The Only Livin' Girl in New York

My Oath: A Country Divided

2011-01-14T01:23:00.002-05:00

Here's what I have to say in this debate about who is to blame in terms of the "hate" speech that is responsible for the political inspired violence in our country: Hold your people accountable - that's all I ask - and I will do the same. Should the company I keep, the officials I elect or the media I support become hateful or distrustful - I will hold them accountable - I ask you to do the same.

In honor of Christina Taylor Greene - do it for her generation!

Delightful, Graceful, Moxieness

2011-01-03T02:30:00.002-05:00

Last year at about this time, I choose my “word for the year.” The word I chose was “grace” -- and, apparently I didn’t know what I was thinking because had I known what the “gods” were planning for me, I would have realized that “grace” was far from what I was about to evoke for my life circa 2010. I don’t know -- maybe I tried, but I certainly wasn’t graceful or grace-filled this last year.

Or maybe I was. Let’s take a look…

The year began with the loss of my job. I’ll never forget it: I was sitting having lunch with my co-worker Shelley, before the start of the show I was producing at the time. I glanced at my phone and saw a text from my boss that said, “Meeting in the conference room, now.” I looked up at Shelley and said, “Damn, this is it, we’re going under.” And I think I was the only one who cried (not gracefully), even though I knew what was happening.

It was rough, because my work at Air America was so fun and creative and I produced a show I fully believed in, with a wonderful, kind host and co-workers who were (are) hilarious, smart, interesting and great at what they do – it was a huge loss, the demise of Air America (just sayin’).

Right then, in early 2010, my world felt a little out of sync. Maybe my word felt that way, too: I’m pretty sure I drew more on my 2009 word “moxie” as I tidied up my desk, collected severance and applied for unemployment. From January to April I enjoyed New York, very much. And though it’s a sort of a blur, let’s just say I was graceful as I did it, so there’s that to my credit.

In April I returned to Seattle, and as you’ll notice from the title of my blog, resent(ed) it. My intention was to find work in either Seattle or New York, but in reality I knew I had to take what came, so I did.

The first job I landed was a news editor position at a local Seattle TV/radio station -- and it didn’t go well. Truth is, I tried really hard to invoke grace but unfortunately I seemed to be in the middle of a wrestling match with Moxie (circa 2009) and in the end, Moxie won. Consequently, the first few months of the job I probably could have spent some more time keeping quiet and learning the ropes before I gave my critical opinion of what and how I thought things should be done. Though, thinking about it, in the end it was grace that kept me from walking off the job completely. So in November, Grace and I packed up our news editor bags and hit the road for greener pastures.

Looking back, those seven-ish months were hard for me – April through November. I wanted to be better in my job but knew my heart wasn’t in it and likely never would be. My friendships in Seattle had changed dramatically during the years I lived in New York and I just wanted to go back there. “Grace” was not a word I was evoking – at all (sorry, Grace). I think the word I was drawing from was “confusion” -- with a dash of sorrow.

2010 came with its relationship hardships as well. In November, I headed east to run the New York Marathon. And here I can comfortably tell you I did run it with grace. I was very mindful the entire time of going slow, taking it all in and breathing through every single borough of the City. I made it a graceful little victory in more ways than one. That said, I knew my visit wasn’t entirely about the race. I had unfinished business with a long-term boyfriend that was either going to bust it wide open or nail the coffin shut. In my mind I thought I would be fine either way, as long as it was definite. Well, definite it was. Without boring you with the details. I’ll just say it ended. Dramatically. In Times Square at about two o’clock in the morning. It did end though. Like a bull in a china shop. Coffin closed, nails lodged solidly intact.

So here we are, Grace and I, ending 2010 looking at one another like we’re strangers. We never really did hit it off. We tried though -- we really did -- but Grace, she was too meek and I, with all my moxie, became overbearing.

So now what do I do?

Well, I’ve thought about it. This year I’m not as much looking for a word I can draw upon. – (I initially thought of “want” as my word, but that’s just a recipe for disaster, isn’t it?) – instead I’m grabbing something I can own.

My word for 2011 (insert drum roll) is simply “Delight” (with a capital D) and I expect a great deal from it, so:

Dear Delight,

I’m ready, bring it on!

As Ever,

Tina.

Measuring Karma

2010-12-13T22:36:00.004-05:00

I know, I know. I promised a picture a week. I promised pithy reflections on my shifting bi-Coastal life. I promised to write. And, well, I didn'tand so here we are. With the first blog post in (how shall I put this?) in way too long.

I know you likely forgot about me and my promises -- and so who really cares at this point, right?

Wrong. Because I have something to say.

Again.

So! Let me just preface this whole story by telling you that even though I’m back (for now) in not-as-crazy-as-New-York-in-just-about-all respects - Seattle, finding parking, especially close to my door, is not easy. I live in a busy area where that commodity is scarce. So when I come home and luck out on a spot, I'm a happy girl. I tell you this so you'll keep it in mind as I relate to you the woes of my day.

Alright. So, I come home today and find a spot close to my door, and that makes me feel good because today I'll have to unload (I’m being honest here) my laptop, my purse, two iPhones (long story), other random items from my car along with some garbage in the way of an empty single tall vanilla latte cup, a can of shaving cream . . . and....

I digress.

Point is, I found a great parking spot. But as I pull in, some guy starts yelling at me:

He: "YOU CAN'T PARK HERE!"
<<I roll down my window.>>

Me: "What?"
He: "You can't park here!"<<rude, snotty, almost-yelling tone>>
Me: "What are you talking about? It's a public parking spot."
He: "Yeah, I know. I just moved my truck from here."
Me: "Huh? Your truck isn't here. I'm parking here."
He: <<even more rudely, now times ten>> "NO! You can't park here. We're moving these stones."
Me: "What? What are you talking about? It's a public parking space. You aren't..."
He: <<interrupting, ‘cause he's rude and terrible>> MOVE!! YOU CAN'T PARK HERE. I LIVE RIGHT HERE."
Me: "Yeah, well I live right here, too, and this is a public spot."
<<some kind of additional rudeness ensues>>
Me: "You know, you don't have to yell at me If you were just nice in the first place, I wouldn't be fighting back, but you're an ass."
<<I then give up and go find another spot . . . but I'm pretty mad.>>

As I walked the almost full block from the new parking spot to my apartment, I was angry at myself for giving up. That guy was a jerk and if he had just kindly asked me not to park there, I would have had no problem and simply driven on. But no! He had to be some loud jerk and make me move. And then, of course, I had to replay the scenario over and over again in my head -- and change the ending to me winning the fight and the parking spot. The whole thing rolled around in my brain like a pinball for likely way too long.

Eventually, though, I forgot about it.

Until . . .

I get home late tonight, glance at the same spot – which now is empty -- and see a tape measure and metal box haphazardly left right there in the middle of the former battleground. So I occupy the spot and pick up the metal box, and inside is a picture of the very same Mr. Rude, his car registration, detailed drawings of a construction site and various other notes and phone numbers.

Now I’m feeling a little powerful: after being yelled at by this jerk, I'm suddenly in a position to help him out. I can leave his stuff in the rain to get ruined or stolen or I can be a nice person and track him down and make sure he gets his stuff back.

So what should I do?

I know what the RIGHT thing to do is, but I'm so tired of doing the RIGHT thing. What would happen if I did the WRONG thing? What would happen if I just left the stuff right outside where I found it to get soaked in the deluge that’s in our forecast?

I'm sure you know what I did. I tracked the jerk down and he came and picked up his crap this afternoon. But I was ALMOST a bad guy, and I kinda liked it; so no promises next time.

Sunday 6.6.10

2010-06-07T00:36:00.002-04:00

I know, I know I said a picture every week - let's just pretend I said that yesterday and now here we are. This rain is not easy, but then it creates a sky like this and you have to be thankful for it all...right?

You Can Take The Girl Out of New York

2010-05-11T01:24:00.021-04:00

I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those bloggers who posts, just to post. I mean really, this isn't a lesson in creativity, it's something I have to do like eating cheese or drinking wine - I mean brushing my teeth or shaving my legs (anyway you get the idea - it's pretty much a necessity). I tell you that because I'm ashamed of myself for not writing in the last few weeks.

So here we are - by now you realize (because all you do is keep track of me and my life) that I've moved back to Seattle from New York - and am still in denial about it. Seriously, no matter which eye I close that Space Needle is NOT morphing into the Empire State Building; all it does is move a little left or right:

Only half of me is officially IN Seattle because most of my furniture, a few x-boyfriends and some odds and ends are scattered from the Upper West Side to Brooklyn Heights with a few crumbs still layin' around the streets of Chelsea. I shouldn't sound so nostalgic though, really - I mean let's face it I complained about New York as much as I am beginning to complain about Seattle (I'm rarely fully content). Truth is my meat IS here - clothes, friends, family and favorite weiner dog so I am grateful for that.

As I begin to bring the rest of my heart and soul back to the Emerald city, fully aware of it's resistance, I'm doing my best to employ Grace (let's not forget it IS my word for the year). I, believe it or not, fully restrain myself when faced with a crosswalk that in any other city would welcome a saunter through; (red light and all). I've honked my horn only a handful of times even though Seattlelites insist upon merging when EVER they feel like it and I smile at the Barista who genuinely wants to know how my day is; no matter how early I've arrived at the shop.

All in all I'm sewing the experience of these two cities together and soon will cross out the New York and become The Only Livin' Girl in ~~New York~~ Seattle. But bear with me because it might take a little more time.

Meanwhile - I've decided to take a photo a week of my new life here. Which will likely be more interesting when I visit New York in June - ok, I'll stop. But really, a photo a week of my life no matter where I end up...promise.

{space needle photo taken by the wonderful Kristen Gill: check her out here!}

What I'll Miss

2010-04-18T03:42:00.002-04:00

Things I’ll Miss About New York

Art
Friends
The Brooklyn Bridge
Brooklyn in General
Fascatti Pizza – Henry St.
Henry Street Ale House
Waking up with anxiety only because I couldn’t choose what amazing thing I would do or see in the city
Brooklyn Heights
The feeling of satisfaction I felt consistently when I arrived where I wanted to go with out looking at a map
Being lost
The Village: every single stinky inch of it
Wine in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday with no judgment
That musical note the subway makes when it leave it’s stop
The Mariachi Band, break dancers, du-op singers in the subway
Broadway
Random street art like the girl in a cage in Little Italy
Brunch
Halal – pretty sure I don’t know what it is, but I’ll miss it anyway
The walk between Canal St. & Little Italy: one minute you they’re pushing fake purses on you the next Cannoli
The Highline
Cheese everywhere
Walking everywhere
The festival of San Gennaro: It’s like an urban Puyallup Fair
Complete and meaningless street fairs and random parades
The Carrot Peeler: RIP
Always feeling inspired
Central Park
Tini little parks that seem to just be there because New York City knows how to use space
The Guggenheim
Intellectual conversations with cab drivers who fought through horrible conditions in their country to get to the US
$5 mojito’s made at your blanket in Central Park
The Chelsea Galleries
Stormy – the old woman who has lived in the Chelsea Hotel forever and still thinks she’s a security guard
The Spotted Pig
The changing of the seasons – colors of the trees in Autumn, Flowers in Spring, Snow in Winter – heat in Summer
The skyline
Running over the Brooklyn Bridge whenever I wanted dodging tourists and being annoyed by them, then remembering I’m freaking running across the Brooklyn Bridge!!
Restaurants where you have to bring in your own beer/wine
Farting out loud whenever you want because you can’t hear a thing on Manhattan streets (not that I ever did that)
Walking across the street against a light because you can
Housing Works – where I bought a lot of clothes
The Brooklyn Promenade
Little kids who seem to own the city and the subways after school
Diversity
Listening to 7 different languages on the train (I like to count them)
Central Park before or after 9 when the dogs are free to play
Random sightings of famous people: my favorite Paul McCartney in the subway tunnel
Fashion
Cabs

Things I won’t Miss About New York

Cabs
Fashion
$7 bottles of Amstel Light
Getting run over by bikes while running in Central Park
The tunnels of garbage
Always feeling inadequate
All that waste
Sore feet
The impossibility of buying all the groceries you need and want and being able to carry them home
The unpredictable weather
Cabs
Rats
Knowing that there is a whole world going on in the city that I’m not invited to and even if I was invited would not have anything to wear to “it”
Overpriced everything
Cabs
Times Square
Playing bumper cars in the grocery store no matter where you are
Being late no mater how hard I tried

The Farewell Tour

2010-04-09T10:41:00.017-04:00

(photo take by Francisco Cuevas )

I'm back in New York on what I originally called my "Goodbye Tour," but am now changing it to my "Farewell Tour," because I refuse to say goodbye to this town. I may only be back in love with New York because I've returned in the best time of year when she's clearly been spit and polished a bit. Flowers are blooming, the sun is out and even the grouchy ladies at the Fairway Market on the Upper West Side have a tiny skip in their step. Fine by me though, I'm perfectly happy feeling such infatuation with the City while I'm "on tour".

The good news about my time here right now is that I have a lot of it - time that is - and though my Kindergarten teachers never believed I could do it, will use my time wisely. Yesterday was officially Day 1 and I lapped up and savored every minute.

I set out early yesterday morning, flip flops on (it was 80 degrees out), back pack full with my Time Out New York, my book (Elizabeth Gilbert's Committed), 2 pens (so as not to repeat the pen disaster of 2008) and 2 camera's. I started at Columbus Circle where I met up with a friend early in the morning partly because she's an early riser and partly because I love the off-leash hours at the park when the dogs are frolicking in the sunshine. And they were, we were politely visited by a skittish wiener dog, two older golden labs and sniffy white poodle.

After the Park I was determined to head to my next favorite place in New York, Madison Square Park. I've had some of my very favorite moments in this park where I was often visited by my friends Loneliness or Self Pity who were often run off by Inspiration and Wonder. This day I knew there was some funky art installations around the park but wasn't sure what exactly I was looking for. So, I hopped on the first train to downtown thinking I could get off at either 14th or 23rd, close enough to walk over to the park. Well, silly me, my inner New York compass is all jumbled up right now and I ended up on West 4th & 6th Ave (a pretty long walk to 23rd and 5th).

Knowing I had plenty of time I decided to skip, I mean walk, up town. So I did, I walked up 6th Ave which I had done many times in my life living in New York but today was different. I was looking at the city with such love in my heart and so much more appreciation. I felt almost like I did when I arrived and began my love affair with her. The Empire State Building, which for a while became just a landmark that was always there, looked more majestic than ever and I regretted not appreciating it more when I saw it over 300 times on my walk to work every day.

As I continued to walk up 6th Ave. I loved knowing where I was and what was coming next. I purposely stopped at the stationary store to buy a journal, the Starbucks to use the potty and of course a little deli for a snack. Finally I got to my destination, The Flat Iron Building which shadows Madison Square Park and looked up to see this:

My heart skipped a beat, a jumper? Nope, more great art in New York. I knew there was something like this going on in the city but wasn't aware of the magnitude. Antony Gormely has placed over 25 sculptures cast from his own body throughout buildings in and around Madison Square Park. As I looked around from the corner of 23rd and 5th and throughout the park I began to spot them and take pictures:

I love these installations so much, first because there is something incredible about looking up to see them hidden around the city, but also because of Gormley's intention: He's illustrating the relationship between the individual and the urban landscape - and what a better place to do that than in New York? He talks about the contradictions created by life in the city; which according to Howard Halle of Time out New York are alienation, ambition, anonymity, fame. To me it's that thing about always having to be aware of my surroundings and my place in the world, however humbling, while either living or visiting Manhattan. Anyway I'm babbling now, but I was totally inspired and taken by these works, and just felt so lucky to have lived in a city that supports this type of art.

After my moments of joy I continued walking north, feet pretty much worse for wear:

This is getting long, so I'll just tell you, my day ended with more fun New York nuggets including an overpriced glass of wine outside at the Shake Shack, attempting to get my old camera repaired near the Empire State Building only to be denied because they just didn't feel like it and and playing bumper carts while fighting my way through the Fairway Market on the Upper West Side.

But possibly my favorite moment of the whole day was when I watched an elderly Asian man fold a page of a magazine into an airplane on the subway. I smiled as he finished and he handed it to me "for you, this is for you, give it to a child" he said. I left the train delighted and decided I was a very deserving child.

Taxi Cab Justice

2010-03-12T18:11:00.003-05:00

(image by kefek's photostream on Flickr)

If you've followed this blog at all you know that I have really struggled with love, hate and guilt when it comes to New York City cab drivers. I've fought with them, yelled at them, stiffed them and even tried being nice to them. Though, I have had some amazing experiences in cabs talking with drivers who've lead incredibly interesting lives, I always feel like when I'm in a cab they are "takin' me for a ride" as it were. But when I read the latest report from the Taxi and Limousine Commission about how NYC cabbies have gauged riders out of $8.3 MILLION, I'm pissed! Although I'm also feeling a little vindicated on this one - I mean I did call it, after all - but from now on I'll be even more on my guard when traveling around the Big Apple - and you should too!

Seattle Meets New York on Alki and in My Head

2010-02-20T15:32:00.006-05:00

Yesterday I was on Alki Beach in West Seattle talking with a friend, reflecting on my confliction about the coasts and the current state of my life. I am always amazed by the beauty and grace Seattle has over the spirit and chaos of the Big Apple. At the same time though, both cities have given me so much and so each get a piece of my heart no matter how I slice it.

Isn't it funny how just as I was pondering both, they appeared before me in this way?

I simply love how during my moments of confusion I can meld the beauty of both; that I think, is where my personal grace exists these days and I'm holding tight to it.

What is Invisible to the Eye

2010-02-02T13:13:00.004-05:00

My friend Kate recently reminded me of a quote that I used to live by:

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly.What is essential is invisible to the eye," Antoine St. Exupery, The Little Prince.

When I was in college and even post college I would carry around extra copies of The Little Prince and if I was dating anyone it was their first reading assignment (I know weird). I always believed it to be a life changing piece of work.

I tell you this because I had an invisible experience recently at the Guggenheim Museum here in New York. I want badly to tell you all about it, but if I do I will ruin it for you. I just have to say if you live here I urge you to go to the Guggenheim today and look with your heart and I wish that you too have the life changing experience that I had. Finally, if you don't live here and so can't experience what I did, grab a cup of coffee and sit down and read Le Petite Prince in French or in English even if you've already read it.
PS: If you do go and want to talk about it, I would love to have coffee or a glass of wine and discuss so shoot me an email: writetotinanow@gmail.com

Chris Matthews Aha! Moment

2010-01-28T00:53:00.008-05:00

When I was about 21 years old I had an epiphany about myself and my intellectual vs. emotional understanding of politics. I'll never forget it. I was at The Intiman Theater in Seattle seeing Tony Kushner's "Angels In America." For those not familiar, there is a crucial moment in the show when two men who have been falling in love with each other are about to kiss for the first time. It's that same moment in any love story, soap opera or romantic comedy when the audience just simply wants the new couple to kiss. You know that moment: the couple comes in close, it's slow and much anticipated and if anything stops that kiss it could interrupt the trajectory of that couples' love forever. So the audience is holding their breath in hopeful anticipation.

So, at that minute I found myself wanting these two men to kiss. I was fully enthralled; intellectually, emotionally, all of it. And as they did..and I heard my self let out my breath.

After it was over, I thought, Well, that was interesting, that was literally the first time in my life I really wanted two men to kiss. Prior to that, I knew the "right" thing was to be "ok with" homosexuality, to support gay rights, gay marriage all of it; but having that intellectual understanding versus really having that emotional agreement with it are two very different things. I suddenly realized that I needed to examine that conflict personally in all aspects of my political/social beliefs. It began to feel false for me to just agree with something because I knew I was a liberal or a Democrat and so had to or else risk being called conservative in anyway.

Now, I don't want to give Chris Matthews too much credit here. But I wonder if his "aha moment" during the State of the Union Address was a little like mine. Like maybe he never intellectually considered himself a racist because he believes that racism is wrong; but it was still in there somewhere. So, when he said those words "I forgot he was black for an hour," maybe that was the hour he truly and emotionally was able to look past the color of a person's skin and so judged the President by the "content of his character." At least I hope so.

State of the Union

2010-01-27T15:18:00.001-05:00

I will be tweeting the State of the Union Address tonight while playing this drinking game:

http://www.drinkinggame.us/

Follow me @onlylivingirl

Barring Love

2010-01-20T01:05:00.008-05:00

Listening to a couple argue in a NY City bar is compelling and educating!

I’ll just say that if a woman “needs to talk about sex” it means you’re doing it wrong. Conversely if a man is still mad from 2 days ago, it means you’re doing it wrong.

Here’s how it went down:

He: is hot with a capital H (and so is she).

They: are maybe 24.

He: is jealous.

She: is confused and real mad.

They: are immature; but that hotness keeps ‘em together (God bless 'em)

Here’s what I heard (for the most part).

She: well, are you still mad about something that happened 2 days ago?

He: No

Me: (hell yeah you are)

She: Then why did you just bring that up right out of the blue?

He: Well, I’m concerned.

Me: (who’s the cheater? Someone cheated)

She: Well do we need to talk about that now?

He: No we can talk about it tomorrow.

Me: ( he just wants to do it with her one more time)

They: leave

Me: (bummer)

They: come back!

Me: (GOODIE!)

They: are mad.

She: what do you mean my friends? I mean it’s my friends!! I don’t know why you bring that up all the time. I mean…God! Just friends, it’s no big deal.

They: sit in silence

Me: (noooot listening)

He: mumbles

Me: (uh, what was that?)

She: When? I was fine that night, I wasn’t depressed, I was in a mood. Is that ok? Can’t I just be in a bad mood? A MOOD! God!

Me: (Talk louder please!)

Them: arms crossed.

This is a fight clearly about her depression, his infidelity or hers and their wanting to be together but the language is right out of Jersey Shore and too often inaudible.

She: I might just need to take a step back but I don’t want you to feel bad.

Me: (dude, get out she’s trying to bail)

She: it’s not really fair of you to make me feel bad because I have a bad day, I didn’t want to tell you, I mean, I just had a bad day. I shouldn’t have to feel bad about it.

He: But I wanted you to leave your friends and not deal with all this – I thought you should touch me and be nice to me but that’s not what you did…now you want me to just. whatever.. I mean…

Me: (Oh my God I wish I were a faster typist and that they spoke in complete sentences).

Them: arms crossed…although uncrossing.

He: kisses her.

She: kisses back!

Me: (ewe)

Them: silence for about 5 seconds

She: Recrosses arms…You called me a bitch and a prostitute in the same sentence. I’m just saying.

Him: gathering money and keys would like to bail but can’t.

They: silence with arms crossed again

Me: (really? fight, kiss, silence…this is a marriage in the making)

He: {something I can’t hear}

Me: (damn that mumbler)

Her: OK, get yourself a shot of whiskey, but whiskey makes me vomit. Do they not have Tequila here?

Then there was some talk about they're trip to Wild Turkey someplace or other, on Staten Island when he tried to get her to drink Whiskey. Apparently he was trying to talk her into it so finally she tried it but that made her real mad and she barfed at the bar.

Me: Can no longer take it…and grateful to not be 24...ish.

Absolutely

2010-01-13T22:03:00.007-05:00

Subway:
2 train @ 14th St. and 7th Ave
9:30pm ET
Wednesday January 13, 2010

No one wants to sit next to the lady eating the stinky onion salad.
Or the man knitting the putrid scarf/hat/something or other.

I hobble my way to the end of the train wondering if I made the right decision as I plop down in front of the loud white rapper.

The train stinks. The rapper is off key and I can't hear the beat.

I open my copy of New York Magazine intent on finding the best restaurant to go to this weekend.

A man in a suit standing next to me tries to communicate non-verbally through the reflection in the window.

I'm pretty sure he's trying to say something like "how about us? here on the crazy train?"

I make a half hearted attempt to agree but I've never been good at an eyebrow response.

The suit-man gets off empty handed at Wall Street.

I continue to pretend to read my New York Magazine even though, truth is, I'm documenting the train experience in my head.

It's been a rough day - when I get to my stop I wonder why they've paid to repaint this dump of a subway tunnel. I get to the elevator and choose not to sandwich myself in between the other late night workers/vagrants into an over crowded soup can.

So, I wait with an old guy carrying a guitar, a hipster with earbuds and a mom with a stroller.

We make it into next elevator in silence.

I get home, poor an Absolute Vodka and Cranberry (yes at 9:45ish on Wednesday), and can't wait to tell you about my day.

What if you didn’t know you were a racist?

2010-01-12T19:38:00.010-05:00

(Originally published at Airamerica.com)

What if you didn’t know you were a racist?

I’ve often wondered if there could be such a thing as subconscious racism, and how it would manifest if there were. The more I think about it and hear good, God-fearing Democrats put their racist feet in their mouths, the less I wonder about it all.

What if you are a life-long Democrat, who believes fully in all the things good liberals do: you know in your bones women should continue to have the right to choose what they do with their bodies; you believe everyone has the right in this country to affordable health care; you care about the poor, the tired and the huddled masses and even your own carbon foot print. You fancy yourself as a solid, progressive American and then one day you hear yourself say something that flies in the face of all the fundamental things you believe in, and maybe even the things around which you’ve based your life and career.

This, I fear, has happened to many white Democrats, and most recently to Senator Harry Reid. We’d all like to believe we’re not racist and when it comes down to it, and especially when we cast our vote, we aren’t. But sometimes, for some reason, it squeaks out perhaps because we’ve denied it’s reality for so long. Racism, we think, is something other people do.

Maybe it’s subconscious racism that compelled Sen. Harry Reid, in his now-infamous comments about Obama's skin color and accent, and (if Mark Halperin and John Heilemann are to be believed) to Bill Clinton when he supposedly said, “Obama would be getting our coffee.” And it seems, quite frankly, to be happening to all those conservative Democrats who seem to oppose everything our President tries to do.

It’s not that I am trying to make excuses, because maybe they really are racists, but their records show that, in many conscious ways, they simply aren’t. Toni Morrison called Bill Clinton "our first black President," and he famously appointed African-Americans to high level positions throughout his Administration. These actions, do not a racist make.

One only needs to point to Senator Harry Reid’s record on civil rights to get to the truth of his actions when it comes to race in the United States. He's consistently lauded for his policy stances on both race and social justice issues of disproportionate impact on African-Americans. And yet, by his own admission, he used racially-charged terms to describe the now-President of the United States and his standing with white voters. But his comments indicate that, though he doesn’t mean to be, somewhere, deep down, he is one kind of racist.

And so what do we do? Simply this: like Harry Reid is apparently doing now, take a good, hard look at yourself and at the privileges you enjoy by virtue of being a member of the dominant racial group in the United States. Now keep thinking about it, and when your subconscious thoughts about race, ones that perhaps make you uncomfortable, pop into your head, stop them, because if you don’t you’re a racist and so please turn in your Democratic card, because that’s not what we’re about.

You Did It!

2010-01-05T17:23:00.004-05:00

This piece originally appeared on the Air America Website; please visit for more information.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From the time Americans are very young we are taught specifically the rules and regulations surrounding the blame game. There’s a fight on the playground and the first question asked is “who started it?” We fail in math class and it’s the teachers fault. We can’t get through college, and, well it’s all because our parents divorced when we were 4 years old. If blame were an Olympic sport, we’d get the Gold.

So let’s take a good hard look at the blame game being played right now by the right wing in reference to the recent attempt to bomb a Northwest airlines flight on Christmas Day. The Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank said this afternoon via Rick Sanchez;

“Obama should take personal responsibility for leadership failures that caused intelligence breakdowns in our security system.”
Based on what we know now, the airport security procedures in place were followed; procedures let me remind you that were put in place during the Bush Administration. (And before I continue let me be clear: I am NOT blaming the Bush Administration for the actions of this terrorist. But let’s also be honest about exactly what and why and who is responsible for this incident.)

In his speech this afternoon the President made it very clear that there is a finger to be pointed here and should be directed toward the National Counterterrorism Center (NCTC). The President is clearly angry and I trust we’ll see some changes in the future, that said the fault lies in the system as it was put forth before he came into power and not with him personally or his Administration directly.

I will venture to say the culprit lies very simply in Al Qaeda and personally in Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab. And further that this was an unavoidable incident thwarted by smart passengers and only smart passengers; sometimes in the end it’s you and I who are responsible and in this case we saved lives.

According to Heritage Foundation’s foreign policy studies director James Carafano, “This is the 28th foiled terror plot against the United States since 9/11. What is notable is that of the 28 failed plots, 26 were stopped by intelligence, military, and law enforcement agencies”.
So that means the system under both Bush and Obama is technically working, no? So I have to ask, why does that mean the Obama administration should take responsibility for this particular incident all by themselves?

Again from Carfano: "At the end of the day, the thing that's really going to make us safe is doing our job and identifying these people long before they get to the airport.”
Still not seeing fault in either administration in this case. In terms of policy it was there, but perhaps in terms of human error and negligence, not so much? So, I wonder, what SHOULD the President have done on the days leading up to the incident? Or the first year in his Presidency to have thwarted this attempt? What WOULD have made us safer? Have the Republican think tanks or pundits come up with a “shoulda, coulda, woulda?" Nope, just blame and bit of what we should do NOW (ah, that hindsight is always 20/20, I tell ya).

The next question after blame is that the administration is doing nothing, and, according to Dick Cheney, ignoring the fact that we’re at war. Really? Because here are the changes the administration has made since Christmas Day 2009, as the investigation continues:

* TSA has called on all passengers traveling through and from 14 selected countries to go through enhanced airport security measures, including pat-downs and full-body scanners. Four of those countries -- Cuba, Iran, Sudan and Syria -- are on the State Department's list of sponsors of terrorism. Those four do not have direct flights to the U.S.

* Officials have also reviewed the more than half-million names on the general terror watch database and reportedly shifted dozens over to the no-fly list and "selectee" list requiring additional airport screening.
So who’s to blame at the end of the day? Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab. And whose job will it be to protect us from here on out; the Obama Administration, and most importantly you and me. So keep your eyes out and your ears open and should the situation come your way, act, don’t blame.

Moxy Gracefull (ness)

2009-12-31T01:51:00.011-05:00

This is a time where we're supposed to say goodbye to the last year (or decade even), and hello to the brand new mystery of three hundred and sixty five days. As a person who hopes to grow and change and learn from her mistakes and successes I try to spend a little time at the end of the year checking in and of course looking back.

I was trying to think of a word or phrase that I could label my impending personal year. Last year I adopted "Moxy." Which I have to say boded well for me because, upon reflection, I began '09 in a full on battle with New York City Cab drivers and I am happy to report that, in that area - my battle is over, if only because I read "The Strength in What Remains" (which has changed my thinking completely about the way we should treat one another), coupled with the reality that, I now actually know where I'm going in New York! In addition to tackling my cab driver anger, I also left my job at CBS News and began a new journey with Air America. The job change took a lot of Moxy because, at the end of the day, I had to choose quality of life over status; and I did.

That said I can't forget that I was struggling last year between the words "Grace" and "Moxy" (ps: I have actually now learned how to spell the word Moxy, which also bodes well for me). I told myself 365 days ago that I would save Grace for 2010. Damn me and my word!

Looking forward and embracing "Grace." I see a future for myself that looks, still uncertain. I continue to struggle between New York and Seattle and hope to finally accept and so settle in one of those two cities. I love my relationships with my friends and family and only hope to give to them all that they have given me (and mostly realize I'm on the receiving end of something so great I might not be capable of giving it back). Grace, also is aggressive and so I see some more physical goals in my future; while Moxy brought a marathon last year Grace might bring a half marathon (only faster) in twenty ten - (Grace is a lil more realistic, as it turns out). I'm hoping also that Grace gives me some peace of mind and that I'm smart enough to use that time wisely. Where Moxy scored my new job and apartment in New York I think Grace will bring appreciation of it all.

As I'm beginning to warm up to this Grace, I'm also a little frightened of it. Moxy was so much more fun, Grace could be a little boring. I'm getting used to it though, again where Moxy got obnoxious I think Grace is stronger in that she might be able to hold my feet on the ground. We'll see, I might get Grace some pink boxing gloves, just in case she needs 'em.

So that's the coming year and the past year in a very small nut shell - do I dare take a hard look at the past decade? I think Grace would say that the past is the past and I should simply leave it behind, live in the moment, and move on.

Global Godliness

2009-12-08T16:51:00.004-05:00

If you believe in God you have to believe in global warming.

I’m not an atheist only because I really don’t know the truth behind human existence and what it’s all about. I do believe in evolution, however, and the scientific proof behind it. The fact is, though, I don’t really know the meaning of life. (And, be honest: neither do you.)

Rather than choose that we simply turn to dust after we die, I prefer the happier ending of eternal life in the wonderland of heaven. That said, as I’ve had conversations with my Christian friends the argument about faith that’s always pushed me over the edge has been, “Well it couldn’t hurt.” It couldn’t hurt to read the bible and follow those 10 commandments, either. Consequently, I have not born any false witness against any of my neighbors and, though we bicker sometimes, I totally honor my mom... and it’s only a little bit of work.

Applying this same logic to the present argument: if you believe in God, you must believe in global warming, and, therefore, you have a moral obligation to act. Even if we find, definitively, based on the recent e-mail controversy or some new scientific evidence, that we have no impact on the future of the planet, it really couldn’t hurt to attempt to protect it, now could it?

So for you naysayers on global warming, why not take a risk? Recycle, stop driving your gas-guzzling SUV (all by yourself) to your inner city commute, attempt to buy your foods locally and reduce just a little bit, even if you don’t “believe.” Because in the end I promise you’ll be a better person for it – whether or not it's all a load of crap.

Flying Solo

2009-12-07T15:34:00.006-05:00

(photo from http://parentingsquad.com)

A close friend of mine recently said to me “there are many ways to be a mother on this planet.” A sentence I’ve been thinking about a lot lately; largely because I am getting older and haven’t had any children of my own and partly because I frequently encounter judgment about the fact that I don’t have any kids, (though have mentored many).

Recently while flying from Hawaii to Seattle, I arrived at my assigned seat on the airplane and there was a child sitting in it. I looked at the child’s mother and said, “that’s my seat”; she was sitting in the aisle providing her two children the middle and window seat.

“Can you sit on the aisle?” she asked.

“Well no, I want to sleep and I purposely booked that seat.”

“Well maybe someone else will move then, I don’t want to sit away from my daughter or have them sit next to a stranger.”

“The aisle seat is too far away from them? You'd literally be RIGHT next to them”

“Do you have children?”

“No, no I don’t”

“Well, you don’t understand then.”

The woman then asked passengers around me if someone in a window seat would switch with me. One guy offered up his seat but I didn’t take it because I didn’t want to put him out, making me the ‘bad guy’ no matter what I chose to do.

I hated to be selfish but the fact is that I planned ahead and purposely chose that seat. While I understand the whole, “it takes a village", and motherhood is difficult and should be honored point of view – I just wonder what’s wrong with choosing not to have kids and not asking someone else to accommodate that choice?

In the end I took the aisle seat and was unable to sleep while this woman’s children sleep soundly in the seat I booked and paid for. I’m still mad about it (obviously) though wonder if I Am at fault? Should I have just happily moved because I’m not the one with kids and so can more easily be inconvenienced? Should I have stuck to my guns and made her kids take the middle and aisle seats they were assigned while the mother sat next to them in the other aisle seat? Am I shirking my motherhood responsibilities?

Splintered Democrats

2009-12-03T21:34:00.003-05:00

This piece first appeared on Air America's Website:

Do Democrats Need To Circle The Wagons Around President Obama?

Ron Reagan Show executive producer Tina Nole wonders why Democrats don't support Obama when he needs support most.

Thursday December 3, 2009 3:01 p.m.

Photo Credit: Associated Press

By Tina Nole

If there is anything I’ve learned in my many years playing team sports it’s that a confident and unified team is a winning team. Applying this strategy to politics: it’s no wonder we Democrats watched as the country swirled down the toilet during the Bush years and are looking down the loser's barrel in the 2010 elections.

During the hours before President Obama gave his speech on Afghanistan, progressives began panning it. Said The Huffington Post's Derrick Crowe: “The president is getting ready to announce his decision re: Afghanistan. A note to press covering this: adding more troops is the opposite of an "exit strategy," and should be noted as such.”

Not quite a year into the president inheriting the a grim economy with record levels of job loss did Arianna Huffington call unemployment “Obama’s Katrina.” Before the ink is placed on the paper in the health care bill, Democrats have decided it’s not good enough. While the president is planning to try Guantanamo detainees in the United States for the first time in history we say “it’s not soon enough, he hasn’t fulfilled campaign promises.”

Meanwhile Republicans gain steam with loud voices creating dissent with their teabagger movementand grow in numbers because if “not even his own party can support him, what kind of president do we have?.”

The Democratic Party has always been the party of questioning, critical thinking and fighting against blind faith. We are the smart ones. And though I’m not suggesting we dumb it down in order to win, I do think we could afford to step back for a moment and show some faith in the man we elected.

It’s quite possible that our expectations are not only unrealistic but impossible. The president, in 365 days was supposed to, close Guantanamo Bay, legalize gay marriage, get rid of "don’t ask don’t tell," repair the economy, end the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, create an endless supply of jobs for the American unemployed and repair the economy?

According to Politifact: President Obama has kept 56 of his campaign promises thus far with another 255 not yet rated, while breaking 7, odds I’m willing to accept.

Further the president’s announcement of strategy in Afghanistan was exactly what he campaigned on and why we elected him in the first place.

I’m not suggesting we stop questioning our president, but if we wake up in a few years to a new regime of Republican leadership, let’s not scratch our heads and wonder how that happened.

Article Tags

Dumbo Luck

2009-11-17T20:15:00.006-05:00

Found a four-leaf clover in DUMBO today: just looked down and there it was. Can't wait for all the luck to arrive!

My Hood

2009-11-16T20:32:00.007-05:00

I often walk around my Brooklyn Heights neighborhood and say to myself "really? I get to live here?!" Last night I literally walked about 20 steps from my front door to the promenade and watched the sunset and took some pictures.

This one I actually took from my roof deck:

After I left the Promenade I had the BEST drink at Jack the Horse Tavern, only about 4 blocks from my apartment while I got a lesson about the history of the hood and it's roots from a neighborhood friend. Just so you know how cute it is, here's a shot I grabbed from the NY Times review of JtH:

If you find yourself in New York, you MUST come visit this neighborhood, especially in the Fall when the leaves are vibrant against the backdrop of quaint houses, kind people and a nice laid back environment.

Would Terrorism by Any Other Name Smell As Sour?

2009-11-09T18:12:00.002-05:00

Until today I've been reluctant to talk about either dating or politics on my blog, but considering my life is consumed with both almost everyday, I figured I'd change my mind.

This post was orginally published on the Air America website:

Would Terrorism By Any Other Name Smell So Sour?

Ron Reagan's Executive Producer Says NO!

Monday November 9, 2009 4:41 p.m.

Mark Rodgers of Groesbeck, Texas, stands on the side of US 190 outside the main gate of Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas, to pray and show his support on Sunday Nov. 8, 2009, following the mass shootings at Fort Hood last week. (AP Photo/Austin American-Statesman, Jay Janner)

By Tina Nole

Merely hours after the tragic shootings at Fort Hood on Thursday, right wing bloggers, mainstream media professionals and the general public began calling the incident “an act of terrorism.”

ABC news said it was the “worst act of terrorism since 9/11.” Senator Joe Leiberman called the shooter a “self-radicalized, homegrown terrorist."

He went further on Fox News Sunday, saying, "If the reports that we're receiving of various statements he made, acts he took, are valid, he had turned to Islamist extremism, and, therefore, if that is true, the murder of these 13 people was a terrorist act and, in fact, it was the most destructive terrorist act to be committed on American soil since 9/11.”

Webster's defines terrorism as: "the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion."

Dictionary.com defines it this way: "The unlawful use or threatened use of force or violence by a person or an organized group against people or property with the intention of intimidating or coercing societies or governments, often for ideological or political reasons."

Wikipedia, not surprisingly, seems all over the map: “At present, there is no internationally agreed definition of terrorism”.

So we have to ask ourselves what is behind the eagerness to call the Fort Hood massacre "terrorism" or further the reluctance to do so?

What exactly is to be gained by labeling the act of a loan gunman, who happens to be Muslim, a "terrorist?" Do we act differently in response to this than to the shootings at Virginia Tech or the loner who killed six people and then himself in Seattle a few years ago or the ex-postal worker who killed six people and then herself in 2006? Are any of these individuals "terrorists?" And should we then round up the loners, the Asians, the Muslims and the women and label them "terrorists" so we can keep a more watchful eye? If we have a name for it does it make us more safe? Or if we don’t, less so?

We’ve traditionally let the right wing commandeer our vocabulary. "Liberal" became a bad word during the Bush years, a public option for health care is now "socialized medicine" and any time a crazy person of a varied ethnic background commits a crime, it’s "terrorism."

In the end whether or not Nadal Malik Hassan is labeled by the Department of Homeland Security as a terrorist, let’s consider the larger ramifications of that umbrella terminology before we start throwing it around so freely.

Found: Button

2009-10-16T15:55:00.001-04:00

Found this on Montague Street this morning. I'd always heard they show up when you least expect it!

A Day in the Park

2009-10-13T19:15:00.015-04:00

Because this city often gets to me, sometimes I have to find reasons to fall back in love with it. So Sunday I packed up my flip video, my camera, a note book and the Times and headed to Central Park for the day. Here's a list of what I found:

2 Native American Rituals

4 Great saxophone Players

1 really amazing jazz band! (you can see from the video I took here.)

1 unusually young street performer
(who by the way, I felt both impressed by and little sorry for)

2 Brides
(who by the way, I felt both impressed by and little sorry for..eh he)

1 Fairy - who gave me some glitter when I put a dollar in her funky little suitcase

Lots of roller bladders, but only 2 who were jumping around and dancing

1 weird looking dragon fly with red wings

2 all black squirrels

1 Lady walking her cat (poor cat)

1 unhappy bubble blower upper: They were some fun big bubbles but the guy making them seemed to hate it

5 people hula-hooping

1 really weird performance artist/singer dancer guy - I've seen him before and he's usually in a loin cloth of sorts. Seems many tourist are really in awe of this guy, but he kinda bugged me.

At the end of my day I also enjoyed some time with one of my favorite attractions to Central Park Summers, and that is the Roller Skaters! It's the most joyous explosion of fun and I stood and watched with a smile on my face for at least an hour. Here's a portion of the video I took.

Another day in Wonderland!

Searching

2009-10-08T19:33:00.007-04:00

You know that time when you’ve been in a relationship for two or more years and you look back to when you only knew that person for a year and you think “I can’t believe I thought I knew him back then, I had no idea.” Well, I’ve officially reached this stage in my relationship with New York. I’ve been here for 2 years now and I remember last year, thinking “everything is familiar now”, I had no idea. I imagine 2 years from now, should I still live in the city I’ll say the same thing about how I feel today.

Lately I’m feeling a familiarity with the city that is both comfortable and irritating all at the same time. I no longer have to be the first one across the street to prove that I know how to cross Manhattan roads, I don’t push anyone out of the way when getting on the train (I know I’ll make it), I can find my way around the village and can even recommend a handful of restaurants. The irritating part though is I’ve learned New York has issues with specificity.

You see, while the city seems so convenient to new comers, the corner stores, the gourmet cheese and wine at your finger tips, the ease by which you can pop in and out of the subway on any given weekday afternoon and end up relatively close to your destination; finding something specific you really need, like a husband, a tape measure or say… a button is not a simple task. In any other city you would simply hop in your car and drive to the husband, I mean, button store. You’d walk into a sea of various fasteners, fabrics and what not, and eventually you’d walk out of the store with exactly what you came in for, someone tall dark and handsome – I mean a nice round fastener with a lil flower on it .

Well in the city it’s not so easy. I know this first hand as my Matilda has a fondness for fasteners and has eaten several rather critical buttons in my life.

First you have some decisions to make; do you want a new button? An old button? Maybe an antique? Are you SURE you want a button and not a zipper? or some other type of fastener? There are a great many choices and distractions in this city …you have a plenty buttons to choose from, so you better know exactly what you are looking for before you leave the apartment!

Next you have figure out where all the buttons are. Where exactly IS the button district? (Specific stores in New York tend to congregate). Then you have to figure out what train to take and beyond that, is it across town from where you live? In which case you might want to just forget about it and solve your problem by hiring someone to handle your fastener issues.

See, it becomes an entire strategy, this button finding. Because what if you travel all the way down or up-town and find this particular district doesn’t have the button you’ve been looking for, you could waste your whole life, I mean… day trying to find the right button!

Anyway you get my point, it’s a process trying to do anything you REALLY want to in this city, so in the end it might just be best to go with the flow and take what you can get.

Invisible Dogs

2009-09-27T23:27:00.008-04:00

While walking down Court Street today in Brookyn Heights I noticed a woman strolling along, carrying a dog leash. On the end of the dog leash was a harness, only the harness was empty - no dog. I'd seen it before at a carnival or something, so it made me smile and wonder a little - but then again I do live in New York so I just continued on my way. A few seconds later though, I noticed another one: right! another person holding a leash for an invisible dog. That's when I realized, something was up (because I'm quick like that).

Turns out there were literally THOUSANDS of them! Thousands of people walking all over Brooklyn with leashes attached to air. The funny thing was noone seemed to break "character." People would pull their dogless leash away from a real dog because apparently the two creatures didn't get a long. Some carried waste bags, stopped by fire hydrants, made sure stores let dogs in etc. It was hilarious.

Thank you Improv Everywhere, well done!

iKarma Juice

2009-09-21T23:37:00.015-04:00

I'm no stranger to karma, good or bad, so when it slapped me in the face the other day, I was pretty clear about the message:

When I was a kid I stole a comic book from Ray's grocery store on Steilacoomb Boulevard in Tacoma, Washington. I was probably about 5 years old, and at the time my mother tried to explain to me the bad karma I could endure if I didn't return it (pretty sure it had something to do with going blind). I had no idea what she was talking about (at the time), but I did know that the RIGHT thing to do was to return that comic book and, of course, confess my sin to the proprietor. This was only lesson number one on my karmic trip.

My mother instilled in me the importance of the role karma played out in my life and wasn't shy about pointing it out – frequently. Consequently, there wasn't a hurt, dead or diseased animal that I did not bring home, a kid in my classroom I picked on, or a single item I stole (barring the comic book) in my life...EVER. Which I imagine has played out in my love life a bit, but that's a story for another blog.

So you'll see why, when I got a karmic slap down by a homeless man the other day, I was pretty upset.

See, I was slightly hung over after an evening of debauchery with some close Seattle friends (holla @pamsue @jeffdossett) and really there's no better cure than a Mango-a-go-go with a lil energy boost, so we made our way to the Jamba Juice on 14th St. & 6th Ave. As I walked out of the Jamba Juice, hangover cure in tow, I noticed a man with one hand on his cane and the other, palm up, eager to be filled. I also gathered in a quick second that he was a Veteran. He said something that I couldn't make out indicating that he'd like some dough. I looked him right in the eye, knowing I didn't have a dime on me, and said "sorry sir." (thank you, Maureen my friend who taught me the importance of grace and kindness to all)

At that very moment I dropped my Mango-a-go-go onto the street...UPSIDE-DOWN with no possibility for a five second rule.

The man on the street said "SEE! You see that? You dropped that because you don't help people."

I thought he was joking because that's something I would say, so I laughed.

He replied "You think I'm joking? You don't help people and see what happens?!"

It all happened so fast there wasn't much I could do or say. The street was busy, I had to pick up my cup so as not to litter and navigate through the obstacle course of people on the street. Consequently, I kept walking, but I was very bothered.

I talked with Pamela about it, "Did you hear that? I just got a karma slap down by that homeless man back there! He told me basically that I had bad karma for not helping him."

What?! She said, "You help people?! What? We were JUST talking about starting a non-profit for homeless people, AND I gave a quarter to that lady in front of Jamba Juice."

She was right..I help people. I'm a helper. He's an ass. I just didn't want to help that ass. And serves him right, he's out there because HE didn't help people, it's HIS fault. I'm a helper!

Thing is, my concern about that moment in time didn't stop there, and if it had, it's quite possible my conscious would be clear...but it's not and wasn't. I continued thinking about it and still am. In fact for that entire day, I wondered about my life and what I am doing and why I'm doing it.

The next morning Pamela and I got up and took Matilda for a walk down into DUMBO. We sat in the park, talked and gave Matilda a whole lotta belly rubs. Anyway, upon our return back to my apartment Pamela realized she'd lost her iPhone; likely dropped it in the grass at the park. SO....we went running (literally) back to the park.

As we approached the Promenade, not even 100 steps from my apartment, I got a text:

The guy that found Pamela's iPhone texted me (because I was the last person she called) in an effort to find her and return it.

We were so excited!! YAY! She gets her iPhone back!

On our way to retrieve the phone we speculated as to what we could do for the guy who found it. After several more texts and one voice-to-voice conversation, we met in front of the Peas and Pickles on Washington Street.

As soon as we saw him, his dog and his girlfriend we literally jumped for joy and asked if we could buy them lunch? something? repay them somehow?

No, they said...but, if you find an iPhone, just make sure you find the person who lost it and give it back.

We agreed – pay it forward.

Pamela took a minute in silence (which is why I love her so) to thank them. We both sent them good vibes and as we were walking away Pamela turned to me and said...

"You know what I'm going to do? ... I going to buy you a Jamba Juice!"

Times

2009-09-21T11:58:00.003-04:00

It's a little old now but I forgot to thank the NY Times, Cityroom section for this mention, made my day and obviously my month, considering I'm posting it now.

September 4, 2009, 12:34 pm

The Gracious Victim

By Daniel E. Slotnik AND Justin G. Sullivan

What we’re looking at on the Web today …

Sometimes even bicycle thieves deserve a little courtesy, as this photo from Columbia Heights clearly shows. [The Only Livin' Girl in New York via Brooklyn Heights Blog]

Conscientious Victim - Part 2

2009-09-05T08:46:00.003-04:00

Looks like the robber took 'em up on the deal:

(day 3 no bike)

Conscientious Victim

2009-09-03T11:43:00.003-04:00

When I was younger, I used to loose my wallet a lot. So at one point I put a note in it for who ever found it, explaining that I likely needed the money and ID a lot more than they did (yes I did and believed it would work). So naturally when I saw this bike and note in my neighborhood today, I had to share it with you:

Her Own Medicine

2009-08-25T18:35:00.004-04:00

Matilda and I have a great morning routine, she wakes me up with a nudge on my arm at about 8:0am, I turn over, she waits about 5 minutes and nudges me again, this goes on for at least a half hour. She's more like a snooze alarm than a dog first thing in the morning. Anyway, after she's eaten and I've brushed my teeth, we take a long walk from Brooklyn Heights into Dumbo
where I stop off for my coffee (although NOT at Rebar because a: they put 2 shots in every drink and b: they're rude) and we head into the Brooklyn Bridge Park. Once at the park, Matilda scopes out other dogs to growl at while I enjoy a cuppa joe and watch the goofy tourists gawk at the view (it's a pretty spectacular view).

Right now there's a great sculpture art exhibit at the park done by the Brooklyn Waterfront Arts Coalition and this morning I took a moment to give Matilda a little taste of her own medicine - though she was oblivious, I sure did like it.

"Global Gobblers," by Steven Kroeger

Kenny

2009-08-17T00:47:00.002-04:00

Meet Kenny.

Kenny came limping (he has bad knees from a few car accidents and a rough childhood) up to me to pet Matilda on our walk the other day. Kenny is a true New Yorker, born and bred in Brooklyn where he spent his youth surfing subways, finding treasures under the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges and learning a thing or two about the streets and gangs of New York.

Kenny loves to recall his childhood stories. He’s showed me all around Brooklyn, telling stories along the way. Recently he introduced me to Vinegar Hill, which was a local hangout for many Mafia guys he knew. Even though he never got involved with the Mafia, his association with them earned him the nickname Mugsy, because he had such a sweet face – and he still does.

Kenny loves animals. When he sees the horses in Central Park pulling the buggies, he can’t really look at them without tearing up a little… “Ya know, animals aren’t meant to be in a city like this, they just don’t belong heah”. At the same time he has trouble with a lot of people – well a lot of “thugs” as he likes to call them… “Ya know because ya can’t trust no one, Tina.” Some of this is probably because of the stories he’s told me about brutal fights he’s been in and witnessed. Times when he got the hell beat out of him from his father and most recently escaped being mugged by two guys when he showed them the hook he carries on his key chain.

Yesterday, Kenny was in the middle of relaying another story about two guys who wanted to beat him up. He’d explained that he’d dragged one of them out into the street and was yelling “F’! YOU! “ to the guy repeatedly. Just as he says these words, his story was interrupted by a phone call from his father or “Pop” as he fondly refers to him. But before he could talk to him, he asked if he could call him back as he had noticed something I hadn’t seen -- a baby bird struggling on the ground near us,. The next thing I knew Kenny was gently picking up the baby bird and said to me… “Ya see this? A cat could've gotten this little guy, he's just learnin' ta fly. I'm going to put him over here where the cats can't get 'em and where his mom can see him so she can feed 'em. We should wait to make sure the mom is comin' back see because he could starve out here.” So we did. We sat for about 10 minutes in the middle of nowhere Brooklyn to make sure the momma bird came back. (the picture above is ACTUALLY Kenny gently holding that bird)

This combination of tough and gentle that exists in Kenny, completely exemplifies this city. Over the past year, I’ve shared with you how New York can appear hard, but be soft underneath… well, that’s Kenny in a nut shell. Until the guys at work found out about it, Kenny had a giant tattoo of a Pegasus unicorn with a rainbow on his back. Since he’s a tough guy, he got it “fixed” after they teased him about it and now his back carries a tattoo of a giant Grim Reaper… even though he still knows what is really underneath.

I love that about New York, you just never know when a tough blue collar New Yorker might come limping up with a great story and a heart of gold.

(Thank you, the FABULOUS Tiffany Pfaff for editing)

My Dog Ate More of My City

2009-08-06T20:09:00.005-04:00

(no small children were eaten in the making of this blog post)

Adding to the Matilda Mabelina Wonder Dog list of casualties:

So far we have:

2 bras
2 pairs of shorts - one she ate the pocket off, the other she ate the zipper
1 large plastic bin - her food was in it
1 sweatshirt - she chewed the zipper and the eyelets off
2 rolls of toilet paper
1 chunk of a guys leg, but he kind of deserved it

And most recently...

1 bracelet - my favorite one!
1 necklace (jeremy: the one you got me in Hawaii with the flower - damn dog)
1 (yes another) pair of pants (zipper= done)
3 buttons from my comforter cover

My Dog Ate My City

2009-07-22T12:22:00.007-04:00

Casualties taken by the Tasmanian devil dog:

2 bras
2 pairs of shorts - one she ate the pocket off, the other she ate the zipper
1 large plastic bin - her food was in it
1 sweatshirt - she chewed the zipper and the eyelets off
2 rolls of toilet paper
1 chunk of a guys leg, but he kind of deserved it

And on the 7th day, she rested:

That's the Way it Is - Part 2

2009-07-17T20:25:00.004-04:00

R.I.P. Walter Cronkite - I was lucky to meet him last year when he came into the CBS Newsroom. He was present and kind and asked me about my work. What an honor to have even been in the same room with such a legend.

http://elonanit.blogspot.com/2007/11/and-thats-way-it-is.html

FDNY: Dawgs

2009-07-17T00:08:00.004-04:00

I had a great encounter this evening walking Matilda by the Brooklyn Heights fire station. As we were approaching I was worried that there might be a dog at the station and Matilda is not so dog friendly - so it went a little something like this.:

Me: "Is there a dog over there?"
Hot fire fighter: "Well, Jimmy here isn't house trained"

ME: "Oh, there are four dogs!" (there were 4 of them sitting in chairs facing the sidewalk)

THEM: "ahhhh" (laughter)
ME: Silent...cause I made a funny and now don't know WHAT to do.
THEM: "hey hey...."
MY INSIDE VOICE: "Oh gosh what are they saying, that was so fun, they were so cute, keep walking...don't look back...DON'T look back"

I looked back and waved, one waved back -I kept walking.

So, I simply cannot WAIT for tomorrow evenings' dog walk.

(the photo I stole from flickr - it's the image on the door of the FDNY station at Brooklyn Heights on Middagh street)

Torn Over MJ

2009-07-07T23:21:00.002-04:00

It might seem weird to direct you to another blog - but I was asked to write for Subterfuge Seattle. They posted my piece tonight and guess what?!! They did some editing for me. I'm pretty excited about that because the editing had nothing to do with content and was just a few tweaks. I love having an editor and am excited to write for such a great new innovative site.

Check it out! Subterfuge Seattle

26.2

2009-06-29T19:07:00.004-04:00

I'm not sure I told you this, but for the last few months, I've been training for a marathon. And Saturday June 27th, I freaking ran a marthon.

Here's how it went down:

There was a bit of drama the week before my race. I had to move from one Brooklyn Heights apartment into another one, find a kennel for my dog after my sitter backed out, work full time and make sure to eat right and hydrate - (I like beer way more than water as it turns out). Anyway I actually finished everything, moving etc. at 3:00 pm on Thursday just in time for the car to pick me up and take me to the airport at 3:30pm. That would have been fine because my plane wasn't scheduled to take off until about 6:00pm so I figured - plenty of time! Right? I'll relax in the car on the way to the airport and grab dinner just before I board the plane. (Sometimes I forget that I live in New York).

Really long story short -there was terrible traffic and my driver had his own "special route" to the airport. So, I barely made my plane but my luggage didn't make it at all. So I arrived in Seattle with no running shoes, no shorts, no gu, nothin' but me and the rather smelly shirt on my back. So after several frantic calls to Jet Blue and about a dozen different responses I decided to make sure to have a back up. So bought a new pair of shoes and gear JUST IN CASE. Anyway my luggage arrived late Friday night and though I was pretty wigged out - was really happy that it was there.

So race day!

The race was spectacular! It was one of those beautiful Seattle days about 65 degrees sunny and absolutely perfect. Over 25,000 runners and a band at every mile made it all very exciting.

When the gun went off I was a little emotional but excited to begin the big race.

Coming into Seward Park at around mile 4 or 5 I took a moment to thank my old friend Brad Perkins for his words of inspiration before he lost his battle with brain cancer last year. He was there with me for sure.

I felt great at mile 9 when I saw my mom and sister - who became my hero's at mile 18 but we'll get there.

At about mile 10 the race split and half marathoners went one way while the marathoners headed over the I-90 Bridge - a breath taking view of Lake Washington and Mt. Rainier carried me through to about mile 12.

But then I hit a rough patch. At mile 14 my little brain began working over time for some reason and I got kinda wigged out and emotional. Upset that I was loosing time and going a lot slower than I'd have liked. It was a very very strange feeling, my body felt all in all o.k. but my brain did not. So there was some crying and maybe a foot stomp or two...BUT - Just when I felt like I was really hitting the wall my sister Joelle came trotting up beside me!

"Hey How ya doin?"

"OH MY GOSH! I said - THANK GOD you are here! I was starting to loose it!!! Can you stick with me? You think you can finish this race with me?"

Joelle had never run more than about 6 miles before (she's in great shape, just not a distance runner) - she hadn't had much of a breakfast and was not really ready to run - but she didn't even flinch!!!!

So me and Joelle chatted and ran through the last nine miles side by side! I couldn't have done it with out her and feel soooo blessed and lucky to have a sister like that!!

In the end I finished at 4 hours 55 minutes - that hill at mile 25 also got me a little. After the race I celebrated with mom and friends over a few beers and greasy food - and finally a wonderful jump into Lake Union.

Then, I quickly signed up for my next race - Philly Marathon in November (I gotta get that time down).

Giamatti, Moving, and other Snip-its

2009-06-22T16:37:00.006-04:00

Writing has still been difficult after the nasty review but there are still things to share, so here are a few snip-its.

I sat next to Paul Giamatti at Clarks Diner the other morning. I mean, RIGHT next to him, we practically had breakfast together. But I was trying to play it cool, like I didn't care and so just kept on sipping on my coffee. At one point I was purposely encroaching on his space and so said "sorry I don't mean to be hogging" and he said "don't worry about it." That gave me time to glance over at what he was reading, something by DH Lawrence, I didn't see the title. Then I just kept up with the cool nonchalant coffee sipping. Thing is, I NEVER drink that much coffee and I didn't want to get up, because well, I was having breakfast with Paul freakin' Giamatti. So I almost peed my pants sitting there. I was actually relieved when he left.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I got a new apartment! After some serious consideration I decided NOT to move out of Brooklyn. I love Brooklyn, especially Brooklyn Heights, it has to be the most beautiful neighborhood and being so close to the promenade and to the city I just couldn't give it all up. So I'm stickin' with my hood and I think I'm startin' to grow on them.

This apartment is my VERY own with my name on it and everything (I've been subletting for the past year and a half). The funny thing about it is that if you followed my blog from the start you know what hell I went through trying to find just ONE apartment to live in - and now I have TWO! My new place came with a free months rent (one positive thing that's come out of this recession) so I am staying part time in one place and part time in the other - two big fat apartments in New York! It's nuts.

I'm in a funny place on my whole living in New York journey. It no longer feels like a big deal or that I accomplished anything by moving here. Now it's just the place where I live, or the place where I fought so hard to stay I can't imagine actually leaving (yet).

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm temporarily giving up my quest for love. In fact I did some research, but for the life of me can't find a gay immersion program. Things would be way easier if sexual orientation were a choice, but I guess that's nothing new. I got on match.com but shut down my account when I found myself entertaining the possibility of having brunch with a 45 year old motorcycle driver with head to toe tattoos. Just steppin' back for now, that's all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did I tell you I'm running a marathon? Well I am. I guess. I mean I hope I survive it, training in New York has not been easy but I feel basically ready. You should keep your eyes on the Seattle news though because I could be that lady you read about who finishes the race 2 days after everyone else does "but damn it, she made it!" and so everyone cheers.
_________________________________________________________________

You might have heard my dog now lives with me, at least for the summer. I love her but God she's difficult. So far she's eaten 2 bras, the button off my favorite pair of jeans, half my lucky brand love sweatshirt, a loaf of bread and I recently realized she's figured out how to open the container where I keep her food, and well, she sneaks a little here and there. She's a real sneaky creature.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh finally, we're taping our pre-show meetings at work and they're sometimes interesting if you want to check 'em out: http://airamerica.com/ronreagan.

OK that's all for now....coming soon....how I almost lost the interview with Helen Thomas.

**Thanks Brooklyn Heights Blog in advance I stole that Giamatti pic off your site - and I love your site so I hope you aren't mad at me.

Meet Matilda

2009-06-12T19:32:00.010-04:00

My dog has come to New York City, and I'm quite surprised the NYPD wasn't alerted because she's a terror in many ways. If you have yet to be acquainted with my Australian Cattle Dog/spawn of Satan I figured I'd write for you her twenty five things (as it's important to get to know her now, she'll come up a lot in the coming weeks):

1. I once ate pot and was so high my owner thought I was having a stroke.

2. I can open a refrigerator door and take whatever I'd like out of the fridge...and I do

3. I eat strange things that might be essential to your life, like zippers, clasps of any kind, your underpants, earrings, bracelets and that part on your shoe laces that makes it easy to get 'em through the hole - I LOVE that thing

4. I hate small dogs

5. I love to bite my leash on the way home from a walk; it really elongates the walk experience

6. I used to have a 6 foot vertical

7. I like to put cats heads in my mouth but I'm not sure what to do after that - I couldn't possibly just eat one

8. I'm allergic to bees: or I think I am, one time I rolled in a nest and came out pretty welted up

9. I can disembowel a stuffed toy in two seconds flat

10. I've been to the vet at least 30 times in my life and I still hate it there

11. I sleep next to humans but mostly like to steal their pillows

12. I pretty much have thumbs

13. I can high five, roll-over and speak and sometimes do all three at the same time

14. My tail was added after market - but it's pretty hot!

15. Digging in my water bowl is one of my favorite pass time and it keeps me cool in the summer

16. I know the difference between a treat and medicine so don't even try it.

17. I hate vacuum cleaners

18. I also hate pigeons and most waterfowl should really be erradicated from the planet

19. I've been to at least 20 of the 50 states and lived in Seattle, New Orleans and New York (I'm pretty cosmopolitan)

20. My best friend is a weiner dog named Arlo, second is a Weimereiner named Hunter: I like to boss Arlo around and well... that Hunter? He never makes it to the ball first - he's a lil slow

21. Both my parents were champion dogs which really means I'm a champion, but I don't like to brag

22. My full name is Matilda Mabelina Wonder Dog: Dog of Wonder and Delight

23. I bit a guy the other day: feel sorta bad about it, but he was pretty annoying

24. I'm 9 years old in people years and 63 in dog years; which just means I'm really wise

25. I am part dingo, part dalmation and full on bad ass

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spring

2009-05-08T15:15:00.003-04:00

I Saw THAT!

2009-04-27T18:25:00.002-04:00

It's 80 degrees in New York today and when I woke this morning I had to get out of my apartment immediately to soak up as much sun as possible before work. So I headed down to Montague street and grabbed a cup of coffee and read the paper at around 9am. After that I had nothing going on and so decided to take a walk on the Brooklyn Promenade and watch tourists try to take awkward pictures of themselves with the view of the city behind them. It always makes me appreciate my neighborhood more when I see overweight people in denim jean shorts with cameras and confused looks on their faces traipsing around enjoying the views it provides.

I looked over to the Statue of Liberty and saw a plane flying very low right towards Manhattan. I stopped in my tracks and my stomach dropped. I looked around trying to gauge the feelings of those around me. No one seemed particularly alarmed, I stood still for a moment listening for sirens and watching for smoke, but again, nothing (what the?). The crowd on the promenade didn't seem particularly alarmed, so I continued on my walk. But I imagined for a minute what I would do if that had in fact been a plane heading straight into the buildings of lower Manhattan. I thought of calling my mom and sister and then wondered where I would go. Anyway I pondered that for a bit but nothing was going on, so I figured I shouldn't freak myself out and so continued on my walk towards DUMBO.

When I got to work today though I was preparing for the show and saw this:

Amazing really! I mean first thank God it was nothing. But what the hell? The White House (and let me be the first to say, I do love my President) decides it's ok to fly a plane close to buildings in lower Manhattan with out warning the public?? A photo OP? Am I the only one who is a little suspicious, or should I keep my eyes open for the hot spread of the President looking into the eyes of the Statue of Liberty?

Mediocre Minds

2009-04-24T15:53:00.004-04:00

I haven't written in a while because quite frankly the wind behind my little blogger sails was pretty much quieted by a terrible review I received about my writing. I wasn't crushed though because it was particularly nasty, I was crushed because the review was pretty much spot on and included little that I didn't all ready know about my blog. When I write I am usually very excited, sometimes a little sweaty and I just want to get my thoughts or experiences out before they leave my brain and so I'm sloppy. I've always been a terrible editor and speller and so my posts often get thrown up with little review and the woman who reviewed my blog was not shy about pointing that out, (nor were the myriad of commenters following the review who poured salt into my little wounds).

So my first reaction was to shut this blog down and stop writing all together. I figured, well maybe I'm just not good at it and so should try my hand and at oh I don't know wittling or something. I was pretty humiliated.

But then I remembered something.

On the door of the bathroom where I grew up was a poster of Albert Einstein and the quote underneath read:

"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds."

I remember asking my mother what it all meant and how she explained to me that I should always press forward when I know in my heart of hearts that my idea or thought is right, true or simply good. After that I wrote a little song using Al's words and I used to sing it all the time. I was the only kid on the playground quoting Einstein as I sang songs to my imaginary friends. Anyway, as I remembered that quote I decided to keep writing and power through the sick feeling I have that many people who have read this blog think I'm stupid. I don't think I'm a great writer, in fact I know I'm not even a good writer, but I do have something to say, and though I am no "great spirit" the spirit that I do have will not be crushed by one bad review.

BUT I am hiring an editor, so if ya know of anyone let me know.

Lost at Sea

2009-04-10T16:05:00.002-04:00

And we now call him Kramer:

World Pillow Fight Day: NYC

2009-04-08T17:17:00.015-04:00

You might have missed it, and I'm sorry if you did, but hopefully this will give you a chance to plan for next year: apparently April 4th is WORLD Pillow Fight Day and this year marked it's fourth anniversary. It's origins? Who knows but according to wikipedia pillow fights have existed as long as there have been pillows. I imagine Adam and Eve created something similar for themselves in that big 'ole garden, I mean what else were they doing?

This year New York celebrated the occasion by gathering together at Wall Street, pillows in hand to presumably take their aggressions for AIG and all things financial out on one another.

I enjoyed the festivities poached upon some stairs and played voyeur. I'm a afraid of being hit with a pillow ever since my mom told me it could paralyze me when I was kid. No pillow fights for me! Thanks ma!....although I'm a mean water fighter...

Alright - here's what it all looked like:

First they gathered with their fun little sayings written on the weapons of meager destruction:
They just wanted some peace....and maybe a lil love...and well to inflict pain on someone...maybe:

It was pillow-pride through and through:

Mayhem ensued:

Feathers began to fly....

It was massive:

And then...the cops showed up with a lil riot gear...(maybe they heard about that kid who was paralyzed...see..it's dangerous?!)

At some point there was clean up.

Dirty Toilets 2

2009-03-31T15:13:00.006-04:00

Women are gross:

(Taken by my friend Kristen Gill in the women's bathroom at Jake's Saloon in Chelsea.)

I've talked about them before, the Dirty Toilets of New York City but when I saw this, I couldn't resist, I had to share it with you. I know; HUMANS are gross and most male restrooms stink to high heaven because for some reason they can't bring themselves to aim. But for women, what is the excuse? I mean really? What was going on in this woman's mind when she piled an enormous mound of TP onto the toilet, did her business and then just WALKED AWAY FROM IT?!

It's funny to me because in this day and age (yes I'm channeling my inner 80 year old) women are all about empowering one another. You ever been to breast cancer event or a Danskin Triathlon? Both places where women are all about cheering for one another and being a part of "the power of the goddess." Where does that go when you use a public toilet people?

Can't we come together for the cleanliness of our shared potties? Bond as one unit to fight against the oppressive bathroom conditions of the greater New York area? This is all I ask ..next time you see a woman walk out of a stall after having sprinkled the entire toilet lid with her urine...stop her ass and call her on it!

Finally, because I am all about the support and the learning....
If you choose to hover, all you have to do to leave the bowl clean for your sisters is to lift the lid (which can be done with your foot). By lifting the lid you have more space and so will be less likely to pee all over the seat. See? Easy right?! Now spread the word- not the pee ladies!

No Joke

2009-03-29T23:20:00.004-04:00

A blond woman, an Hasidic Jew and a black violinist stood on the subway platform reading the sign.

SERVICE CHANGE
2 3
DOWNTOWN TRAINS RUN LOCAL FROM 86 TO CHAMBERS STS

OK, pipes up the blond – we’re at 34th so that means the two or the three train stop here.

I don’t know says the Hasidic Jew.

No! says the violinist . See tape, no train here.

(there was bright pink tape running between the subway posts – but not ALL the posts so it seemed to say – you can’t get on here, but maybe over here).

Eh? Says the Jew – read the sign it stops here, THIS is the local track.

No! See tape. Tape means no train!

Confusing.

They read the sign a few more times. The black violin player seemed a little fed up with the Jew and the blond.

You have to cross platform! See the tape! Tape means no train here!

They discussed it for 5 minutes – at least. They looked around for some context or something to help them understand both each other and the situation.

Finally the Jew says:
I’m going to ask downstairs.

The black guy began unpacking his instrument and the untrusting blond read the sign ONE MORE TIME (just in case).

Finally the blond walked down the stairs to the other platform only see the Jew hopping on the correct train.

She missed it.

After the train pulled away, she enjoyed the sounds of the violin music until the next train arrived and took her home.

Rat Race 2

2009-03-19T19:36:00.002-04:00

In a city where the rat race is a constant it's no wonder that the actual creatures are out for blood. You've likely heard about the harrowing experience I had in the subway tunnel when one varmant came running full force at me and my friend cory.

Well it happened again. I was happily on my way home from enjoying an evening of bad television (dancing with the stars) with my friend Jeff when right out of the alley this gigantic crazy animal came running RIGHT at me AGAIN!

I don't know why they do it but apparently some rats in New York want to eat humans.

So of course, I screamed and with no back to leap onto, I stomped and ran and screamed some more. But the creature must have been attracted to the noise because it seemed set upon following me for at least a step or two.

I have to believe that it was just as afraid as I was and didn't know what to do and that it wasn't toying with me, but the truth is...in this city if you show fear the sharks, or in this case the rats begin to circle.

Anyway I'm super sketched out now, as if my mouse phobia wasn't enough...now I gotta run from and with the rats. This city is NOT easy.

One Fine Day

2009-03-18T12:51:00.005-04:00

6:15am – hit snooze

6:25 force self out of bed

6:38 put on running gear –what about the blue nike shorts? Doesn’t match. Go for the black and white, it’s cold – where tights.

6:40 – brush teeth - wash face – check email

6:45– find socks

6:47 where’s the ipod? lost it! No, must be at work – go without – today.

6:49 have everything? Eat a banana – seriously? have everything? Metro card? Cash? Debit card? Wait – don’t bring a debit card.

6:55 get out the door

6:56 keys?

6:58 damn it…go back

6:59.9 – get out the door

7:02 what to read on the subway? No ipod?! Get a paper --- ok

7:05 – got paper – got metro card – made it on the subway

7:05 -7:25 – try to read, not paying attention, watch subway riders, wonder

7:28 – eat gu – it’s gross – but gotta eat the gu

7:30 – arrive at 59th street stop – Columbus circle-stress a little about running with the big boss

7:35 – big boss arrives

7:35-8:40 – run with CEO – learn a lot of things – do some mental gymnastics

8:45 – get a single tall vanilla latte – and another paper – head back to Brooklyn – try to read on the subway and juggle coffee too – spill coffee – damn it.

9:25 arrive Brooklyn – take a shower – nap – check email – what will we do on the show – decide one or two things – AIG for sure. Already booked the torture guy too – looking good - decide clothes for the day –it’s St. Patricks - stupid green turtleneck –gotta go with it – sucks – ah well get ready

12:00 – get on the C train – heading to lunch

12:30 arrive at Spring street for delightful lunch with friend

1:40 – 2:00 - process lunch with friend –attracted to friend – good lunch – very nice – grateful – don’t’ over think it

2:01 – meeting with boss – boss doesn’t show

2:10 - boss shows – pretend not to care that he’s late – get some stuff done

2:30 meet with host – decide on the show – AIG for sure but no guest. Torture is bad – but good topic –do torture for sure – what else? Newspapers going paperless – good good

2:30 - 5:00 - ask a lot of questions – plan the show – book guests – second guess – waiting for Congressman to confirm – call more economists

5:45 Still no economist for the 8pm hour – damn it – hope one comes around

6:00 start the show work, read, work keep hoping for economist to come through

7:00 still no economist. Steal beer from company St. Patricks Party – drinking on the job is fun.

7:40ish – receive letter from a recruiter… wasn’t asking for that – feel proud – feel confused – wonder. – feel humble

7:37 Economist calls – got a guest for 8:00 hour – phew!

8:55 friend at the font door. Yay!

9:00 Finish work.

9:05 Head to Market on 6th Ave for wine oysters and great conversation with good friend.

11:00 catch cab head home

11:35 check email – nothing. Watch bad tv….flip around…should be reading…don’t feel like reading – a little buzzed – shouldn’t be on computer – change facebook status – not witty – try again -

12:18 brush teeth – wash face – hate age – take a bath? nah

12:38 – long eventful day – go to sleep.

Ouch

2009-03-14T14:47:00.002-04:00

I spent this morning agonizing over what I was going to wear. It’s sunny out, should I go spring with the suede jacket ? But it’s cold should I where gloves and a hat? But I don’t have a belt that goes with those spring –ish boots so what do I do?? The drama.

Then I got on the subway. I’ve said before that when I get on the subway I like to shelter myself with plenty of reading material, my ipod or anything to protect myself from the masses. But today the subway was full and I didn’t want to read my book so I just stood and watched…

As it turned out I was on the subway of injury because as I looked around me there were quite a few people with some kind of exposed pain. There was woman who sat directly across from me reading her bible with a completely mangled hand. She wore no bandage but her middle finger was raw meat – I’m not exaggerating it was mangled completely and she just held it up and turned the pages as she was reading with her thumb and pinky finger. I watched her for a while wondering if she got bit, did she chew it herself? It didn't seem to be bothering her all that much except that she favored her other phalanges.

I wondered for a while about that one but then there was another. On the other side of mangled hand lady was a guy with a big band aid on his chin. He was dressed casually, jeans and a flannel kind of shirt, brown loafers and jeans and must have been in his mid to late 40's. Full grown adult, but it looked like he got kicked or punched in the jaw – there were a few stitches and a bandage. What happened to THAT guy?

Now I wouldn't be writing but three is a charm - it didn't stop with punched in the jaw guy or mangled hand lady -nope-there was one more.

A middle aged woman with again, a hand injury – though she was different, she at least had a bandage. But she couldn't very well use her left arm and the injury was new because I could see the kind of scabby area around her hand. Weird.

Anyway as I thought about my morning I felt embarrassed that my biggest concern that morning was my stupid belt. While I realize it's all relative and my feelings are a bit cliche in this matter...still, sometimes I hate the way the world works.

BFF

2009-03-11T22:10:00.006-04:00

I haven't been shy about my loneliness that feels like it's growing the longer I stay in New York. See, I left a great big community in Seattle full of people I admired, loved, enjoyed and most of all laughed with. I have a fraction of that here in New York and have found it difficult to really find my peeps.

So I've decided to just be bold about it and well...beg. So I've gathered a list of people here who, I think would really like me and who I know I already like. People I think should consider being my friend.

Chelsea Handler: she's funny, I'm funny, she has blond hair, I have blond hair, she likes to get her drink on...and let's face it I can pound a few beers...I mean martini's... like the best of 'em.

Kelly Ripa: Again with the hair and the humor. Kel, (I'd call her Kel) - and I would have a great time running together in Central Park and I think I would fare just fine at a cocktail party with Reeg. PLUS I wouldn't hit on her husband like you know all her friends do.

Sloane Crosley - now Sloane, I sense, might not like me because she's a lil younger and pretty much a whole lot cooler. But I think she just really hasn't given me a chance yet - we'd really both be a lot richer friend-wise if she would simply join me for a cuppa joe in the village.

Sarah Jessica Parker: Now this one is a no brainer. Hello?! I like cosmo's she likes cosmo's. She loves and hates New York ...ME TOO! SHE played Annie on Broadway, I PLAYED Pinocchio OFF Broadway (really far off, but still). We're like twins.

Geez that could really be it. If the four of us could JUST have a girls night I think I would be fulfilled here in the City...but let's not stop there because there's more...so much more...

Paul Simon: He's short! I'm short. I'm a rock ...I am an island....see?! My blog is called the Only Livin' Girl in New York - he wrote a song called the Only Livin' BOY in New York! I have a great deal to offer this man. And I'm crazy about Princess Leah. Curly haired boys who play guitar?...I could take 'em or leave 'em!

Billy Joel's wife: I can't remember her name but if we were friends I totally would always remember it. And she would like me too - see, she's a chef and I LOVE to eat. I am also pretty sure she hasn't listened to all of her husband's albums because she's way too young to even fully realize who he is SOOO I could teach her!

OK that's really it for now. I'm sure you can think of others and if so, please bring them on. I'm free most weekends for drinks and frolicking in the city and lunch on weekdays.

Rats!

2009-03-11T18:39:00.006-04:00

I've always loved animals. When I was a child we had rabbits; Foo Foo and Buzz Bunny, cats; Katitas and Fatso, dogs; Magie and Abbey and even a Dove named Bruce after Springsteen. (Side note, Bruce spent most of his days warming himself in our kitchen lights and so the house kinda smelled like cooked bird...) ANYHOW....We also had rodents, gerbils (until they ate their young, which was pretty gross) and my favorites the hamsters. I loved my lil hamsters, we had that big habit trail with all the tubes and I let them run around in that plastic bubble ball thing for hours. I often wondered if that made the lil guys kinda crazy, but all in all they seemed to like it.

Anyway I share all of this with you because I was never phobic of rodents until college. See, at the time I thought it would be "retro" and cool if I got a hamster. So I did. My roommate Nicole (who hates me now because she slept with this guy I really liked back then and then years later I let my friend sleep with her fiance - but that's neither here nor there), headed down to the local pet store and we picked ourselves up a cute 'lil Teddy Bear Hamster cleverly named Theodore Roosevelt. The thing is Teddy (as I called him) was an elderly creature, as rodents go, and even when I got him he wasn't as spry as most four legged furry guys.

As time went on I could see that he was getting old and feeble and I don't know why, but after a while he kinda started freaking me out. So, I neglected him a little...or...a lot (I still loose sleep over it). After about 6 months of dorm life, Teddy bought the farm. I think my roommates might have actually simply taken him out of his misery because one day I came home and he was just gone. Gone Gone Gone. Poor guy.

Shortly after Teddy's demise I developed the most frightening phobia of rodents. And though I realize it all stems from my hamster guilt I can't seem to shake it. I'm terrified by any and all four legged rodents and even squirrels kinda wig me out.

Well as it turns out New York City is no place for a rodent phobia because the creatures pretty much rule this joint. And recently I encountered one in a way that made me seriously reconsider New York Livin'.

I was coming out of the subway tunnel after enjoying a lovely day in Central Park with my good friend Cory Sheperd (hey shepdog). There was a nice family in front of us trying to get their stroller up the stairs when I heard the mom say:

"AHHH...a rat!"

Now, my friend Cory is privy to my Muroidea phobia and was ready to push me aside a little and shelter me from the oncoming attack. That, however, was not enough for me! Oh no. I needed desperately and quickly to be in the air, feet off the ground and on Cory's back (poor guy). So I, of course, screamed, and LEAPT as best I could onto Cory's back, scratching the hell out of him, JUST as the rat came barreling towards us, fangs out, swiping it's little nails into the air ready to pounce. The brazen beast literally ran right towards us and onto Cory's foot before running down the stairs into it's hole under the trains.

In the end I was spared, the rat did not eat me, bite me or make a nest in my hair (although I know it really wanted to). And I thank Cory's quick moves for my salvation in the whole situation. But from now on I am wearing boots in the subway, maybe my mountaineering boots with crampons so I'm fully protected from the savage animals living in the tunnels and knooks and crannies of this God Forsaken City!

OK that's a little dramatic but truth be told, I am completely sketched out now in the subway tunnels and might consider a little mace for the mice...as it were.

Skating Away

2009-03-10T14:43:00.004-04:00

Lately I've been searching to try to figure out if I do indeed love New York or is this just a fling. OK maybe not lately but with any relationship, there are doubts and I'd hate to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

See, sometimes I have these terrible moments in the city, and if you read this blog you know what they are...and sometimes I have these wonderful moments with her. Like this one; it was a beautiful day on Saturday so I took a walk with an old friend through Central Park...where I've always found my love. And I did - I found love in the way of some very quarky roller skaters who seemed only concerned with enjoying some music, sunshine and the company of some likeminded freaks (and I say that in the most loving way possible).

Conservative Political Action...Blach...

2009-03-04T13:47:00.004-05:00

I know, I know this is NOT a politcal Blog. But I had to go to the Conservative Political Action Conference for work and afterwards did a stint on the radio show I produce. So I had to share it with you.

I have so much more to say about the freakshow that was CPAC but again...not a political blog so I'll spare you.

All in a Day

2009-03-03T19:10:00.003-05:00

Ahhh New York, it only took you one whole day to get pretty after being slammed with all that snow.

I have to remember that this city changes dramatically from day to day. It's very easy to hate her one day and love her the next. She's not perfect, no she's not and yesterday I was ready to pack my bags. And though today is very cold, the blue sky certainly made me feel a little better.

I took this picture from the same corner today as I did yesterday; you can see the difference here.

F' YOU WINTER!

2009-03-02T16:28:00.003-05:00

I originally wanted to title this post F-YOU New York...but I guess it's not New York's fault it was a miserable day today. So sorry New York, for accusing you in the first place. I know you didn't want to be peed on by all that white stuff. I mean, really you get your own amount of public urine on a regular basis, who wants it to be frozen anyway? Although I would argue frozen pee might be better than liquid - but you'd be the best judge.

So in doing my best to not blame and stay open minded. I will say sorry, fine city, that you have to endure this crap in freaking MARCH! It sucks, I realize.

Stay warm lil apple....and for God Sakes, be nicer to Apollo because we could use some sunshine in this joint.

Random Observations

2009-02-18T17:07:00.010-05:00

I'm pretty sure there is some bloggers rule about coping out by making a random list instead of actually posting a full essay but, well, I've never been a rule follower.

I've been in a big fat stinky funk lately which has rendered me fairly useless when it comes to anything creative. Today though I am trying to be thankful and wrench myself out of the funk. After all I live in freaking New York City, I have a great new job that I love, and let's face it...some really great hair!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't have time for "The Children," "the environment," gay rights or the polar bears and am beginning to resent those people who stand on 6th Ave. and ask me if I do.
"Got a minute for the children Mam?"

I started saying things like "No, sorry I hate the children" when they approach me but they're on to me now. So am trying to find a new tactic because "I'm sorry no" doesn't seem to do it. They are taking up way too much space in my brain though; yesterday I had an argument with them in my head. You know the kind where you play their part? I hate doing that but I was good and I won which was mildly satisfying.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lately I'm fully intrigued by that story about that guy who was dragged 17 miles from New York to Brooklyn under a car. He died which is terrible and sad and just tragic in every way. Thing is, I really want to know what the driver was doing while he was dragging a guy under his car. What was on the radio? What was he thinking? In retrospect, now does he think MAYBE he heard something? Why didn't anyone stop him?

___________________________________________________________________

I'm also plagued lately by weird dreams. The other night I dreamed I was marrying a woman and we wore matching dresses hers was purple mine was pink. When the dream was over I was in that in-between awake and asleep mode and really pissed that I was gay. In real life I am not gay (not that there's anything wrong with that), I don't think I'd make a good gay person (and furthermore I'm really not sure what that means 'make a good gay person' - so maybe I'm a closeted homophobe - although I really don't think I am...I have gay friends....that didn't sound good either - maybe I move on here...

Last night I dreamed I had two kids both boys and one was named Brian. The not Brian one was a super bad kid and aged 12. He was just evil and I had no control over him and the creepy part was in the dream I couldn't look into his eyes because they freaked me out...they looked like cat eyes. It was really odd. I woke up from that one with all kinds of anxiety about having children. Which is very silly because I might even be too old to have 'em by now.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've been wondering a lot lately about whether or not it is ok to burn a bridge. I've got a big 'ole lighter in my figurative hand and kind of want to light a huge bridge I built on fire. But mostly I think that's a bad idea in general so I probably wont do it. I don't know, what do you think? Is it EVER o.k. or even warranted to just burn a bridge?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Finally the subways have been freaking me out lately - (God I sound like a freak today) - While I realize they are very safe, my heart has been racing when I get on. The first thing I do is plot my emergency exit. It's better if I have an actual seat but when I'm standing...sometimes I get out early and walk just to feel safe. I hope it doesn't last because a subway phobia wouldn't really work in a city like New York.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While the buildings and streets of New York are now fully familiar to me the people aren't. I haven't really found "my people." Which isn't to say that I haven't found friends because I have and I love them! I just don't have a full on community which I guess is ok, it's just hard because I'm alone too much and so all that introspection creates blog posts like this one and anxiety like the subway thing. So I'm trying to "build community" as they say. It might come way of my job, which I totally love but I work mostly with men so I'm not entirely hopeful on that front. We'll see.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh hey, that picture at the top of this blog post is NOT me! weird huh? This girl was sitting directly across from me, we looked like twins. Both alone and wearing pretty much the same thing reading a book and drinking a glass of wine. Really freaked me out. I should have talked to her but by the time I realized it all and took the picture I figured she'd just think I was a freak or a stalker so I let it go. Weird though huh?!

RIP Peeler Man

2009-02-03T19:23:00.005-05:00

I don't know how to explain this one exactly, but I was terribly saddened today when I learned about the death of Joe Ades. Joe was a man I found myself comforted by in my early days living here in New York and I never actually met him. He spent his days on the street of New York demonstrating and selling his amazing carrot peeler:

He was really a street artist and watching his live "commercial" became a common experience for me and many New Yorkers. And someone, for some reason, that gave me a bit of comfort...maybe it was because I was lonely or maybe simply because I knew he was there and thought he always would be but whenever I saw him I was delighted.

The New York Times did a better job explaining his allure and why others besides me will miss him.

25

2009-02-02T19:26:00.006-05:00

I know everyone is doing it, and a great many people hate it, but I don't! In fact I love it. It's the 25 things list. 25 random facts about you or in this case me. I posted this on facebook but then I thought more about it and so I changed it a little for my blog. Feel free to add your 25 things in the comment section.

1. Moving to New York was both the worst and best thing I've ever done.
2. I stay in the bath tub and in relationships often longer than I should.
3. I find pettiness, greed and selfishness some of the worst traits a human can have.
4. Sometimes I pray
5. Every single night I wish on the first star I see - and if I can't see one I just pretend I do and make a wish anyway
6. I regret the one time I was mean to my dog growing up - sorry abbey
7. I also have terrible cat guilt after my cat Fraidy who ran away when I got Matilda
8. I am still holding out hope that someday I'll be famous and in fact have been rehearsing my Academy Awards speech since I was about 8 years old only changing out the name of the current man in my life
9. I find four leafed clovers all the time
10. I frequently think of where I would go if I were homeless, where’d I sleep etc. and sometimes I fantasize about it
11. Speaking of which: when I’m running I plan my wedding (and sometimes it’s only at the justice of the peace in which case I still wear a pretty dress)
12. My dad used to make my favorite meal and I still don’t know what it is but I called it cat food and ate it right up
13. My real name is Christine (but I never go by that)
14. There are really only 2 relationships in my life that I regret
15. I’m not a jealous person and don’t really understand jealousy
16. I cry all the time…But mostly I’m super happy and more often then not they are tears of joy
17. I’m curious about serial killers and morbid things
18. I spent an hour with Dave Matthews drinking a bottle of wine in a very small space
19. I have the coolest sisters and mom EVER
20. I’m not a bad singer
21. I never lie because I lied to a very nice man in my twenties and regretted it so I really never lie
22. I’m a pretty good judge of what I am and am not good at – for instance real good producer…not such a good painter
23. I watch soaps and 90201 and I make up for it by reading the New Yorker cover to cover every week (ps: I rarely actually read the WHOLE New Yorker…see I don’t lie)
24. I take really long and really hot showers
25. I love raw oysters, cheese and chardonnay on a sunny summer afternoon

East Meets West - AGAIN

2009-01-30T15:14:00.011-05:00

I spent last week in Seattle and now that I'm back in New York I can't help but to make fun of both cities very clear distinctions.

When I arrived in Seattle my mom and I went to REI, the mecca of outdoor love for every citizen of the Emerald city (my palms start to sweat as soon as I open the big doors). After picking out various items, a mouth piece for my water bottle, a caribiner or two, wooly socks etc..we got into the line to pay. Well, we were separated by one shopper who stood in line between us - when she realized that we were mother and daughter she insisted I go in front of her so we could be together. I thought - there is NO WAY that would have happened in New York; we could be Siamese twins and someone would rip us apart to get ahead in line.

Upon leaving the REI, not 24 hours into my visit to Seattle, I saw a man wearing one of these:

What is that you ask? If you're wondering, your an east coaster...that, my friend is a utilikilt. And it's wrong in every way. It's a skirt you see, but it's a MANLY skirt! A skirt only a real manly man can wear when he does things like...

point out his junk... orrrr...play crazy cowboy in his very own bedroom.... orrr...build a house (of course)....

But mostly the utilikilt is an item only a Seattle-man would wear to make real sure you understood that he is both tough and comfortable with his sexuality (neither of which are in fact true though). There's not a whole lot I hate more than a utlikilt...but you get the idea.

Anyhow - that was sign number two that I was no longer in New York City. That and the kindness, lack of blinker usage when driving anywhere at all and plethora of perfectly crafted coffee tipped me off.

Now I'm back in New York which was made very clear to me this morning in the subway tunnel when a woman pulled a bright yellow file folder from her bag and began having an animated conversation with it (when the train arrived she was done...put the folder back in the bag and boarded her train). My New York living was further confirmed when I casually protected a woman from being beat up on the subway as I prompted her to sit next to me instead of the mean lady glaring at her. Before that she had made two other people move away from her by shouting "you want an elbow up your ass?" I spent the rest of the ride trying to figure out exactly how one gets her elbow inside someone else's anus...but that was sorta fun because I had forgotten my book. I still haven't figured it out though.

What I have figured out is that every city is weird and full of it's own set of crazy - it's just slightly more concentrated out east.

Putting the G in Living

2009-01-23T07:10:00.005-05:00

I’m not exactly sure when Livin’ should become actually livinG but it dawned on me earlier this week that I might be getting close.

I was on the subway platform waiting to transfer from the 2 to the 1 train when out of nowhere I fully became the MTA information guy. See, I was in the Fulton street tunnel which, I have to tell you, to any logical human makes absolutely no sense at all. I’m pretty sure they did it on purpose just to screw with new comers, that or the signs were created by dyslexics. You could, (and yes I have) walk for blocks and blocks and possibly hours before you realize that the diagonal arrow really meant to just walk straight ahead. Anyway, I was standing there getting ready to pull out my book and start reading (which right now is a Mercy by Toni Morrison) when some lady asked a bunch of us (us being those standing around waiting):

Can I get the four train here?

No dumb ass, do you see the number 4 right there? Nooo ( I wanted to say) instead I said:

You have to go upstairs, I know it’s confusing but you can’t get the 4 or 5 on this platform you have to go upstairs (I’m still from Seattle and we’re nice and passive aggressive…there’s no G in livin, YET).

Not another minute later another guy comes right up to me…you mean you can’t get the 4 or 5 right here?

No you have to go upstairs. Who am I MTA?!

Then another girl says, it’s a good thing you’re here because I had no idea.

Finally, and this is really the thing that first started me on the G thing, some lady says (in a very snotty way I might add) “it says RIGHT there 4-5!!”

To which I replied…”lady, you can stand there waiting for the 4 or 5 all day if you’d like but it’s not going to come.”…I wish I had added a ‘run along now’…but I didn’t think of it at the time. She looked up and I saw her go up the stairs (no "thank you" but whatever).

Later that day I got myself to breakfast at Balthazar in Soho for a lovely brunch with my friend Maureen and off to my new job in Chelsea with out even glancing at a map! OK I took a cab for the last leg of the trip but still, no map!

I realize that simply navigating the city does not give me license to be living as apposed to livin’…but there’s more.

I have indeed eaten a dirty water dog. I have survived my first crappy job and gotten a new one! AND my current job takes me up 6th avenue where each and everyday I look up at the Empire State Building. I have paid more than I can afford in rent for a full year. I own a stupid looking hat and a down jacket to be worn on a day to day basis. I can cart around whatever I need for a day on the job and an evening out with out having to go back to my apartment and change. I have received 2; COUNT ‘em TWO invitations to Super Bowl parties from my New York peeps, and I have a boyfriend who has never been to Seattle! If these things don’t entitle me to a G I’m not sure what does.

Now let me be perfectly clear…I am NOT a New Yorker! BUT I might be LivinG..finally…and I might EVEN like it!

Although not fully committed to the G ...yet.

Graceful Moxie

2009-01-11T22:03:00.007-05:00

Shannon Johnson sat four desks behind me in Mrs. Ripley’s class in the third grade. Mrs. Ripley was a rather large woman and smelled distinctly of Johnson’s Baby Powder mixed with bad perfume , she also had a large mole on her neck with hair that grew right out of it…but that’s neither here nor there because who I really want to talk about is Shannon Johnson. I always admired her, Shannon that is, Mrs. Ripley was kinda mean and put my sister in a big card board box once, so I was a little afraid of her…ANYWAY, back to Shannon.

Shannon was a ballerina, tall and thin with super long blond hair and big blue eye’s. Although these are not the things that stood out for me the most; what I liked most about Shannon Johnson was that she was quiet. See, I was the kid in the front of the class with a Mork and Mindy shirt on, unable to keep her mouth shut when she knew the right answer…yeah same kid who tried not to finish the sentences when there was a slow reader in the group...I was THAT kid; consistently made to stand in the coat closet for audibly getting grossed out when Tom McGlusten ate glue or Mark Harris did the armpit fart thing…I just couldn’t keep quiet. But Shannon could. She could laugh quietly and gracefully participate.

I remember watching Shannon during recess or reading time and wondering how she was so good at containing herself, what was it that made her so well behaved? Sometimes I would try really hard to emulate it; I would say to myself, today I will be more quiet. And I would try realllll hard, but I couldn’t do it for very long.

As time has passed and I’ve grown older I often wonder about Shannon and what she is doing. Where she ended up in life and if she’s a lovely ballerina somewhere or a big fat stinky lady with a mole like Mrs. Ripley – tough to tell. But I’ve never stopped valuing her grace.

So recently I read a blog post by my cousin, she has adopted her “word” for this year. Sort of a reminder to herself of a value or trait that is important to hold onto throughout the year…Sounds like a good idea to me, I’m all about the reminding and growing and learning and crap.

So when I looked at the challenge my first thought was MOXIE! My word for ’09 will be MOXIE!…because see, I lost some of that in 08… I started in fact maybe being a little too quiet, I became kinda wimpy and overly nice trying to compensate for this aggressive city so I’d like to get a little bit of my courage back…

So why all this talk about Shannon Johnson and Grace? Well, at first my word was going to be grace…but then I changed my mind…I’ll save grace for next year.

and...MORE Taxi Cab Confessions...

2009-01-04T21:38:00.026-05:00

Forgive me taxi driver for I have sinned...(YES...AGAIN!)

I think I had a religious experience when I visited the Cloisters a year ago and with that came a tremendous amount of guilt. It's that or when I played Pinnochio for the Missoula Children's Theater Company and day after day heard that damned Jimminy Cricket "always let your conscious be your guide"...either way I'm like a constantly wigged out catholic...with the never ending guilt...

So I couldn't do it. I tried, I mean I really did. I tried HARD to be a good taxi cab rider. I took my pulse, I breathed ....I counted to 1o but..."Hi My Name is Tina and I'm a Cab hater." I don't really know the core of my issue on this matter but I think it's a trust thing. I just simply don't trust 'em and I'm looking for any way they can prove me right.

Thing is I thought I had changed. I've had some great cab experiences since living in New York. I am VERY thankful to Ackrim who picks me up right in front of my building without fail on the days I have to be at work at 5am. AND today even, I had a GREAT driver, nice guy who took me the fast way to work and I didn't even have to beg - and YES I tipped him. In fact I over tipped him, but I think that's just because I'm trying to get over the guilt and bad karma I have from my behavior yesterday...it wasn't good.

See, I had to go uptown right after work to bring provisions in the way of gatoraid and bananas to my ailing boyfriend. And, well, I was wearing bad shoes so I flagged a cab. As soon as I got in I realized I had no cash on me and the ride was only going to cost about five bucks (the cabbies hate that because the credit card thing takes 5-7% from the drivers). I searched high and low through my purse for some dough, but no luck. So I was forced...as we came to my destination, to admit my issue and sheepishly pay with my credit card.

"I'm sorry, I have to pay with my credit card"
"No Cash?"
"No, I'm sorry I have no cash on me"
*humph, breath hard - express obvious annoyance*
Do you want a tip>"
"I WANT cash"
"Dude, if I HAD cash I'd give it to you"
*humph, breath hard - express obvious annoyance; slightly more exagerrated than before*

The fare was $4.90 and when you pay with a credit card the machine gives you a choice, 15, 20 or 25 percent for tip, but if you're savvy like me you know you can just hit 0.00 and not tip.

I know I shouldn't have)...at the TIME, I felt like an addict...I couldn't stop myself...I hit the zeros. Next thing I knew I was rushing out of the cab and the guilt immediately consumed me. I quickly got out and practically ran into the Duane Reed and rushed to the back of the store ...in case the cabbie was comin' after me.

As I began shopping my little brain began to work overtime.
WHAT is WRONG with me?! ...
WAS that wrong?
He was an ass...he was a total ass...he deserved it.
I just stood up for myself...it was fine...he was an ass...
I'm a terrible person.
Poor guy probably makes no money and deals with total jerks all day and all I did was make it worse!
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
That's bad karma...that's really bad karma...I'm gonna really get it for that one.

For the rest of the day when I thought anything was going wrong I blamed it on my bad cab karma. I thought I'd lost my debit card for a minute: "Serves ya right, ya bad cab tipper" I couldn't, for the LIFE of me, find a decent banana on the upper west side...MY FAULT..if I'd only tipped the driver! I was literally surprised that I had gotten home in one peice and if I'd gotten mugged or otherwise maimed in anyway I would have deserved it.

Thing is I didn't...and not that I want to tempt the fates or anything...but I'm fine. I'm happy, I'm starting a new job on Monday that requires me to take a lot less cabs and I haven't barfed, tripped or so much as suffered a paper cut since the "incident."

So...maybe he was an ass?

But maybe, (and yes it's selfish)...I'll JUST to spare myself the stress of the bad karma guilt I'll suck it up, tip and keep workin' on my cab hatred. Either way, I'll keep ya posted...

Grouchy

2008-12-31T11:37:00.018-05:00

My boyfriend calls it the one year New York itch...the time you start to feel fed up with the city...well I have to say I DO still really like New York..but I also have to say...sometimes she makes it hard to love her...

-----------------------------------------------

He yelled “don’t push, don’t push!"
She yelled back “well, you’re in every bodies way, no one is pushing, move out of the way!”
He repeated himself “don’t PUSHHHH!” (sounding an awful lot like a 10 year old)
She replied “what the f* are you doing?! You’re in everyone’s way! You’re an a*hole”

They went opposite directions, both trying to win over those around them.

“She was very rude…”

“...He was in everyone’s way it was very obvious”

“You’re an a*hole” she looked back and said.
“Calling someone an a*hole is no way to solve a problem” He channeled Dr. Phil but it didn’t work.

They stopped speaking…everyone on the train silently agreed; they're both a*holes...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was the fifth strange and obnoxious encounter I had between my work and my ride home in two days…not counting the people I careened around and bumped into.

The first "sort of" conflict came on 57th and 9th where some old man was sitting on his bike instructing passersby to ‘eat their own feces and die,’ or to ‘copulate with their brothers.’…he was less creative with his language than I …or more so depending on your preference. The somewhat amusing part of that encounter was that at one point he began singing a great deal of obscenity's..sort of an Operatic Tourette Syndrom...

The third I shouldn’t call a conflict but it affected me deeply nonetheless and came the way of another person less fortunate than I. He was a homeless (I assume) person standing on his knees in the middle of the platform asking for money. It was tough to get around him and so everyone was confronted with the issue of homelessness as they passed through the subway tunnel...maybe that's good..I guess...I mean it is something we need to address and think about..but sometimes (I'll admit it)...I'd like not to be confronted...(yes I realize how awful I sound right now)...

New York annoyance number four came again on the infamous A train. At around 4:15 every weekday I get very excited because there is a brand new EMPTY train on the A, C line, so if you stand in the right spot you get a great seat and you can sit and read your book and enjoy the ride. Well NOT so yesterday. Here's what happened: I went through my ritual, I got excited, I hunkered down with my new book (a Mercy: Toni Morrison) until...(insert horror film music) some jackass next to me decided that he just HAD to play his cellphone video game loud enough for the whole damned train to hear it! I tried to ignore it and I was afraid to tell him to turn the sound off... I've learned it's better to just move away from the crazy people. So I did. I had to give up my great seat to move cars and sit next to a stinky guy who I'm sure snacked in his cats litter box for lunch...

After my grueling ride I got off the train and headed up the stairs only minutes away from being home and done with my day...when of course some obnoxious woman decided that I was invisible and stood RIGHT in front of me blocking the exit from the train...THEN as I got around her...her friend did the same thing!

"SERIOUSLY?!" I said "Am I invisible because I'm pretty sure I can see myself trying to get through here"

In true New York fashion they ignored me. I left trying to calm myself by saying, in my head..."maybe they were deaf and blind..."

(the other encounter/troubles I had all happened on the train...in one, a disturbingly frail homeless woman got on the train and began to sing (loudly) The Children are Our Future, not really sure if the irony was lost on her...and the other included a man, public urination and hand sanitizer...I'll spare you)

----------------------

So see...it's tough. I mean, I’ve spent a great deal of the last year conflicted about my feelings for this fine metropolis we call New York City. I feel like I look to the right and see the wonder of the holiday decorations and am inspired by the art and then I look to the left and see a rat or furrowed brow or a tired child with one shoe waiting with her mother for the cross town bus. Then I look ahead of me and see the inspiration in Central Park and I look behind to the homeless mentally ill person begging for dinner and the whole thing to put it bluntly is a gigantic mind fuck. (I’ve refrained from the vulgarity until now but lately I’ve realized …well look... I’m a New Yorker…and we like the swear words…)

At the end of the day I do still heart this fine metropolis and am willing to deal with her idiosyncrasies and obnoxiousness...and in '09 I'll search higher and sometimes lower for the beauty in it all and try real hard not to be such a grouch...

Christmas in the Big Apple

2008-12-21T07:38:00.021-05:00

(This blog post will stray a bit from my previously sentimental take on the holidays..sorry but lately I've grown from slightly touchy feely to kinda bugged...)

They really aren't kiddin' around here with the whole decorating for Christmas thing in New York. I tried hard yesterday to get into the spirit of it all and so took some pictures of the holiday cheer. Seriously though, it was freezing and slushy and I just got pushed around by a bunch of obnoxious tourists...so here's my attempt at sharing with you what Christmas brings to this fine city...

Well, I found that it brings some creepy clowns; just so ya know kids, clowns don't jump out of trains...I don't care where ya live...

Christmas brings the MASSES...

And no holiday would be complete with out some giant balls in a fountain (ok... these are pretty).

They're crazy about the ice arena's out here too. I think they turned every mud puddle into a rink and planted a giant tree next to 'em to make it look festive. In all honesty I'm pretty sure the whole ice skating in Bryant Park is a good thing to do "IN THEORY." In reality it's a cold pain in the ass with screaming children and adults slipping and falling and trying to grab on to random things, like you for dear life....(see..do these people look happy?)...

Nothing says holiday cheer more than a bunch of crap wrapped around a lamp post...

I'm not exactly sure what's festive about some giant bird houses...but these were erected all over Madison Square Park and though as far as I could tell no one was actually living in them...they're kinda cool.

Here's another shot...I think I took about fifty pictures of these until I had to put my hands in my mouth to prevent them from freezing right off my wrists...

And then there's the Holiday Windows at the department stores...The ones at Lord and Taylor were pretty cool, but I couldn't take any pictures of them because PETA was out protesting in front of the displays and I was afraid they'd beat me up. So you'll have to settle for the one shot I got at ABC Carpet and Home (I stopped here and meditated for a while but then some guy mistook me for a fire hydrant and tried to pee on me so I had to move on...)...pretty though huh?!:

And if you know me by now you know I can't pass up a festival...so I crammed myself in with all the other last minute shoppers looking to pay a hundred dollars for their name painted on a grain of rice...fun times...

After my journey through Manhattan's Christmas I headed back to my hood in Brooklyn...Christmas forgot us out there so this is all we got:

We're hopin for a lump of coal in '09!

Cheers.

White Envelopes

2008-12-19T12:28:00.003-05:00

Well I imagine it's no surprise but this made me tear up quite a bit (see below) and it's a great idea to start a family tradition (thank you to my friend Lee Cameron for passing this on).

White Envelopes

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it, overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma, the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son, Kevin, who was 12 that year was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended, and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church.

These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in the spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids, all kids, and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse.

That's when the idea of his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition, one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.

The story doesn't end there.

You see we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

Nancy W. Gavin

This story is a true story and inspired four siblings from Atlanta, GA to start The White Envelope Project, a nonprofit organization dedicated to promoting this tradition and charitable giving. The White Envelope Project founders are regularly in touch with the family in the article and are thrilled to have their support. The Gavin family and now thousands of others continue to celebrate the "white envelope" tradition each year. For more information about The White Envelope Project or to honor a loved one through a "white envelope" gift this year, please visit their website: www.WhiteEnvelopeProject.org

The Incredible Edible...

2008-12-17T09:10:00.009-05:00

I realized soon into my New York life that it's important to carry provisions with you at all times. So I carry around a lot of crap. I'm afraid of getting stuck on a subway somewhere and having to live on rain water and pocket lint so I always carry my water bottle and some snacks. I'm also afraid that when and IF I do get stuck on the subway or anywhere else, I'll get bored, so I carry at least one book and one magazine at all times, a diabolical sudoku puzzle I've printed out and an article or two..JUST IN CASE. In addition a girl never knows when she might encounter an exciting, or say, life threatening or maybe even beautiful moment so I tote around my camera wherever I go and what if I want a self portrait? Gotta bring the tripod. In addition one never knows where she might end up during the course of a New York day and so she must always carry various lip balms, blushes, face powder and other cosmetic items. And well... there's other things, gloves, hats, scarves, an umbrella, aspirin,...well here ya go...here's a peak into the contents of my big ass bag today...(yes that's a full sized lint brush...I don't like lint it bugs me)...

Sooo....the other day I discovered I had placed an item in my big ass bag that went neglected. You see I am known among my friends and family as quite the snacker. I'm not a 'big' girl, but I eat all the time and I don't like to find myself with out a lil somethin' somethin' in my bag to chow on should I get a little low on the blood sugar. So the other day I enjoyed my morning routine of picking up a cuppa joe and a hard boiled egg at the Roosevelt Deli (it's an awful place I wouldn't recommend it, but it's the only deli open all night that's close by). Well my day got ahead of me and I didn't eat the egg...then well... another day went by and though I knew it was in there I chose my dry roasted almonds for my snack and so again no egg consumption...

I imagine you can see where this is going.

On day three of carrying that delicacy around and I had had a busy morning, unable to stop on way to work for the coffee etc, so had nothing to eat by around noon...until...(insert happy music) I realized...Mr. egg was right there in my purse ready for me to enjoy.

I was hesitant though...I was...I mean is a three-day old egg that has traveled back and forth from Brooklyn to Manhattan and various points in between safe for consumption? Should I keep in there and hope to write a funny blog post about the rotten purse egg? Is it already a rotten purse egg? Am I gross? ....NO I'M STARVING and it's a busy news day so I have no time to go downstairs...I'm eatin'the egg!

So I did, and it was stinky and probably borderline rotten and you'd think after the Ikea cinnamon roll debacle I would be more discretionary with my food intact...but nope. I risked it. And now dear reader...I want you to know...a slightly stinky 3 day old hard boiled egg can be carried around safely in the greater city of New York and it's boroughs and later be consumed safely (although this is not an edorsement or otherwise challenge for you to try this at home)...it's not pleasant but it served it's purpose.

AND your lesson of the day...should you move to New York or visit for any reason, bring a big ass bag and be prepared...FOR ANYTHING!

--------------------

Oh and I HAVE to share with you the comments I got on facebook after sharing on my status update that I had indeed consumed the egg:

Tina would like all concerned to know that she did indeed eat the egg she carried in her purse for two days and lived to tell about it... 8:42am - 3 Comments

Lee at 8:58am December 17
Really? After the cinnamon roll incident?

Tina at 9:09am December 17
I know it! I don't know what compelled me...I was super hungry at work and I remembered I had the egg and before I knew it, I was chowin' down...but it was terrible and slightly stinky...what is wrong with me?! BUT I did not get sick!! SO I got lucky....

Greg at 10:00am December 17
Some TV producer needs to build a Discovery Channel show around you. "Urban Jungle Survivor Woman"

Jason at 8:18am December 17
This will make you feel betterhttp://shine.yahoo.com/channel/health/the-5-dirtiest-foods-327375/

Gregg wrote at 6:54am
we just found that cheese you accused everyone of stealing from the KIRO fridge in 1999. It might go nicely with that egg.

Boo Hoo

2008-12-08T09:22:00.013-05:00

So, I've been crying a lot lately. And while I realize writing that likely could make future or current employers raise an eyebrow as to my sanity, and decrease my chances of finding a husband before I'm 50, I still feel like I have to share (by the by...I'm NOT pregnant, Mom so don't wig out).

Now, I've really never been big on the crying. Not at all. In fact I fancy myself as being a pretty tough girl only willing to shed a tear for appropriate moments; death, birth maybe, heart break on very rare occasion, spilled milk...you know average stuff. Lately though, the water is coming at fairly in appropriate moments. For instance when I was sick the other day from the consumption of the Ikea Cinnamon roll, I was watching really bad TV and cried at an Iams dog food commercial! Yes I did. It was the one where the woman tries and tries to get her dog to catch the ball and the dog could careless about it but then when she least expects it the 'lil guy all of the sudden comes up to her and hands her the ball....so cute that lil guy...took him a while to figure out what to do with that ball, but then when he DID figure it out - he came through and dropped the ball RIGHT IN HER LAP ..smart lil pup! (sniff sniff)

As if tearing up at a dog food commercial isn't enough...when I ran the Philly Half Marathon (13.1 miles - wahoo) two weeks ago, I seriously teared up at the start of the race. I was overwhelmed, I think by all those people and sorta proud and amazed...and good God here I go again...geez...

Finally and this really is the straw that's breakin' this camel's emotional back...Last night, I was watching Bridzillas....(I know really crappy TV), but I was tired and wanted mindless entertainment. Well, little did I know it would evok such emotion. Do you know the premise of the show? Well let me enlighten you: The deal is, they follow a really mean woman and her usually wimpy doormat of a fiance through the planning and execution of their wedding. The brides are always just horrible individuals who boss around their brides maids, yell at their moms and occasionally get drunk and make asses of themselves at their rehearsal dinner. It's AWESOME!

So, last night there was a real nasty bride, Jennifer. Here's how she describes herself:

What kind of bride to you expect to be?:
I expect to be a very emotional bride. I cry about everything. I’m stressed, crazy, and dramatic.
(Real high expectations for herself there)

What’s the worst thing that could happen on your wedding day?: Anything being out of place and pissing me off.
(well she's real orderly)

And in case you didn't get the idea here's a good a lil video for ya:

Clearly you can see that a person who might cry during this show may not be mentally stable. But let me assure you - I am of sound mind and body (just recently slightly teary eyed at the drop of a hat). The thing is by the end of the show even if you don't like the brides, the weddings can be quite lovely and touching because in the end of it all they love their fiance's even when they swear at them.

All in all I think my cryin' jag has a little to do with feeling lonely still in New York and so slightly emotional. Also I feel often very thankful and happy but sometimes those thoughts make me cry too!...

With that I will leave you with my favorite thing ever from my childhood.. a lil "Free to Be You and Me..."

Trouble on the A Train

2008-12-03T11:12:00.011-05:00

Apparently the other day I accidentally posted a half baked essay about a recent harrowing experience I had on the A train heading home from work. As I was writing it I couldn't really figure out what I was trying to convey - and so didn't finish but I guess I accidentally hit the "publish post" button instead of the "save now" one. Well, some people (and by some I mean two - thank you Tiffany and Jeannette) wanted to hear the rest of the tale...so here's what happened:

I got on a fairly crowded train in the afternoon and sat down to read my book. At the next stop a gaggle (yes a gaggle, not a bunch that's too small) of about middle school aged kids got on the train. Well the kiddies were AMPED up, loud and yelling and carrying on about some fight at school. They were swearing, "My n-word this and My n-word that" and "F- this and that."

Everyone on the train was very uncomfortable and obviously a little nervous. It was so loud no one could do any thing but listen to them. I was stuck right in the middle of it trying to mind my own business and read my book. But I was also completely interested in what they were talking about and their energy so as much as could I just kept my nose in my book but tried to understand what they were talking about. Their conversation was very couched in slang and swear words and almost like rhyming..kind of oddly poetic actually.

As soon as the train stopped I decided to get out and go to the next car, figuring I'd rather read my book. As I got up, one girl pushed me. Out of nowhere. Not super hard but noticeable. So I turned around mostly because I was confused not hurt - she began yelling "she didn't have to push me! SHE DIDN'T have to push ME!" and I just said, "I didn't push you" and by the look on her friends face I could tell that he knew I was right and they were out of hand and that I was indeed an adult after all. SO he sort of began apologizing..."miss, miss" I could hear him saying.

But then another girl pushed me! So I just quickly got off the train. But when I got off I realized I was really scared and had I stayed on could have been in a very dangerous situation. Those girls were way bigger than I was, super hyped up and cared about NO ONE.

The other very interesting thing was the conversation I had with myself afterward, though. I thought about what would have happened if I had gotten severely beaten up...would it have turned into a racial confrontation in the news? The girls were black - I am a small very white woman. Then I asked myself why I began thinking about it on racial terms...and why or was race a factor at all in the situation?...which was very interesting to me. That my brain (which I consider so completely not racist in any way) just suddenly headed in that direction like those kids didn't like me because I was white...what was that about? Why would I think that etc...

This incident on the train seems minor but I think about it a lot for some reason. Wishing I had had a better reaction. Sometimes wishing I was taller or stronger so didn't seem like such a willing, for lack of a better term, 'victim' in the experience. Wondering what these kids were about, what their lives were like, would they grow into responsible adults and laugh at how obnoxious they were as kids? OR are they a bunch of selfish brats? Should I feel compassion or annoyance? Should I have stayed and tried to deescalate the situation? What would the outcome have been then? I know, I know, I over think it all...but it bugs me!

I think since I've been in New York issues of race and class are much more at the forefront of my thinking. Seattle is a very sheltered town. It's predominately white and middle class, and though there are divisions they seem to more separate; the rich spend time with their own as do the poor. In New York everyone is together all the time as EB White says 18 inches...all races and classes sandwiched in and forced, if one is reflective, to wonder how the other half lives.

Disaster at the Red Hook Ikea

2008-12-01T03:55:00.021-05:00

Due to the unfortunate consumption of a cinnamon roll at the Ikea in Brooklyn I have been suffering from a terrible illness for the last 48+ hours. It's now 4am, and though I am able to hold down water now and the occasional nibble of a cracker, I can't sleep. So instead of laying in bed stressing out about missing work tomorrow, the ailing economy, the condition of my apartment and finally, if I made the right choice to move to New York (yes I'm still questioning my decision after 16 months), I decided to do two things, write now and write more often (this might be the time to unsubscribe to this blog).

What is it about 4 in the morning that makes the world so different and so open to stress and questioning? I realize the things I am completely wigging out about at this moment will be forgotten in the light of day but for some reason the power they have over me in the darkness is enormous.

Anyway - back to the cinnamon roll slash Ikea debacle. Well, I knew going into it that visiting the Brooklyn Ikea on Black Friday was likely a bad idea and quite frankly I don't know why I did it. Part boredom I guess and I did need some Christmas decorations for my apartment and well, I was curious. How bad could it be?

First there's this fancy Ikea shuttle that picks a girl up only blocks away from her apartment very convenient! Second, it's Ikea for God sacks! Frames for two dollars, oddly shaped and colored lamps for three ninety nine, breakable cheese graters for ninety ninety cents, not to mention ALL KINDS of furniture I can't pronounce but enjoy trying.."yes, I'll have the flifflindorf couch and the klausersnaker drawers please" ....the mere thought of it drove me, by shear adrenaline alone, to the shuttle stop.

The shuttle arrives every about 15-20 minutes and so when it comes, those who have all ready ventured to the Ikea and lived to tell about are coming out of the shuttle just as you are beginning your journey. I was sure to look closely at each person just to make sure there were no visible injuries, arms and legs were all still attached and no one was crying real tears. Mostly everyone just looked really tired.

The ride was lovely, no one sat next to me and as we ventured out of my neighborhood into the industrialized area of Brooklyn, ripe with empty warehouses and desolate run down buildings I was all tingly inside because I knew...no one puts an Ikea in a sensible area, oh no... Ikea's live among the gritty and so I knew I was gettin' close. We passed the dollar store and my mouth watered, we rounded the corner into Red Hook and I could hear the angels singing, see the clouds parting and by God that gold and blue logo was enough to make me stand up and shout. But I contained myself...at least for that moment.

Upon entering Ikea my excitement quickly turned to fear upon noticing the little children everywhere with strange painted faces and sticky hands. Then I was greeted by this guy:

Now I'm not sure why a person has to be accosted by a clown when shopping for furniture or how exactly Mr. Clown might motivate one to say, purchase another duvet cover but there he was. Proud as all get out to be the Ikea Clown...When I asked him if I could take his picture he said "You should link to me on My Space and be my friend"...(he really did, who doesn't love a tech savvy clown). I did not respond I was lost in thought picturing him in his little clown house hopped up on Dr. Pepper chatting with JP Patches (holla!)....

After I got over clown shock I entered the upstairs Ikea showroom where every area looks like the barbie townhouse and is impossible to create even if you bought every single thing in it and paid someone to assemble it. But maybe I'm just jealous, I have yet to properly put together a sturdy Klaunerhoppin shelving unit.

Pressing on from the show room I got my cart and headed on my way towards the maze and craze that only Ikea can create.

Seriously..that's a map?!

I hate to sound cliche, but my cart had a bad wheel..it wasn't the kind that rattled or anything it just made the entire cart curve to the left which made me one: dangerous if I took a hand off the thing but two: it gave me an ab work out as I tried to keep the thing straight. I'm not sure why I didn't just get a different one, I think I liked the work out.

Anway onto the shopping... It wasn't easy, between my ADD and love for a good bargain I could feel my pulse rising and my eyes getting larger as I passed the sofa's I didn't need and entered the kitchen area. I made it out of there with only a few kitchen towels and some non microwavable Tupperware (I only learned after I brought it home that it wasn't nukeable..useless). I sped through the bedroom area forgetting that I desperately need a feather bed - I seriously sleep a very large and hard wafer. On to the bathroom section where I shuffled through the hideous colors and patterns of shower curtains (are they all colorblind in Sweden?) and found the one navy one. Feeling like I had accomplished something, I swiveled my cart onto the isle forgetting about the bad wheel. (Steer clear people, I got a BAD WHEEL!) Almost knocking down the weird stuffed animal display - and by weird one of the stuffed animals was a flea...it really was...a larged stuffed flea!

I steadied myself and headed towards the frames where - I'll spare the details of my thirty minute hemming and hawing about size color and shape (again what's the deal with the Swedish dimensions? why so many retarded frame sizes?).

Onto the Christmas ornaments...now, I'm not sure how they are celebrating the holidays out there is Sweden but can someone please fill me in on the reasoning behind the abundance of black Christmas decorations?

Black bulbs, black lights, black stars...Did I miss a trend somewhere? Because black decorations do not say have a holly jolly Christmas...they more say "the economy sucks and we cant afford color this year." Anywho - I sifted through those and found me some nice green and white glass bulbs that I'll never get around to hanging up for a mere three ninety ninety...

All in all I escaped Ikea with nothing at all that I really needed and only sixty dollars poorer. Well worth the adventure...UNTIL...dun dun dunnnnnn ....

I was tired and hungry...

The thing practically BEGGED me to buy it and eat it right up...

It was ONLY ONE DOLLAR! ...and 497 calories...

I blame this lady in front of me...why is she wearing that?

I gave, in. OK?...I'm a weak person.

The next thing I knew I was devouring s a large cinnamon roll smiling and enjoying every minute of it on my way back to the Heights... (I must of known it would haunt me for 4 days because I took this picture of it on the shuttle...half way in...she's lovely isn't she?)

Well my joy was short lived because I'm pretty sure that damned roll gave me the worst case of food poisoning I've had since Thailand circa 1999...(rough times)....

So in the end, I learned my lesson. Go slower, take your time, don't fall for temptations that come in one dollar high calorie packages, free buses or names you can't pronounce...

Giving Thanks...Simply Just Handin' it Out

2008-11-26T13:38:00.002-05:00

It's the eve of that day we like to set aside to give and receive thanks to those who have blessed us and those we have blessed. Or something like that; I like to look at this way rather than all that pilgrim crap. As I look at the last year (plus) of this blog I realize how much I have to be thankful for...and I know you might be up to your ears in friggin' Thanks...but bear with me here.

Sooo I arrive in New York a year ago August right?! Immediately when I run into troubles, my sister Suzy (whose connectors are connected) hooked me up with a place to stay while I iron out my apartment dilemma...and although it didn't quite work out (how was she supposed to anticipate the models in my bed and the drugs in the bathroom?)...I was lucky enough to be taken in by the fabulous Taylor family and their two cats Barnem and Baily.

After that I answer an ad on Craigslist from a woman who needs a dog sitter and from there develope a fantastic friendship with a big smilin' Sophie Dog and her owner Jenny.

Later in my journey I would be lucky again to find a co-worker who would connect me with my current lovely apartment in arguably the best neighborhood in the nation!

As time goes on I am also introduced via my other sister to one of my best friends here in the city, Maureen who has been my confidant, advice giver and all around fun person to hang out with. Winter comes...and what's next?...the work Superbowl Party where I met my other best NY friend who you know by way of this blog Lisa. Lisa, Maureen and Jenny have been my saving grace this year and I'm not exactly sure where I'd be right now with out them.

In the mean time my family has been here to visit me about four times and my bestest Seattle friends have not left me alone for longer than a month at a time...I'm convinced it's a conspiracy to make sure I don't loose my west coast roots...(I'm on to you guys). I love them!

All the while my knees, ankles and lungs have held up quite nicely as I've put them through quite a lot training for and completing that half marathon. So there's that whole...thankful for my health thing...PLUS those of you who supported my race..I mean really I can't stop with the gratitude right now!

In the past I've always tried to get my family to go around the Thanksgiving table and talk about what we're all thankful for...they often laughed at me...which is great because we laugh a lot in my family. Anyway...although I have no table this year and my family is thousands of miles away I am lucky to spend it with some people who need some assistace (I'll be volunteering) and later very very grateful to the 3 different places full of brand new friends I've been invited to visit for the Holiday. What luck huh??

Thank you...(oh geez I'm totally tearing up as a write this what a sap!)..but for reals...Thanks!

New, Taxicab Confessions

2008-11-17T09:12:00.007-05:00

Well what do ya know...maybe taxi cab drivers in New York read my blog, because today I had a great morning commute with a very nice driver.

I woke up late and had to be into the city by 6am so HAD to take a cab at 5:30. Well, I flagged the driver down and go into the cab and he immediately said good morning and proceeded to take me the most efficient and fast way to the Brooklyn Bridge and into Manhattan off to work. The ride was safe and easy so I tipped him 20%. As I was getting out of the cab he said,

"you take that route in the morning frequently huh?"

I said "at least twice a week."

"do you need a ride tomorrow? I could be out front of your building by 5:30am"

"great! I said see ya in the morning!"

"OK have a nice day!"

Which is great because I often have to walk several blocks to get a cab in the morning and it's chilly outside and often a little scary as it's dark.

So, there it is. They aren't all bad and we all benefit from being nice to one another in the long run...

Taxicab Confessions

2008-11-15T18:48:00.002-05:00

I might be a cab driver hater, in fact if there were a term for it like racist or bigot or something that specifically spoke to cab driver hater, it would pertain to me. I don't feel good about it at all but I've noticed, it's the truth. The fact is no one likes to ride in a cab with me, I'm rude, bossy to the driver, totally anxious and paranoid that I'm going to get kidnapped, killed or taken on a longer ride than needed. I also hate to tip them especially if they've done nothing but get me to my destination on time and alive.

Recently I took a short ride from the Upper West Side to Midtown, about 20 blocks. The fare was about $6.10 - thing is if it's $6.10 and you give them a ten dollar bill they don't give you back the ninety cents, they just round up and give you three dollars back, I never say anything I just grumble. But this time I was annoyed and I had time to fight so I said.."no, no, no you owe me Three dollars and ninety cents." "Ah ok" So he hands me four dollars and I begin to leave the cab. "Ahhh Thanks for no tip lady, thanks for no tip!!!!" To which I replied..."what did you do, to deserve a tip? try to take me for the ninety cents? drive extra carefully? take the route that was the quickest? or maybe did you just do your job? What did you do to deserve a tip?" He said nothing and drove away quickly.

As I walked away I was slightly guilt ridden. I mean poor guy has been driving all night, probably had to deal with drunken jerks and here I go with the 'you owe me ninety cents,' bit. There really is no reason for me to treat someone that way...but then I thought a little more (not usually a good idea for me). As I've said before New York is a difficult city, a girl gets bumped around a lot, she's gotta fight for a spot on the subway, she's gotta get all bruised up by rude Eastern European tourists who like to be in the way, she's gotta manage the weather and the honking and the trying to get anywhere on time...and after a while the whole thing just gets to a girl. So sometimes a person needs an outlet, and while most people might choose the gym or a punching bag or some such thing, I have chosen the cabbies to bear a little of my rage. It's not good karma and it's not something I like about myself but for now it'll have to do. I'm working on it.

Tomorrow morning I work at three a.m., I take a cab in to work at that hour in the morning and right now I am vowing to you that I Promise, with a capital P, to be friendly and polite and I'll even tip 'em...BUT if that jackass tries to take FDR or the Manhattan bridge...POW right in the kisser!...some change happens slowly...

***************12 hours later*********************

OK seriously I did try...BUT this morning I had to take that cab in to work at 3:00am and what do ya know?! Well, the very first thing he did was take me some convoluted way through my neighborhood on the way to the Brooklyn Bridge, "this was is faster" he says, "less lights". So I, being fully committed to my new found cab driver sensetivity, simply let him go. "OK, I'll trust you." Bad idea because that was at least 5-10 minutes out of my way and cost me a good two bucks. Fine I thought, it's just two bucks I'll watch him now. And guess what?! Well I'll tell ya...he says "You let me do my job we'll take FDR it's fast"

That was it..."no no no! You will take Chambers, to the West Side Highway to 10th Ave."

"Oh not 10th mam, you get stuck by the Marque"

"I know but it's a short 'stuck' and it's quicker because the lights are timed"

"You let me do my job"

"No, I am paying, I go this way every day, we'll go my way"

He turned up the music - classic rock - and I got to work 10 minutes late and two bucks poorer but satisfied that I got to go my way.

The upshot - I was firm but not mean so am getting a little better but I still had a pit in my stomach that I had to fight once more...

So should you find yourself in New York, know where you are going or be prepared to take the scenic route and pay a little more dough...OR ride with me and witness my wrath..it's not pretty but I get to work on time.

Brad

2008-11-03T10:15:00.004-05:00

Victory in life is a matter of turning improbabilities into miracles.

There is that cliche thing that reporters write when someone dies and often goes something like..."such and such lost his battle with cancer last night..." Well I can't say that about my friend Brad Perkins who died last week after fighting his way through basically brain cancer, Glioblastoma Multiforme Grade IV. Brad didn't loose that fight he won it because of the way he fought the battle; with grace and confidence and the ability to inspire other people.

When Brad was diagnosed he, of course, continued to come to work everyday and I would talk with him about what was going on and how he was feeling. He was always honest..."well it sucks," he would say and quickly follow it up with something positive or a piece of advice "be thankful though Tina, for everything you have." He meant it because he was always grateful.

Brad was an avid hiker, biker and mountain climber. In 2007 I had the opportunity to climb Mt. Rainer for the Climb for Clear Air. Brad had climbed it years before me and was my inspiration during both the training and the climb. Before I left for summit day Brad sent me a letter of encouragement that took me through all my fears. In a similar letter written to his friend Sarah Brad wrote this:

My ordeal is simply akin to severe Adirondack blow-down through which one must
push to reach a summit. Face the ordeal with strength and a smile, and you’ll
conquer the highest peak along with climbers who got there following an easier
trail. Either way it’s the same summit, and the view equally glorious.

I didn't summit Mt. Rainer due to severe weather and truth be told some severe fear on my part; (I'm not sure I will ever have the strength that Brad has but I'll keep tryin). Later that summer with Brad's encouragement I tried another mountain, Mt. Baker and with his words (and 3 other incredible people who I am lucky to know) I got to the summit of Baker and it changed my life.

I am truly sad today as I did not get to see Brad through to the end of his battle. He will always be an inspiration to me and as I continue to look for mountains to climb races to run and battles to win I will think of him and know that his spirit is alive and well in me so many people he touched. And... I will always be thankful for what I have...a friend in a great man like Brad.

Thank you, Sarah Lemony (not sure that's her real last name) and her wonderful post about Brad...please take the time to read it because you'll get a little bit of the gift that Brad brought to the world.

The Riches of Life

2008-10-17T14:10:00.004-04:00

I woke up this morning and immediately began psyching myself into my upcoming 7 mile running goal. See, I'm training to run a half marathon and the closer the race gets the more scared I'm becoming. While 13 plus miles isn't much for some it's a gigantic undertaking for me and quite honestly I'm not sure I'll make it. ALTHOUGH right now I'm trying this new way of positive thinking so I shouldn't be expressing these doubts out loud. So let's rephrase...

This morning I awoke to an amazing brisk beautiful New York day ready for the 7 miles I had planned to run in order to prepare myself for the 13.1 miles I will complete for a race later in November....

I had breakfast at my new favorite spot on the upper west side, The Shining Star diner where $4.50 gets ya 2 scrambled eggs a thimble full of orange juice, coffee, toast and home fries. I enjoyed watching the little girl next to me writhing on the floor as her mother tried to get her to eat JUST - ONE - MORE - BITE of a banana. When Sophia (that was the little ones name) finished her rant she joined me in a little mashing of my potatoes and I left the Shining Star with a smile...

I waited an hour procrastinating...I mean waiting for my food to digest...and watched a little Regis and Kelly. Kelly Ripa is my idol right now because she has the body of a goddess and the wit of ...I don't know...what's really witty? AND I saw her running in Central Park the other day which was pretty fun for me....

I digress...

So after prepping for my run I set out from 79th and Columbus to run around Central Park where I can just go with out thinking or worrying about getting lost because eventually I can find my way. The first area I hit was the rambles...which, as it turns out is a little more rambly than I like so I headed back on to the main road towards the Jackie Onassis Reservoir.

Lately I've been missing Seattle very much and wondering if I should head back home to settle. But today as I was running and just noticing all the beauty of that park I was feeling a bit more comfortable with my choice to stick it out for a little longer (although truth is I think I always have one foot out west).

As I began running around the reservoir, an older gentleman entered the trail at the very same time. After about 30 seconds of our stride matching step for step I couldn't help but acknowledge it. I looked over and smiled, he smiled back and I said:

"seems we have the same pace"
"it's a nice pace isn't it" he said (we were totally in lock step)
"yes, well I feel good about it, I'm trying to get up to 7 miles today although not sure I'll make"
"I'm just running a lap" he said
"well I think I'll be happy if I get to 6 actually"
"you should be happy anyway"
I laughed..."yeah, you're right...I am happy no matter what"
"There's no better place to run than this, look around you...it's so beautiful"
"You know you are right and I'm so glad you pointed that out, lately I've been homesick - I moved from Seattle a year ago and I miss it, but on days like today I realize how lucky I am to be running in Central Park on a sunny Friday afternoon."
"yes" he said and then there was a few moments of silence as we continued to run side by side feet exactly matched. Then he said...
"I would never move away from this city, not for a moment, I just love it so much. And especially this park. I love this park very much. I was a stock broker for 20 years and the most amazing thing happened; I suffered a brain injury at the dentist...I was getting my teeth cleaned"
"wow!? really? what happened"
"well the funny thing is, it messed with my ability to work with numbers, it created a problem so I could no longer keep numbers in order...best thing that ever happened to me. I could no longer be a stock broker"
"really? well you must be happy now with the ways things are on the market"
"yeah now I paint and I meditate and I run. I belong to The Arts Student League of New York,
we just got back from painting in Florence"
"wow you have a great life"
"I do"
"I also paint, although I'm not very good at it, I just do it for fun" I said.
"yes that's the best way to do it, me too, I try not to judge - I just paint for the fun of it - in fact I'm on my way to the Berkshires to paint with my wife of 6 years...but anyway...when I was recovering from my brain injury and they asked me what I wanted I said I want to be able to see the park again..and so the doctors snuck me out of the hospital and took me here in a wheel chair and I knew then I'd never leave New York and that I'd get better...and I am...better that is"
"wow! it's like that brain injury was the best thing to happen....if you don't believe in fate..."
"Oh, I do...I do believe in fate....what's your name"
"Tina, yours?
"Rich. It's nice to meet you Tina, maybe I'll see you at the Arts League sometime."
"I hope so" I said and Rich ended his lap and I continued my run.

I ran an effortless seven plus miles today and am thankful for the REAL Riches in life who come along to remind us of what's important about living.

Park It

2008-09-20T20:11:00.009-04:00

Fall has arrived in New York and the more she wiggles herself away from summer and becomes her very own independent season the more amazing the city becomes. The temperature right now is perfect, too warm to wear a bulky coat but too chilly to wear flip flops and tank tops; so you can safely don your fall wardrobe and not have to hide it behind a puffy coat. The smell of leaves dieing on their vines is in the air which would sound morbid if you really thought about it. Point is, it's the very best time to be in New York - Mid to late September through October.

Yesterday was my day off and in search of inspiration I did what I love to do, check out funky art in the galleries of Chelsea. The art galleries in Chelsea are a mix of pretentious crap and amazing works which serve to either impress the hell out of you or bor you to tears. On this day I was looking for a specific show I wanted to see and was delighted when I got two mints in one. My destination was the Susan Inglett Gallery, to see

In addition to Ulivos work at the same gallery, Harry Shearer (voice of many of the Simpson's characters, actor in Spinal Tap and A Mighty Wind, and fill in host of the show I used to produce) had a fantastic exhibit that I really loved titled: The Silent Echo Chamber featuring prominent newsmakers before they "go live" on television for an interview or some such thing. It's great to see McCain just sitting and blinking juxtaposed with James Carville gawking around and also excessively blinking waiting to "go on."

After I was all filled up with the Art my friend Lisa and I set out on the theme of exploration to visit a few fabulous mini-parks that were erected all around Brooklyn and Manhattan in parking spaces. Here's the deal:

Park(ing) Day NYC is an effort of the New York City Streets Renaissance which offers individuals and groups small grants to turn more than 50 parking spots throughout New York City's 5 boroughs into human-friendly places for a single day. These small, temporary public spaces provide a breath of relief from the auto-clogged reality of New York City, and aim to spark a dialogue about our valuable public space and how we choose to use it.

We began in Chelsea at the first park created by Plastic Modular Mobile, a tiny spot fully equipped with a plastic deer and fun fake plants. I took an opportunity to read while Lisa grabbed a coke at a nearby diner...(I don't know who that kid is but I think they paid her to look like a park frolicker)

Next I thought I could go right around the corner and see another park on 8th ave, but it wasn't there..humph.... so we found this one instead. A lovely area also in Chelsea where we were welcomed to come and sit and enjoy a fun magazine:

Not far from there was this joint, where I played a lil banjo and sang some Kermit the Frog songs with a group of other musicians and revelers. But the grass was super stinky so we pressed on...

Further south towards the Village I stopped in for some lemonade and nice conversation with a sheep, although there was the distinct smell of bacon in the air so I had to bolt:

Finally just on the edge of the Village at about 14th I was delighted by the Pink Haired lady and a nother nice chap who chatted me up about their aspirations concerning more mini-parks and spots for bikes in the city:

It was a perfect New York day...and now that I'm all inspired I just MIGHT create a mini park of my own next year...

In Remembrance

2008-09-15T14:22:00.013-04:00

7 years.

Worthy

2008-09-09T14:12:00.004-04:00

Well this is pretty fun for me...I was asked by this great site, Flashlight Worthy Books to put together a list of my favorite reads and send them over for a 'lil blurb on their site! And they published it today and furthermore, made me look way cooler than I am, check it out!

In addition I have to share with you a creature that was lurking around my neighborhood on Sunday unbeknown est to me...which I could just cry about....None other than KERMIT THEE FROG and his Lovah the Pig were apparently filming their new movie in my hood...can you even believe it! I'm dying over it...check out the pics and more on the Brooklyn Heights Blog.

And let me also say in closing if I see that frog and that pig any where around Manhattan, you will be the first to know! I hear they dig the pond in Central Park...