It's All In The Pronunciation

The fifth grade class gave a presentation to the school about the U.S. government, specifically the Constitution and the Articles of Confederation.  One student excitedly reported to the school that there are three branches of the government.  He leaned into the microphone as he carefully read his note card.

It went something like this… we have the “LEG-islative” branch, the “JUDD-i-cal” branch, and the “EXECUTE-tive” branch. 

I don’t know about anyone else, but the last one, the EXECUTE-tive branch, sounds a little intimidating.

Third Time

I walked into Trader Joe's grocery store this morning, and I ran into Tina Fey.  Again!  This is the third time that our paths have miraculously crossed.

I casually run into a mega superstar more than any other person in the city.  Is it fate?  Are cosmic forces trying to bring us together? Am I destined to be her sidekick (or she mine)?

Or, as I asked once before, is Tina Fey stalking me?

I Go Walking

One more picture from our weekend away. It's hard to believe that we were only 2.5 hours outside the city in the photo below. See, it's true. We have everything in (or around) New York City - mountains, beaches, oceans, rivers...

Hunterfest

My girlfriend and her fiancé invited Ben and I and another couple to spend the weekend with them at her family’s home near Hunter Mountain in upstate New York.  We gleefully accepted the invitation, which promised days of relaxation, fun times with friends, skiing, snowshoeing, and a break from city life.  We’d be crazy to turn that down.

Here are a few pictures from the weekend.

Need More time

I promise to post soon.  Just give me a few days...

Safe Zone

I walked past something terribly frightening on the sidewalk on the East Side yesterday.  I stopped mid-stride as feelings of panic flooded my body.  There's only one thing in New York City that could cause such an immediate reaction... bedbugs.

I approached a pile of trash that included a mattress covered in plastic with the words "NYC Bedbugs" scrawled across the front in black sharpie.  I froze.  Then, I freaked out as I imagined little bedbugs leaping from the plastic wrap onto my coat.  I imagined them scurrying across the concrete and up my legs.  I imagined baby bedbugs parachuting down from the scaffolding and landing in my hair.  I imagined an entire colony of bedbugs celebrating the fall of their new victim.

I turned to run back, but knew I had to press forward (a real trooper).  I frantically tiptoed across the pavement in an attempt to decrease my surface area in a potentially contaminated space.  I sighed with relief when I made it to a self-declared "safe zone."  I finally looked up and, for the first time, saw a bystander and his dog watching me.

I started to feel slightly embarrassed until he half-smiled and nodded.  Oh, yeah.  He understood.

Return to the City

We luckily missed the blizzard that hit NYC over the holiday break. We returned Sunday night to mostly melted snow and a city on the rebound.  The snow is pretty much gone, but the trash that never got picked up is still around.  The picture below has not been an uncommon sight on the sidewalks of the five boroughs.  The city is working on it, though.  No worries.

He's Making A List...

Yesterday, I worked with a group of three students. Two were very excited for the Christmas holiday while one was not. The unhappy student had gotten in trouble earlier in the day, and that negatively affected his feelings toward the holidays for the rest of the afternoon.

Every time the first two students exuberantly declared their love for Christmas, the third student attempted to thwart their enthusiasm. I intervened, of course, but it didn’t really change his attitude. I thought nothing would change his mindset until one of the other students offered his opinion.

“You know, maybe Santa checked his list twice and you weren’t on it. Maybe when he checked his list he found out you’re naughty, not nice,” he said in a matter-of-a-fact tone. “You should be better next year.”

Then he paused to let the unhappy student digest this information.

“Yup, I think I’m right. You’ve been naughty,” he concluded.

Here’s to hoping everyone has been nice, not naughty, this year.

Bad Timing

Apparently, having weird experiences on public transportation is a reoccurring theme for me this month.

On Thursday night, I took the train to Queens to meet Ben and friends.  I luckily found a spot to sit on the crowded train.  I wedged myself between two people and started to relax until I noticed the girl sitting across the aisle looked pretty woozy and pale.  Uh oh.

I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable about not feeling well, but I decided to “monitor” her.  I needed to know when to bolt if she was going to get sick and possibly projectile vomit across the car. 

I turned my head for two minutes, and when I looked back my eyes almost popped out of my head.  The girl sat with her eyes closed and a hand over her mouth as vomit dribbled through her fingers!

YUCK.

As soon as I saw her I almost got sick.  

Unfortunately, she threw up just as the subway doors closed.  She had to sit like that until we reached the next subway stop, which was about three to four minutes away.  She stood and stumbled across the car as soon as we the train began to slow down and we neared the stop.  She stepped over a man’s legs and when the doors opened she leaned outside and released everything.

SIIIIIIIIIIIICK.

I was weirdly grossed out and fascinated by the whole experience for two reasons.  One, she experienced one of my worst fears – to get sick while on public transportation.  And, two, not a single person (with the exception of me) even blinked.  Everyone acted normal.  No one seemed phased by the situation at all. 

New Yorkers really are immune to everything (err… except the flu).  

Bus Ride

On Thursday afternoon, I proved to myself once again how tough I’ve become since moving New York.  I sat on the bus and read a magazine while listening to music.  I felt a bodily presence beside me, but paid it no mind.  A minute later, I realized that that the body was also speaking to me.  I looked up to see a disheveled and very inebriated man with a cigarette wedged between his lips.  He repeatedly mumbled incoherent sentences and one understandable one, “Miss, will you zip my jacket?”  I replied, “No, thanks.”  He asked again and shoved his zipper toward me.  I replied again, “No, thanks.”

 

After several requests he became frustrated and yelled in clear, perfect English, “Thanks a lot you worthless $*%& $*%&#.”  The front of the bus turned my way and heads rolled to watch the scene unfold.  I sat motionless for a few seconds.  I then slowly replaced my headphones and returned to my magazine, mostly annoyed to have been interrupted for no reason.

The man couldn’t speak to me in complete sentences at a normal voice volume without an audience, but he had NO difficulty yelling profanities at me in front of a crowd.  Interesting.

The old me, the freshly scrubbed straight-off-the-plane me, would have taken his insult to heart.  I would have fought back tears and harbored hurt feelings.  I would have wondered what I did to deserve such treatment. 

But, the new me?  Oh, no, no, no.  I barely blinked, didn’t even flinch.  I chuckle at the new me and just how New York street tough I’ve become.

New Coat

I broke down and bought a long winter coat.  Long like it hangs down to my calves and has big furry trim around the hood.  It’s my Christmas present.

NYC gets so cold in the winter.  The temperature drops, and I still spend the same amount of time outside.  I am always walking a couple of blocks here, a couple of blocks there.  Waiting for the bus here, catching a taxi there.  I spend quite a bit of time in the blustery outdoors.

That’s why I got a long coat.  Of course, I opted for the version that is stylish as well as warm.  It fits like a shapely sleeping bag that's been upgraded with a fur trimmed hood.

I never understand Ben.  He wears a flimsy, waist length wool coat all winter.  If it’s really cold, he’ll add a scarf, hat, and gloves.  Otherwise, a wool coat is it.  I wear a wool coat in October and then switch to a thigh length down parka in November, which I will now exchange for a calf length down parka for the rest of the winter.  (This is in addition to the long johns I wear under my jeans.)

Somewhere I lack the same internal heat source that keeps Ben warm.  But, we’ll see this winter.  Maybe my comfy, wearable sleeping bag will persuade him to the warmer side.

Shine On

I got my boots shined the other week at The Sole Man in Penn Station, the same place businessman go during the workweek. Usually, Ben said, businessmen fill the chairs and a line snakes out the door. And, he would know since he frequents The Sole Man himself.

Ben had noticed that my boots looked a little ragged and worn, so he suggested this as a solution. And, man, did it work! The guys there are like magic. My boots now look brand new.

The guy literally put seven coats of polish on my boots. He massaged them, whipped them, and sprayed them. At one point, he wrapped his rag around the heel of my boot and pulled really hard on both sides, rubbing the rag against the leather. I grabbed onto the arms of the chair and dug my bottom into the pleather to keep from sliding right out of the chair. He was pretty strong.

I read the NY Post and watched a football game on an old, snowy TV set while my boots slowly came back to life. The whole experience left me feeling very manly and very Mad Men. I periodically checked the entrance, fully expecting Don Draper to walk in and take a seat. Although Don never showed, I still feel that he would have appreciated my being there.

Life Changer

Trader Joe’s opened in September in our neighborhood.  Life got better overnight.  Seriously.

The awesomeness of this grocery store has completely changed my perspective of grocery shopping.  The place is a godsend.  It's unlike any other grocery store, and I am now a new woman because of it. 

The selection of food is limited, which makes shopping easier.  For example, they may offer four kinds of peanut butter as opposed to ten or three types of oatmeal instead of eight. They choose items because of quality, not quantity.

I like the limited selection.  I don’t comb through twenty brands to figure out which one tastes best.  I don’t try to recall the one good brand I luckily found on sale last week.  I don’t compare prices.  I don’t pay attention to “price cuts” or “deals of the week”.  They already sell everything at the cheapest price because almost everything they sell is their brand.  No middleman increases prices. 

Milk, fruit, cheese, guacamole, burritos, and vitamins –cheaper!  Cereal, apple cider, dark chocolate covered caramels, olive oil – cheaper again!  My shopping budget grows every time I shop at Trader Joe’s.  I love it.

They offer cool meal combos that save me time.  I make a dinner with the frozen vegetable fried rice, frozen stir-fry vegetables with sauce, and steamed pork buns.  I don’t hunt down a bunch of spices or sauces that I only use once every three months.  I don’t waste time cutting five different vegetables on our teeny countertop. I just rip open bags and throw stuff in a skillet.  I look like a world-class chef… until Ben finds the discarded packages in the trashcan.

The best and perhaps most well known thing about Trader Joe’s is their cheap wine.  It’s “wine on a dime.”  I should probably coin that phrase.  Trader Joe’s “Charles Shaw” wine, aka Two Buck Chuck, goes for $2.99 a bottle… a bottle!  The Heavens just parted.

You may read this post and think I’m plugging Trader Joe’s to get some sort of kickback.  I wish Itty Bitty held that kind of clout.  No, no.  I just love Trader Joe’s this much.  

Elevator Woes

No one will murder me.  No one will kidnap me.  A taxi will not run over me.  But, the likelihood is pretty good that our elevator will end me.

Say your goodbyes now.

Our apartment building is old and not everything functions properly.  The elevator is a prime example.  It’s the one thing that I do want to work right in our building since it’s what could also kill me.

Several months ago, the elevator randomly stopped working, prompting everyone to climb and haul belongings up five flights of stairs.  Ben viewed the situation as a great way to get exercise, but I saw it as a form of torture and feared it would never be fixed secondary to some tiny clause in our lease that I overlooked. 

Fortunately, maintenance fixed it.  But, then it broke again.  So, they fixed it again.  This broken-fixed-broken-fixed relationship continued for weeks.

It annoyed me, but didn’t scare me.  Until the day we walked into the building and pushed the button to go up.  We heard no murmur of the elevator moving.  Instead, we heard voices crying, “help us.”  We bolted to the fourth floor where the voices were the loudest. 

Apparently, the elevator broke mid-ride and between the third and fourth floors with two tenants inside!  Their roommate stood outside the elevator on the phone negotiating their release with the building superintendent.  By the time we arrived the girls had been waiting in the elevator for an hour and a half.  By then their hysteria had faded into a calm delirium.

After the girl’ rescue, and as much as that single incident should have persuaded me to never set foot in the elevator again, I rode it the next morning. 

Luckily, I have managed to avoid a situation that extreme, but I have panicked a few times.  Like the two times the doors opened to a concrete and brick wall of pipes.  Or the countless times the doors opened six inches below the level of the floor.  Ben once climbed up and crawled out of the elevator when it similarly stopped several feet below the floor.

It’s hard to believe we haven’t called and complained yet.

I guess the point of this story is to alert readers to the realization that if posts suddenly cease to appear… I have probably departed this sweet Earth.  It wasn’t a crazy driver.  It wasn’t an axe murderer.  It was a defunct elevator.

Paparazzi

Courtney seems like a celebrity in these photos.  I mean, yes, the photographer is good.  The lighting in the pictures is good.  But, honestly, she just always looks this fabulous.