My older brother David turns 35 today. How is it that we just keep aging?
I will forever remember him a buzz-headed twelve year-old mowing the yards of everyone in the neighborhood.
Thirty-five? Woah. It's just wild.
Happy birthday, D! Love you!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Shoulda had some spinach
I fear I have turned into some kind of prima donna.
I ordered delivery from Clinton Street Baking Company, the first experience I would have with a fairly well-renowned local spot. Let's say I was, well, stoked to have me some Southern-style fried chicken. And it is a rare thing for me. Growing up, I was never a fried chicken fan. KFC? Church's? Mrs. Winner's? No thanks.
Anyway, this fried chicken comes with jalapeño cornbread and some honey. Ok, ok. Sounds good. But upon arrival, I was less than pleased. Granted anything via delivery, unless it's soup, is rarely as good as in house. Still, there was no actual corn in the cornbread. And the batter for the fried chicken, well, it tasted like Rice Krispies. Hmph. I only like my snap, crackle and pop with milk.
But here's the real prima donna part. I expected the chicken to be boneless. They sent a thigh, a breast, a wing and a drumstick. I was really hoping for chicken breasts so I didn't have to go ripping into bones. I wanted fried chicken that you eat with a fork. What is that about??
All things considered, for $16 excluding the tax and delivery guy tip, I could've gotten a whole bucket at Popeye's, plus mashed potatoes, and fed four! If only the Popeye's on 1st hadn't closed 6 months back...
I ordered delivery from Clinton Street Baking Company, the first experience I would have with a fairly well-renowned local spot. Let's say I was, well, stoked to have me some Southern-style fried chicken. And it is a rare thing for me. Growing up, I was never a fried chicken fan. KFC? Church's? Mrs. Winner's? No thanks.
Anyway, this fried chicken comes with jalapeño cornbread and some honey. Ok, ok. Sounds good. But upon arrival, I was less than pleased. Granted anything via delivery, unless it's soup, is rarely as good as in house. Still, there was no actual corn in the cornbread. And the batter for the fried chicken, well, it tasted like Rice Krispies. Hmph. I only like my snap, crackle and pop with milk.
But here's the real prima donna part. I expected the chicken to be boneless. They sent a thigh, a breast, a wing and a drumstick. I was really hoping for chicken breasts so I didn't have to go ripping into bones. I wanted fried chicken that you eat with a fork. What is that about??
All things considered, for $16 excluding the tax and delivery guy tip, I could've gotten a whole bucket at Popeye's, plus mashed potatoes, and fed four! If only the Popeye's on 1st hadn't closed 6 months back...
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
What a hoot!
Ok, people. Get ready for this one! Last night I went to a hootnanny (is that how you spell it?). And yes, in New York City. I know, I know. Who'da thunk?
My co-worker's boyfriend, a Louisiana native and talented Broadway actor and musician, organizes these things every few months.
Side note: my co-worker's pretty talented, too! And, man, is a hoot fun. Banjo-picking, accordions, an upright bass, you name it, it was played. In the back of a hopping Hell's Kitchen Irish pub gathered musicians, kids, dancers and bluegrass enthusiasts for an evening of live music. A Led Zeppelin cover, on to an Irish folk song, and even a special request made just for me. My girl Sherry asked them to play "Rocky Top." I felt pretty silly. I can only imagine how many times they've been asked to play that number. But, holy mackerel, is that song fast! The woman on the fiddle got a workout from that song alone.
Sherry and I have an inside joke about Rocky Top, silly stuff. But it took me back to the good ole days of clogging in Georgia. Yes, people. I grew up clogging. HA! Can't you just picture me at age three in that outfit...ruffles and bloomers and hardly a skirt! Oh the horror...
Hey, was that a kazoo??
My co-worker's boyfriend, a Louisiana native and talented Broadway actor and musician, organizes these things every few months.
Side note: my co-worker's pretty talented, too! And, man, is a hoot fun. Banjo-picking, accordions, an upright bass, you name it, it was played. In the back of a hopping Hell's Kitchen Irish pub gathered musicians, kids, dancers and bluegrass enthusiasts for an evening of live music. A Led Zeppelin cover, on to an Irish folk song, and even a special request made just for me. My girl Sherry asked them to play "Rocky Top." I felt pretty silly. I can only imagine how many times they've been asked to play that number. But, holy mackerel, is that song fast! The woman on the fiddle got a workout from that song alone.Sherry and I have an inside joke about Rocky Top, silly stuff. But it took me back to the good ole days of clogging in Georgia. Yes, people. I grew up clogging. HA! Can't you just picture me at age three in that outfit...ruffles and bloomers and hardly a skirt! Oh the horror...
Hey, was that a kazoo??
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Support
A mention of current US politics seems no longer unavoidable these days. On the subway, on Facebook, in the media, this election seems to represent much more than the last few in the hearts and minds of people in the States and even many abroad. I have watched the two Presidential debates, like many of you, and I will vote.
A few days ago, this latest frenzy landed on my block. Chico painted a huge mural, almost half a city block long.
The main message urges people to vote period. Interesting though, Obama is depicted with people carrying signs that read, "yes we can!" in English and Spanish, an American flag behind him. Meanwhile, McCain is on the left, arms wrapped around the globe, flanked by a soldier, backed by the night sky. One could argue that these are depictions of the priorities of both. But to me, it seems obvious who Chico wishes to endorse. Obama triumphant, smiling, McCain almost stricken.
Regardless, I am thankful that this type of expression is still commissioned in the neighborhood.
A few days ago, this latest frenzy landed on my block. Chico painted a huge mural, almost half a city block long.
The main message urges people to vote period. Interesting though, Obama is depicted with people carrying signs that read, "yes we can!" in English and Spanish, an American flag behind him. Meanwhile, McCain is on the left, arms wrapped around the globe, flanked by a soldier, backed by the night sky. One could argue that these are depictions of the priorities of both. But to me, it seems obvious who Chico wishes to endorse. Obama triumphant, smiling, McCain almost stricken. Regardless, I am thankful that this type of expression is still commissioned in the neighborhood.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Green-ville
This morning my Dad and I visited a building in Battery Park City known as "America's first environmentally responsible residential tower." We viewed the basement first, how the building recycles its water (sewage and all). My Dad and his colleague filled a bucket at a sampling spout but I couldn't muster the gall to take a sip.
We headed up to the roof after that--a view that must lend gorgeous sunsets over the Hudson.
And into a model apartment, the floors made of recyclables, the lights also energy-saving, all the materials in the apartment are environmentally friendly, green. For a new building, I don't know why any company, municipality wouldn't go this route. Retro-fitting prewar buildings in the city, however, seems a far more daunting task.
Once outside, we walked through the all-organic garden and grounds. It's a beautiful community. A one-bedroom starts at about $3500. Lately, I've worried that the paint chipping in my apartment may be lead-based and hazardous. Wouldn't it be great if green could become the default?
We headed up to the roof after that--a view that must lend gorgeous sunsets over the Hudson.
And into a model apartment, the floors made of recyclables, the lights also energy-saving, all the materials in the apartment are environmentally friendly, green. For a new building, I don't know why any company, municipality wouldn't go this route. Retro-fitting prewar buildings in the city, however, seems a far more daunting task.Once outside, we walked through the all-organic garden and grounds. It's a beautiful community. A one-bedroom starts at about $3500. Lately, I've worried that the paint chipping in my apartment may be lead-based and hazardous. Wouldn't it be great if green could become the default?
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Avenue Q & the joint
My Dad's here for a night and a day. What a fun guy.
Last night we went to Avenue Q. Has anyone heard about it? It won a Tony a few years back. Well, it's puppets. Which I knew. Actors walk the puppets around--puppeteers--speaking on behalf of the puppet characters. At first it's hard to concentrate on a puppet. You end up just watching the actor. But minutes in, without your acknowledgment or any notice, your focus has already shifted to the puppet. And, in certain instances, they make sarcastic jokes, poke fun at current events, politicians. There is even a love scene.
While people doing it can be uncomfortable enough to have to view with your father at your side, puppets going at it is somehow worse. The impression being that puppets teach you how to read, play jacks, make you laugh. They exist in a child's world. In your childhood. So it's more excruciating, shocking, almost offensive to watch them engage in a little sexual healing. Right next to your Dad. Oh well. This is New York City. And anything goes.
Before the show we went to Burger Joint. This is the closest I can get you to the place. It's tucked in a tiny room in the lobby of Le Parker Meridien. We snuck in the side door to go better unnoticed. The only sign for the joint is a glowing neon burger hidden down a hallway. Once inside, you'd never know you were in a hotel. Bar stools, graffiti on the walls. I order "the works" and a beer. We perched on bar stools and ate elbow to elbow in the packed, wood-paneled room. Pretty delicious. And authentic.
Last night we went to Avenue Q. Has anyone heard about it? It won a Tony a few years back. Well, it's puppets. Which I knew. Actors walk the puppets around--puppeteers--speaking on behalf of the puppet characters. At first it's hard to concentrate on a puppet. You end up just watching the actor. But minutes in, without your acknowledgment or any notice, your focus has already shifted to the puppet. And, in certain instances, they make sarcastic jokes, poke fun at current events, politicians. There is even a love scene.
While people doing it can be uncomfortable enough to have to view with your father at your side, puppets going at it is somehow worse. The impression being that puppets teach you how to read, play jacks, make you laugh. They exist in a child's world. In your childhood. So it's more excruciating, shocking, almost offensive to watch them engage in a little sexual healing. Right next to your Dad. Oh well. This is New York City. And anything goes.
Before the show we went to Burger Joint. This is the closest I can get you to the place. It's tucked in a tiny room in the lobby of Le Parker Meridien. We snuck in the side door to go better unnoticed. The only sign for the joint is a glowing neon burger hidden down a hallway. Once inside, you'd never know you were in a hotel. Bar stools, graffiti on the walls. I order "the works" and a beer. We perched on bar stools and ate elbow to elbow in the packed, wood-paneled room. Pretty delicious. And authentic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)