ventured into Forever 21. A great place for inexpensive and fun clothes, I was confused to find some weird “collection” they’ve started, which is basically like all the other clothes they sell, just with different tags and higher prices. Who do they think they’re fooling here?

We weaved in and out of other furniture stores, a burger place, TJ Maxx, etc. before heading home. We headed home early because AV had made everyone dinner reservations at La Esquina. With five people getting ready in one bathroom, we walked out the door about ten minutes before the reservation. Feeling ambitious on our way to the subway, we spotted a three-door antique dresser on the side of our street with a sign attached that read ‘please give me a good home (sad face)”.

As if on cue, RM picked it up and started walking back to our place. Being the only girl who wore flats, I helped. We had to shove into a cab, and were still about 25 minutes late for our reservation, but they let us in anyways. There were earpieces, walkie talkies and lists involved, but we still got in. Thank goodness too, because the Bistec tacos at La Esquina would have been missed.

We roamed around in the plummeting temperatures, looking for a bar some of RM’s college friends had mentioned to him earlier. Come to find out, it doesn’t exist anymore. Neato.

AV and AV II headed home for the evening after a long day walking around the city, and so KR, RM and I found a laid back bar called the Spring Lounge to sit and chat in until the rest of the city finally decided it was late enough and cold enough to go outside. We got corner seats on wooden benches by the windows, which were perfect for people- watching inside and outside while all the hipsters ventured into their trendy venues of choice.

RM’s friends from college, as well as friends of those friends, met up with us along the way, and we ended up at a crowded bar on Ludlow street on the Lower East Side. We paid five dollars to go upstairs, hoping it would be less crowded, and found it much less so, and with a good DJ. RM made it his job to make sure everyone was having a good time, and KR and I ended up hanging out with two guys from Boston. The guy I talked to got my number before I left, and I was joking with KR thinking that I am now “ Texas Girl from some New York bar” in his phone.

All of this after a day spent listening to RM lecture us about how you can meet nice people at bars. Being accused for years of being snobby and picky when it comes to guys, we finally heard RM say that he was “so proud” of us. Thanks, Dad.

Sunday involved a trip (actually two) to Ikea in New Jersey, which is another story for another day. Probably tomorrow… maybe Wednesday. I’m also going to get with the program on my picture posting. Even though I glow like Casper under a flash these days.

“Enjoy yourself. These are the good old days you’re going to miss in the years ahead.”
- Anonymous

The Wonder Years

2008-01-16T23:14:00.000-05:00

I'm 23 years old today. Okay actually I've been 23 for two days, but who is counting?

I'm wondering how it's possible to feel as old and as young as I do at the same time. Old because I have graduated college and have entered the working world, and young because my entire adult life is just beginning.

Last year on my birthday I was still at home for Christmas break, snowed in and unable to leave home (literally) because the weather was so icey. It was the Sunday before MLK, and I walked in the snow and ice to my friend MK's house for a tea party. Before my parents moved, I lived in a neighborhood with several of my close friends within walking-distance.

I remember the next day meeting up with my roommate KW and having the most nerve-racking driving experience of my life trying to get back to College Station. You never realize how many bridges and overpasses you cross on a three and a half hour drive until you're praying for your life over EACH and EVERY one of them.

File that under "things I never told my parents".

I spent Monday wishing and hoping that we would get a few snow flurries, so that I could sing the rendition I had already come up with of "I'm dreaming of a white birthday". It didn't happen, or if it did, I was already asleep. I'm 23 now people! My bedtime peaked on or surrounding my 19th birthday, when I was a freshman in college and I survived on croissant sandwiches, my daily dose of Days Of Our Lives and five or six hours of sleep a night.

Our friend RM is back in town for job training- he blew into town in his typical outlaw-fashion, and took AV, KR and I out to dinner at a quaint, dimly-lit little Italian place about 20 blocks up from us.

AV and KR made me vanilla-on-vanilla cupcakes with pink and light purple frosting for the occasion. I also hauled a huge box home from work that my Mom had mailed me the other day- so we were all fixed up with little kid sunglasses, Mardi Gras beads, huge plastic cocktail rings and Happy Birthday headbands. Barbie herself could not have dreamed up a better party. RM left to go back to his hotel at 10:30 and we all practically collapsed from exhaustion.

My friend MC from work has a birthday tomorrow, and so last night we and our other assistant friends all went out for a joint birthday happy hour at a bar near our office. It was nice to get to hang out, relax and enjoy a drink without the usual constraints of the lunch hour.

I was asked for 23 pieces of wisdom the other night by RM- and I gave him a few “Rome wasn’t built in a day, dance like no one is watching, if it’s not broken then don’t fix it” clichés… and not because I felt like being smart, or because I’m actually incredibly witty, but because I kind of realized that I didn’t have anything to say.

I mentioned the goal-setting/goal-reaching thing a few posts ago- that with the combination of my rapid aging has gotten me thinking. I feel like I accomplished what I set out to do as a 22-year-old, and I hope to do the same this year.

23 obviously worked some magic for Michael Jordan.

While I’m figuring out what exactly my special somethings for 23 will be, I can certainly say that I am very loved, and Monday reminded me of that. So thanks to everyone who called, e-mailed, text-ed, IMed and Facebook-ed me to wish me well. And thanks for reading this; because that’s the best birthday gift I could ask for.

"I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of starts makes me dream."
- Vincent Van Gogh

There's Always Next Year

2008-01-13T21:56:00.000-05:00

How ‘bout them Cowboys?

Alright, obviously this blog is here to chronicle my New York experience, but I would be insulting my family, my state and all that is good and holy if I did not stay loyal to the Texas A&M Aggies, the Dallas Mavericks and clearly- America’s Team: The Dallas Cowboys. I also like the Stars and the Rangers, but I don’t take the time to keep up with them on a regular basis. I’ve got the game on as I’m updating today.

Dang, the Giants already scored. Rough start. I can practically hear my Dad and brother yelling all the way across the country.

I actually enjoy watching sports. (I say “actually” because I’m a girl, and due to gender expectations, it’s more of a bonus than inherent). My Dad always took the time to explain different games to me when I was younger and answer my 376 questions regarding whatever we were watching. There was that one time he tried to convince me there was a new rule in the NBA that sanctioned four-point shots, and I kind of believed him until he couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. That was actually kind of recent…

My Dad is also concerned about the size and number of T.V.’s in our apartment (small and one), and thus we will soon be the recipients of a new flat screen for my birthday. I’m just buying my time until our friend RM gets in town for job training again this week, and then I’ll con him into some physical labor.

Why does Tony Romo look so nervous right now? The Giants just hit him with a blitz and he looked like he had never seen one before. Lest we forget the fumble on the one yard line last season.

My parents said that this morning in Sunday School, their friend who teaches the class had written the prayer requests on a dry-erase board, as usual, and in an upper corner apart from the others, wrote “Tony”. Quarterbacks are people too; they prayers just like everyone else.

Okay, T.O. scored a T.D. All is well.

I’m starting to yell now, maybe that’s why I’ve been left alone to watch the game.

I think I like watching sports because (as per the aforementioned reasons)
1. I know what’s going on for the most part,
2. Games never get old- unlike reality T.V. shows and sitcoms that taper off after a few seasons, and
3. No two games are alike. The players, the feel of the game, the season. All are unrepeatable.
I have no idea why I’m suddenly waxing poetic about my love of the game. It’s the play-offs- they do this to me. Just wait until March Madness- I take bracketology to a whole new level.

The Boys scored again. 14-7. A 20-play, 10 ½ minute drive. I like it.

Okay so I left during halftime to cook dinner and ended up listening to the third quarter from the kitchen. I made it back in front of the T.V. by the beginning of the fourth quarter, but most of the damage had already been done. They lost… again. The interception in the end-zone at the end was just the icing on the cake. You could even hear the disappointment in former Cowboys’ star Troy Aikman’s voice as they wrapped up the commentary.

I knew it was you, Tony. You broke my heart. You broke my heart!

"It is not enough to be good if you have the ability to be better."
- Alberta Lee Cox

Grass Is Always Greener

2008-01-09T23:12:00.000-05:00

I was introduced to a new breed of awesome this week. I simply called a restaurant on Monday to make a reservation, and was subjected over the phone to the physical equivalent of a full-body search.

Credit card information, multiple contact phone numbers, e-mail address, blood type, first born. The usual drill for a Tuesday lunch.

The Customs Official on the other end of the phone proceeded to e-mail me a list of terms and conditions (including fiscal penalty per guest if the reservation was cancelled) regarding the lunch. There was a signature under her name that read ‘Reservationist’. Even as I write this, my spell-check is telling me that it’s not a word.

Thank you, Microsoft, I knew she was taking her fake job way too seriously.

Speaking of people who are on vacation- my brother is currently in Colorado skiing with his buddies. Am I bitter? No, not quite. Jealous? Nail on the head. But these are the kind of things that happen when you’re on the verge of your 23rd birthday.

I looked up at a bakery the other day to see a package of birthday candles- which I had never noticed come by the two-dozens. I’ve never been the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to math, but that means that in two short years the celebration of my birth will require the purchase of two boxes of candles.

I know- looking two years into my future is alarming. That’s why we decided to make brownies tonight. AV was the funds, KR the feet, and I was the talent. We’re a team around here, especially when it comes to food.

KR joined the gym at work, and AV and I have been going on a few power walks this week. We finally made our way over to Riverside Park to explore a little, and enjoyed the normalcy of it; you know the GRASS and the cars on the HIGHWAY. It wouldn’t be strange anywhere else but Manhattan.

Weird how some things can be so out of place- like Tony Romo in Mexico with Jessica Simpson and pals when he should actually be practicing for the play-offs.

Ouch.

“I have always had a dread of becoming a passenger in life.”
- Queen Margaret II of Denmark

NYE in NYC

2008-01-03T22:22:00.001-05:00

Obviously New Year’s Eve has come and gone, and once again I find myself recapping, but we all know me well enough to know this isn’t unusual.

CC made it here in one piece, as did AV’s friend LO for the holiday weekend. Since CC got in so late, we went to sleep and did not wake up for a few days. Okay maybe not, but we got close. Sunday CC and I got up and went to brunch at Penelope in Murray Hill, which proved to be delicious as always. I made her walk a lot, and we browsed through Bryant Park on our way to pick up our show tickets.

The one thing CC had insisted on wanting to do was to go see a show, and she chose Jersey Boys. We had Sunday matinee tickets, and though I’d heard how great it was, I had not taken the time to learn what it was actually about. C somehow already had the soundtrack, and so I got to hear all about the music before it even started.

For those less fortunate as not to have Broadway only a subway ride away, Jersey Boys is the story of Franky Valli and the Four Seasons. The music was amazing- especially the guy that played Franky Valli. He hit high notes better than most girls I know. I do know some really bad singers though, myself not excluded.

AV had made the four of us reservations at a fun little dive-looking restaurant later on Sunday night. It was typical New York-chic: completely unassuming from outside, unmarked and underground. We walked down a narrow staircase, through the kitchen and into the lounge and bar area where we waited for our table to be ready.

It was smaller than I imagined, very intimate and dimly lit, which obviously makes it the perfect celeb hang-out. No sooner had we discussed this when we sat down, than one of the girls at the table next to us asked if we had spotted anyone. We had not, and neither had they, but they said the last time one of them was there George Clooney was sitting at the table right behind him. GEORGE CLOONEY- a.k.a. male perfection. I would not have even known what to do with myself.

Good thing he wasn’t there.
Monday CC and I went to the Met, and roamed through the Age of Rembrandt exhibit, as well as the European paintings and a fashion exhibit. We met up with our friends W&MD at Bloomingdale’s for hot chocolate and to catch up after the holidays. We roamed around a few stores when we left- all completely ransacked in post-Christmas turmoil.

We cooked dinner at home with AV and LO, and found a good alternative to the Times Square crazies by going downtown to the Brooklyn Bridge to see fireworks. We ran out to the perfect place on the bridge, took pictures and admired the skyline as we waited for midnight to roll around. It came and went, thousands of others with us waiting for show. People finally began to file off the bridge- we waited and watched several forms of NYPD appear on the scene for some unknown reason.

Defeated, and reminded that New Year’s is continually overrated, we went home. A cute older woman in a floor-length black fur coat, matching black leather gloves and red lipstick was standing dumbfounded with her husband and an open bottle of Veuve Cliqueot, and said in her perfect Yankee accent as we were leaving: “I’m embarrassed as a New Yorker! They always have fireworks here!”

The one year I’m in New York for New Year’s it turns out lame. Hopefully it’s not an indication of how the rest of 2008 will turn out. Before I sound even more like Debbie Downer- I’ll go ahead and wrap this up.

KR sent me a funny e-card website yesterday, and my favorite one was for a graduate, and read: “congratulations on getting through the easiest part of life”, with a kid in a cap and gown, waving his diploma.

Welcome to 2008.

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach our eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Farewell 2007

2008-01-01T23:26:00.000-05:00

2007 has been a big year.

It was a year of endings and beginnings, milestones and other life-changing events. I remember a teacher in high school letting us do Top Five lists periodically in class, to get the day started when we came into class with particularly apathetic adolescent attitudes.

I always thought it was fun, and ever the list-maker, I thought I would do a year-end top five full of cliche categories to sum up my year.

Top Five:

Songs of 2007:
- “Apologize" -Timbaland feat. OneRepublic
- “Stereo” –John Legend
- “No One” –Alicia Keyes
- “Won’t Go Home Without You” –Maroon 5
- “Only Grace” –Matthew West

Memories of the Year:
- Watching the sunset on the beach in Destin, Florida over Spring Break with my friends
- Finding out that I could, indeed successfully complete two math courses in the same semester of college
- Graduating
- Moving three times… oops, wrong list
- Spending my first Christmas in my parents’ new home in Texas

New York Moments:
- Discovering the washer/dryer in the studio we were living in with MK
- Walking into the apartment we now live in for the first time, and actually getting excited about living here
- Waking up to the first snow in the city
- The first time I was asked for directions and could successfully help the confused party
- Leaving IKEA alive

I have learned that with all of the changes and decisions life throws at you, you have to commit to a direction and go with it. If you stand staring at a closed door, you’ll miss everything happening behind you. And by ‘everything’, I mean life.

2007 taught me to take life as it comes. Plans are useless, but goals are important. My dad told me in high school to write down my goals and keep them somewhere I could see them often. The goals had so be tangible and also realistic. I did write them down, when I started my college career, and I recently took the time to read my list again and see that I had indeed accomplished my goals. I could hardly marvel and pat myself on the back for long before I realized that it only meant I should take it upon myself to create new ones. I told my dad this over Christmas and so instead of making New Year’s Resolutions, I get to make a new list of goals for myself.

New York is the perfect place for me right now because it is making me the best version of myself. I think AV and KR would agree that the city accepts only the best. You have to work hard to get to here, to stay here and to thrive here.

This time last year I had just returned home from the city, visiting with my friends, and the thought of moving to NYC was hidden in the far reaches of my mind.

What a difference a year makes.

"Nothing is too wonderful to be true."
-Michael Faraday

On Delay, On Delay

2007-12-29T16:58:00.000-05:00

I made it home in one piece last week for the Christmas festivities. Airport waiting areas, irritable flight attendants and chatty pilots aside- all was merry and bright.

To coronate our first Christmas in our new house, my parents decided to facilitate as many people as possible during the four and a half days I was home. We hosted a dinner party for 22 on Sunday, everyone was assigned to work on a dish and then everyone ate family-style. Things were getting crowded in the kitchen, so my friend RW and I headed outside to my dad’s outdoor kitchen to create our chicken enchiladas. It was a whopping 37 degrees outside, and my brother and his friend were in charge of the margarita machine (which was also outdoors), so we all stole North Face fleeces from my dad’s closet and got to work.

Ten hours later, my brother and dad were manning the stove indoors, serving up made to order omelets country club style for my dad’s side of the family. The two of them have made eggs an art form. I never used to eat them before I tried the ones they made. They’d convert the pickiest of eaters.

Among the omelet eaters was my cousin and his wife’s youngest son JH, who is four-years-old. He wasn’t so much into the gourmet eggs as the gumball machine he found upstairs. Being the one who showed him how to use it, I was responsible for him when he came bounding down the stairs- herringbone pants, black blazer (with matching tie) and all, chomping his rainbow assortment of gum.

My bad.

The night of Christmas Eve was spent, as usual, at my aunt and uncle’s house in Plano, Texas, eating Mexican food and relaxing. I was, however, introduced to a fun new little game called Rock Band, which was up and running in my cousin KH’s room after dinner. Rock Band includes a guitar, a microphone, and best of all- drums. My attempts were quite dismal- even on level Easy. I was like the mom who is trying to be hip with her kids who are way more technologically advanced. A few months out of college and I’m totally out of the loop. I also have no rhythm, which contributes to my lack of skills necessary for Rock Band success.

Christmas Day itself was great- my family always goes to movies in the afternoon on Christmas, and this year we elected to see “National Treasure: Book of Secrets”. It was good- as sequels go, definitely good. Leonardo di Caprio is our usual go-to Christmas day Blockbuster poster child- Titanic, Catch Me If You Can, Gangs of New York.

A funny revelation I had over the weekend was the overlapping of my brother’s and my Christmas gifts this year.

The DVD of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix? Check.
Dressy patent leather shoes? (His were to go with his tux, for the record). Check.

Like brother, like sister. Or something like that. I wish I was also going on the ski trip he’s getting, but some of us have to WORK.

Our good friend CC is on her way to the city for a long weekend right now. Her flight was artificially delayed (she was told it was late, only to arrive at the airport to find it leaving without her) so we’re hoping she gets here in one piece. I’m sure that would be comforting for her to hear about now… after midnight, stuck at the airport in New Jersey.

We all had half-days at work today, so we got to play all afternoon. We met up at Rockefeller Center, which was a poor choice considering the influx of people that have already arrived in the city for New Year’s Eve. AV compared us to prisoners who get out of jail, and then don’t know what to do with themselves, and end up back in the slammer.

Lucky for us, after our busy day we got to come home to fresh groceries and High School Musical I & II on T.V. My first experience with HSM I was actually at CC’s house in College Station, where she lived with four other girls. My roommate MH and I had been over to watch Grey’s Anatomy and eat Pei Wei with our friend DM, and after the show the topic of HSM came up.

Neither of us had ever seen it- so in a fury of DVD cases and remotes and a few pillows, we were set for the night. Confused, MH and I sat in wonder at the fact that any time a musical number came on, all five girls would simultaneously appear to dance and sing along, and then subsequently disappear when the plot would pick up again.

I also can’t say we were that surprised.

"Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future."
–Gail Buckley

Blame It On The Day Job

2007-12-21T15:39:00.000-05:00

I self-conciously made my way down the stairs of our walk-up this morning and out into the bustle, only to find that I was not the only one wheeling their Christmas luggage to work for the day. I briefly weighed the pros and cons of trying to get on the subway (for one stop) and after having a flashback of AV stuck in a subway turnstile with a suitcase, I chose to walk.

I was grateful for the 35 degree morning as I was managing my load- second guessing my choice to walk, but glad to not be dealing with stairs and commuters. I'm also choosing not to think of what a madhouse Penn Station is going to be at 5 PM today.

One of the great things about going home to Texas is that my parents are always there to pick me up in a CAR. I don't have to worry about cab prices, getting in late at night, absent shuttle drivers or any of the other things that could possibly go wrong once getting into the city.

KR and AV both took flights out last night to go home, leaving me at home to my own devices. My devices included, but were not limited to: baked Doritos, leftover Christmas cookies from a few days ago, college basketball and a new-found guilty-pleasure show.

AV called me from La Guardia to tell me that Chace-Something from "Gossip Girl" was on her flight. Two girls had just asked to take a picture with him, and so I looked him up on IMDB (the perfect website to access when you can't remember what other movie or show someone was in).

Some of our friends at work (did I mention KR and I work together now, by the way?) have talked about the show, and intrigued after AV's phone call, I ended up watching three episodes online. They weren't sequential, but I'm good at using context clues and so I picked up on the story line. Nevermind the fact that I had not started to pack.

After spending the week eating Christmas cookies, hors d'oeurves, cocktails and Diet Dr Pepper- mostly at work-related events, I'm ready to commit to some kind of New Year-New You philosophy. The day my gym-benefit kicks in, I'm joining the one in my building.

If I see one more piece of sugar covered in buttery sugar, I might vomit... or I might eat it, it could really go either way at this point.

Lucy: Beethoven's birthday is December 16th Shermy! Have you decided what you're going to get me?
Shermy: Yes! I'm not going to get you anything!
Lucy: What kind of a holiday is it where you don't give girls presents?
-Charles Schultz, Peanuts

The Bareilles Incident

2007-12-16T13:53:00.000-05:00

About a month ago I woke up in the middle of the night to hear “Love Song” by Sara Bareilles blaring from the iPod speakers in our kitchen/living area. Startled, I gingerly arose from my slumber to assess the situation. AV and KR’s room is at the very end of our apartment, right next to mine, but they were sound asleep. I walked down the hall to peer into the cove-like area, and saw AV’s iPod aglow, and upon closer inspection I found that it was, in fact, on and playing.

I told the girls about it the next day, and asked them if they had honestly heard nothing at 3AM, and they had not. AV’s iPod had acted up occasionally, and I thought that one of us might have accidentally hit the alarm button or something.

It was written off as an isolated incident until the night before last, when I awoke yet again to the same song. I was kind of singing to it when I woke up again, which was funny, and I thought I might be dreaming… but it’s when you think you’re dreaming that you realize you’re awake. And I was, again. I even pinched my arm to make sure. Again, I checked on the girls and they were snoozing away, and again I found AV’s iPod on and blaring.

I almost forgot about it happening until we were in a store in SoHo yesterday and I heard a song that reminded me of the repeat offense. I relayed my bizarre 3AM finding to the girls, and AV’s eyes got really big and she told me that she had turned her iPod on after KR and I had left early, and thought it was strange that her play list would start in the middle of a song when she had just turned it on. I was like “THANK YOU- I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE.”

New rule: AV’s iPod is not to be left charging on the speakers after dark.

My only conclusion is that there is a tiny devil that lives behind our stove and likes possessing our appliances by night. Our microwave, (which, granted, was the smallest and cheapest Target had to offer)- now makes a whirring noise anytime it is plugged in and not in use. Our coffee maker randomly started pouring our water instead of brewing coffee one morning this week. Our gas oven will never start the first time, and forces you to peer your head inside it to make sure the blue gas light at the bottom comes on while you turn the knob. THAT can’t be safe.

Our Christmas tree is looking more and more reminiscent of Charlie Brown’s everyday. We are constantly dust-busting the needles that fall off of it, and our little vacuum now sounds like a maraca.

This whole planned-obsolescence thing is getting way out of hand.

“I’m not gonna write you a love song
‘Cause you tell me it’s
Make or breaking this,
If you’re on your way
I’m not gonna write you to stay…”

- Sara Bareilles, “Love Song”

Pigs Flew

2007-12-11T23:27:00.000-05:00

Somehow I completely missed 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' coming out on DVD today. How could I miss this?

I’ll tell you how: I have a job! It finally happened. It’s my turn to join the rigors of the working world: the whirlwind nine to five, the first-initial-last-name-@-company-dot-com e-mail circuit, the general hopelessness and hopefulness that comes with overall inexperience with real world work. It’s awesome- I love it.

What makes everything so much easier is my new friend MC. She is the assistant I replaced and she was promoted to a position within the same office, which means she is literally an e-mail, an IM, an inter-office phone call or a carrier pigeon away. One of these days she’ll get a Blackberry and I will have texting, calling and Blackberry Messenger capabilities with her. She might cut me off one day, and I wouldn’t blame her. She went to Auburn, and we have mutual friends, so it might not be as easy as one would think.

So I’m now getting acclimated to my new schedule. The real kicker is the commute-

11 blocks. 11 whole blocks.

I know- brutal, huh? I literally walk to work and it takes less than 10 minutes. Who needs a car when you have your own two feet? That’s what I always say. Unless you have a car… then by all means, drive.

KR’s mom and grandmother were in town for her uncle’s birthday on Saturday. I spent the day browsing and buying for my family for Christmas. I roamed around Columbus Circle and then made my way over to the East side. I went into Crate & Barrel to browse their selection of holiday décor, like all of the other 40-year-old moms in the city, and I stopped by Bloomingdale’s for the hot chocolate.

AV slept in my room on her air mattress, held over from our Murray Hill days of long ago, which meant we got to have a sleepover all weekend. It started feeling little a youth group weekend, specifically Disciple Now-ish. There were lots of people in a confined space, hand-held games and parents involved. When Mrs. R told us “lights out”, we almost died laughing.

Mrs. R also bought us a bathroom shelf from Bed Bath & Beyond, which included assembly. AV and I took a whack at it, literally, Sunday morning when the R’s left to see Mary Poppins. It was definitely a little rickety, and when all was said and done we did not use all the screws or poles, but we also didn’t have to use a high heel as a hammer. It’s also still standing, which has to count for something.

It’s a work night, so it’s time for bed. I talked to my brother earlier who was studying for finals, and while I sympathize, I can’t feel that sorry for someone who gets a month off after a few days of exams.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.”
-Thoreau

23 Years Of KR

2007-12-02T22:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was KR’s 23rd birthday. 23. We met when we were 14. Which was almost a decade ago. You start feeling old when you can talk about time in terms of decades.

Looking back on nearly a decade of memories, a few specific moments come foremost than others to my mind. KR’s family moved to the Texas town I grew up in right before we started high school. She was introduced to MK at church by our youth pastor, and it wasn’t soon before we crossed paths. She was trying out for the tennis team, and since all of my BFF4L’s were doing the same, we quickly became interested in the new girl.

I spent many a Friday afternoon watching KR and my other friends play tennis that year, because obviously my social life could not start until they were finished with their matches. We even had a name for ourselves, which was the Fabulous Friday Night Five, which was shortened to the Fab Five, for all practical purposes. We shared our first traumatic high school formal experience with each other- mine being an unfortunate 80’s number that involved silver sequins and tulle, hers being the fact that her mother made her wear panty hose with open-toed shoes.

A year after that, she moved to the Austin area. A few girls and I surprised her over our fall break by going down to see her in her new home for a few days. It was a Sunday morning, her family was in church, and her mother came outside to help us orchestrate our surprise. She handed over her car keys to four 15-year-olds, leaving us to elect a driver amongst ourselves, with the exception of MK. MK was not allowed in the driver’s seat, due to being the newest to driving and the most ambitious.

I will never forget the scene of the church ladies and gentlemen leaving the morning services, only to see a red car going 3mph (I was the driver-elect) coast through the parking lot, blaring some teeny-bopper song with girls hanging out the windows and sunroof. I don’t know who was more surprised- KR upon seeing us, or me upon realizing that no one had been hurt and Mrs. R’s car was still intact after my parking lot driving experience.

Junior year of college KR transferred to A&M, and we found ourselves in the same city once again. Senior year we lived in houses less than a block away from each other, and got to spend many a game-day Saturday. The May and June of 2006 will forever be chronicled away in our minds as “The Lost Months”, which we spent taking a summer course in finance and studying/going insane in the far recesses of the business school. After graduating college I called her often and we talked wistfully of New York and how great it would be and how much we both just wanted to give it a try.

When I think of KR, I recall the time we begged her sister to drive us to Spaghetti Warehouse in her parents’ convertible ‘Stang (only to arrive at the restaurant with hair tangled beyond recognition).

I look back at an unforgettably hot summer spent working with her in Austin, and calling her father when her parents were gone one weekend to ask for detailed instructions on using his propane grill for the first time so that we could make burgers. I think he assumed we would either blow up his house or give up all together. Thankfully, we did neither.

I remember KR bringing over a package of just-add-water angel food cake mix to my house in college, only to watch the cake balloon up in the oven and realize that she had, in fact, added too much water.

I have fond memories of spring break trips spent together in Destin, and in New York.

I will never see anything leopard print and not think of her.

So, to a dear friend on her 23rd birthday, I offer my thanks. Thanks to you, the friend who introduced me to such movies as “Shag”, “Beaches” and “Anchorman”, who has a gift for making anyone feel comfortable and welcome, lover of all things involving bread and cheese, my fellow Will-Ferrell-movie-quoter and whose friendship has meant so many different things to me throughout the years. I would not trade this experience with you and AV or our friendship for anything in the world.

Know that you are so loved by so many.

We’re living the dream, kid.

"There are people whom one loves immediately and forever. Even to know they are alive in the world with one is quite enough."
-Nancy Spain

"...My cup runneth over."
-Psalm 23:5b

Sight For Sore Eyes

2007-11-27T10:59:00.000-05:00

I've had some trouble posting pictures recently, but here are a few shots from the past two weeks. Enjoy.

Figure I: Autumn on the West Side...
Figure II: ... and the East Side
Figure III: Texas sunrise at 40 mph

"I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, becuase its tone is mellower, its colours are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and its content."
- Lin Yutang

Oh Give Thanks

2007-11-26T23:55:00.000-05:00

It is Sunday night in Dallas and I find myself delayed once again. I don’t mind so much, but I offer my condolences to all of the parents of small children who are running around the terminal in their PJ’s. It looks like bedtime won’t be anytime soon for them.

I was putting off my update until I returned to New York, but now all I can do is hurry up and wait. I arrived at the airport a premature two hours early, anticipating Six-Flags-worthy check in and security lines. Instead I found that there was no wait at the self-check-in station, I got to set up a frequent flyer miles account with the airline, and I made it through security with the only trouble being a women who didn’t speak English in front of me who was trying to put her new puppy through the baggage X-Ray.

I asked my parents to stay and make sure I made it through security with my plastic bag of liquids. I bought new moisturizer at Barney’s this past week and there was NO WAY I was going to let homegirl with a police badge confiscate it. Luckily, it did not come to that, and my moisturizer, lip-gloss and Rosebud Salve were safe.

That took all of 12 minutes.

So, reflecting on my week at home, I’d have to say it was cathartic. I got to hang out with my family, and enjoy the new house with my parents. Every time I wanted to go anywhere, I got in a car. I got to cook in my mom’s huge kitchen, and watch the Cowboys, the Mavericks, the Aggies and the Longhorns to my heart’s content with my dad in HD (nevermind that I could have been watching A&M play basketball in person at Madison Square Garden twice last week in New York…story of my life). Someone came over to our house and asked why I would ever want to live in a tiny apartment in New York when I have such a great set-up at home. Sometimes I wonder the same thing myself.

One particularly strange moment was Wednesday night when my brother and I were both separately making plans with friends, and both ended up hanging out at the same bar. I saw my brother across the room, sipping a beer and laughing with his friends, and I suddenly felt old. L and I were born only 20 months apart, and he may be six feet tall and have my dad’s deep voice, but he’s still my little brother. Needless to say, I felt every day of my 22 years and change.

We are all safely back in New York now, and I now return knowing that I have so much to be thankful for:

1. My family… cliché but true. For many reasons they know, and many they don’t. They mean the world to me and are consistent examples of faith and trust and Godliness.
2. My friends… cliché x 2. I have the best friends anyone could ever ask for. Some of them I’ve known for 15 years, and some were gathered through high school and college and somehow we have struck the perfect blend of personalities and dynamics and awesomeness.
3. George Clooney.
4. Christmas in New York…December belongs here, period. Everyone should visit the city at Christmas. The city comes alive and everyday sees more lights and trees and love.
5. Fifth and finally- I’m so thankful I’m not from New Jersey. It’s the Oklahoma of the North.

My hat’s off to my Texas Aggies for the 38-30 win over UT last Friday. It made my week. As did the Cowboys’ Thanksgiving Day win over the Jets and both of the Aggie basketball wins.

I love to win.

"Look at her standing there with those yams. My two worst enemies, Ross: Rachel Green and complex carbohydrates."
-Will, as played by Brad Pitt, on "Friends"

Sunday Best

2007-11-18T21:44:00.000-05:00

We just spent the whole morning talking about what needed to be accomplished today. We are nothing if not efficient.

So AV and KR went out midday to get their laundry done, which is always met with moaning and procrastination. I, on the other hand, opted to stay home since I get to return home to Texas tomorrow and will proceed to do my laundry at home. That’s right, unemployment has its’ benefits too. Chief among them being in-house laundry privileges.

As it turns out, I was not offered the job I wanted. I found out Thursday, which actually came at a good time because now I can go home for a full week to see my family for Thanksgiving. I need to recharge my batteries and be around my dog and see a sunset.

I’m going to start doing temporary work when I get back to New York while I continue looking for a permanent job. It’s really the best option for me right now, and since it’s now the time of year that’s paradoxically busy AND slow, I feel that this will be a good ‘meantime’ activity. If I find a full-time job in the process, then all the better.

Luckily the bad news was received on Thursday afternoon, and Thursday is the best night of the week in our apartment. It’s the best because it’s the best T.V. night of the week, if you didn’t already know. We always put on comfortable clothing, preferably something with an elastic waist, and we get pizza and return home to watch The Office, Grey’s Anatomy, sometimes Big Shots (the show is lame but Michael Vartan is in it) and whatever else we feel like watching. It’s the perfect combination of awesomeness.

My friend AR, who knows everything about everything, sadly informed me that because of the writers’ strike continuing, that Thursday was the last new episode of The Office that was finished. Now that is a tragedy indeed. What will we do without the crew at Dunder Mifflin to entertain us? Thank goodness Thanksgiving is this Thursday- I’ll be surrounded by family, friends and food to soften the blow. And the Dallas Cowboys, of course.

Friday was a big day for the KR and AV because they were both debuting their new boots. I was never interested in leggings or skinny jeans until I moved here and became interested in boots. Now they are not only appealing, but also absolutely necessary.

KR found out last week that you can go to a salon in Tribeca to get your haircut for $20 by someone in hair school, and so she rushed over with a file folder of cute haircuts Friday after work to get her hair trimmed and tailored. AV and I met up and walked around for about an hour until AV’s feet were about to fall off from teetering around in her boots all day. We were sufficiently hungry and tired, so we decided to make our way up to Hill Country Barbeque for the evening.

Two hours after leaving KR at the salon, and an hour after we had been waiting, it became clear that she would not be making it to dinner because of the hair situation she was stuck in. I squeezed my way up to the hostess stand wedged next to the bar to readjust the number in our party, and got caught in the middle of the frenzy that was started by a bartender ringing a cowbell and announcing free shots for everyone. Someone with THREE of the free shots shoved one in my hand, said “bottoms up” and I heard “one, two, three YEEHAW”.

Ten minutes later, after scooting myself back to AV and getting resituated, she said she wished she had gotten a shot because then her feet would be hurting less.

I said: “You didn’t get one?”
And she said: “You DID?! Are you telling me you just took a shot over there by yourself?”

I did. And you know what? My feet didn’t hurt one bit. We returned home to find out that KR had spent three hours in the hands of an inexperienced student, and emerged scarred with bangs. She refers to them now as “fringe”. She bought prenatal vitamins and bobby pins to hide them while they grow out. I told her that at least she doesn’t have my hairline, because if I had to pin back bangs, I would be forced to expose my Widow’s Peak and would look more like Dracula than myself. I don’t know if it was any consolation at all, come to think of it.

Yesterday morning we were in desperate need of physical activity, so we ventured over to Central Park to exercise AND get a tour of the fall foliage. Two birds, one stone… it seemed like a good idea at the time. None of us wanted to carry purses and so I had my camera in one pocket of my fleece, my phone in the other, and my Metro and debit cards in the pocket of my shorts.

Trying to get on a bus on the East side, I realized that the aforementioned cards were MIA. In Central Park. Somewhere in the foliage. Awesome.

This morning KR tried to use her debit card and after being put on hold five times with five different people at her bank, was finally told that she had exceeded her transaction limit. Who has ever heard of such a thing? Not me, not AV and definitely not KR. Oh the debit drama.

All that to say that we just got home from church, and I really need to pack.

I’ll be home this time tomorrow!

"Failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently."

-Henry Ford

Bend And Snap

2007-11-14T10:56:00.000-05:00

I’m a slacker. I’m suffering from an affliction; it’s called Unemployed Writer’s Block. It’s rough, I tell you.

A selfish reason why I wanted to write this blog was just to keep up the practice of writing in general. I met a really intriguing woman in June who has been very successful and has an amazing job, and we spent a few hours talking one morning about her experiences and about my interests. She asked me some things I enjoy doing, and one of the things I mentioned was writing. I said that I would love to be a writer one day; to work freelance or for a publication or maybe be an author…one day.

She told me that if I enjoyed writing so much, that I should do it now, and never to let a professional title dictate what I can and cannot do with my free time. It sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? I don’t want to sit down at a desk ten years from now and have nothing to say.

So hear I am, saying things to you.

We had a great long weekend with our visitors. We got to see Legally Blonde from the second row (for $26.50 per ticket, thank you very much. I’m keeping my student ID as long as I can still pass for my 18–year-old self in the picture). We got to see all of the facial expressions and eyes watering and tiny mistakes that go unnoticed by the suckers in the mezzanine who paid way more than we did to see the show. They can afford it; they have jobs.

There were two theatre students in front of us who had each seen the show four times already. FOUR. And they were giving US a hard time after they figured out that they were sitting with a bunch of sorority girls from Texas. As if the Legally Blonde musical is any indication of a typical sorority experience. It didn’t help that our cause that we ran into a younger girl from our sorority after the show who was in town visiting with her family. Stereotypes sneak up on you when you least expect them.

Saturday we woke up leisurely and went to eat at our favorite brunch place in Murray Hill called Penelope. Have I mentioned it yet? The Penelope people consider brunch to be an art form, and we consider it to be delicious. We then made our way over to Herald Square to browse around and shop, and made the hideous mistake of entering Macy’s.

The flagship store.

On a Saturday that also happened to be a holiday weekend.

Did I mention that there are three Starbucks inside this one store?

I camped out with AG in the Bandolino section while AV and KR searched for their perfect fall boots. I wasn’t even going to try- it was madness. Like Century 21 madness, just more civilized. They both made purchases, which somehow validated the time we spent there.

Saturday night we went to a restaurant called Cleopatra’s Needle for live jazz and Italian food. The place had great ambiance, and the saxophone player flirted with us and even dedicated a song to our table. It was a nice try. We made our way over to Rockefeller Center to see the tree and watch the ice skaters. And by “watch the ice skaters” I mean we watched them fall. Sunday the weather in the city was beautiful, and we spent as much time as we could outdoors. AG spotted some celebrities, and KR found her REAL pair of perfect boots, at the Steven by Steve Madden store. Steve himself even made an appearance at his store for the occasion.

I sent AG and LB to Century 21 without me on Monday morning. I did laundry instead, because I prefer sitting in a hot underground room with a book to Century 21. They did well and did not get lost at ALL.

I’m so proud.

"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void."

-Kathleen Kelly, "You've Got Mail"

Commensurate With Experience

2007-11-09T17:32:00.000-05:00

This week has not been the greatest for any of us. It’s actually been rather awful (with glimmers of hope- albeit), to be perfectly honest.

It’s been the worst for AV. Her precious grandmother, Dot, passed away on Sunday back in Texas. AV maintains that her grandmother was her biggest supporter in her decision to move to New York, and would not hear of her doing anything other than exactly what she wanted to be doing. You know how there are things about people that precede them? Even before Dot fell ill unexpectedly a little over a month ago, I knew how wonderful she must be because of how loved by AV’s whole family she was. I may have never met her, but I know that she was vivacious and fun, that she was notorious for her great style and that she loved living independently. She will be missed.

AV also resigned from her current job on Monday, and will be starting a new one next week with THE company she would have hand chosen to work for in New York, even years ago. She had to get through the initial blow of telling her boss she was leaving, which she was dreading all weekend, but it had to be done. It was practice in confrontation, and who actually enjoys that? I harassed her all weekend for having two jobs, while I’m still hanging out with my big goose egg.

My friend MJ came to the city for PowerPoint training the past few days. MJ was my roommate during my study abroad program last summer- we shared many a World War II battle site adventure together: trenches, beaches, bunkers. You name it- we saw it. Basically, I introduced her to Nutella, and we became friends.

The company she works for in Houston literally incurred all expenses to send her to New York for two days. Beyond animation and bullet points, what’s there to know? “Oh plenty” said MJ, after spending an entire day with a woman who went through every possible PowerPoint scenario that no one ever wanted to know.

We met up and went to see Hairspray Wednesday night, and enjoyed every minute we spent in our third row orchestra seats. The show was amazing, but musicals really make me wish I could sing well. The woman who played Motormouth Maybelle brought down the house with her song “I Know Where I’ve Been”. Her voice literally gave me chills. I love singers who can do that- it’s the same with people who have really piercing eyes, something about them just reaches your soul. Does anyone know what I’m talking about? Good.

To update you on my job status, I’ll admit to the cyber world that I turned down a job today. It was with a company I had thought I wanted to work for, for a long time. When I got asked to interview for a job with them, I was ecstatic. Maybe my expectations were too high, maybe it just was not a great fit. Regardless, I ultimately said no. Something about it just did not feel right. I’m a big believer in intuition, and I try to pay attention to my own when it’s nagging at me.

Fortunately for me, my parents have been supportive of my decision. That’s been one of the only reassuring aspects of this whole process. I am working with some other options, and hopefully something will come of one of those.

Luckily my friends AG and LB came into town last night, and they have been making me laugh since the minute they got here. They have been taking my mind off of everything with their antics. The three of us went to find inexpensive show tickets this morning, and started out early. They wanted to see the Today Show, and when I reached Rockefeller Center I called to see where they were. They had already taken pictures of Al Roker and the massive Christmas tree that was delivered there this morning, and had moved onto the American Girl Place. Why didn’t I think of that?

We had an adventure looking for tickets- AG serenaded everyone outside of The Little Mermaid, which was just LB, myself and the technical crew who were just trying to eat breakfast. The shows for this weekend were sold out, and we went to check out Wicked. That was also a no-go, as well as a close call buying tickets for the wrong show altogether. After strike two, we made our way over to the Legally Blonde theatre (called Illegally Blonde half of the day by AG), and finally lucked out. We also got to meet some enthusiastic theater students who had rushed over to get tickets for tonight. They had seen it four times. That’s right, four.

We ate lunch at Peanut Butter Company in Greenwich Village today, and in lieu of lunch, I only have two words for you: toasted Fluffernutter. If I know anything- it’s peanut butter. Trust me on this one.

Did I mention it was a guy who told me that? He said you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen frat boys dancing and singing on stage. I don’t know how I feel about that.

We’ll see in a few hours, I suppose.

"People talk about being successful or not being successful, but the concept of success is very ambiguous. There is no need to pursue other people's ideas of success."

-Ichiro

Falling Back

2007-11-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

Figure I: THE New York Marathon
Figure II: "They look like rats with wings"
Figure III: Baby it's cold inside

It’s finally starting to look like a place we can call home around here.

Friday night we enjoyed a post-work (post-interview for me) nap while waiting for AV to arrive home from her office. It took her an hour and a half to get home on the bus. You’d think we would have learned our lesson with that mode of transportation by now.

We met up with some friends from our Community Group at church at the Hudson Hotel that night for a going-away party. One of the girls that leads our group is moving to London and her sister and roommate planned a fun night out for her before she leaves town. We knew the area, but walked a few blocks past the hotel initially because it was unmarked outside- no address and no name = posh in New York. You “just have to know” it’s there. I feel sorry for the Postal Service workers.

So we finally found where we needed to be, and took the escalator up to the second floor which had about four different (yet still unmarked) bars on the same floor. We located the Library, and met up with the girls from church to wait for the surprise. It was a little anti-climatic, considering we spotted the guest of honor and friends across the bar half past 10. It was a fun evening, considering we have been spending recent nights grocery shopping and buying curtains.

KR made us some waffles on Saturday morning- since her mother, the professional suitcase packer that she is, somehow managed to fit in a sandwich griller as well as a waffle iron into her bag of tricks. She also mailed us a bag of mini Snickers, which may have been intended for trick-or-treaters, but actually only made it as far as our glass kitchen jars.

We cleaned around our apartment yesterday after yet another trip to Bed Bath & Beyond, where we annoyed our fellow shoppers by testing out all of the hand-held vacuum cleaners on each other. Our place finally looks more put-together, though. We try to touch the coffee table as little as possible, considering it was assembled with a screw driver and the heel of a shoe, and might crumple the second we so much as look at it the wrong way.

I had made plans to meet up with our old friend MD, who got married in January and moved to NYC in February, and so we went to the Irish Rogue Pub to watch the Texas A&M/OU football game with the other Aggies in the city. Having limited cable and Internet access the past month, I almost did not realize how much I’ve missed watching college football. I love college football, but with all of the moving and weddings and being overruled by girls, I usually only catch up with the latest through ESPN.com and Sportscenter. If someone could find a way to market sports to make them a little more female-friendly to watch, they could make a lot of money… just a thought. Maybe it will be me, even though I don’t need much convincing.

We got to watch the 26-mile marker of the New York Marathon this morning, which was truly an inspiration. The day was beautiful and we got to see all of the leaders in the different divisions as they were coming up on the finish. We saw a woman who had to be around the age of 65 finishing in a little over two hours. 26.2 miles. Two-ish hours. She could be my grandmother, almost. You do the math.

Every five minutes or so I would convince myself it would be a good idea to train for one, only to mentally smack my imagination back into place five minutes later. It’s a good thing too, because I have marathon-running friends who would surely harass me about it if they heard.

Heaven forbid I challenge myself physically. And who can think about running when there’s a Snickers waiting for you in the kitchen?

In other news, an e-mail just popped up on my phone telling me that KR, who is currently sitting four feet away, just tagged me in new pictures on Facebook, which I obviously need to peace out to view.

It is also now confirmed that in the wake of Halloween, both my brother and KR’s are now bald. LH had sported a mullet for the big night; TR had bleached his hair to look like Zack Morris, respectively. Sometimes these things happen.

In the words of a pillow I once saw in KR’s mother’s kitchen:

“I’d give up chocolate, but I’m no quitter.”

Rabbit Rabbit

2007-11-02T00:29:00.000-04:00

Halloween in New York City.

As if everyday here isn’t filled with enough weirdoes.

Seeing as I was on house arrest yesterday waiting for our fifth (and final) visit from the cable company, I had no idea the lengths that some people would go to around here for Halloween…but then again, I should not have been surprised. I was too distracted by the precious little pumpkins and Hermione Grangers in our neighborhood to notice the scary men in black capes wearing masks from every horror movie I’ve never seen.

We headed down to West 4th in the Village for the Halloween Parade after the girls got home from work last night. My only previous experience with parades was the Homecoming parade that my hometown would host in our downtown square when I was younger. My friend RW and I were even the mascots our junior year (it was cool- I promise) and we rode in the back of a convertible, waving to everyone while in our costumes and inching down Louisiana Street.

Anyways, I did not have the correct mental image of what this was going to be like. I should have known when KR, AV and I stepped off the subway and onto the busy platform only to wait for ten minutes before reaching the surface that I did not know what we were getting ourselves into. We reached the top and the madness ensued. KR’s phone was plastered to her ear as we started weaving through Bleecker Street to attempt to find RM, and AV and I gripped each other for dear life as we continued walking further into the crowds.

We finally found RM, still in his suit and tie from his job training, and we settled into an outdoor patio table at a Mexican restaurant so that we could view the mayhem from a safe distance. There were two conclusions drawn during our dinner:

1. Since Slutty ______ is always a popular choice for Halloween, it would only be fitting that since Jerry Seinfeld’s new Bee Movie just came out that girls would walk around dressed as Slutty Bumblebees. A Slutty Ladybug sidekick, or a cast of Slutty Disney Characters most often accompanied them.
2. An alarming number of men in New York dress up as women on Halloween. I’m talking heels (primarily boots, a few dared to wear pumps), dresses, panty hose, make-up, dresses, purses… the whole nine yards. Except I doubted that any of these guys watch football.

So after watching the spectacle that is Halloween in the Village from the safe haven of our table and my jeans and turtleneck- we ventured out again into the abyss of crazies. We made our way to Magnolia Bakery for cupcakes, since all the other kids were getting candy, and waited in a surprisingly short line for our favorite vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting. Magnolia is always an experience, because there is usually a considerable line to wait in (even late at night), there is an army of workers who look like they should be employed at an old record store rather than piping frosting, and there is always what we have affectionately come to know as a “Cupcake Bouncer”. He’s a guy who stands at the door (often in an apron) and keeps the peace among the people in line, and maintains the number of people passing in and out of the bakery. All that’s really missing is a VIP list and a velvet rope. We harassed him for allowing someone to breeze right in before us, and he explained that the guy “knew someone” inside. We should all be so lucky.

Returning back to the subway station with our little white boxes, a girl who was probably drunk asked us why we were holding white boxes. We explained and she looked at us as if it were the strangest thing she had seen all night. People dressed as themselves holding cupcakes- how avant-garde.

We had to wait in line to get back onto the subway, which was alarming. Once we were underground, we realized that half of the staircase was barricaded for the people coming in, and the other for people leaving. When the train would come in, they would get everyone off who wanted that stop, and they would corral them over to one side and let everyone else get on. The train arrived while we were with the rest of the cattle trying to get through the turnstiles, and suddenly it was every man for himself. As if New York isn’t one big game of Survival of the Fittest anyway. Out of the corner of my eye I saw RM and KR fleeing for a subway car three doors down, and AV and I darted into the first open door we could find.

I found an open seat next to a man who kept falling asleep leaning on me between stops, and then would wake up in a panic when the train halted and would frantically ask which stop we had reached.

I went to visit MK in Murray Hill this morning, and helped her prepare for the presentation she had this afternoon… and by “prepare” I mean I CHI-curled her hair and listened to her read through her note cards. I spent most of the day there in my Nike shorts; drinking coffee, reading, writing this thing, using her laundry facilities. I was distracted by the fact that I had purposely worn clothes to exercise in, and I put it off as long as possible, but inevitably pushed the button for the fifth floor and spent 25 miserable minutes on the treadmill.

We got to spend one last night hanging out with MK at her place tonight- doing our usual Thursday night routine of eating Libretto’s pizza and watching The Office. MK’s mom is in town, and we got to hear about her week working in New Jersey. The rest of their family was getting in town tonight as well, so we left and came home just in time to hit Broadway when all of the plays got out and every senior citizen from Central Park West refused to wait for the next bus.

Timing is, after all, everything.

“Ever notice that ‘what the hell’ is always the right decision?”
- Unknown Hollywood scriptwriter

Be Our Guest

2007-10-30T16:40:00.000-04:00

Figure I: You know New Yorkers hated seeing this in the middle of Times Square. (That's for you, MH!)
Figure II: RW's first visit to the Big Apple.
Figure III: Come visit! We may not having singing candlesticks, but we can make a mean grilled cheese.

Here I find myself yet again with the RCN cable service man, in our usual three-hour window, waiting to hear the sweet sound of voices coming through the airwaves of our T.V. Fourth time’s a charm. We only have so many DVDs we can watch, only a one season of “Felicity” to keep us at bay before we die for lack of entertainment.

In other news, we just enjoyed our first weekend in our new apartment! We had three friends in town, SK, a friend from college and KR’s old roommate from junior year; my partner-in-crime since 1993, RW; and the notorious RM, who I made friends with freshman year of high school because he played tennis with all of my closest pals.

He once planned a Spring Break trip to New York that included himself and four girls our freshman year of college. He got us great tickets to shows, put up with our shopping and we even got to watch him in his element on Canal Street, haggling with illegal immigrants for illegal knock-off purses. It was the best trip ever. He and MK shared an apartment in Brooklyn last summer when they were both here for internships, and as RM now works for the same company as MK’s father, he is now known as the guy that lived with Mr. K’s daughter in New York.

Much to the delight of everyone involved, we ran into Heath Ledger in a rustic antique store that we wandered into in SoHo on Saturday morning. We saw Cyrano de Bergerac on Saturday night, which I really enjoyed. Kevin Kline played Cyrano, and he was phenomenal. RM spotted America Ferrera afterward, waiting to go backstage to pay her compliments to the cast, and she was successfully flying under the radar until RM yelled out: “America! We love you! We love Ugly Betty!”

She was terrified, poor America.

She smiled nervously and was then ushered inside quickly before anyone else realized what the commotion was about.

I have to take a moment to commend AV on her ability to handle anyone we throw her way. Homegirl was half asleep at midnight last night when RM breezed through the door, making a dramatic entrance as usual and ensuing in a festival of laughter with KR and I about two feet from her head. What a good sport.

We returned home with hot chocolate because KR had discovered her wallet to be missing* (it was later found to be left in a cab and was returned to her) after a work event that she had been helping with on Saturday, and had not attended the play. We chose to walk home to see all of the crazies who were out in full force for Halloween parties, and we concluded that you could make any costume inappropriate. KR and RM even spotted a scantily clad bumblebee at Penn Station when she went to greet him on Friday night. “We’ll talk about this later” he said to KR, “horizontal stripes are the least of her problems right now."

I don’t care what the old saying goes about how girls can get away with wearing anything on Halloween. I’m sure a guy made that up. Let’s just say if you are wearing lingerie outside- regardless of the holiday or event- it’s not okay, in fact, it’s decidedly a bad idea. You will surely find attention, but not respect.

I’ll get off of my modesty soapbox now.

We went to see Dan In Real Life on Sunday morning, which was surprisingly better than expected. When it comes to movies that almost never happens. Whoever wrote the movie definitely has had teenage daughters at some point in his life. The drama, the fury, the stomping of the feet and the rolling of the eyes- it was all there. I would recommend it- especially if you liked ‘The Family Stone’ and if you are a Steve Carell fan. (And who DOESN’T watch ‘The Office’)?

I’m thinking I need some grammar and punctuation refreshers. My education has not failed me- I’m just tired because I returned home a few minutes ago from a job interview. Yes, my New York Unemployment Saga continues. I actually had a great interview with a great company last week, today’s went well, and I was asked back for a second interview with yet another company for the end of this week.

Throw in a cliché about everything panning out or something about half-full glasses and you have the rest of my afternoon.

I’ll be meeting up with the girls later to go to the Target in Brooklyn. God help us, we were all lucky to get out with all of our limbs intact the last time.

"The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart."
- Elizabeth Foley

Tying Of The Knot

2007-10-29T00:04:00.000-04:00

We woke up bright and early Saturday morning at Dr. & Mrs. S’s home to begin our day. We got out of bed a little after 7:00am, and her parents were already gone to attend to other wedding-related business.

I had stayed in a room with my old roommate KW, and we were waking up to shower when our friends from the house party burst in, wound-up from a fiasco at the Holiday Inn. Before they told me anything, they made sure it would be covered in the New(York)Comer. I assured them it would, and they proceeded to explain to KW and I an animated story of their evening, which included but was not limited to; shattered glass and banging noises in the room above them, an uninformed hotel desk clerk, and the four of them holding hands for dear life in the same bed. My head hadn’t even stopped spinning from all of them talking with such elaborate hand gestures, and I turned around and they were asleep in the bed I had just got out of. (All four of them, obviously.)

In the midst of our morning, the doorbell rang, and there stood a woman from the local bakery carrying fresh pastries, for which we abandoned our preparations and stopped to eat. J gave each of us gifts, which included personalized stationary. If you know anything about me at all, it’s that I love a good letterhead.

After the breakfasting and gift-receiving, we made our way across town to get our hair done. At one point my friend BF pointed out that watching J get her hair done was like watching that scene at Trudy’s salon in Steel Magnolias where Shelby talks about her wedding while her hair is teased in all directions. We may have been born in the 80’s, but thank goodness we didn’t have to get married in the same decade as poofy bangs and stirrup pants. Some of Mrs. S’s friends had prepared lunch for us, so we got to sit, chat and eat for hours amidst the hairspray and bobby-pinning.

Somewhere in the middle of the day we commented on the fact that the groom and his male friends and family had been playing golf all morning and would only have to shower and put on their suits to get ready for the wedding. They have no idea, do they?

We went back to the S’s house in the early afternoon to do our make-up and put on our dresses. We had all made a new friend- JA, who was a friend of the groom’s from college, and she became our make-up artist for the afternoon. I think one of the primary reasons women plan formal events is just for the occasion of dressing-up.

We finally made it back to the farm for the fourth and final stage of wedding-day preparations: the dressing of the bride. JS is no stranger to the limelight- she once ate a yard of conies from Sonic in front of a captivated audience. At her bachelorette party she entertained an entire restaurant while leading a Conga line with a tambourine through the tables and dancing on stage with the Mariachi band. This is only a small part of her charm- trust me. Anyway- we watched her slip on her beautiful lace gown and got to sit with her through all her pre-wedding emotions.

The ceremony was beautiful and as bridesmaids we were fortunate enough to have the sun on our backs- whenever I found myself getting sentimental during the ceremony I would just watch the groomsmen, who were playing a squinting game of hiding behind each others’ heads to avoid the sun’s glare. We took pictures afterward, and ate barbeque under the stars while table-hopping to get a chance to see our old pals.

JS, being no stranger to the dance floor, had a costume change before the musical portion of the evening started. She traded her lace gown for a short, strapless little white number and a pair of cowboy boots, and we spent the rest of the night in a scene reminiscent to most of our college date parties: girls dancing, guys elsewhere. We sent the happy couple off in a whirlwind of sparklers and an old Mustang convertible, and since most of my friends are now part of the workforce, everyone was exhausted by 10:00pm. We don’t get out much.

A few of us stayed the night with the S’s and woke up early Sunday morning to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. We stumbled (gracefully) downstairs with squinty faces to see who on earth was awake, and found JS’s parents in the kitchen, her mother frying bacon and eggs and her father reading the paper and entertaining their 14-month-old granddaughter. It seemed just like any other morning- as if they were just getting up to go to church like any other Sunday. They were chipper and eager to get us fed and caffeinated for our drive home, so we ate and drank and wondered how on earth they could rebound so quickly from such a huge event. I need to find out what kind of vitamins they take.

It was quite the weekend, obviously. I arrived home Sunday, went to Dripping Springs, Texas with my Mom, her friends and sisters, to enjoy a quiet girls’ night away and take a cooking class. I love to cook, and had never taken a class before so I thought it was a blast. Give me a food processor and well-sharpened knives and I’m one happy camper. I also never get to spend that much time with my mom and her entourage, so I got to listen in on their chatting, which was not (shockingly) all about their kids, as I think we all selfishly assume. I love the little things we get from our mothers, like the way SR and her mother have the same sparkling blue eyes and say “salsa” with the same soft “z”, how MK and her mother ask the same introspective questions with the same concerned countenance, how RW has the same killer smile as her mother and how my cousin KH has the same laugh and sweet disposition as my aunt.

Needless to say, it was a great, long weekend. There’s so much still to report…

We’ll get to that later

“What are you doing the rest of your life? North and South and East and West of your life, I have only one request of your life, that you spend it with me.”
- Alan & Marilyn Bergman

Practice Makes Perfect

2007-10-25T23:17:00.000-04:00

Figure I: Blushing bride
Figure II: The happy couple
Figure III: The Association of Former 2%ers

I met up with AV at her office Thursday afternoon and we caught a cab to La Guardia. The Ikea guys were late with our delivery, which added to the stress of getting to the airport. We ended up rushing around, only to find that we were about two hours early. Our flight was not full, and both Alyssa and I were the only people in our rows, so I moved before we took off. The guy behind me had said something, which I didn’t realize was directed towards me until I sat next to Alyssa and she told me how oblivious I was for overlooking the nice looking man sitting in 23F. 'Figures,' I thought. Then I ascertained from the thin gold band on his hand that he was married…which also figures.

I wasted no time after arriving at home with my parents. They had picked up fajitas from La Hacienda Ranch, and I completely disregarded the fact that it was midnight and bee-lined for the chips and salsa. I asked my mom to wake me up at 7:30am so that we could spend some time together before I left for Paris. As promised, my mom (accompanied by her faithful dog Lucy) found me in my bed, dead to the world at 7:30. I asked for it.

I made my way to Paris on Friday to meet up with JS (now JP), the bride. You know you are back in Texas when the landmarks used to guide you are Cavender’s Boots and Beall’s. After getting turned around by some sign that looked more like a tied shoelace than highway directions, I made it to J’s family’s house just in time to walk back out the door and look for shoes for her dress rehearsal. The best part of it was that J’s mom drives a gray Astro van with a sliding door, so she would literally pull up to a curb and leave us to search for red patent leather Mary Janes, and I would slide open the door after each trip, only to find myself getting slowly boxed out after each of her errands by the programs, bridal portraits and glass hurricanes.

After arriving back at Dr. & Mrs. S’s home, we had to shower and get ready for the rehearsal. We set off and I finally got to see the wedding site for the first time. You know when you have a preconceived idea of what something is going to look like before you see it? I have no idea what I thought the farm was going to look like- I only know that I was wrong.

We drove up to the most picturesque, Pottery Barn catalogue scene that I have ever seen with my own eyes. Texas really is God’s country. A friend in Bible study yesterday mentioned that she had never seen a state flag flown more often than in Texas- and she’s absolutely right. I probably appreciated the view more considering the fact that I don’t actually see grass everyday. Needless to say- it was the perfect location for the wedding.

We practiced our entrances and exits, made polite introductions with the San Diego groomsmen in the midst of our college gal pal reunion and watched the sunset over lake. The night was already perfect- and we hadn’t even eaten yet. The chicken fried steak and bread pudding at Hole In The Wall (actual name of the restaurant) were superb, but not as good as the company or the slide show.

I just scrolled up to see how long this is, and I have not even gotten to the day-of. I’ll have to update tomorrow as well, before this novel turns epic.

"The best mirror is an old friend."
-Peter Nivio Zarlenga

Put It On My Tab

2007-10-18T13:56:00.001-04:00

Pictures from top left:
Figure I: Irony at Ikea
Figure II: "Do it yourself"
Figure III: The perfect place for our DVR: in the middle of the hall on the floor.

Remember that time I fell getting off the bus and skinned my knee? Now I have a lovely scab/bruise to show for it… just in time for the bridesmaid’s dress I will be wearing in 48 hours.

I am currently sitting at our new apartment waiting for the delivery guys from Ikea to show up. The time frame they gave me was 11:00am-3:00pm. That’s quite a large frame, especially when it’s just me, three twin beds and an empty refrigerator. We do have the Internet connection set up, and DVR for that matter. There’s no T.V. yet, but maybe one day soon since we are all in desperate need of Giada and Paula. There is only so much you can do in six days, if you catch my drift ($$$$$).

I had two more interviews this week, and actually got calls from many of the other people I have met/corresponded with since I have been in New York. It’s like everyone woke up on Monday and suddenly decided they needed a new assistant. I’m certainly not complaining, but there has been such variety in the jobs I have applied for, that it will be interesting to see which opportunity I am given and where I end up working.

As inferred above, KR, AV and I will be returning to the Texas tonight for our friend JS’s wedding weekend. She will be tying the knot on a ranch in Paris, Texas at what promises to be quite the party, and moving to San Diego (discovered by the Germans). We will get to see family, our friends and I’m pretty sure there is chicken fried steak involved. Since this is my eighth and final wedding of 2007, and since JS is such a dear friend and devoted blog-follower, I’ll be sure to provide full coverage upon my return.

I will also be home to celebrate my mother’s 50th birthday on Sunday, and I will be going on an overnight girl’s trip to the Hill Country with her entourage. My family has had a milestone year: I graduated college, my parents celebrated their 25th anniversary and both turned 50, my brother turned 21, and we moved into a new house. What this really translates to is all of us sitting on the porch, drinking a beer, talking about how old we are and going to bed early. I love it!

Now it’s time to unpack the bags in my room and re-pack for this weekend. I have put it off as long as possible, and the window of delivery time is waning; yet there is still much to be done. I can’t check the overhead compartments for baggage that may have moved during the flight if there is no baggage to begin with, now can I?

"The beginnings of all things are small."
- Cicero

Moving Weekend Installment II: Exhaustaleeza Rice

2007-10-16T00:13:00.000-04:00

We woke up Sunday and hurried to get ready for church, since the morning service was meeting at 10:30am in the Southwest corner of the Great Lawn of Central Park. We found ourselves on the Southwest-ish area of Sheep’s Meadow (note: different from the Great Lawn) at 11:15am. Needless to say: church did not happen.

After we got off to such a great start, we ascertained that we were in the neighborhood of our new apartment and set off to the West Side. After viewing the selection of sleeper couches that Jennifer Convertibles had to offer, we made a decision that had been imminent since the day we decided to move to New York.

That’s right, we went to Ikea.

We bit the bullet, boarded a New Jersey-bound bus at the Port Authority and headed to the Swedish home conglomerate. Ikea has a very specific organization to it, which was nice because everything was organized (in a controlled-chaos type of way) but made it difficult to try and retrace our steps. Armed with an Ikea-issued list, yellow bag, a golf cart pencil and a text from MK that read “Godspeed”, we ascended the escalator and into the madness.

We made sure to carefully mark each item we wanted on our list, and eventually accumulated two other yellow bags full of inexpensive kitchen goods. It was not until we reached the end of the labyrinth and found ourselves in the midst of the get-it-yourself warehouse when we were told that we were supposed to be ordering the items we wanted from each individual department as we went. Deflated, AV and I left KR with all the bags in the middle of the dining table showroom.

Once our major items had been reserved, we made it through the zoo known as the children’s section and back to the self-serve furniture warehouse. I say self-serve as if it where as easy as grabbing a cone of frozen yogurt at Jason’s Deli, but Weak Girl Arms prevailed and KR and I had a brief debacle that included a broken glass jar and a near-incident involving a coffee table. The eye-level boxes on the shelf were black, but the ones about a foot and a half above our heads were black-brown, which seemed worth it at the time. The coffee table somehow made it onto the cart, and no necks were broken.

Luckily, the delivery guy at Ikea was very accommodating and we got to leave the bulk of our load with him to deal with. We managed to make it to our new apartment without breaking anything else and were ultimately pleased with our weekend productivity.

I also skinned my knee tonight…I’m fairly confident that hadn’t happened in 16 years.

Just when I was starting to feel like a grown-up.

“Only with laughter can you win.”
-Rosie Thomas

Moving Weekend Installment I: Rookie Mistakes

2007-10-14T23:16:00.000-04:00

This has been the most expensive weekend of our lives.

One lease, three beds, a couch, various other items and delivery fees, 48 hours and roughly $10,000 later, we have our apartment. We also have stuff- and lots of it. Our lease officially starts tomorrow- which means this is our farewell night to the Murray Hill Air Mattress Club. It does not so much feel like a teary good-bye yet- probably since I will still be here daily to use the Internet and do laundry. Not to mention the fact that there is no way all of our junk is getting out of here in one day. Not a chance.

After the lease signing on Friday night, we ate at Au Bon Pain and decided to buy some pastries for breakfast on Saturday. The clerk informed us that if we waited 15 minutes, we could get them for half-price, so we shamelessly watched the clock to get our bargain croissants while we mapped out our weekend schedule. We made it down to Sleepy’s to get our mattresses before they closed, and bee-lined for the back to find the best deals on twin mattresses. That’s right, we are 22-year-olds investing in twin beds. I am fairly confident that the only time in my life that has been spent in a twin bed was my freshman year of college, as well as the time I spent at camp and studying abroad.

Saturday morning AV and I woke up and headed to this Saturday/Sunday event on W. 25th called the Antiques Garage. I plan to go back for decorative items eventually, but we were not in the market for paintings or . We met up with KR and took the train to Brooklyn to check out some second-hand furniture stores. Brooklyn, for all of you Texans reading this, is across the East River from Manhattan.

Brooklyn Heights is a particularly nice area, but I would compare the rest of Brooklyn to the former Soviet region of Eastern Europe. By that I mean one minute you’re walking down a beautiful cobblestone street, and the next you’re on an abandoned ghetto sidewalk covered in graffiti with weeds growing through the cracks in the cement. But it’s charming- seriously.

And then we got ambitious and decided to go to Target. Target sounds easy in theory, it really does. It seemed like familiar territory until we remembered that Target stores are few and far-between here, and there are about eight million people who need cheap house-ware items just as much as we do.

We knew we were in a whole different ball game when we walked in to see the escalator in the middle of the store, and something none of us had ever seen before: a cart escalator. That’s right, you literally push your red buggy onto a ramp that drags it up next to you to the second floor. This was a Target of advanced technology, it was a Saturday afternoon in New York, and our eyes were bigger than our arm muscles. At one point we even looked at a T.V. stand for a space that we had yet to measure and a T.V. we did not yet own. We had to draw the line somewhere.

After several hazy hours which included selecting an accent color for our black and white bathroom (KR wanted to make it look more “warm” and less “Beetlejuice”), vague directions about the unavailability of a certain black coffee maker from incompetent Target team members and managing to get a full-sized ironing board on and off the subway at Grand Central- we were defeated. Target: 1, Weak Girl Arms: 0.

Once we returned home and regaled MK with our tales, we ate supper at a place with guacamole worth mentioning, and went to see the new “Elizabeth” movie. Cate Blanchett was at her finest- and the costumes were amazing. I usually know I’ll enjoy a movie when the previews give me chills, and I wasn’t disappointed.

So that was Saturday, and today was a whole different adventure for which I will open a different can of worms tomorrow.

“You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
- E.L. Doctorow

It's Official

2007-10-10T23:49:00.000-04:00

We are no longer homeless! Well… as of Monday that is, but don't worry, we are still mooching until then. As long as everything goes swimmingly Friday when the lease is signed- we are good to go for a Monday move-in! Since there is already a line of people booking flights and planning visits, I suggest you run your travel plans by us to make sure our air mattress calendar is not booked up.

We get to spend the weekend shopping for mattresses and a couch, among other things. We will be returning home next weekend for our dear friend JS’s wedding, and I fully plan on packing a suitcase that will accommodate my blender and food processor… since I’m pretty sure those don’t qualify as safe carry-on items. I guess I will grab some cold weather clothes to brace myself for this “brisk New York fall” I keep hearing so much about.

I am still on the job search. Just an FYI: I’ll keep talking about it until I have one. It’s so elusive, and if I have learned anything from this whole experience, it is that timing is everything. Case and point, AV got an e-mail today from THE company she would have hand-picked to work for upon arriving in the city, a week and a half after beginning her new job. THE company contacted her to let her know that they had some job opportunities they thought she would be interested in. Stab and twist.

I neglected to mention the shopping fiasco KR and I had last week. MK had found some good buys at this place near her office, and so we thought we would venture down and see for ourselves. I should have known better when I Googled it to get the cross-streets that the tagline on the website for Century 21 store was: “Fashion worth fighting for.”

I should have, but I didn’t.

I fell prey to the Financial District’s discount fashion powerhouse under the pretense of paying less for my favorite brands. Was it worth it? I’ve been to the mall the day after Christmas, I’ve been to Neiman’s on the first weekend of the Last Call sale, and I even dabbled on tax-free weekend once. None of those could hold a stick to the madness that was Century 21. I enjoy shopping. I know there are women who see it as a chore- I’m not one of them. I even met with the carpenter of my parents’ new house to discuss the maximization of space in my new closet because by some odd twist of fate I lived in the room with the smallest closet in our old house for 15 years. I eventually took over the other two closets upstairs, but that is neither here nor there.

Don’t worry, there thousands (literally) of great places to shop here. We will cover as many as possible when you come to visit.

“Dwell in possibility.”
– Emily Dickinson

Give The People What They Want

2007-10-07T23:03:00.000-04:00

I cannot even begin to explain these pictures. There is a pair of roller/figure-skaters in Central Park training for the 2010 Winter Olympics, there is a tiny (and sadly typical) New York apartment and the aftermath of a Texas-sized supper (for the record that is barbeque sauce, not blood).

We had a busy week around here- but what else is new? AV’s sister-in-law is currently in labor back in Texas with AV’s soon-to-be second nephew! They were planning on inducing labor when AV comes home in two weeks, but the baby beat everyone to the punch and decided today was the day.

AV started her new job and KR prepared for her new life in the working world. She already warned us that she might cry tonight. She apparently has cried on the eve of the first day of school her entire life. It’s the same way some girls cry every time they get their haircut. Or at any other time in life when emotions are conflicted or coincide, come to think of it. Happy and tired, excited and hesitant, relieved and thankful… all perfect recipes for tears.

Wow, I’m a girl surrounded by girls. Onward.

Hill Country Barbeque: three beautiful words. KR went to baby-sit for another British family, so AV, MK and I took off to the highly recommended Chelsea hot spot of the same name. Once the intoxicating aroma of smoked goodness reached our noses, we were content to grab a drink and wait for an hour and a half to get a table. We joked none of us should ever attempt to eat barbeque on a date- there’s something primal about eating meat with your hands off of a bone. It’s also delicious.

There were a few random Texans hanging around, and a large group of mid-thirties New York men dressed like they had just returned from a hunting trip. They might have looked more believable to a less discerning eye, but I saw no five’ o’clock shadows or cowboy boots, and lots of hair gel and tucked-in shirts. Someone is getting short-changed on his cowboy lessons.

I should also mention that we looked at a few more places this week. In the interest of saving about $5,600, we pursued alternatives to using a real estate broker. We got connected with a management company, and KR and I ended up in the 80’s of the Upper East Side yesterday looking at a place. It had all the charm you would want from a New York apartment with an exposed brick wall, new kitchen appliances, good windows and hardwood floors, etc., but we could not get over the second “bedroom”, which was roughly 8x5. I literally lay down on the floor to get a more realistic idea of the actual width, and I could not rest my head on the floor.

I’m 5’6.

I could do a deep lunge in there while finding appliances to plug into the superfluous four electrical outlets, and that’s about it. We were seriously thinking of bed alternatives like dog pillows and bean bags (a twin would not have fit in the space), or the possibility of bunk beds in the bigger bedroom. These were actual options, until today.

Today we ventured to the 60’s of the Upper West Side, and got to see two places, across the hall from each other, that are currently having their floors redone. We fell in love with the second of the two, and made friends with the super, who gave us an application and said she would put in a good word for us with the management company. Cross your fingers people, this is in your best interest too, you know. I know once we get a place many of you will be on our doorstep quicker than we can say “Ikea”.

In honor of Columbus Day, which is kind of a big deal up here:

"We cannot discover new oceans until we have the courage to lose sight of the shore."
-Muriel Chen

*A special congrats to AV’s family on the birth of the new baby! Welcome to the world Baby H!

The Cheese Stands Alone

2007-10-02T23:44:00.000-04:00

That’s right folks, we’re 66.7% of the way there! KR received an official offer yesterday afternoon from a publication she has been interviewing with, and trained today with the girl she will be replacing before she starts on Monday. AV started her job yesterday- we even got an e-mail from her in the afternoon with the little e-mail signature from her company, which seems to make everything more official. I’m bringing up the rear on the job front, so we’ll see how this week pans out (after much diligent and proactive work on my part- I mean).

My first day of solitude was actually great because I came down with a self-diagnosed cold or something equally tragic over the weekend. It started with a scratchy throat, then progressed to a stuffy nose and now a hacking cough. I’ve certainly complained about it enough! I bought some community hand-sanitizer for all of us- since we live within a three-foot radius of each other most of the time. KR seems to be coming down with the same thing, which means we’ll get to commiserate together for the rest of the week.

I was at the apartment post-cleaning lady and pre-sugar mamas returning home, and I did not realize how eerily quiet it was until my phone rang. The T.V. was off, there was no hair on the ground (four girls=considerable shedding), and there were no clothes visible the naked eye. I sat there on the couch with full knowledge that the remote was broken, that there would be hair on the ground as soon as one of us so much as plugged in a curling iron, and that if I peeked in any cabinet door I would be covered by a barrage of shoes. KR and I use the cabinet under the T.V. for our shoes; it’s a very tedious, Jenga-like game.

(whining, coughing, looking for a Kleenex)

Last night, after many seasons of carefully watching The Bachelor, I concluded once and for all that Chris Harrison has the easiest job in television. All he does is tap a champagne glass with a fork, do a few voice-overs about the most dramatic rose ceremony ever, and say “take a moment and say your good-bye’s” at the end of every episode. That’s it. He flies to posh destinations all over the world, acts as a pseudo-sounding board for guys who should never have had that many girls to choose from in the first place, and pick up a dozen red roses on his way to work. Are these jobs listed on Monster or what?

(more whining, more coughing)

I finally downloaded that pesky Ingrid Michaelson song on the Old Navy commercial that airs every five minutes. I was annoyed with only knowing one stanza, and I actually like the song, but seeing that unfortunate sweater has not gotten any easier. MK came home with some snazzy new turtlenecks from Ann Taylor today, though. Funny how quickly we pass up the trendy jeans and short Mod dresses for well-tailored pants and knit sweaters.

On a different note, I think I have neglected to mention how much I love quotes. You learn something new everyday. From now on, I’ll be ending every entry with a quote. Happy Tuesday, all.

“Not all who wander are lost.” –J.R.R. Tolkien.

New Puppy & Considering Adoption

2007-09-29T22:03:00.000-04:00

Nope, not even a little bit. We keep catching KR googling pictures of puppies and talking about small British children. We're keeping a close eye on that one, but I can't make any promises.

In case you have not seen the news, read the paper or gotten on the Internet this week- we had two presidents in New York this week. This meant that every NYPD officer and orange traffic cone was out in full force, making a center lane in the blocks leading up to the U.N. It’s really reassuring- walking into Grand Central and seeing motorcades of black suburbans with men in sunglasses holding guns and staring at you through their open windows. I’m also fairly confident that the same people protesting the president of Iran just changed shirts and protested Bush the next day. Retired hippies have way too much free time.

We tried our hand at the New York apartment hunt this week- we got the number of a referred broker, met with her, and spent an afternoon viewing openings on the Upper West Side. No one exaggerated about the difficulty of finding a good place here- that’s pretty much the only thing we found to be true. It is every bit of the headache it was promised to be.

The first place we went to was a converted hotel behind the Lincoln Center-, which had the smallest closets and most non-existent living area/kitchen, we saw all day. The second was in a nice neighborhood, but it was under construction, and kind of depressing inside. The third was our favorite- the kitchen and living area were actually separate which was a bonus. I don’t know where we would do laundry or buy groceries, but maybe we will just have to live without food and clean clothes. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. The fourth place I almost don’t even want to talk about. We had to climb seven flights of stairs because the elevator was not in service (red flag), and I was inclined to think it could have a pest problem. I’m not knocking the pre-war buildings, but I do have a standard of cleanliness. It’s negotiable- but it I do have one.

We started joking about our different options, and one of them was getting a nice studio where we could line up three twin beds orphanage- style. What we would sacrifice in privacy, we would gain in nicer appliances and a doorman. I’m really not sure which is more important at this point.

After AV filled out an expandable folder full of paper work for her new job and KR and I continued our job search, we took some time off yesterday morning and set off to lay out in the Central Park sunshine. On our way to the bus stop it began raining intermittently, which was fantastic considering my laptop was in my messenger bag. I should pause to mention that our subway passes also work for the city buses, which are the preferred method of travel for sassy old New York women. So there we were, umbrella-less in the sprinkling rain, looking at two buses with bus drivers who would not acknowledge the fact that we were waiting. The blue hairs of 42nd street were getting their feathers ruffled, and we knew from experience that we did not want to be around for that, so we went to our back up, which is always Bryant Park.

Since we obviously couldn’t win for losing, it made perfect sense that when we found a table in the sun (yep, ten minutes later it was sunny), we were immediately surrounded by a 6th grade class that had settled in for their lunch break. The boys of the class decided to start throwing something, which turned out to be a baby carrot, for the duration of the break. The girls of the class (taller and more awkward than the boys) joined in until one of them got her hair stepped-on. There was also a class of little private-school kindergarteners, who were hilarious. Our level of amusement was probably enhanced by the fact that they were not our responsibility to watch. The kids were yanking up the squares of grass they were supposed to be sitting on, and even with a teacher and two chaperones it took about thirty minutes to get them to stop kicking each other and actually sit and eat something. Oh yes, and AV and KR both got grass stains, which made everything better.

We met up with some girls from our Bible study this morning to deliver food to the “frail elderly” of the Upper East this morning. It was great- the people were really appreciative and it was a beautiful day. We got home just in time to watch none of the football games we wanted to see. We also decided that T.V. really leaves something to be desired on the weekends. Since they don’t show Big 12 games in New York, we just turned on what we thought was America’s Funniest Home Videos on Animal Planet. I can’t decide if they are trying to be funny- we just watched a child playing an accordions in a stable while pigs chewed at his shoes.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Nacogdoches, Texas: The City That Never Sleeps

2007-09-25T12:23:00.000-04:00

After four flights, two three-hour car trips and one long weekend, I am back in New York. I arrived in Dallas before noon on Friday, and was in Nacogdoches in time to throw on a dress and make it to the rehearsal dinner on time in my friend JS’s Astro van of bridal party members.

Fortunately for us, everything in Nac was about five minutes from where we were staying. Where we were staying, by the way, was an adorable historic baby blue house that is a bed and breakfast that our friend HC’s parents had reserved for us in the downtown square area. Translation: a house with big comfortable beds, a stocked refrigerator, friends I had not seen in months, and a partridge in a pear tree. We sipped champagne late into the night on Friday, catching up with each other and enjoying the good company.

Saturday came and there was a prayer breakfast for H, complete with tiny cinnamon rolls, pajamas and lots of tears. It was one of those times you just look around and think “good grief, we’re such women.” We had some free time in the middle of the day, then all met up in the later afternoon hours to eat lunch and get dressed and ready. Even in a house with about five large bathrooms, there was still a frenzy of red tulle skirts, heels, hairspray and Diet Dr. Pepper. We had pictures taken at the B&B, then transferred the party to the church. The ceremony went off without a hitch, and H&A (the happy couple) were finally married.

I have to pull over onto a side-note for a moment to say that I was actually in the linguistics class as H&A where they met and started dating (along with our friend MG and H’s older sister MH). I sat right behind them all semester, watching all the flirting and romance unfold, and then reliving all of it after class everyday as I would walk to Brit-lit with H everyday after linguistics. Not only did H meet her now husband in this class, but MH actually got the International Phonetic Alphabet tattooed on the bottom of her foot to get an ‘A’ in the class after our professor had told us she would give anyone that grade if they did so.

Back on track: to the reception. Our friend AR made us die laughing as she hooked her arm over her groomsman partner when walking down the aisle. It was a memorable exit, to say the least. The reception was at a ballroom on the SFA campus, and included a classic rock band, mashed potatoes in martini glasses and several of my favorite people. It felt a lot like one of our sorority date parties, just without the superfluous yet obligatory date.

We sent the happy couple away in a tunnel of sparklers; their car decorated in purple and white (SFA’s colors- obviously), and onto their honeymoon in Jamaica. We ended the evening at our friend KS’s house in Nac, chatting with everyone one last time before parting ways again until the next wedding.

I was at home for a few hours before leaving for the airport again on Sunday. As much as I enjoyed returning to Texas for a few days, I was so relieved to return to New York to continue building my life here. I jumped back into the job search yesterday- the two people I have primarily been trying to meet with have been out of town and both return this week.

We have a lot going on this week- KR and I had interviews today, and we are now searching apartment listings online. AV got a job on Friday(!!!) and so she is becoming quite the Craigslist expert. She actually found an apartment listed as a two bedroom in Murray Hill for $1800, which turned out to be something posted by a disgruntled Subway sandwiches employee (he listed their address and phone number), which was funny but annoying.

I walked about 40 blocks this morning, so I think I’ll give my feet a break until we go view another apartment later. There’s a lot going on in the city this week, so I’ll be sure to keep you posted.

Until next time…

Texas On My Mind

2007-09-21T00:15:00.001-04:00

I’m leaving to go to Texas for the weekend in approximately six hours. Obviously I’m still not packed and I have found many different distractions to occupy my time. I definitely already deemed it necessary to pack no few than six pair of shoes… all equally important if unequally comfortable.
Packing distraction #1: Texas A&M football. Whoop. I would maybe offer more enthusiasm if we had actually won. This was the first game I have gotten to watch all season, and of course it would be the first we lost.

Packing distraction #2: T-t-t-t-t-tasty tasty! We have a calendar of the daily frozen yogurt flavors of our favorite new place, Tasty Delight, and today’s flavors were mint chocolate chip and cake batter. Being female, we obviously went. Each time we pay a visit, we always walk in to find it completely empty and fight our way through a hoard of women by the time we pick our flavor and topping. AV and KR usually stick to the flavor of the day topped in Nilla Wafers…it’s dependable.

Packing distraction #3: Fireworks. Right after sunset, we spotted fireworks over the East River. We’re talking 4th of July-worthy. KR and I even sang a tribute medley including but not limited to God Bless America, America the Beautiful, and Fergie’s hit single Glamorous.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish my brother a happy 21st birthday. We chatted for a while and I got to impart some of my 22-year-old knowledge to him. That’s what I’m here for.

Central Standard Time Zone and Mexican food here I come.

Re-runs & Rentals

2007-09-20T00:09:00.000-04:00

We hit the pavement again on Monday, beating down doors and fielding job offers like you wouldn’t believe. Alright, so power suits were not part of the equation. More often than not we field calls from potential employers while checking e-mail in our wrap-towels, bobbing our heads to Rooney and frantically searching for the remote to turn down the volume on whatever Hills or Newport Harbor rerun is playing in the background. Less than two weeks ago, I knew nothing of Spencer-Lauren drama, Chrissy’s overprotective parents, and I didn’t have any job leads. Now, I have interview experience, I offer my condolences to Chrissy, and I totally side with Lauren. Glad we have that established.

I have neglected to mention that I have become quite accident-prone since arriving in New York. It might be the latitude or my proximity to sea level or maybe it’s the phase of the moon. Whatever. I have managed to poke myself in the eye while removing a contact (even though I’ve worn them for 11 years), leaving me with a blood-shocked retina reminiscent of Freddie Krueger. Less significant but also noteworthy would be the burn mark from the oven on my right wrist, the massive suitcase the package of four D-batteries I dropped on my foot while unfolding my air mattress, tripping over the cellar doors that stick out of the sidewalks next to restaurants, and the multiple collisions with random furniture and bumps in the subway.

KR had a promising interview yesterday(!) I think the most encouraging thing about it was that it’s not a job that could be found in Texas. When it comes down to it- that’s why we are here, and while none of us expect to walk into an office barking orders, I think I can speak for all of us when I say it would be nice to be in a position with a respectable level of responsibility and to be able to learn from someone who knows how to do their job well… and it would also be nice to find a reasonably priced three-bedroom apartment. Is that so much to ask?

We browsed the online apartment listings for our favorite neighborhoods today. Finding a place here is quite the daunting task- from what we have heard. In addition to your first -born, right arm and life savings- you must produce (in our case) guarantor information, a recommendation from your previous landlord, proof of employment, a valid W-2 form, recent bank and credit card statements. All of this to apply to rent an apartment that may or may not have hot water, rodents and working electricity (we’ve heard all the horror stories you can think of.) Of course- we’re still on the job front. This is only looming on the horizon.

We picked up pizza last night and headed to Bryant Park for supper and our favorite free activity; people-watching. I love Bryant Park; walking into it feels like being transported to a scene in Paris. There are millions of tiny circular tables surrounded by chairs that look like green toothpicks sticking out of the ground, a nice restaurant covered in ivy, a patch of look-but-don’t-touch grass, and an outdoor bar that is always hosting the same corporate-looking meet and greet event. The entire scene is protected by a frame of thin trees, leaving it the perfect little secluded spot in the city.

We power-walked to Gramercy Park this morning to check out the area and find a building on Park Ave. where AV has an interview tomorrow morning. There were a lot of stroller-pushing nannies and guys sporting 80’s sunglasses and lip rings, which was just confusing. The park itself was locked, and there was no Gramercy Park Welcome Center that I could find, so I was not about to hike the fence.

I’m now waiting my turn to use the new Ethernet cord we found in the studio yesterday- the old purple one was about 18 inches long and you had to use your laptop in a secluded corner. We are now making use of the white one we found- it’s pretty much the length of an anaconda, and since we are stretching it across the headboard of the bed, under the coffee table (that weighs 80 pounds, by the way) and to the couch, I’m fairly confident that someone will either spill something on it, trip on it or get tangled in their sleep.

Okay, my turn with the Internet and then I’m getting these three to bed to rest up for some very important interviews and an accounting exam in the morning.

No money, mo' problems

2007-09-16T22:55:00.000-04:00

Last weekend in the city felt temperatures rise to the high 80’s, which meant that the Speedos and humid subway terminals were in full swing. A week later, it is 65 outside and we are scrambling to find anything long-sleeved and closed-toed that may or may not have been packed. It’s amazing how I knew and anticipated for months the fact that I was moving here, and somehow I seemed to pack like I fled in the middle of the night. At least I did not forget jeans, like my landlord MK. On that note, we are firmly committed to refraining from spending money on clothing until we have jobs- which means we will freeze before we starve. KR and I actually had the audacity to wander into an Upper East Side boutique yesterday afternoon, only to flee after the saleswoman chased us around the store with some adorable black T-straps with subtle metallic accents and red heels.

Fortunately for me, I will be flying home for the weekend this Friday, so I can raid my closet for anything autumn-friendly that I own, since it is not much of a season in Texas. No, I am not returning home for good, only to attend that blessed event in which my dear friend HH will become Mrs. HC. My wedding count for this year thus far is six, three of which were the same week in two different cities in January. Needless to say, I have managed to amass quite a collection of little black dresses. This does not help at all with the fact that the two weddings I am participating in this fall both require brown dresses. I’m really not complaining; either way you spell it, I’m getting new dresses. Some might call it a win-win-win situation.

I need to find a pedometer at home this weekend, because I’m very curious to see how far we walk everyday. That has probably been one of our biggest adjustments; is the realization that anytime you want to go somewhere, you have to walk. Even if you want to take the subway, there is significant walking involved (and always stairs). This serves as my explanation as to why we are always so ravenously hungry at every meal. I made the mistake of wearing heels when we went trucking around the Lower East Side on Friday night- one that will not be soon repeated, regardless of how much better they make your legs look. KR and I actually went in a shameless pursuit of Taco Bell a few nights ago, only to find that their website’s location listings were mistaken. We were severely disappointed, and we still yo quiero very, very much… Is it obvious that I refused Spanish in high school and college? I opted instead to take German, which is so unbelievably useless. I think I have used it a grand total of eight days of my life.

We actually made a trip (walking- of course) to a grocery store a few blocks over to get food for the week this morning- and made a breakfast casserole and fruit and yogurt parfaits for brunch. We’re really sticking to the basics around here. By the way, if you are attempting to sweeten your coffee or tea anywhere in the tri-state area, and you are unable to find turbinado sugar or Splenda, it’s probably because we stole it.

On a different note, we are going to church tonight- (I know, night church is very progressive), which is fortunately in our neighborhood. We have learned the hard way to try and avoid taking the subway on the weekends, seeing as many subway entrances are closed, and/or you might end up waiting 20+ minutes on your train. It is the city’s way of telling you to stick to your ’hood on your days off. Word. We have opted instead to do some laundry, and to serenade AV with many different renditions of Bob Carlisle’s hit single ‘Butterfly Kisses’, which is one of her top five favorite songs of all time.

In the midst of the pre-Emmy’s red carpet show, the breaking news is that O.J. was apparently arrested for armed robbery in Vegas. This takes me back to that bizarre day when my suburban elementary school stopped everything to broadcast the verdict of his murder case in the early 90s. I wonder how well that would go over with the PTA these days…

We are now enjoying the sweet smell of an Anthropologie candle and brownies, and the way things are going I think we’ll pop in season two of the Office and call it a night. This never gets old.

New York, New York: a city so nice they named it twice... Manhattan is the other name.

2007-09-14T18:37:00.000-04:00

This is the true story of four Texas girls living in a studio apartment in New York City. Names have been abbreviated to protect the innocent.

After arriving in the city with baggage weighing 78, 67 and 65 pounds, respectively, KR, AV and I have finally moved in and gotten settled in MK’s apartment. MK’s baggage weight could not be accounted for because she is actually at work, unlike the rest of us dead-beat dads (as we now affectionately refer to ourselves.) We have taken the time to enjoy the amenities her place has to offer, most specifically the spectacular view from the corner studio, as featured in my photo…what you don’t hear is the ambulance sirens, cab honking, fire-truck engines plowing through traffic, chainsaws, loud noises, and unnecessary commotion. The lax security is also a bonus, considering that they give us her room keys and mail without so much as an I.D. check or a nod.

So how did we get here? Glad you asked. Well MK, the working girl, actually works in Dallas, but was sent to New York for a few months for job training. KR, AV and I have all considered and dreamed of living here, so when she offered to house us during her stay here, we took her up on it. The four of us are currently rotating use of Ethernet cord in the apartment, after throwing in the towel with the Starbucks locations on Third Avenue… if you only knew. Starbucks here translates to dinky closet crammed with two barstools and iPod- wearing business-people all wanting ‘the usual.’

We are now getting acquainted with the different areas of the city- it’s a huge puzzle of neighborhoods that all blend together, yet have their own distinct personality. KR returns to the apartment daily with ‘Orphan Annie feet;’ looking as though she spends her days roaming the subway tracks with bare feet and kicking puddles of dirty water on her way home.

Our job search continues daily- but in the meantime we are maintaining a steady diet of PBJ’s, cheap pizza and cereal. One almost universal truth I have noticed is that people in New York are not overweight, (albeit many of them smoke) and everyone is active. This past Sunday afternoon we strolled through Central Park and eventually found a shaded park bench to watch joggers and roller-bladers. Instead of participating in the aerobic activity, we made up scenarios for the people passing by us. Our joy was made complete when a late 50’s-ish man teetered down the hill we were sitting near, and despite desperately grasping his wife’s elbow, crashed to the pavement.

AV and I are eating blackberries…only the essentials here. I wish there was a way of telling which ones are sweet and which ones sour, the suspense is brutal.

So after nearly a week in the city, our adventures have included tuxedo-wearing room service at a swanky hotel, the U.S. Open, Washington (and Brooklyn) Heights apartments, the end of fashion week, three interviews, three girls and 17+ bags stuck in an elevator, the most expensive carton of milk any of us have ever seen, Texas A&M football knowledge via the scroll at the bottom of ESPN and whatever USA Today publishes, and seasons one and half of two of The Office.

Okay, the blackberries were abandoned for hummus and carrots, much better. Since we spent $11 each to see The Nanny Diaries this afternoon, we might not be eating later. Maybe that’s how the women here stay so skinny- they run out of money.

And that’s only week one.