Love it!

It’s hot. H-O-T hot. It’s so hot, that my refrigerator has ran out of ice so now I have to drink sort-of cool water. But I love it. I love the heat and I love how tired it makes me, because I love taking afternoon naps on my couch during a long quiet weekend.

On Friday, I sat on my dusty porch with the dog and watched families around the neighborhood pack up their trucks and SUV’s and head out of town. It occurred to me that we might be at a time in our lives when we should consider renting a cabin some weekend and inviting friends up for some good ol’ Minnesota style hanging-around-ness. I mentioned this revelation to my husband and he loved it. So there you go. One of these summer weekends, we may just pack up our own SUV and head “up North”. Why the heck not.

Also, we now own a boat. It’s a long story and I didn’t necessarily want said boat, but now it’s ours and we don’t know where to put it. It’s just a rickety old thing and I don’t want it taking up space in my back yard (which is now a huge plot of dirt because it is taking twice as long to do the landscaping as we expected, but I digress…). Any ideas?

What else? Oh yeah. I have made a decision. Starting tomorrow, no more daytime television. Since I stopped working, I have done basically nothing. Other than a lovely trip to NYC, I have laid on my couch and learned about all sorts of scrumptious dishes I will probably never cook on the Food Channel, and I have made long lists of all the places I will probably never get to visit from the Travel Channel. I can quote Dr. Phil in my sleep and I often do. I don’t know where this lazy streak came from, but I suspect is has something to do with the utter exhaustion I felt after entirely too long at a job where I was surrounded by ugliness. I took a break, maybe even sort of a deserved break, but now it’s over. Starting tomorrow, I will read and write and walk the dog.

You are all my witnesses. Seriously.

Good Bye NYC

New York City was a dream, as usual. It was a different experience for me this time, because I had two friends with me who had never been there before. They were so appreciative and excited. Believe me, I haven’t gotten complacent about my times there, but it was refreshing to experience the grandeur of the place through their eyes.

We managed to fit a lot into four days. West Village for Magnolia cupcakes (which are ridiculously expensive, by the way) and a stroll by the river, Staten Island ferry for a close-up look at the Statue of Liberty, Ground Zero (where the city is still fighting over what to build there), subway rides and crazy cabs, giant cheesecakes at Stage Deli where the waitresses instantly become your meddling yet well-meaning Jewish mothers (so get a sandwich, it’s good!), Rockefeller Plaza, Dean and Deluca, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Chelsea Market, liquid chocolate at the Chocolate Bar (highly recommended), Strawberry Fields, carriage ride around Central Park, and lots and lots of walking.

My favorite time has to be laying on the grass in Central Park and listening to this amazing “street musician”, as he referred to himself. He had an amazing voice and put on a hell of a show. He stood in front of the lake, and the little hill in front of him was full of tired visitors and New Yorkers alike, singing along and yelling out requests. The weather was perfect, and occasionally people would stop by the shore of the lake on row boats to listen. Picture James Taylor singing to you and fifty of your closest friends on a sun-filled day in Central Park. It was heaven. Go to his web site and give it a listen, you'll be planning your next NYC visit in no time.

Star sightings: Out of all the famous people roaming the streets of New York, we run into Chris Carter (former Vikings player, for those of you who care about football as much- or as little- as I do). My friends are HUGE fans, we have all had season tickets together in past years and they were insane about meeting him. We also saw Kiefer Sutherland crossing the street in the West Village, but he was on his cell phone so we decided not to bother him. On the subway we saw one of the comedians from VH1’s Best Week ever making out with his girlfriend. We also took this as a sign not to attempt conversation.

I think it will be my last trip to NYC for a while, so I am glad I was able to share it with good friends. And now I am happy to be home. Muggy heat and all.

NYC

Heading out to the Big Apple Friday morning. Really early Friday morning. This trip is going to be different than previous visits because two friends are coming with me. We will stay at the Dylan Hotel and eat our way through the city. Normally I stay with my friend Anna in Brooklyn. It will be fun to stay in Manhattan, but I will miss Brooklyn. If you ever visit New York, give Brooklyn a visit too, it has a lot to offer.

I am a little concerned because I have been feeling pretty crappy for the last
couple of weeks, but I am hoping that the spirit of the city will snap me out of it. There will be a lot of distance to cover, many delicacies to indulge in, and I cannot miss a beat, or a cupcake, because of a little headache. Soldier on!

On the list of activities are Magnolia Bakery, Joe’s Pizza, Pastis French Café, and Katz Deli. Seeing a pattern here? Really, it won’t all be about food. We’ll also go to the park, of course, and they may even talk me into a carriage ride (I avoid them because I feel sorry for the horses, I can’t help it). Ground Zero, Battery Park, Staten Island Ferry, Rockefeller Plaza, 5th Avenue, Chelsea Market, and of course my personal favorite, the West Village, are also on the list. With lots of breaks for street vendor hot dogs and Krispy Kremes.

I expect it to be my last trip to New York for a while, and I am especially looking forward to sharing it with my friends, who have never been there before. There truly is no city like New York City.

The most bizarre coincidence ever

So last night my husband and I were pulling away from our house on our way to dinner. We were in the back of the house, and right there on the open grass behind the lilac bushes, was a purse. I grabbed it hoping there would be an ID in it. Inside there was no ID, but instead the contents made it clear that it belonged to our friend who lives a block away. No names, just items I knew belonged to her. “How strange,” we both commented. “Maybe they stopped by and this fell out of their car.” We drove over and since they were not home, we left it inside the front porch and called their cell.

Turns out, they had not stopped by and we could not figure out how her bag, which was last seen inside their house, ended up in our back alley. Upon further inspection, they realized they had been burglarized. Only cash, two credit cards, and the purse were missing, but the house had clearly been gone through.

Besides the very sad and disturbing break-in, we are all freaking out about the odds of her purse ending up in OUR backyard. If it had ended up anywhere else, no one would have been able to trace it back to them, they would not have noticed the cash missing, and the rotten bastards who did this would have racked up bills on their credit cards.

Weird ha?

Nothing to say

Have you ever had this happen to you? I have nothing to say. Voix, I know you are cocking your head in an attempt to understand. “What is this ‘nothing to say’ thing you speak of?” you ask. What I mean is, I have nothing important to write about, nothing worthwhile to discuss. And I don’t just mean in the creative sense. I met two friends for dinner last night and thankfully they had fun things to share, because I was a complete bore. You find this hard to believe, I know. But trust me, I had nothing. Which brings me to my main concern, my thesis. But maybe it’s a vicious cycle. Maybe if I start typing, something will come to me. Do you think?

I think it was E.L. Doctrow that said, “Writing a novel is like driving a car in the dark. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

So I will get behind the wheel and give this thing another shot. And if all else fails, there is always the Barefoot Contessa. More on my recent obsession later.

Forgive my absence

I have been a hideous monster, hiding out in my bedroom for the past week. Seems I was afflicted with a rash, or hives, possibly from the sunburn I got in Florida. It was not pretty. My eyes were swollen, my skin burned and itched. Little bumps all over my body became sprawling patches of pink in a matter of hours. My wrists were so swollen and sore, I could not raise myself into a seated position. On the plus side, for one day, my upper lip looked like Angelina Joli’s.

To top it off, the only thing Doc prescribed was Benedryl. Turns out, I’m allergic. Nausea, dizziness, migraines, and all round mayhem ensued.

Oh, and did I mention the construction zone outside my front door? Yep. Try getting some shut-eye when a bulldozer the size of a small apartment building is ripping out the street directly below your bedroom. The house shook, the dog cowered, I cried. Not exactly what I envisioned for my first week of freedom…I mean…unemployment.

Amazingly, less than a week later, I am almost back to normal. Upper lip has deflated back to original size and I can walk upright for several minutes at a time. Hooray!

It is beautiful out. Have you been out there? Go. Turn off that computer and go out into the world. Things are blooming, as my husband’s recent sneeze fest illustrates, and the sky is the sparkling blue of spring. Now, if only that huge orange Vasko dumpster wasn't in my front yard...

A day without ILLEGAL immigrants

I am not a terribly political person (joke below not-withstanding) but I feel compelled to say something about today’s absurd demonstrations. Demonstrations, by the way, that took place with the help of local police, paid for by taxes payers' money.

My understanding (and if I am wrong, feel free to correct me) is that the problem is with ILLEGAL immigration, not immigrants in general. Most of the media today has suspiciously omitted the word illegal from its headlines. Watching most news programs today, you would think the protestors are fighting some bill calling for deportation of anyone who is not a natural born American. The American National Anthem sang in Spanish? I am not the most patriotic person out there, but I find that absolutely appalling. Why not change the Mexican National Anthem to English then?

My family came to this country when I was 13 years old. My father was the only one who knew some English. My mother, brother and I had to struggle to learn the language, and it’s a tough one (i before e except after the c is the least of it). I remember my dad pouring over mountains of paperwork in an attempt to first gain legal status, then a green card, then citizenship. There was a constant threat that our applications would not be accepted, that the life we were slowly building would have to be taken down like a pop up tent and shipped back half way across the world. I spent the first years here maintaining a safe distance from personal connections, lest they be suddenly taken away. It has affected every thing I do now. But we did what we had to do. We did it out of respect for our new home country. I would have not dreamt of demanding that everyone around me learn my language. We came here by choice, I needed to do the adjusting. And I feel I am better off for it.

A friend of ours recently married a woman in Thailand. It took him TWO years to get her over here, and they have a son. But he followed the rules of the law, no matter how infuriating. Not all laws are fair. Maybe it’s even true that most laws are not. But in my opinion, it’s better than not having them at all.

Yes, it has become increasingly more difficult to gain legal status. I don't doubt there needs to be some reform. But demanding amnesty is ridiculous. (Before you start writing your response, I am aware that not everyone is protesting for amnesty, I am only addressing those who do.)

I cannot help but remember back to the day I took my citizenship test. Before going into a private office for the actual test, I sat in a long row of partitioned desks, answering complicated questions like what my name was and what month we were in. I was the only person there who spoke ANY English. The other candidates all had translators (also paid for by our taxes) and never uttered a word in their adopted country's language. I'm sorry, if you can't say your name in English, how are you really going to contribute as a citizen? Citizenship is a priviledge. I worked hard for it. I paid for it. I am proud of it. I did not demand it.

There, I’ve said it. Let the hate mail begin.