Grace in the City

Lost in Translation

2010-09-19T18:15:00.003-04:00

"Yeah, we're trying something new for a restaurant. Almost tasteful, but not quite. You know. At the edge of taste."

I thought it said "Tu-na Back Rub"

2010-09-03T09:10:00.002-04:00

Want one?
Aromatherapy free of charge.

Corny Island

2010-08-29T18:17:00.004-04:00

It seems I've recently been many a place where bathing in Purell upon leaving seems a good idea.

Which brings me to my trip to Coney Island with the kiddos last week. It only took me four years to get there, but then, I've not been to the Statue of Liberty or the top of the Empire State building yet, either.

Coney Island was fascinating in a run-down, decrepit kind of way. I caught glimpses of the past glory... if I squinted my eyes so the grime and peeling paint weren't so obvious, the hot dog stands and carnival games became quaint and old-timey. As is usually the case, people watching was the main attraction. And boy howdy. Were the people there an attraction. Notice I said an attraction, not necessarily attractive...

And Then There's This Guy

2010-08-24T06:40:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I have to be at work at 6 in the morning. Early, right? That means I'm on the subway platform by 5:15, because although it's only a ten minute train ride to work, the trains run so sporadically at that time in the morning that I've got to overcompensate.

Not long ago on one of those early mornings, this groggy fellow got a little too comfortable on his mustard yellow plastic seat. He was so sound asleep (or something else) that he tipped off the seat and stayed asleep on the floor. Everyone around him, including me, ascertained that yep, his chest was still rising and falling, and let him be.

What Does That Taste Like, Exactly?

2010-08-24T06:30:00.002-04:00

Smog with a dash of grime, perhaps?
Mmmm.... I love the flavor of metropolis on my tongue.

New York Lexicon Definition 8: Lake Missagain

2010-05-18T17:14:00.002-04:00

Lake Missagain (noun)

The puddle of water that forms curbside at every corner after heavy rains or melting snow. The one that I try to step over and inevitably misjudge the size of. Dangnabbit.

Well, He Often IS a Turkey Buzzard.

2010-05-09T08:59:00.002-04:00

Let's Get This Potty Started: A Haiku

2010-04-26T18:21:00.005-04:00

Auto flush broken
I remain oblivious
Dancing in the stall

C'mon. You know you've done it too.
You finish your business, stand up, and watch anxiously for the autoflush to kick in.
But it doesn't.
You wait.
It doesn't.
So what do you do? You wave your hands in front of the sensor, shimmy your hips a bit, mime sitting down and standing up again. And before you know it, you're doing the autoflush dance.

Or is it just me?

Unsolved Mysteries

2010-04-18T06:55:00.002-04:00

How'd that get there? I found this at the end of Pier 45.

If, while walking through the city, you pay attention to what's on the sidewalk (and you'd be unwise not to), you'll notice any number of items lying in the most unlikely places. For me, it's a bit of a game to create the back stories to those things. Most often, the setting to the story is the middle of the night, and various and sundry characters play the lead role, pursuing deeds of darkness, romance, and adventure.

And this glove? It was placed there by a conscientious junkie, don't you agree?

New York Lexicon Definition 7: Repress

2010-04-18T06:44:00.002-04:00

Repress (verb)

Def. 1: What an impatient person does when, while waiting for the elevator, he/she looks at the elevator button, sees that I've already pushed it, and proceeds to push it again anyway. As if my initial push is insufficient to call the elevator.
Def. 2: What I must to to the feelings of annoyance that arise when Def. 1 occurs.

What.

2010-04-18T06:35:00.004-04:00

Are you saying you don't have citywide pillow fights in your town?

I shudder to think of all the potential bed bugs, drool, dust mites, etc that were being so fiercely flung.

New York Lexicon Definition 6: Astoraphobia

2010-03-23T14:51:00.005-04:00

Astoraphobia (noun)

The sense of disorientation and anxiety that a New Yorker, accustomed to shopping in tiny corner bodegas, feels upon entering a large, brightly lit Walmart Supercenter

Not to be confused with Astoriaphobia, which is an unnatural fear of a quaint neighborhood in Queens.

New York Lexicon Definition 5: Stingikin

2010-03-19T17:56:00.003-04:00

Stingikin (noun)

The single pathetic, tissue-thin, sorry-excuse-for-a napkin that New York restaurants sometimes give their take out customers. These "napkins" disintegrate prior to any actual contact with skin.

An unlimited supply of napkins is not the norm in the city, and for anything beyond the stingikin, one must beg, plead, and glance desperately at spilled drink, chocolate-covered face, or other applicable mess.

You Are Not Alone

2010-03-14T19:44:00.002-04:00

It is easy, and perhaps necessary, in New York to inoculate yourself against the ever present crush of humanity around you. Privacy is an illusion, and if you wait until you are really and truly alone to have "private" conversations or let your guard down or cry, etc, well, you will never have the opportunity. So New Yorkers have made an unspoken deal with one another: If I encounter you in a situation where your humanity can not be glossed over... if you're weeping unconsolably or talking about your sex life on your cell phone... if you're putting on your makeup on the subway or laughing out loud at a passage you've just read on your Kindle... I will look through you and pretend I didn't see it. It's not unkind or uncaring. No, it's the opposite. It's a peculiar sort of respect. It's recognizing that we live in close quarters, and we're human, and we experience things in those close quarters that aren't always pretty to behold. Don't get me wrong: If someone is truly and obviously in trouble, and a fellow New Yorker can help, they will. I'm talking about the smaller things. The things that we kinda wish we didn't have to show other people, but we've got no choice because of this beautiful, overcrowded urbanity in which we find ourselves.

Except.

Dude.

Just because you hold your one hand in front of your face doesn't mean I can't see you picking your nose for days on end with the other. I can see it. I see you picking your nose. Please, please stop. I can't pretend about this one.

I Went to Brooklyn Today

2010-03-08T17:29:00.004-05:00

I often smile when I think of the way West Michiganders (over)react to sunny days. You see, the combination of winds over Lake Michigan and the state's northern latitude leave West Michigan with more than its fair share of overcast, gray days. Native dwellers learn early that if one is fortunate enough to encounter sunshine, one simply must go outdoors and quickly absorb some vitamin D. Staying indoors on a sunny day is almost a crime. "Better go outside now," one might think. "You don't know when the sun will come out again!" It reminds me of a Ray Bradbury story called, "All Summer in a Day," in which humans inhabit a planet where summer only comes for one day once every 17 years, and good grief do those people go crazy with excitement when the sun comes out.

This urge to be outside every time the sun shines poses a problem for West Michiganders who move to, say, Florida. Or the Southwest. Hard to be productive when you're outside all the time.

Anyway, today was one of those glorious days when there was nary a cloud in the sky, and I could feel my West Michigan sun-greed impulse in full effect. I decided to explore Brooklyn, a borough I've not yet had the opportunity to know well. I'm so glad I did, because not only did I see quaint neighborhoods, brownstones, Prospect Park, and antique shops, but I also saw signs like this:

New York Lexicon Definition 4: Peenomenon

2010-03-07T08:53:00.004-05:00

Peenomenon (noun)

The numerous ways in which a New Yorker encounters urine on a daily basis. Examples include frozen dog pee slicks on the winter sidewalks or sizzling dog pee puddles on the sidewalks in the summer, the unmistakable fragrance in the subways, and the odd sequence of listening to your neighbors' restroom activities through thin bathroom walls prior to ever meeting them face to face.

And good grief, let's not forget the part of the peenomenon which actually included me being peed on by that guy in the telephone booth. Or rather, I wish I COULD forget.

Po-tay-toe, Pa-tah-toe?

2010-03-06T06:25:00.002-05:00

You say "health food store," I say "wine shop."

New York Lexicon Definition 3: Roadgawk

2010-03-03T15:33:00.002-05:00

Roadgawk (noun)

What a tourist becomes when he/she stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk to take in the sights, blocking the flow of pedestrian traffic.

I crashed into a tourist roadgawk at the top of the subway steps.

New York Lexicon Definition 2: Faux'l

2010-03-02T11:25:00.004-05:00

Faux'l (noun; contraction of "faux" + "cool")

The deluded sense of "I'm cool" that descends upon one while wandering the streets of Soho, as if one could absorb all the cool that emanates from the stores there.

I felt faux'l this morning while I walked home from Soho, thinking I might be cool even though I was wearing Old Navy jeans.

Take a Deep Breath, Now.

2010-03-02T11:22:00.001-05:00

We're almost there.

New York Lexicon Definition 1: Sadisticab

2010-03-01T16:46:00.002-05:00

Sadisticab (noun)

The taxi driver who takes evil delight in repeatedly pressing and releasing the accelerator, resulting in instantaneous motion sickness for all passengers.

Sadly, there is no way to differentiate between a sadisticab and a less malicious cab. Ride at your own risk.

On the Sidewalk

2010-02-21T16:26:00.002-05:00

The definition of "garbage?" It's relative. Especially in SoHo.

Subway Sing Along

2010-02-18T18:58:00.004-05:00

There are two competing subway singers on the RW trains in the afternoons.
One is a group of men who sing Oldies but Goodies in four part harmony.
The other is a blind person of indiscriminate gender who sticks to Da Ya Think I'm Sexy, for the most part.
I've seen them in the corner of the platform, negotiating who gets which train, and when.

I've started to give them change after they pass by. Not so much because I appreciate their singing, but more so because I realized earlier this week, as a result of an eyebrow lifted glare from Chloe, that I unintentionally sing along with them. Oops.

"God bless you," they say, when my couple quarters fall to the bottom of their hat.

"No, God bless you", I think, "for providing me with subway karaoke opportunities." And one day, I promise, I'll get up and sing with them for real.

I'm quite certain they will not be God-blessing me then.

Turning My Back on Facebook

2010-02-15T07:09:00.006-05:00

It wasn't easy, deleting my Facebook Account. The actual technical act of deletion, I mean. I don't imagine that it is in Facebook's best interest for users to go deleting their accounts all willy-nilly. So those savvy FB designers buried the Account Deletion instructions away... maybe somewhere far beneath Farmville.... and made it difficult for me to find them. Users can "Deactivate" their account relatively easily, which, as far as I can tell, is FB's way of a slow-burn approach to cutting the FB habit. No, I wanted cold turkey, so I googled and found the link (in a bit of chuckling irony, someone has created a FB group called "How to Permanently Delete Your Facebook Account"). Even still, FB tells me that it won't actually delete accounts unless the user doesn't log in for 2 weeks, thus ensuring that the addict has access to the drug to the bitter end.

The idea that I should tell Facebook to talk to the hand has been dancing on the outskirts of my mind for a while. I recall a conversation with friends just prior to Christmas, when he detailed the fact that his mom had a tagged a particularly hideous photo of him on FB, and he didn't have the heart to untag it, but then worried what others, particularly people who hadn't seen him in years, would think when they saw it. And we all said with such bravado, "Who needs FB anyway, really? Maybe we should delete it. Yes! We should!" and then we immediately scurried back to our respective smart phones to check the latest status updates. Then, last week, I stumbled across this article about people who were choosing to give Facebook the cold shoulder, and then I laughed my head off at this video, and I made my decision.

And you're wondering why.

Facebook Stole My Blogging Mojo*
*I can't take credit for this phrase. Diane said it to me first.
Remember when I used to write? Complete thoughts? More than just a snarky sarcastic comment? (See?! I still can't do it. Case in point). Facebook stole my blogging mojo. Posting a phrase in a status update is so much easier than fully thinking something through and crafting coherent communication of that thought. I know that I'm no Shakespeare, but I like writing. I like spending my spare moments thinking of analogies and turns of phrase. And with FB, I grew lazy, relying on short bursts of words to communicate. Add to that the fact that I spent my spare moments FB stalking rather than thinking of writing topics or word choice, and, well, you saw it. My blog disappeared. I want it back.

The Great Time Suck
Honestly. How much time did I waste on Facebook? I cringe to think of it. Scrolling around aimlessly, looking at random photos, clicking through to other random photos, somehow ending up on pictures of people I don't even know. Gross. And it happens in small increments, so the actual accrual of time goes unnoticed. Sneaky, sneaky Facebook. And guys? I don't care what virtual animal you just adopted or how many Swag bucks you've accumulated or what you had for breakfast. Really. So why was I spending my time looking at that?

The Lurk
I was lurking. Who doesn't? But I was lurking too much. Call it nosy. Call it voyeurism. Call it unhealthy. Is there a positive word to describe it? Not so much. So I don't want to do it anymore.
I love to hear about friends' and families' lives. Yes. But that's different than skulking around the pages of people I once knew or hardly know, developing opinions and judgments based on small snippets of information that certainly don't portray the full depth of that person. Speaking of that...

The Facebook PR Campaign
My friend Michelle blogged about this once-- how people use Facebook (and blogs) as one giant public relations platform. And, based upon what I said before about making snap judgments of people I don't really know because of a single Facebook photo, they're probably wise to do it that way. But authenticity suffers greatly. I'm not asking that people spew their dark and dirty all over their status updates. Heavens to betsy, please don't. I just decided that I didn't want to play the PR game anymore, at least, not in that realm. If we're truly friends, then let's be true friends. I recognize the irony that I'm stating this in a blog, which could be its own PR platform.

So it's been a week of Facebook-free for me, and there are times when I miss it... I find myself wondering if my friend who was pregnant has had the baby and posted the news on Facebook, assuming all would see it there, and I didn't... or those downtimes when I'm waiting for something and peer at my iphone, wondering what's on there to hold my attention. But the craving passes after a few moments.

And I can always contact my friend directly. How 'bout that?

Friday Afternoon and Giddy on the Subway

2010-01-31T21:02:00.004-05:00

I'll Have That with a Side of Heart Attack, Please.

2010-01-28T09:36:00.005-05:00

Apparently, this is a selling point since Bloomberg banned trans fats. It's a cholesterol speak easy.

Misnomer

2010-01-28T09:33:00.001-05:00

'For Chloe, it should be called, "Trainwork."

So Clever

2010-01-24T16:15:00.001-05:00

Diesel's new ad campaign is posted all over the city.
I love it.

Come Now, Supermarket

2010-01-23T07:20:00.003-05:00

There's no need for commentary on the moral character of your produce.

So Proud

2010-01-11T06:31:00.003-05:00

Irony

2010-01-07T18:31:00.001-05:00

Dear Next Door Neighbor

2009-11-15T17:29:00.002-05:00

Dear Next Door Neighbor,
It was pleasant enough to meet you the few brief times that we've crossed paths, and I'm sure you're a lovely person all around. You're not loud, and you've never complained about the occasional times that Jonathan may scream like a girl at 6:00 in the morning while he plays Wii.

However.

Ground beef sauteed with onions mixed with patchouli and pot is a smell that I never, ever need to smell again.

Kindly,
5A1

The New Kid

2009-11-01T17:46:00.003-05:00

I began a new job this week. Starting a new job always leaves me a little off balance, and I've started more than my fair share of new jobs (One of these days I'll outline them all for you. It's a full time job to list them, anyway). For me, the start is always mix of thrill and trepidation, anticipation and apprehension. Who wants to be The New Kid, anyway? It's much nicer to be The One on the Inside. It's a challenge to enter into a new environment, balancing the appropriate amount of humility to show I'm not a jackass know-it-all (when I sure as heck don't know it all) with the poise to instill confidence that I can do the job I was hired to do. My intuition is in full gear--not only do I need to learn the basic facts of the new position, but I've also got to quickly recognize the more subtle things: What's the corporate culture? Who are the formal, and sometimes more importantly, informal leaders? If the boss' door is shut, does that mean stay away or c'mon in, just knock first? And where in the world is the bathroom?

I'm not turning my first week on the job into some grand allegory. I'm just saying it's a challenge on a lot of levels, and exhausting in a unique way that comes back with each new position. Maybe one of these days I should stop starting.

I Wouldn't Do That if I Were You.

2009-09-30T19:12:00.004-04:00

What's that? You want my opinion on something? Always happy to oblige.
Here's my Unrecommended List:

Popping wasabi peas into your mouth without being fully aware of what you are eating. I also don't recommend eating wasabi peas at all while you're trying to make small talk with a person you just met.
This is especially true if the latter part of this un-recommendation is in play.
Wearing flip flops in the rain in NYC.
It's a bit of an equation: crap on the sidewalk + water = liquification > my tolerance of said liquified substance on my bare feet. And yes, I just realized that I have previously posted about excrement and flip flops and their convergence on my feet. Perhaps I should unrecommend wearing flip flops altogether.... nah.
Making eye contact with the man on the subway who just took a bite out of his beer can. Or asking him if he wants to share some of that fine lookin' malt beverage.
Shots of Easy Cheese, straight up. Matthew.
Fanny packs.

Allowing yourself to talk yourself into wearing shoes that pinch. Oh, they're not that bad, and I'm not walking that far... Yes. They are. And Yes. You are.

Eating those mysterious styrofoam chips that come with pad thai. What are those things? And why do I taste one each time I order, thinking that maybe this time they'll taste like something other than crunchy air?

And finally, I unrecommend waiting two weeks between blog posts. Sorry about that!

Beloved

2009-09-21T19:14:00.005-04:00

The change of which I speak is the change from living life as a painful test to prove that you deserve to be loved, to living it as an unceasing “Yes” to the truth of that Belovedness. Put simply, life is a God-given opportunity to become who we are, to affirm our own true spiritual nature, claim our truth, appropriate and integrate the reality of our being, but, most of all, to say “Yes” to the One who calls us Beloved. The unfathomable mystery of God is that God is a Lover who wants to be loved. The one who created us is waiting for our response to the love that gives us our being. God not only says: “You are my Beloved.” God also asks: “Do you love me?” and offers countless chances to say “Yes.” That is the spiritual life: the chance to say “Yes” to inner truth. The spiritual life, thus understood, radically changes everything. Being born and growing up, leaving home and finding a career, being praised and being rejected, walking and resting, praying and playing, becoming ill and being healed—yes, living and dying—they all become expressions of the divine question: “Do you love me?” And at every point of the journey there is the choice to say “Yes” and the choice to say “No.”

-Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved

Her Mother's Daughter

2009-09-14T19:03:00.004-04:00

It takes on a whole 'nother level of "I'm not old enough for this," when your daughter asks you the same questions you can remember asking your own mother.

Mom, when will I be old enough to go places by myself?

And to Think I Would Have Guessed it was "Spelling"

2009-09-13T18:15:00.003-04:00

Jonathan's note to me today:

Dear Mom,
My favrit class in school is Jim.

Love,
Jonathan

And Hey, The Kiddos are Back in School

2009-09-13T08:18:00.005-04:00

Chloe: Third Grade Jonathan: First Grade

(And while that bright spot on the top of Chloe's head may be evidence of a poorly planned photo and flash reflection, I'd like to think that it's simply her zeal for learning bursting forth from her eager brain on the first day of school. An actual lightbulb idea, perhaps.)

Two Terrible Pictures; Two Quintessential Moments

2009-09-13T07:56:00.003-04:00

Since Matthew and I have yet to create our spy camera gear, I'm always a day late and dollar short when I see an event I'd like to capture on film and share with you. Here are two perfect examples of 1. why I love this city and 2. why I need to get on that spy gear project.

A well-known piano store is just down the block from work and school. This week I walked the block behind the store and heard some intricate piano music streaming from the loading dock. I peered in and saw there in the dim light a loading dock worker taking a little break to share his music with the pallets, dumpsters, and me.

That's right. Pink poodles. Two of them. They must have just had their hair did, because I've seen them before, and the pink has never been quite so brilliant.

One Woman's Trash is Another Man's... Trash.

2009-09-11T05:14:00.003-04:00

He was youngish, mid-twenties, maybe, and carrying only a Libman broom that had obviously seen some use but still had the tag attached (that's how I knew it was Libman, you see, lest you think I spend my spare time learning to identify cleaning tool brands by sight). He approached me with a British accent and all politeness.

"Excuse me, but might you have some spare change? I'd like a coffee, and they tell me it's 90 cents." He nodded over toward the donut cart on the corner.

Something about the combination of his broom and his accent struck me. I pulled out my change purse and tipped the contents in his hands, smiled, said, "Enjoy your coffee, " and made my way to move on down the sidewalk as he sorted through the change.

Then I heard him call after me, "Oh, excuse me?" I turned and saw him following me.

"Your Lego," he said, and held out his hand, a small flash of red visible.

I held out my own hand, and he dropped the single brick into it.

Vandalism Evangelism

2009-09-05T09:51:00.002-04:00

New York, Meet Michigan

2009-09-05T09:46:00.003-04:00

They really are quite fond of you, NY. They might even Heart you.

School Shoes are Just Too... Not Crocs!

2009-08-29T07:56:00.005-04:00

That was a quote from Jonathan as I helped him see that, indeed, his new school shoes were not too small, nor too big, too wide, too black, too high. Eventually he gave up and got to the heart of the matter - School shoes are not Crocs. Especially not cool blue Transformers Optimus Prime Crocs. Sorry, buddy, Crocs are not part of the uniform schedule. I know. I'm the one who enforces it...

It's back to that time of year for me-- the time when all thoughts and energy go toward getting the school back on its feet for the new year. Not that it ever was off its feet, but there are a few weeks in the summer when we all take a deep breath, step back, and consider some bigger picture things for a while. That time is gone now, and our breaths come quick and shallow as detail after detail demands attention. The next 4 weeks or so are my equivalent to an H&R Block accountant's tax season.

So I'm waving goodbye to what has been a good summer, already sighing over the pictures and saying, "Remember when we...?"

PS- When God closes a summer, he opens a Street Sweets truck down the block from work... good grief. Fill your own croissants? C'mon.

Sure Do Wish Someone Would Have Told Me Earlier

2009-08-09T19:05:00.002-04:00

Seriously. Vince here tells me that if I stop having boring tuna, I'll stop having a boring life!

Watch this one for a little bit... then move on to the remix for some real excitement.

And he does it all with straight face. Love it.

West Michigan Magic (aka Blonde Ambition)

2009-08-05T07:30:00.002-04:00

Yes, we will be blonde (or nearly so--variations on a theme, you see) when we are 80. It's West Michigan magic.

L to R: Michelle, Melissa, Erin, Michelle, Natalie, Holly, Me (Tina, you were definitely missed)

Warning: Objects In Photo are Less Mature than They Appear

2009-07-30T07:21:00.004-04:00

This first pic was snapped at Chuck E Cheese last night (Jonathan does not consider a birthday officially celebrated without a visit). It's me with my younger siblings. When in the world did we start looking so grown up? I remember when these two put a stuffed football in the seat of their pants so that it wouldn't hurt when they were spanked.

And I do believe Angela and I have been living in the same house for a few days too many... we showed up for our Chuck E night on the town in almost the same dress.

Small Town Parade, Big Time Benefit

2009-07-25T14:26:00.003-04:00

Party Favors. Or is it Potty Favors? Either way, thanks Roto Rooter.

The View From Here

2009-07-25T14:23:00.001-04:00

Credit Where Credit is Due

2009-07-20T18:11:00.006-04:00

Lake Michigan has some fabulous beaches.

Angela and me. One of us is a member of the country club pool across the road; one of us... is not. Which is which?

This Sign is for Your Own Good

2009-07-19T09:23:00.004-04:00

Because if you put anything other than water in them, these courteous cups turn mean.

You're So Vain, You Probably Think This Blog is About You

2009-07-10T10:53:00.004-04:00

(Props to Carly Simon for some more clever songwriting)

But it's not about you.
It's about me. I'm the one who is so vain.
And I've never realized to what extent until these past few weeks. In preparation for LASIK surgery, I'm required to wear my glasses rather than my contacts for two weeks prior. Mind you, my glasses are... outdated? Past their prime? (If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all). I bought them before Chloe was born, which means they're at least nine years old. Nine years, I said. And while they're not thick because I paid the extra 35 dollars to have them squished and polished, they are really the world's thickest coke bottles in thinly veiled disguise. So my eyes... and the area around my eyes... becomes all distorted when you look at them thru my glasses. But I can see more than just the blurry smash of color when I wear them, so that's good.

Anyblind, I've noticed how incredibly self conscious I am wearing my glasses. It feels like I'm not worthy to make eye contact with other pedestrians on the sidewalk. Like people look at me then look quickly away. As if my glasses offend them.

Like someone is calling What Not To Wear right. this. second.

I want to screen print a t-shirt that proclaims "I'm having eye surgery. That's why."And people would read it and nod and sigh, now understanding why a person would make such an horrific fashion faux pas.

What? Cmon. How vain is that? I suppose we all have our things... I know some women who won't leave the apartment with wearing mascara (oh, wait, that's me too), or who won't wear off- brand jeans, or who hide at home when they have a cold sore on their lip. For me, it's been these stupid ugly glasses. I like to make myself feel guilty with my own version of "Eat your dinner! There are starving children in China!" I remind myself that there are people in the world who need glasses and would be thrilled to have my specs. But then I just feel guilty AND vain. So what good is that?

So, Do You Pee Here Often? (aka Urine for a Great Surprise)

2009-07-07T21:15:00.003-04:00

At a nebulous point in the past few years I've learned to become a little more oblivious to the people around me in this city. Well, I take that back -- there are times when I deliberately tune in to the humanity that swirls deliciously around me, and I'm still enthralled and entertained by it all. But it's not my default anymore. The default is to move through without as much notice, so as to not be overloaded with the details of it all.

Anyway. On to my story.

So today I'm standing on the corner and partially blocking the front of a pay phone booth - not a real Superman-style telephone booth, or a quaint red London-style booth, but a gritty New York half-booth that is more just a three-sided shell that begins waist high and is covered with stickers and graffiti. Many times they don't even have a receiver because someone has decided a yellow pay phone receiver is Just the Thing They Need and cut it off. But this one did have a receiver, so when a man walked up and said, "May I please make a call?" with such correct grammar and polite-ivity, I quickly stepped to the side of the booth to make room for him and allow him some three sided, waist up, pay phone privacy. And I went on to not noticing him anymore.

Until.

Well, do you remember when I first moved here, and I warned you that mysteriousness drips on your head quite a bit? And when it happens you squint your eyes and cross your fingers and hope that it's a gift from the nearby air conditioner and not the nearby pigeon? Remember that? Well, I've kinda become immune to the drips as well, so when a little bit of something wet dusted my Old Navy flip flop shod left foot, I sadly didn't immediately tune in. No, no. I waited until a little something more graced my baby toe until I looked and realized that while my polite friend may have been holding the receiver with his right hand, he was holding something else with his left hand. And was peeing. Directly on the sidewalk. 6 inches away from my foot.

(Go ahead, shudder as you imagine how far liquid can ricochet off a hard surface. It was reality for me, my friends.)

I don't think him polite any longer.

In honor of this occasion, enjoy the world premiere of this original work of poetry, written by an extremely talented but anonymous author:

There once was an inebriated man
Faked a call and instead used the can.
The sidewalk his aim
But my foot's not the same.
Broadway peeing they really should ban.

Ah, yes. See how cultured I've become since moving here?

Enough. I'm not being facetious when I say I do love this city.

Brevity is the Soul of Wit, that is, if it's done well, and really is brief, and wit-ful, and not just short, because that doesn't necessarily mean...

2009-06-28T08:19:00.003-04:00

Now that school is out and my hours at work are slightly less insane, I've found the energy to walk the promenade again. Good grief, I love that walk. I'm usually out in the evenings as the sun sets over the Hudson, sailboats breezing into the marina, the sky streaked with pink, the warm air wrapped around me. And also, there are the mosquitoes, which are obsessed with me and follow me around like they're lovesick crushes even though I've tried to break up with them a million times. Their kisses, I can do without.

My music of choice on my walks this week has been Ani DiFranco's Canon 1, and I'm rediscovering her songwriting genius. I think that although I love her mad guitar skillz, the tone of her voice, and the emotive aspect of her songs, it's her one-line zinger lyrics that cause me to keep going back to her music. She's funny and clever, tilting phrase and word 'til they have double or triple meaning. It takes a special kind of smart to write like that. Love it.

Thinking Blog Thoughts

2009-06-21T07:50:00.002-04:00

I've noticed that blogging, while absolutely enjoyable for me, takes a little work. I'm not referring to the time it takes to write and post; I'm talking about the work of noticing things, recording them somewhere in my slippery brain, and chewing on them a bit more until they may or may not develop into something bloggable. In the city, there is plenty to notice, and that part is easy. For me, it's the holding on that is tough... not letting the brilliant quirky interactions and unusual people slip away and be forgotten, lost in the middle of my grocery list or latest work crisis.

This week, a friend and fellow blogger and I were talking about how helpful it would be to have a camera at the ready... something discreet and superspeed... something James Bond would have, so the pictures could help us recall all the thousands of wonderful things we see over the course of the week. (Our conversation wandered from there...we talked about how Matthew has glasses, so it would be much easier for him to hide the camera in the stem. I'd have to hide mine in some atrocious huge clip on earrings or the like, which would be a dead giveaway that something was amiss, because, sans hidden camera, I'd never be caught dead wearing huge clip on earrings... Next conversation topic for Matthew and me - world peace).

All that being said, I'm getting back into the groove of thinking blog thoughts, and it's a good thing.

Edumacation

2009-06-16T06:58:00.005-04:00

Working at a school is a treat for me. I enjoy the environment-- the kids, the learning, the fun. But above those things, I really love the teachers.

And I love the last day of school, even if I do have to go back to work just like normal the next week.

Moxie

2009-06-13T18:09:00.003-04:00

Today I followed a couple out the front door of the building. We stepped out to see that it had begun to rain just slightly, small drops breaking the surface of the puddles that lingered from yesterday's rain. The woman took one look and exclaimed, "Oh, it's raining!" The tone she used implied much more-- "Oh, it's raining, now I'm not sure I even want to go. Oh, it's raining, maybe we should turn around and grab an umbrella. Oh, it's raining, my hair is going to be a disaster!"
The guy... well, he heard his wife's implications, glanced up from his blackberry toward the sky, simply said, "No it's not," and kept on walking.

I couldn't help laughing out loud.

How it Rolls on the Way Home from School

2009-06-09T06:03:00.002-04:00

Jonathan crashed into a blind man on the sidewalk today.

The man was making his way slowly, clearing a path through the crowd in front of him with his red tipped walking stick. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea, the way those people moved aside for him.

But Jonathan would not be parted, could not be roused from his meandering reverie by that red tipped magic wand that worked on everyone else. Jonathan crashed into him good and hard, coming at him from the side.

And when I asked Jonathan why he didn't notice that the man was blind, why he didn't watch out (!), he answered,

"I didn't know he was blind, Mom. I only thought he was old."

There's Hope, Then?

2009-06-07T18:31:00.004-04:00

Don't tell me that watching America's Next Top Model is a waste of my time. I've learned a lot from that show. For instance, I've learned the definition of "Fierce" (Silly me. I used to think it meant something along the lines of ferocious. Or mean. Or aggressive with bared teeth and growling. Now I know it's clearly Tyra Banks' vague notion of an indefinable quality that hints at beauty combined with assertiveness. Or something approximate to that.)

I've also learned from ANTM that photogenicity... photogenickness... well, being photogenic, is not actually an inherited trait, per se. I used to believe that being photogenic was something a person was born with, like eye color or height. But (glory be!) Tyra tells me that being photogenic is a learned thing, an acquired talent, something a person can become by spending long hours in front of a mirror and becoming familiar with facial muscles, practicing smiles and perfecting the exact amount of toothiness.

Or whatever. I'm just glad there's hope for me.

It Happens Every Time

2009-05-31T20:30:00.002-04:00

I'm such a sucker for it, you know? The people at Fox were thinking of me when they named the show.

So You Think You Can Dance?

And the slightly sad but totally honest answer, my friends, is

Yes.
I think I can.

Dangnabbit. I really think I can. Or, at least, I like to dream that I can. Every time SYTYCD begins its season (which it did this week), I watch, and I feel unsettled. My muscles tense and are ready, the wallflowers at the junior high dance yearning to be asked to step into the beat. I dissect the choreography, wondering at the meaning behind it. And my heart-- well, my heart bounces between appreciation and longing, with just a smidgen of jealousy.

The physical control... the demanding technique combined with the artistic expression... the combination captures me. I'm absolutely enthralled and I find myself wondering, "What if? What if I had trained? What if I hadn't quit those miserable ballet/tap lessons at the age of 13?
What if I hadn't written off those swing dance lessons in college in favor of... I don't know what. Probably doing absolutely nothing. What if I could remember all those line dances I performed when I worked at that restaurant the year following high school graduation?"

What if?

You're thinking it's not too late, right? I know that. Dance lessons are on my list, tucked safely between earning my MBA and becoming fluent in Spanish. But every season, this silly little show causes it to move up a notch, and just for a while, I Think I Can Dance.

Thanks, but No.

2009-05-29T05:54:00.003-04:00

Blimpie? Stick to subs, ok?

Of Beaches and Broadway; Great Tunes and Grandparents

2009-05-24T08:45:00.007-04:00

A photo montage for you today. It's been a busy last few weeks.

Chloe was birdylicious (Beyonce, are you groaning? Apologies.) as a Bird Girl in the school's production of Seussical The Musical. Weird, but this 8 year old suddenly looks like she's going on 18.

My mom sashayed into town to catch Chloe's show. While she was here, we took Jonathan to his first taste of Broadway-- The Little Mermaid.

And then came Steve's parents for Grandparent's Day. Chloe and I introduced Marilyn to Alice's Tea Cup. Almond tea, crepes, and a little girl time.

Here's genius: bringing the beach to the city. If not for the view of the Brooklyn Bridge, I might have believed for the moment that I was in the tropics and not two blocks away from Wall Street. I love it, tho, and plan to spend much time here.

(Looks like she can read and follow directions)

Found time for two fantastic concerts this week, too. The first was Leslie Mendelson at Rockwood Music Hall. Wow.... If you value my musical recommendations at all, click through on this one or catch one of her live shows. She's one I enjoy live even more than on the album.
The second show was The Ivy's at Fat Baby on the Lower East Side. Rocking fun. And their album makes for great listening.

Pig Latin Doesn't Count

2009-05-09T17:45:00.005-04:00

My offices are in a hotel. This hotel is in midtown Manhattan. And because of this, each day I share the elevator with tourists from all over the world. These tourists are chatty in the elevator for the most part, and I love to tuck myself in the corner of the elevator and let the beauty of their words wash over me. I don't have a clue what they're saying, but the way the words flow, the clicks and the breaths, the pauses and the tones, and the music of it all makes me smile. It also makes me jealous. I want to know that language. I want to understand. I want to join in their story, because there's bound to be one. I want to be bilingual.

Being bilingual or multilingual hints at a life lived in adventure, right?
How did you come to learn two languages?
What risk did you take?
What move did you make in your life? Was it for love? Opportunity? Desperation?
Tell me then... about how your family moved when you were 12 and you didn't know a word of the language... about how you met a man on vacation and fell madly in love and never moved back... about your parents who moved to America, and how they spoke their native tongue at home to remind you of where you came from... tell me your story, because it's there.

Being bilingual also hints at the potential for additional adventure and freedom to move about the world and have meaningful interactions with more people. It allows a more seamless merge into another culture.

So, is it Rosetta Stone time for me? Or am I just feeling a little bit of "the grass is always mas verde on the other side of the fence?"

Greenpace

2009-05-03T06:57:00.004-04:00

Spring has sashayed into the city, trailing swaths of tulips and unfurling greengold leaves in its wake. Sassy thing, Spring. And I love it. The colors of spring, so incongruous against the gray concrete, laughingly call to New Yorkers to stop a moment, take it in, and be thankful. Winter causes New Yorkers to hold their breath and put up their dukes. Spring entices New Yorkers to saunter and smile slow smiles.

In fact, there is quite an inverse relationship between the temperature and the speed at which New Yorkers walk. Winter is destination only, get there before your eyes freeze open, chastise yourself for not taking the time to find your warm hat before you left the apartment. Spring is taking the extra 60 seconds to point out the crocuses that have pushed through the hard dirt around the tree in the sidewalk (which, let's be honest, have been peed on by hundreds of dogs since the last time they showed their yellow and purple faces. Makes it even more miraculous to see them). Spring is conversations with the front door propped open. Spring is breathing deeply the clean smell that comes after rain. Spring is greenpace.

What Happens When...

2008-12-05T06:10:00.003-05:00

...your favorite singer/songwriter babysits your kiddos? Songs are written and videos are produced. And holiday songs, to boot.

Disney World

2008-12-01T20:03:00.009-05:00

I felt agoraphobic for a little while... there was so much space, so much open air! And everything was a little too perfectly manicured, spot-on timed, and... smiley. Honestly, friends, is there something wrong with me that I longed for a little bit of trash? The smallest whiff of something unpleasant, to remind me of home?

Oh my. Disney does what it does very, very well.

Except for the food.

Stranger Relations

2008-11-11T07:37:00.001-05:00

I don’t know what it’s like to be 7 and growing up in NYC. I grew up in rural suburbia-- ponds, red barn, woods behind the house, the works. My siblings and I spent much of our days outside, rambling aimlessly with great purpose, digging in the mud with sticks and discovering Great Things like snake skins, box turtles, and imaginary bad guy hideouts wherever we went. We waved to our neighbors as they barreled down the driveway in their conversion van, and we hoped that later we could make use of their trampoline. We rode bikes and built forts and iced skated. It was wonderful.

Chloe, on the other hand, waves goodbye to the doorman, steps outside the apartment, and immediately encounters concrete, international cuisine, taxi cabs, and more diverse humanity than I could have dreamed of at 7 years of age. It is wonderful.

Chloe faces different challenges than I did at her age, and one of those challenges includes the subtle rules of stranger relations. “Never talk to strangers” has never applied less, and it has never applied more. “Never talk to strangers,” because the man across the subway aisle is staring disconcertingly and just took a bite out of his beer can (yes, that actually happened). “Never talk to strangers,” because it’s 7:00 in the morning on the uptown R train, and the half-awake straphangers want a high pitched jabber in their ears like they want a hole in the head, and we need to respect their space.

But if we never talk to strangers, how do we enter into the lives of the myriad around us? How do we come to fully appreciate the beauty of the diversity? At some point, we absolutely need to talk to strangers, and cross those lines, and become acquaintances and friends… But how in the world do I help a 7 year old know the difference? After the beer can bite incident, Chloe was terrified to sit next to any male that resembled that man. I talked to her about respect of people’s worth, about the affront it causes when we move away from them, etc… and I felt strongly about it, so I’m sure I was… eh, hem… stern with her. The next day, an unstable person sat down next to her and started leaning in. I grabbed her hand and moved away to the far end of the subway car. No wonder she is confused.

I am thrilled, though, that Chloe and I are walking this journey together. That as I move away, I can talk about mental illness and what causes it and how it can be treated. I can talk about how God’s image is still in that person… how mental illness is the result of brokenness in this world, just like any illness, and how God looks upon that person with the same unconditional, undeserved love that he lavishes on us all.

I'm Sorry.

2008-10-29T19:24:00.004-04:00

That's all I've got for you, friends.
I've been gone too long, and I'm sorry.

How have you been, anyway? What's new? Not only have I failed to fill you in on all that's been going on, but I've also not even had the time to peek in the front windows of my Blogsville neighbors. I promise to stop by soon and check out your harvest decor and your mums and the political signs in your front yards. I want to hear about how the kiddos are doing in school this year, what they're going to dress up as for Halloween, see the new paint in the kitchen ... all the good stuff. Please mull some warm spiced cider and be ready for the drop in. I miss you.

I've let a lot of stories slip by and be lost in the busy. I'm not even sure where to start, really, but I'm telling you now that I'm going to stop in more often. A couple times a week, I hope. Hang with me. In the meantime, some pics from the opening worship of City Grace Church. So beautiful.

(Blogger is not letting me upload pics. You'll just have to trust me. It was beautiful.)

Model Jonathan Returns

2008-09-29T06:17:00.001-04:00

Check this out.

I'm Sensing a Trend?

2008-09-24T19:56:00.006-04:00

Not long ago, on a Saturday morning walk down the Hudson, I looked up from my iPod playlist and saw this:

Then, about two weeks ago, the kids and I happened upon this:

Upholstery theft is on the rise, I hear. It's senseless. But soft.

church

2008-09-17T21:39:00.002-04:00

Oh, and Hey

2008-09-13T22:34:00.005-04:00

Here are a few pics that I took last night. Our apartment is across the (large, 4 lane) street from the World Trade Center site. I stepped outside to walk for a while and noticed that the two lights seemed to be coming from our building. (Apologies for the quality; the iPhone is good but not necessarily a professional quality night vision camera).

Head Above Water. Now Breathe.

2008-09-13T21:49:00.005-04:00

This morning Jonathan woke me up at 4:45. Which is really of no relevance to this post but deserves a mention, because it's a Saturday, for Pete's sake.

Anysleepdeprivation,
I've been absent from Blogsville for a long time. Longer than I would like, because I so enjoy sitting on my Blogsville front porch and sharing my silly little stories with you and hearing (reading) all about you and how your jobs and kids and cars and political views are. There are 68 unread items on my Google Reader, and I'm writing before I read them, which makes me think I've got it backwards and am seeking first to be understood and then to understand, and Mr. Stephen Covey himself would give me a good talking-to... but I fear that if I don't write now, it'll be another week before I sit down in front of the computer for longer than 30 seconds.

So, I've been away on business, as is usually the case when I don't blog for a while. The Friday prior to Labor Day, I very unexpectedly and happily stepped into the job that I left in the spring. It's a long story... a story full of lessons learned and values examined and God's provision and redemption... so it's a good story, and if you're ever in the area, let's grab a drink and I'll tell you all about it... but in the end, I'm thrilled to be back in a job that 1.) doesn't bore me, and B.) allows me to work with some of my best friends, and 3.) gives me the opportunity to wave to the kiddos on their way through the school hallways. All that being said, September is to a school office administrator as tax season is to an H&R Block accountant, and I've been insanely busy. Experience tells me that it will all even out in a couple of weeks, but still, working full time again is an adjustment, and for now, both my blog and the cleanliness of our apartment are suffering. Just this morning, Chloe said to me, "Mom, you know what I don't like? When I walk around the apartment and little crumbs stick to the bottom of my feet."

Me either.

Big things are happening with the church, too, which means Steve is also insanely busy, and there apparently is not a sane adult left in our household (good thing Chloe is 7 going on 37. She'll keep us on task). First, we've found a perfect, so good, can't-believe-how-good-it-is spot in Greenwich Village for our Sunday morning worship. Secondly, we've changed our name. City Fellowship Church has become City Grace. Hey, we'd love for you to join us. Really.

2 Conversations

2008-09-03T19:29:00.002-04:00

Chloe started it.

Mom, my tummy feels like I ate too many sweet tarts. It's like all jumbly and mixed up and excited and nervous.
Oh, honey, is it because of school tomorrow?
Yeah... it's kinda like I can't wait to go but I'm still nervous.
What exactly are you excited about?
Seeing my friends.
What are you nervous about?
Oh, just... it's just because I just don't know exactly what's going to happen.

Jonathan piped in.
Mama? We need to talk.
Yes, babe, do you need to talk about school, too?
No. We need to talk about glow in the dark vampire teeth.

Seriously. I'm so Thrilled.

2008-08-31T21:43:00.001-04:00

Ashley Jones has agreed to lead the music for our worship.
Oh man, she's so good.

School Haircuts

2008-08-31T14:57:00.004-04:00

Chloe hates hers. I think it might look a little familiar...
And everybody knows it's all but illegal to take pictures with Photo Booth and not mess around with the effects. Attractive.

From Yesterday's New York Times

2008-08-27T07:55:00.000-04:00

Newcomers Adjust, Eventually, to New York

By CARA BUCKLEY

Sometime over the course of a person’s first year in New York, there usually comes that moment. It can happen in the first days or weeks, or after 10 months. It can happen repeatedly, or without people noticing, at least not at first.

Newcomers suddenly realize either that the city is not working for them or that they are inexorably becoming part of it, or both. They find themselves walking and talking faster.

The subway begins to make sense. Patience is whittled away; sarcasm often ensues. New friends are made, routines established, and city life begins to feel like second nature. In other words, newcomers find themselves becoming New Yorkers.

“It can be lonely, very lonely, and I knew I would find it hard,” said Lisa Phin, 25, who moved to New York from Dallas in late May, and is building a network of friends through events listed on Web sites like Meetup.com. “But if you can stick it out for one year, you’re home free.”

Rebecca Thompson’s moment happened shortly after she moved to the city in January. On a visit home to Oklahoma, Ms. Thompson, 24, found herself flummoxed when a hostess at a party and everyone else there were inexplicably acting so nice.

Gabrielle Sirkin’s moment came on the heels of Thanksgiving Day last year, five months after she moved to New York. Every day until then, she felt as if she was doing battle daily with the city. But suddenly, on a night flight to Kennedy International Airport from California, Ms. Sirkin, 26, caught sight of the glittering skyline, and, to her great surprise, felt a surge of joy.

“I was really caught off guard by my reaction,” she said. “But I could see Central Park, and the lights on the Chrysler Building, and I wasn’t looking at it as a tourist. I was looking at it as though I was home.”

Ian Ingersoll’s moment happened within weeks of his move from Seattle to New York last fall. He suddenly found himself exasperated by slow moving pedestrians, and, like a true New Yorker, began darting around them instead.

“That was when I realized I was getting in sync with the city,” Mr. Ingersoll, 25, said.

For newcomers, there is often great comfort in these flashes of recognition, which can serve as signposts along the often arduous path to integration with New York.

For Mr. Ingersoll, the sense of getting aligned with New York felt like balm, because the city, for all of its exquisite appeal, ended up nearly breaking his spirit.

Mr. Ingersoll painstakingly saved $8,000 over a year and a half in Seattle, working three jobs to prepare for life in the city of his dreams. He burned through it in no time when he could not find full-time work. While he had admired New Yorkers’ famed acerbic attitude from afar, he found the brusqueness wounding once here. Making friends also proved hard; Mr. Ingersoll spent last Christmas wandering alone through Central Park.

But slowly, more than halfway through that crucial first year, life is brightening for Mr. Ingersoll, who is an actor. A close friend moved here, too, and now shares Mr. Ingersoll’s basement apartment in Union City, N.J. Mr. Ingersoll found a full-time job and has an audition or two lined up.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be easy — it was something I had to do,” said Mr. Ingersoll, who grew up in Alaska. “I am in love with the city. And what relationship is good if you don’t work for it?”

Young people have flocked to New York City by the tens of thousands for generations, to chase their dreams and test their mettle. And they continue to come in strong numbers. In 2006, nearly 77,000 people in their 20s had been in the city for a year or less, according to the annual study by the United States Census Bureau for that year.

But for many, the thrill of arrival is often tempered by the sinking realization of what an alienating place the city can be, especially for those who are not wealthy or who do not have a pre-existing network of friends. Nothing comes easily, even if one can get past the dauntingly high cost of living. The subway maze seems indecipherable. People are everywhere, but ignore each other on the street. Friends might live in distant neighborhoods, and seeing them often requires booking time, like an appointment, weeks in advance.

“Any time I want to see someone and catch up with someone, everyone takes out their BlackBerrys and says, ‘This weekend isn’t good; how about three weeks from now?’ “ said Ms. Sirkin, who moved to New York from Milan in June 2007. “How can you form really good and solid relationships with people if you see them once a month?”

Not every newcomer has trouble adjusting. Alexis Vuatrin, 27, from France, said that New York fit him from the start. The skyline, the bustle and the taxis seemed familiar, thanks to movies and TV shows, and he quickly fell into a sprawling group of French friends. Then again, Mr. Vuatrin had already lived in Geneva, Paris and Hildesheim, near Hanover, in Germany.

And by comparison, he said, “The people in the street here are so nice, and smiling.”

But nice is a relative thing. Boris Chen, 22, moved to New York from California early in July for a job with a finance company in Midtown. He is still trying to stomach what feels to him like a whole new brand of rude.

Mr. Chen also had to get over his lingering childhood fear of taxi drivers, which he believed came from movies. “I always thought any time I got into taxis they were going to kidnap me, and I was going to die,” he said.

That fear is behind him, largely because Mr. Chen refuses to indulge in it, and he is tackling city life systematically. He is cultivating friendships with people he met while apartment hunting on Craigslist. Through them, he has learned valuable insider city tips, like what kind of subway pass to buy (30-day unlimited), and whether he should tip deliverymen (yes) or doormen (it depends).

“Learning the transportation is sort of what I’m working on right now,” said Mr. Chen, who lives with two roommates on the Upper East Side. “I’m pretty good with the subways now, but at night it’s a little weird, and I don’t really know how that works.”

Ms. Phin already finds herself getting annoyed more easily, even though she arrived from Texas only two months ago. The culture at her job, as a marketer for an engineering company, was a lot more abrasive than she had expected. “Nothing is sugarcoated,” she said. And so, she is finding herself growing a tougher skin. “I thought I’d bring my niceness with me,” she said, “but already I feel an edge developing. Because you need to, to deal.”

Ms. Thompson, a native of Oklahoma who moved from Chicago six months ago, has adjusted to New York life relatively easily, she said, largely because she interned here a few summers ago. She also has friends from college in the city, and has made new ones through her church, St. Paul the Apostle.

But the city has changed Ms. Thompson, who lives in Hell’s Kitchen near the tourist-clogged streets of Times Square. “I’ve definitely become the pushy New Yorker who has to get around everyone on the sidewalk,” she said.

During a recent week back home in Oklahoma, Ms. Thompson said she found herself holding doors for others, but she was transformed again immediately upon her return. “I had a horrible flight,” she said, “and I snapped back.”

There also usually comes a time, early on, when newcomers must accept that the city is a power greater than they are.

“My friend said, ‘The city abuses you, and you just have to abuse it back,’ ” said Ms. Sirkin, who grew up in California and moved to New York reluctantly, after having visa problems in Italy last year. “The subway doesn’t work in the morning, and you’re a half-hour late for work, and that’s not in your control. You have to find ways of surviving.”

Ms. Sirkin’s friend Sarah Kasbeer also recalled being consumed by a common strain of existential New York City angst: the sense that no matter where one is, something better is happening — the real New York is in full swing — somewhere else.

“When I first got here, I’d go out in the city with people I worked with, and I felt I was missing something,” said Ms. Kasbeer, who moved to New York from Milan in 2006. I was going to clubs in Chelsea, the Lower East Side, things I wouldn’t do now.”

But sometime during her first year, she stopped trying so hard. “I just realized that I didn’t need to find ‘it,’ that my place in the city would fall into place,” she said. “Now I don’t make an effort; I roll with things. It’s not just the city, it’s yourself that you have to deal with as well.”

Ms. Sirkin continued to resist feeling part of New York long after her revelatory experience last Thanksgiving. And, yet she has begun to come around, taking acting and photography classes, and forging new friendships. It took a year, she said, but now, at last, she is starting to feel connected with what she describes as “this terrifying city.”

“Every day you encounter situations where you have to step out of your safety zone, and it’s really kind of a self-discovery experience,” she said. “I see myself fighting it, but I also I see myself, every day, becoming a New Yorker.”

2008-08-25T21:53:00.005-04:00

I've been walking this summer. Alot.

Mostly, I walk in the evenings after I've tucked the kids in for the night (please, don't call CPS. Steve stays in the apartment with the sleeping beauties). And on those evenings, I often walk past two men and their two beautiful golden retrievers. These men sit on the same bench each time I see them. They are relaxed, happy to be there, talking and laughing with whomever stops to say hello. The esplanade is their front porch and New York City is their small town. And sometimes I want so badly to join them on the porch that my feet involuntarily slow down as I pass. One of these nights, I will stop, and introduce myself, and pet their beautiful dogs. I'll ask them how long they've lived here and if they ever tire of watching the sun set behind the Statue of Liberty. We'll talk about the breeze and the boats and how you've got to keep an eye out or you'll get run over by the esplanade bikers. And I'll bet that they'll ask me about my "I Vote American Idol" tshirt. I won't blame them.

Surrey Sans Fringe

2008-08-19T07:51:00.015-04:00

We've been exploring Governor's Island recently. Governor's Island, which rests in the harbor just south of Manhattan, is an old army/coast guard facility turned national park. The island is accessible only by ferry.

Our last trip included a surrey rental... the kiddos found it quite conveniently relaxing that their feet couldn't reach the pedals. I found it quite perplexing and patronizing that the steering wheel on my side was for looks only, and no matter how fast or furiously I turned it, Steve maintained absolute directional control.

Grammatically Correct Vandalism

2008-08-14T23:22:00.002-04:00

From the Uptown 6 subway station at 52nd St... See the green semicolon? Nicely done, Anonymous Vandal.

Saturday Morning on the Esplanade

2008-08-09T15:37:00.005-04:00

The view that I have on my daily walks - it just never gets old.

Add This to Your NYC Travel Guide

2008-08-08T16:57:00.004-04:00

Visitors to New York: Please, please do not wear a purple balloon hat. We are a safe and tourist- friendly city; still, if you chose to do this, you will be mugged, mocked, or quite possibly, both.

Well, Here It Is. And It's a Bit Rambly.

2008-08-06T06:37:00.004-04:00

I've sat down to write this post no less than 5 times, but, man, I've had a hard time committing to this list of favorite songs. Look, I know it's just a silly list on a little blog, but haven't I shared with you how much music means to me? Committing to 5 songs is important to me, and I want to get this right.

Also, I'm quite fickle.

My friend Laura asked me this weekend if this list of songs is going to include music that has changed my life, songs in which I heard deep wisdom or insight that caused me to move forward in a different direction. The answer to that is no. Because, as Laura rightly pointed out, you can recognize those songs but not necessarily like them or even want to hear them again. No, these songs are songs that I can hear 1,000 times and not grow tired of them, songs that have stood the test of time for me, songs that have both lyrics and music that are ageless. Because of this, these songs have indeed touched my life over the years, certainly, but not in the way that Laura is referring to.

There's a scene in Tommy Boy (stay with me, now) where Chris Farley talks about a sale he wanted to make so badly, and he blew it. He makes this (hilarious) comparison to JoJo the idiot circus boy, who loves his new pet so much but doesn't, eh-hem, know how to love it very well, and the pet dies under the weight of his love. That's me with songs. When I find a song that I like, really like, I listen over and over until it...croaks. (Just ask my mom and sister, both of whom must have heard Bleeding Love at least 25 times while I was in Michigan for two weeks last month.) Most songs can't stand up to this kind of love. The "hook" in the song eventually breaks down and gets old, and I move on. Not so with the songs on my list.

All that being said, I've got one more thing to add: this list is not in any kind of order. If I had tried to put them in order from most to least liked, I doubt this post would have ever happened.

Here goes:

1. Least Complicated by Indigo Girls
The Indiglos, hands down, are my favorite band of all time--I have no problem committing to that. I've been to 5 of their concerts, own a half dozen of their albums, and could sing the harmony to at least 20 of their songs in my sleep. The challenge I had with the Indigo Girls was narrowing it down to only one song (my arbitrary rule was that an artist could only have one song on this list). Would it be Closer to Fine, which was the song that introduced me to the band and drew me in with one measure? Or perhaps Power of Two, which played at our wedding? Or Watershed or Love Will Come to You...? All worthy songs, but I settled on Least Complicated because of the simple joy that it brings when I listen. It's as basic as that.

2. 32 Flavors by Ani DiFranco
One verse in this song gets me every time:

And God help you if you are an ugly girl
Course too pretty is also your doom
Cause everyone harbors a secret hatred
For the prettiest girl in the room
And God help you if you are a pheonix
And you dare to rise up from the ash
A thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
While you are just flying back

And the drums at the end of the song as it is on Canon are... delicious.

3. In Christ Alone by Stewart Townsend and Keith Getty
This song speaks my faith in a beautiful yet succinct way, telling the story of Jesus while never forgetting the why of what He did -- because of pure, uncompromising, never ending love for me.

4. In da Club by 50 Cent
Just kidding. Though those of you at the retreat this weekend could testify that I do indeed like that song way more than it deserves.

Real #4. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For by U2
It's U2; It's Joshua Tree... I think that's enough explanation.

5. Kingdom Comes by Sara Groves
I enjoy the majority of Sara Groves' music. She sings of life and relationships and faith in a way that is very much aligned with my own understanding of such things. Her voice is unique and engaging, and her music is simple, not overdone. Kingdom Comes is special because of the topic; it addresses how faith comes down to every day life -- what it looks like when the rubber hits the road. I understand how difficult that is, and the song inspires me.

Well, there it is. I wouldn't mind a bit if you all shared some of your favorites...
(I reserve the right to make editions as the mood strikes)

Briefly

2008-08-01T11:29:00.002-04:00

Friends, I know I owe you My Song List. I've got it narrowed down to four, but the fifth selection eludes... and I've been busy these past few days. The church is having a retreat in the Poconos this weekend, and we're leaving tonight. Look for a post early next week...

On Music, and What's More, My Favorite Songs of All Time

2008-07-28T21:33:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking of music frequently lately. This is, in part, due to the fact that we're planning for "real church worship services" (please read all sarcasm into that phrase, as I do not in any way think that a real church is just about the worship on Sunday morning) that will begin in the fall. A big part of all that planning is the music-- what style, what tempo, what musicians, what key...

The other reason that I've been thinking about music is that I've been taking the time to clean out and organize my iTunes, and I'm once again amazed at the random cacophony that is my musical library. Abba is next to Ani DiFranco is next to Chris Tomlin, and there are still dozens of CD's waiting in queue to be imported. I like it that way.

Music is important to me. More than any other art form, music touches me, makes me cry, reminds me of specific moments in time. I will, I will cry during worship songs in church (and I'll try to hide it for a little while, then I'll give up and just let the tears roll down my face, so be prepared. And thanks in advance for the Kleenex). I'll listen to the same song 3 times in a row when a specific lyrical phrase or turn of the piano catches my ear. I'll make Steve and the kids listen to it, too, and then feel a twinge of disappointment when they don't get it. I'm one of those unfortunate people who are just musical enough to realize they aren't musical enough.

What's my point, you rightly ask? I've been taking a lot of walks this week, and as I walk, I've been trying to put together a list of my top 5 (maybe 10) favorite songs of all time. It's a struggle. I'm not even requiring of myself that I put them in any kind of chronological order (that would be too much commitment for a promiscuous music lover such as I). I simply want to give credit where credit is due: "Joe Musician, you touched my life." I can't seem to narrow it down, though. Too many songs have touched me, made me cry, sung me through a breakup or a breakdown or a breakthrough. But I'm working on it.

Sunday Afternoon and It's All Good

2008-07-27T18:16:00.003-04:00

I'm thrilled. The kiddos have started watching the DVR'd episodes of So You Think You Can Dance with me. The perfect way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon, I think.

You Delivered Again, NYC

2008-07-24T21:03:00.008-04:00

A perfect summer evening...
Thanks again, New York, for making my citylove a two-way street (because unrequited love is never any fun).

This is why it's good to leave and return

2008-07-22T17:33:00.004-04:00

I'd forgotten how much I sweat here.
What I mean is -- how much I would sweat if I weren't a lady, because we all know ladies don't sweat. Going from a cool, air conditioned apartment to the humid, 90 degree temps outside to the humid 110 degree temps in the subway station to the mildly air conditioned subway cars and back again... well, it seems to break some internal body temp regulation. And, like I said, if I weren't a lady, I might just start to have some sort of strange, sweaty hot flash experience.

I'd forgotten how much I appreciate the beautiful eccentricities of New Yorkers.
When I sat down on the subway and pulled out my pink ipod, the man next to me pulled out his pink ipod and said, "Nice pink ipod." I smiled and glanced down. We were also wearing matching toe nail polish (red).

I'd forgotten how great it is to discover new places to meet friends, like the very chill Bohemian Beer Gardens in Astoria, where we were last night. (I'm gonna miss you, Joe and Kristen. Portland doesn't know how lucky it is.)

I know I say this often... but, my friends, I love this city in big way. When I leave and return, my love is absolutely affirmed. I'm not being naive; this place presents its sweat and dog pee smells and crazy expensive cost of living and all its other multiple challenges upfront and clearly. Yet, I love.

And the city loves me too, I know it. As a little welcome back gift to me, I found $40 on the sidewalk today. Thanks, New York, I love you, too.

PS- I did ask all the people around me if they had dropped the cash, and I received plenty of strange looks, but no takers...

PPS - I recently downloaded Justin Nozuka's album, Holly, and am blown away. I highly recommend a listen.

Down on the Farm

2008-07-13T20:49:00.003-04:00

What a joy it was today to visit the Kuperus Farm...
to gaze out upon the rolling fields,
to drink iced tea out of Mason jars,
to breathe in the scent of hay,

to have a chicken hop on my shoulder.

No Words, Just Pics

2008-07-10T18:04:00.001-04:00

Michigan Means Cousins and Superheroes

2008-07-07T09:17:00.002-04:00

4th of July Potato Salad

2008-07-04T09:26:00.002-04:00

I find it a bit irksome that, when mixing up a bit of potato salad for this afternoon, I saw a small piece of potato fly out of the bowl, and I could not for the life of me locate its final resting place.

I suspect it may be stuck to the back of my shirt.

What? I was mixing vigorously.

So please, if you happen to spy a little bit of something on my tshirt or perhaps in my hair later today, kindly pull me aside and let me know. We're all in this together.

Roadtrip Playlists

2008-07-02T08:17:00.002-04:00

This Sunday morning, the kiddos and I are hopping in the (rental) car, rolling down the windows, turning up the tunes, and heading for the homeland. 12 blissful? hours later, we should be rolling in to Michigan for two weeks of cousins, cookouts, and chaos.

Always important in preparing for a roadtrip is creating mixtapes. Mixtapes must set the proper ambiance, and the best mixtapes will walk the fine line between soothing the savage "Are we there yet?" beast and energizing the "I've been staring at the road for far too long" doldrums. This time around, the kids each made their own mix.

Chloe's Mix
Don't Tell Me - Madonna
If I was a Rich Girl - Gwen Stefani
Let's Get it Started - Black Eyed Peas
Hey Ya - Ludacris
No Air - Jordin Sparks
Bleeding Love - Leona Lewis
Breakin' Up - Rilo Kiley
Jungle Gym - Jack Johnson
Through to Sunrise - Girlyman

Jonathan's Mix
YMCA - The Village People
Celebration - Cool and the Gang
You're the First, the Last, My Everything - Barry White
Walk the Line - Johnny Cash
I Want You Back - The Jackson 5
Upside Down - Jack Johnson
The 3 R's - Schoolhouse Rocks
Diner - Martin Sexton
Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash

Jonathan Calls Them The Eye Statues

2008-06-30T22:08:00.005-04:00

Right. Eyes or otherwise, I'm going to go with Jonathan's title.

(Oh, it's good to be home...)

A Whole Lot More of Nothin'

2008-06-25T06:19:00.004-04:00

Sunrise, Monday, 6:30 a.m.

We watch the storms roll in almost every afternoon (I've come to appreciate the storms; I'm usually a crispy freckly mess by that time, anyway). The storm Monday brought a water spout with it.

A Brief Vacation Observation

2008-06-22T22:12:00.003-04:00

"Nothing" on the agenda is so, so much better when it doesn't rain.
And with margaritas.

With rain, "nothing" becomes watching Caddyshack and Ghostbusters on VH1... which is still a break from the norm at home, where we would be watching LazyTown or Backyardigans. Without margaritas.

Nothing's Not So Bad

2008-06-21T19:53:00.001-04:00

Today, 3:30. View from the patio.

Agenda

2008-06-20T13:33:00.002-04:00

We leave for Florida tomorrow morning.
Here's what's on the agenda:
1.

I'm curious how long I'll be able to hold together such a strenuous and tightly-packed calendar.

Honestly, I imagine that it really will be difficult for this Type A personality.

A Necessary Deceit

2008-06-15T06:58:00.008-04:00

I had made one of those off-hand promises. You know the ones? Where you're completely focused on a task, and your child approaches and asks something, and you nod or say, "uh-huh," which really means "hold on a sec, I'll be right with you but I've got to finish this one thing," but which your child takes as an affirmative answer and goes away happy, and you return to your task and forget the whole conversation ever happened? One of those.

(Or am I the only one who does that? Wait. Don't answer. I don't have time for parental insecurities this morning. I've got to tell you this, and then I've got to prepare brunch for 15 wonderful CFC folks.)

So allegedly, I had told Chloe that she could stay up 'til midnight on Friday. She reminded me on Friday morning just as I was leaving for work, and after a small conversation in which the words, "I said that? When?" and "Are you sure?" and "Mom, you said I could!" may have been used, I did, indeed, recall some vague whispers of the topic.

But seriously, midnight? I understand the mysterious romance and intrigue Chloe felt about that magical hour, but we all know the ramifications of a 7 and a 4 year old staying awake until midnight on a Friday -- a Saturday with extraordinarily increased levels of tears and whining and general misery. Plus I wasn't even sure I could stay up until midnight myself, which would present chaperoning issues.

At work, I relayed the situation to my friend, Rick (who I must say is not necessarily as devious as much as he is an experienced father of two).

"Easy," said Rick. "After it gets dark, distract the kiddos with a movie or something. Then move the clocks ahead two hours."

Brilliant.
Midnight came at 10:00, and we were all safely tucked into bed.

2008-06-13T20:26:00.005-04:00

On a Good Day, the walk from our apartment to the playground is a series of "long-cuts." Today it took 45 minutes to walk about an eighth of a mile.

(respectfully) skipping pennies on the police officer memorial pool

the maze through the hedges

Spidey scales the wall

running hands through the water is a necessity

wishing the folks on the party boat a fair journey

Checking out Pioneer's sound display dome

"take my picture up here, Mom"

New canine friends

walking the plank

Making sure the ducks haven't had babies yet

And...the destination.

Life Lessons

2008-06-13T20:07:00.001-04:00

Chloe called to me from the bathtub tonight:

Mom, I lost the last three games of Life that I played. You know why? Cosmetic Surgery. And it's like you don't even need it!

Yep.