Break On Through To The Other Side

Well, I'm here. After much anticipation, many teary goodbyes, and a fair share of reluctance, I left that little New York City and crossed the threshold into my new life in San Francisco. And so, finally, it's time to figure out how I feel about this whole situation. Here goes nothin'...

The last couple weeks in Manhattan were chock full of we're-leaving-New York-fun-times. That was immediately followed by two weeks of nonstop I'm-so-happy-to-be-home-for-Christmas-in-Colorado-awesomeness (which definitely deserves its own post, thanks to the incredible combination of Family Game Tournament, Paul's arrival, copious amounts of fondue, meat pie, champagne, Just Dance!, and our annual family band and napkin costume contest. But, Christmas is already so last year, so you may just have to settle for a little Facebook action). Then, as quickly as it began, vacation was over and Day 1 of Operation: California was upon us. My days as a New Yorker are officially a thing of the past.

Before I attempt to reflect on my life-changing experience in New York, I should quickly sum up the rest of our final tour de force, also known as Rebecca and Eric Eat Manhattan.

In one huge Saturday, we knocked The Sunburnt Calf, the MUD truck, and the Brooklyn Bridge off the list. Plus, our adventures that day gave us some outstanding write-in candidates for future reference: tasty, rosemary nuts at Union Square Cafe and hands down the best milkshake ever- the toasted marshmallow shake at Stand.

AND, that Saturday just so happened to be SantaCon, the annual convening of people that want to dress like Mr. Claus and binge drink all over the city. Winner!

We both had lovely send offs and holiday parties from our office and, at Mom's recommendation, we braved the tourists at Rockefeller Center so we saw a really big tree and many, many people. Just look at how excited I am!

We stuffed ourselves at Mesa Grill, and Paul was able to join us for a last brunch at Calle Ocho, which was almost a bust but was saved at the last moment by the appearance of our waiter friend Antonio to wish us well and to try to make out with Paul. Well. Kind of.

After a long night of packing and cleaning and being sad, the big day dawned on us and we ordered a Big Nick's pizza (a tribute to our first meal in New York), drugged the cat, forced her into the world's smallest pet carrier, and closed the door at 101 West End for the last time.

If you would have asked me four years ago if New York would ever feel like home, I'm sure I would have said no. The days when I would be sad and reluctant to return to the city after a visit to the west coast really are not so long ago. Somehow, though, New York bewitched me. The person I became there and the life I built there made that peculiar, crowded, glittering city my home.

I couldn't tell you exactly what I liked so much about living there because, in reality, living in New York is a huge pain in the rear. And it's also really full of people. Rude people. And pigeons. Plus, it's expensive and it gets really hot in the summer and there's nothing I hate more than being sweaty. Despite all of these very legitimate reason not to like that place, I am more than a little bit in love with that city.

A lot of people would probably say that they like New York because of the galleries or the restaurants or the theatre, but it's nothing that specific for me. If I had to pick one reason I loved living there it would be because I didn't have to drive and would never be expected to. Valid point, but not quite romantic enough to sum up the deep and emotional attachment I have for the city. It's something much more intangible.

I love the crisp fall air in the parks and the balmy early summer nights by the river; my yoga teachers with their incredible knowledge, patience, and skill; the rush of people at any hour of the day, all hurrying to whatever comes next, like tiny pieces in a never-ending jigsaw puzzle; the miles and miles and miles and miles of walking; the snow-covered city before the grime and noise of the day takes over; the quiet cobblestones of the West Village and unexplored paths in Central Park; and, of course, Paul...

The list could go on and on. I love New York and miss it deeply for a million little reasons that add up to one big one: I loved knowing I lived there. With all its mystique, glory, intimidation, and enormity, Eric and I made a life there, and we were good at it, and it was ours.

That is what I'll miss most about New York.

Now that we've been in San Francisco for a couple of weeks, I'm ready to embrace it. The wound of leaving New York is not quite so raw and I know it's time to open my heart to this city as much as I did for New York. I won't pretend that there weren't rough days over the past four and a half years, but when I look back at this time in my life, I will always cherish it. I will always want to go back. But now is the beginning of my next chapter, and it's time to be excited, so I am.

And besides, San Francisco already has a lot going for it: my sis is here and the weather is pretty nice. Turns out it isn't so weird to not have winter; you actually just forget it's winter altogether. Apparently, I've adapted to the California life more easily than originally expected...

Progress Report

Our time left living in New York is rapidly depleting, as every minute seems to be filled with work, cramming in as many yoga classes with my awesome teachers as I can (big, BIG crocodile tear), doing move-related chores, and, of course, tackling the very fun and very important List. Since it's really too cold right now for me to go anywhere willingly and taking apart our bookshelves was making me a little too sad, I decided it's the perfect time to update you on our progress in the official New York countdown.

We hit the ground running with a frigid walk through Central Park on our way uptown on Sunday. I, being typically moronic in my choice of shoes, decided it was ok to not wear socks. Let's just say I was too busy worrying that my feet had turned to useless stumps due to lack of blood flow to take a Central Park photo. Despite the chill in the air and my numb extremities, it was lovely in that special way that Central Park always is.

Our destination on Operation: No Socks was Blockheads! Turns out that when you can't feel your hands or your feet, a frozen margarita is just what you need! We savored those cheap, completely tasty little concoctions along with our usual spinach burritos and then said "hasta la vista" to good old Blockheads.

Later that day (don't judge- time is short, people), we went with Paul to Mee Noodle House. Oh, Mee Noodle House....You and your egg rolls and noodle soup and carb cakes and sizzling platters of brown food have treated us so well. You will be greatly missed. There are three waitresses at Mee and luckily for us our favorite, we call her the Smiley One, was working that night. Paul decided she should be in our souvenir Mee picture, so he asked her for one just as she was leaving. For the night. How lucky for her that we made her stay at work longer! I have to admit that I have not been that nervous since the first time I paid just a quarter to go to a museum (that just does not seem right- wasn't the box office guy going to judge me??), but Paul is a charmer and Smiley One will forever be a part of our Mee lore.

On Monday, we got our Christmas tree- not on the list, but fun, nonetheless.


And it doesn't stop there, no, no- on Tuesday we hit up Loco Tuesday at 1849 for old times' sake. Loco Tuesday tends to draw NYU frat boy types looking for a $2 tequila shot, but we go to 1849 with one goal: Nachos Problem In Our Faces.

You all know that I believe nachos are the perfect food- what more could anyone need besides melted cheese, chips, salsa, and guacamole? Nachos Problem at 1849 may just be the perfect version of the world's perfect food.

Is your mouth watering? Because mine definitely is.

After resisting the urge to order another round of Nachos Problem, we took a detour to Washington Square Park. In typical WSP fashion, much of the park was still under construction and there plenty of crazies wandering around, but we did get to pay our respects to the hallowed campus of New York University. NYU, you may have cramped my style for nearly three years and will continue to cramp our bank account for the next bazillion years, but those were actually some pretty good times. Plus, I have a Masters degree, so that's pretty good I guess.

We're taking tonight and last night off because after this it's full steam ahead, see you at the finish line. Next on the agenda? A write-in: lunch with my department at Landmarc. Can anyone say "bacon salad"? Actually it's Frisee aux Lardons, if you're fancy...

And the Countdown Starts...

Unbelievably, today was the first day of the last month of 2010 and, even more unbelievably, it occurred to me that I have less than 20 days left in this fair city. Nineteen to be exact. Eighteen if you count today as passed, which it is, and I am here to tell you first-hand that eighteen days is not a lot, especially when you have a Goodbye New York agenda as packed as mine.

Despite Dolby's all-around awesomeness in making this the easiest move ever for us, Eric and I still have a whole bunch of boring stuff to do (cleaning dust bunnies out from under the bed, anyone? How about filling in the EIGHT MILLION holes we've made in our wall? No?). Don't worry, though, doing boring stuff has never been my priority and I certainly don't plan on starting that kind of behavior now.

So, to waste no further time (I have only eighteen days, after all), I present The Completely Unofficially, Entirely Inconclusive List (which could also be known as How to Eat and Drink a City in Eighteen Days):

-Unpack my suitcase from Thanksgiving (I mean, first things first)
-Mud Truck (pumpkin pie) chai
-Brunch at Sunburnt Calf
-Brunch at Calle Ocho
-Cider from the farmers market-fresh margs at Blockheads
-Walk through as many neighborhoods as possible (on my way to eat everywhere. Duh)
-Mee Noodle House (maybe I'll even branch out to some of those "Hard to Find Items" listed on the menu...probably not though.)
-STREET MEAT
-Nachos Problem at 1849
-Iron Chef brunch with the NYU crew
-Marseilles? Mesa Grill? Somewhere else fancy? (This depends heavily on my old moneybags, Eric)
-Brooklyn Bridge
-Row a boat in Central Park
-Giant beers, giant sausages, and giant pretzels at Radegast (I promise to share)
-Rockefeller Center (because those crowds of tourists never get old!)
-Central Park, Central Park, and more Central Park
-At least 4 cupcakes from Magnolia

Ok, that seems like a lot, or at least a lot of calories, so maybe that should do it. The good news is that I saw the very best of Broadway with mom and dad when they were here, so that is already checked off the list! Dad and I even had Shake Shack and fancy cocktails at the Parker Meridien last month, so there's two more down! Plus, we had huge trip to Coney Island with Allison Gomer, so even though that was a few months ago, it was so epic that it definitely counts. Plus, it's cold there now. Clearly, I'm already on a roll, so it's on to the (Un)Official List.

Are you ready New York, I'm coming to eat you, once and for all!

PS- if you have ideas for things I need to do to cap off my Manhattan life that DON'T involve stuffing my face, please let me know. My hips would probably appreciate it.

(no title can sum this up)

The story has broken and the rumors are true.

Our residence on this- the inferior but always fascinating and undeniably life-changing coast- is coming to an end.
...
Eric and I are moving to San Francisco.

Pause for simultaneous sobbing, cheering, wailing, sniffling, clapping, and sighing. All coming from me.

This was a pretty hard decision for the old hubs and I. We (especially me) are still very much in love with New York. It is an incredible city with a personality all of its own (I mean, really, I seriously doubt that I will even have a muffin stolen straight out of my lap ever again) and I am certain that nowhere else I will reside will live up to the mystique that Manhattan has offered for the past four years. Even on the worst of days, fighting my way through mobs of tourists or fruitlessly attempting to shield myself from the ice pellets affectionately known as the "wintry mix", I have come to embrace this city for all that it is.

But life has a way of interrupting your stride just when it gets a little too cushy- so off to the better coast we go. And, just so we're clear, it's only better because the people are slightly less high-strung and it's much closer to Colorado, aka the best place in the world.

Since my feelings about this whole situation are still basically unidentified (I'll be sure to let you know when I find them) and I'm not quite ready to wax poetically about my New York experience (not that this blog hasn't been pure poetry all along), for now, I'll stick to the short story of the big move:

Eric the Genius got a new, awesome job at Dolby. Though he no longer will get to mingle with movie stars or whisk me away to Bermuda "on business", he does have business cards printed in Japanese and gets every other Friday off, so really it's not a bad trade.

I'll continue to work for the League at least until June out of our new "West Coast Office." The best part of this deal is not that I get to work in my pajamas. No, I'm just excited to finally get an assistant of my own.



And, that assistant's name is Tucky Lou. (Look how good at it she's going to be!)

Speaking of Miss Tucky Lou, she has a big 6 weeks ahead of her. Our sweet and sour little Bronx kitten is going to get to go on a plane, visit Nancy's house, spend a week and a half hanging out (ALONE) with Nancy's furball/cat, Hubble, and then settle into brand new digs in San Francisco. Let's just hope Tucky hasn't come completely unhinged by 2011.

So that's the plan- we leave New York on December 19, and you better believe we're starting in on our New York Bucket List. That, of course, deserves a post of it's own, but this list consists mainly of restaurants I need to visit. Clearly, I have a one-track mind.

Get ready San Francisco! We're coming for you and we won't settle until we've found the best brunch and/or $3 margarita you have to offer!

PS- While I was writing this someone on TV said "Who doesn't love fried dough and sugar?" I so emphatically agree with that statement that I almost made it the title of this post. I mean, that's a true statement if I ever heard one and nothing else seemed to adequately sum up my feelings. Thank you, fried dough. You always have been a loyal friend.

Lowest Common Denominator

DISCLAIMER: The following post may or may not contain a rant. Despite being repeatedly instructed by my yoga teachers to remain unharmed in the face of life's trials and tribulations, I find that humans continuously make me HARMED. You have been warned.

It's been a while since I have blatantly voiced my less than positive opinion about the intelligence of my fellow citizens, which is probably good because holier-than-thou doesn't look good on anyone. Even me. But, lately I've been in a particularly judge-y mood. This could be for any number of reasons including, but not limited to, the increasing prevalence of absurd furry boots, the (count 'em!) TWO cell phones that went off last week while I was seeing Next To Normal, our new neighbors that insist on playing Rock Band every single night, and my new-found infatuation with Chelsea Handler. (I know, I KNOW. So obvious, so cliche, so low-brow. But, you guys, this girl has the EXACT same opinions about human behavior as me. Namely, that most everyone out there is short a few tools in their shed, if you know what I mean.)

So, yesterday I had a truly lovely New York day- a workout, a latte, a long walk rambling The Ramble in Central Park, listening to an amazing band in said park, a cocktail or three...and a movie. A nice 9:30 am, $6 movie (and I'm sure it's obvious that this is the only time I go to movies, given my predisposition toward falling asleep early in the evening, not spending more than $10 on anything other than food and booze, and avoiding crowds at all costs.)

I went to see Morning Glory (the new Rachel McAdams movie) and, I'm not ashamed to say, it was not terrible. It was actually NOT stupid and even a little smart at times. Overall, a win.

Except other people were in the theater with me. And they, overall, were NOT a win.

Being a 9:30 am showing, there were approximately 14 people in the theater- me, 4 old people, and 8 (yes, that's right- EIGHT) twenty-something girls out for a pre-brunch giggle-fest, who just so happened to pick the same row as me. So these girls, apparently, thought this movie was HILARIOUS. Were they laughing at the witty writing that sometimes made a surprise appearance or even at Rachel McAdams strangely sad but completely endearing and relatable awkwardness? No, no- these ladies (all eight of them) reserved their howling and hand-clapping and knee-slapping for the Asian weatherman who may as well have predicted it would lain on the palade later that day in Ros Angeres. For example.

Oh, hello, OBVIOUS!

Don't get me wrong- it's not that I don't love making fun of stereotypes. This can be comedy gold. Morning Glory, while sufficiently enjoyable, is no where near comedy gold, except, it seems, to my eight Saturday morning movie sisters.

And then, don't even get me started on the trio that waltzed in halfway through the movie and basically set up a four-course picnic- I was just waiting for the champagne to come out (only if they shared!).

To top it off, someone's cell phone not only rang, but the person ANSWERED it and had a whole conversation!

What is WRONG with people??

Despite there being just over a dozen people enjoying this film with me yesterday morning, I was once again shown that, without a doubt, we are only as good as our weakest link. And so, it is with utmost urgency that I'm BEGGING you, my friends and family, my intelligent and savvy and hilarious companions in this odd and distracted world-- Don't. Get. Stupid.

We are the only hope for the future.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

I'm not even referring to the smell of cinnamon and spice in the crisp fall air, the breathtaking, vibrant colors of Central Park, or, my favorite of all days in the fall, the MARATHON tomorrow (I get really excited and inspired every year to just run and run and run. And that lasts for all of one or two days, but it sure is fun while it lasts!)


No, all that amazing fall stuff is completely BORING compared to what I did this week.

I saw the gayest, I mean greatest, show on earth: The Radio City Christmas Spectacular, starring (who else) Paul Staroba.

(cue the chorus of angels.

And a kick line.)

I confess that, until Thursday, I had never so much set foot inside the famed Radio City Music Hall, let alone enjoyed a Rockettes' kick line, live and in person. So, when Superstar Paul invited me to the dress rehearsal I obviously had to go. Now, I don't know what Radio City looks like normally, but I am here to tell you that today (and everyday until New Years), it appears that Christmas has thrown up all over it. Really. There is glitter everywhere, plus wreathes and twinkly lights and candles and bangles and bows and trees and ornaments and gingerbread houses EVERYWHERE. And that's just the lobby!

Inside is where the magic really happens. As would be expected from the gayest, I mean greatest, show on earth starring 36 dancing girls that all look freakishly the same and do everything in unison, this Spectacle had EVERYTHING. Those robots/Rockettes are just the beginning.

Here is my Radio City Top Ten List:

10. A 3D SLEIGHRIDE through New York. No one can tell me that is not awesome. But, I warn you, there is a goose that flies straight at your face during that movie, and that's some scary stuff. I'm just sayin'...

9. Cannons that shoot multi-colored streamers into the audience (which the audience obviously has to spend several minutes collecting so everyone can take home their souvenir piece of the Spectacle.)

8. One hundred billion dancing Santa Clauses. I'm sure that needs no further explanation.

7. Little kids flying through the air and then letting their holiday spirit rip on a Broadway pop showstopper about Santa.

6. CAMELS. And DONKEYS. And SHEEP.

5. Giant teddy bears, of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities, dancing The Nutcracker (I'm serious! There were Chinese bears, Russian bears, and Ballerina bears, to name just a few.)

4. Ice skaters. On real ice. (I know. I KNOW!)

3. Real live elves (warning: do not go to this particular gay show if you happen to be afraid of little people. There are plenty of other gay shows available, even if they don't quite have the trimmings of this particular Spectacle)

2. The cream of the crop of Chorus Boys. I have never, in all my years of show choir and dancing and singing and musical theater, seen boys so excited to be on a stage. And, I daresay, I never will again. I actually thought one of them might burst at the end, he was smiling THAT big.

1. And, of course, Superstar Paul Staroba rising out of the orchestra pit, tinkling the ivories, wearing a bright red jacket. Unfortunately, he wasn't wearing a Santa suit, as I had hoped, or even sequins, which would have been just as good, but this was still mighty exciting for me. And everyone else, I bet.

So there you have it- Christmas time is here, with all it's happiness and cheer. Even though I consider myself incredibly lucky to have had this experience, Paul is the truly lucky one here. HE gets to be part of this gay Spectacle at least 100 more times before Christmas is even really here!

Happy Day After Halloween!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

OMG. I cannot stop laughing at how hilarious we are!

And check out Paul's cankles:

Halloween is really all about the details, you know what I'm saying?





So, ANYWAYS, in addition to packing on a few extra pounds around our ankles (and elsewhere) for Halloween, we also carved a pumpkin with a SMEARED FACE!



Turns out we are GENIUSES at Halloween!