Milestone II

Today I ate, oh horror of horrors, carrots. As a snack. Of my own free will.

And a few weeks ago, I made calzones with tofu instead of cheese. On purpose.

And a few weeks before that, I made stuffed shells with tofu instead of cheese. Because I wanted to.

It's like I don't even know who I am anymore, I'm such a grown up!


In other news, it is suddenly winter outside or something. It's not even 40 degrees! That's absurd! And I was wearing sandals! Which is more absurd! (But also typical)

The wind is blowing like a maniac. I'm surprised it didn't pick me right up and take me to New Jersey. Also, the rain is coming down in that strange sideways pattern again? Tell me- does it really do much good to have an umbrella as big as your house if the rain is actually coming straight out you?

And, in yet more other news, we have already reached the end of an era in our New York lives. On Saturday, we said goodbye to one of our group of six- my friends from grad school that have, with their significant others, become some of our best friends. And now, Kara and Christopher are moving back home to Cincinnati. And then there were five...

I can't even really believe that we've been here long enough to have reached the end of an era! Time, once again, is going faster than anyone could keep up with.

Milestone

Yesterday was a big day. And not just because it was Julie's birthday, and not just because we got to go to Maraca's with Allison Gomer, and not just because I got to go to my favorite of all my favorite independent coffee houses, Joe: The Art of Coffee.

Yesterday, I did a handstand.



(Note: Please disregard my funny outfit and sweat stains.
A. a running skirt does not a good handstand outfit make.
B. We had just gone running and I am not pleasant after a run.)

Now, this may not seem like that big of a deal. I mean, little kids can do these things, and I'm leaning against a wall for Pete's sake. But, I beg of you, you go try to get yourself into a handstand. And then you'll see why I actually yelped for joy when I kicked up and my legs stayed there! And then I did it again! And again! And when I got home, I did it again! And again!

And now I've been doing handstands all the day and all the night. The people who can see in our windows probably think I'm a complete handstand freak, but I have to say- it is so liberating! I have been working towards one of these in yoga for months and I just can never get my legs up there. They have been the bane of my yoga practice, I'm telling you. But suddenly yesterday, despite this cold, this extremely annoying, never-ending hamstring injury, and my general nervousness of kicking my legs over my head and actually standing on my hands, I did it. And I'm still so excited I want to do one right now.

...

In honor of this very special moment in my yoga career and in my path to true fulfillment, I want to share this list of life rules that I found in my book this morning. They are so simple and so great and actually extremely difficult to achieve most of the time, and I think , because my handstand deserves it, I will try to follow them this week.

1. It is what it is.
2. Think for yourself.
3. Show up (on time).
4. Finish what you start.
5. Play hard, play fair.
6. Clear your desk every day (editor's note- have you seen my desk??? this is going to be the hardest one I think...)
7. Don't complain (editor's note- even about grad school.)
8. Be brave, be bold, let not your heart grow old.
9. (editor's personal addition) Sing, dance, floss, travel.

Inspiring, yes?

OH, and we achieved (or nearly achieved) another milestone today- we are SO almost done with our thank you notes!!!!! THIS is cause for a major celebration (but not more than handstands).

Sick Day

Boo hooo hoooo...I have a cold. Why do I always get colds at the busiest times of year at work? Could be that EVERY time of year is the busiest, but this is just very inconvenient, I have to say. And also, I thought that practicing this much yoga was supposed to keep you from getting sick- what's that about?

Fall is so on its way and I'm so excited about it! The weather has turned, soon the leaves will change, it's time to start drinking cider and eating apples...my favorite season has arrived- no never-ending heat wave like last year...

It has been boring around here lately! I've got nothin'! Maybe it's because everyone (including me) was celebrating National Stay At Home Week so no one (including me) could be bothered to go out and be entertaining because they were all too busy watching all the new shows on tv.

Alright that's it---- back to being sick and feeling bad for myself :)

Just In Time

So the projects next door to where we used to live were encircled by yellow Crime Scene Tape this morning.

Comforting.

Good thing we made that big move across the street to get out of that ghetto 'hood.

Get yourself to Beer Island...you freak

In an effort to check off at least one of the things on our to-do list this summer, we embarked yesterday on one of our biggest adventures in a long time: Coney Island- Revisited.

Both Eric and I had been there last year- me, with Annette in early March (when it was still the weirdest place I'd ever been, but was waving its Little Russia flag loud and proud), and Eric, with a group of drunken men celebrating the end of a friend's bachelorhood. This was the first time he and I had taken in the glory that is Coney Island together. And, boy, it did not let us down.

We got off the train and were immediately greeted by Popeye's Chicken, the World-Famous Nathan's hot dog store (complete with a countdown clock to the next time crazy people stuff their faces full of the acclaimed all beef product), and men yelling at us to come play their carny games. All this and we hadn't even hit the boardwalk yet!

Next we came across the greatest of all great boardwalk games: Shoot The Freak. We still did not have the guts to actually shoot the freak, but I blame it all on the particularly beligerent "host" for Saturday's edition of Shoot The Freak. What if it was your job to sit and drink beer, eat fries, wear a viking helmet, and yell horribly mean things at people? Like what if you got paid to say, for all the boardwalk to hear, "Hey you with the brown hair- you look like a poodle, you loser" or, to a large-ish man wearing a particularly tight shirt, "You got bigger breasts than my girl, you freak." You can see why we were scared.

After we soaked up the sun on the beach, it was off to the WONDER WHEEL!!

We obviously picked a swinging car, crossed our fingers for no vomiting, and had an adrenaline filled spin around the ferris wheel that was completely worth the $6 price of admission.


Next, it was time to eat. I had my first Nathan's famous hot dog. Delicious. And I also had some cheese fries. You know, there are times when nothing hits the spot like good old-fashioned neon cheese.

And finally (drumroll please), finally we were off to our new favorite place this side of the Mississippi...

Beer. Island.

Now, don't be fooled, it wasn't an actual island. But, it did sport real sand, a lifeguard chair, plastic lawn chairs, and $3 beers. And a BBQ Island (to be sampled next time- and there WILL be a next time). To top it all off, they play the best tunes (hello? Foreigner? Motley Cru? Bon Jovi?) and people of all ages become so overcome with the laid-back spirit of Beer Island that they decide to have their own dance party either on the tables or just right there in the middle of the sand. This, my friends, is the type of bar that other bars can only hope to be. Oh...Beer...Island...

There's just no other place in the world like Coney Island. Where else can you, in one single afternoon, Shoot The Freak (if you're not too weenie, like us), eat a famous hot dog, visit a fake island dedicated to beer, see the tannest man anyone has ever seen, ride a world renowned ferris wheel and not even vomit from the swingin' cars, sit on the beach, look at a roller coaster (lame), and feel like you've stepped out of 2008 New York City and into a place and time from another dimension?

It's only at Coney Island.

Love/Hate

That's my relationship with New York.

Just when I think I can't stand another minute of midtown at rush hour, teeming with dawdling tourists and pushy suits who glare at anyone who dare cross their paths. Or when I might cause physical harm to the 20 year old girls filling their aisle-blocking carts with the organic food I'm not sure how they can afford at Whole Foods. Or when I shudder at the thought of walking through another cloud of stinky sewer steam rising from the street. Or when every truck in Manhattan happens to be honking and revving their engines on the very street I'm attempting to walk down. Or when I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, drop my bags of groceries, and call Eric to come help me because I simply cannot bear the thought of carrying those heavy bags another block (true story. Drama queen much?)...

Just when I wonder how it's possible to live here at all, New York does its thing:

It reminds me that the light is changing in the city, to something so beautiful, when everything is bathed in the amber glow of fall, gently taking over the sultry summer haze. And then it shows me that a Tasti DeLite is opening up around the corner from my office (!). And then it brings me to Riverside Park at sunset and yoga class when the city is just waking up, and everything around me, even if only for a few moments seens calm and clear and simple.

And then suddenly, New York feels good again.

In homage

To catch a recent 6 am flight, I caught a cab at 3:30 in the morning. This is obviously a ghastly hour to me, one which I see approximately three times a year, and usually there is a wedding, the Burp Castle, or, as in this case, an airplane involved. Everyone knows that New York is the city that never sleeps, but I was still amazed at the number and variety of people that were out at that time, the deadest time, the time when the world should be silent and sleeping.

This is a tribute to those people who are on the streets of New York, creating an eerily peaceful sense of motion in a city that thrives on just such a pulse.

To the doormen and security guards, finally reaching the last hours of the graveyard shift, standing in clusters on street corners and under awnings, silently sharing their final cigarettes of the night.

To the brave and stupid woman who stumbles off the subway in her white pants and 5 inch heels, teetering drunkenly home from another glittering night on the town, escaping once again the evils lurking in the shadows.

To the ConEdison workers, slowing traffic even when there shouldn’t be any, to make the repairs that will keep the lights on for the unknowing New Yorkers when they wake up in the morning.

To the hardest partiers, hanging on to the last moments of another Friday night, laughing with and leaning on friends and lovers in the doorways of the bars still sticky from the hours of Jager-bombs, Bud Lights, and dirty martinis.

To the crazy or the drug-addicted, waiting manically outside of diners and delis, screaming at no one and everyone, surviving the loneliest hour of the day.

To the middle-aged man in an SUV, windows rolled down, and music cranked up, unabashedly blasting Shakira at a time where no one would think to laugh.

To the lines of cars at McDonalds, filled with people just getting off work or just leaving the bars, never quite ready to go home and always ready for a Filet-o-Fish or Supersized fries, because everyone knows that the calories consumed at that hour don’t count.

It was all these people that painted the landscape as I rode silently through sleek, champagne-drunk Manhattan, across the bridge, and through a rawer, whiskey-soaked Queens. During the day, when everyone is in a hurry and people, except for those rare gems who cannot help but call attention to their eccentricity, are more in the way than part of the city’s beauty, it’s impossible to appreciate people- normal people, just doing what they do week after week, day after day. But at 3 am, when the mind and heart are too tired to judge, the city becomes a work of living art.