Are you ready for more pics? Seriously, forget museums and Broadway. All my little sis wants to do is take pics and post them on Facebook. Oh to be 14.
Pizza for lunch
It's fun to play tourist when family is in town. So far we've gone to Coney Island, Times Square, Central Park, saw a taping of Good Morning America, went to the Top of the Rock, shopped on 5th Avenue/Rockefeller Center/Bloomingdales. Lauren is giddy and hasn't stopped taking pictures. But I couldn't have warned her enough about the amount of walking we do here. Today on the subway ride home she said, "I think my heart is throbbing in my legs." Pictures soon.
Little sister flies in tomorrow! (Her first solo flight.) It's her 14th birthday on Tuesday and I'm so excited to celebrate with her. NYC will be a whole different city gallivanting around with a high schooler and her wad of babysitting money.
Plans include: shopping, Shakespeare in the park, shopping, Jersey Shore, taking the tourist double decker, shopping and tons of photo shoots for her Facebook profile, naturally. In between I'll lecture her on the King of Pop. (Her 1990s-born generation probably only remembers the pedophilia and nose jobs.)
And because no post is complete without a pic, here's one of little miss southern belle.
If you like Cut Copy, MGMT or any other synth pop/electronica goodness you should listen to the new Discovery LP. It's a collaboration between the pianist from Vampire Weekend and the lead singer of Ra Ra Riot. I likey.
And kudos for a cool embeddable preview.
My post-work conversations with Cameron usually go something like this. "How was work?" "Good." "Did you beat my score on Bejeweled yet?" "Nope." "That's what I thought."
OK, I'm exaggerating but we are pretty competitive with our iPhone game high scores. Last week I broke 1 million on Bejeweled. It took me about six months of playing. I thought about retiring, but the Brett Favre effect took over. Good thing, because I broke 1 mil again and I got to rub it in Cameron's face.
Oh, and I think I deserve extra kudos for playing while this one-piece denim lady was standing in front of me on the subway. Sick! Don't miss the cat tail hanging from her purse. I wouldn't be surprised if it's real.
I was surfing Craigslist the other night and found a cool floor lamp for $30. Our living room is pretty dim so I thought it would be a great addition. A few emails later and I had set up a pickup in Williamsburg the next day. Badda bing badda boom. Love Craigslist.
Cameron and I usually don't discuss purchases under $50 so I was in the clear. Still, I knew he would question the necessity of said lamp.
We were about to go to bed and I was 10 hours away from my secret excursion when Cameron, sitting at the laptop, asks, "What's this Google map of Brooklyn for?"
CAUGHT!
"Ohhhh that? Wellthere'sthiscoollamp. Andit'sonly$30. I'mgoingtogetittomorrow. Okthanksbye."
Enter guilt trip. "You know we don't need that, right?"
"But but but! $30!"
Needless to say, I didn't get the lamp. Partly because I realized it was a want, not a need, but also I couldn't get out of bed in time to schlep down to Brooklyn. The funniest part? It was only a week ago that Cameron was trying to convince me how much we needed a tent from REI called "kingdom 6." Seriously, a tent called "kingdom?" We NEED this?
Good thing we keep each other in check.
Drug commercials. They promise to reduce blood pressure, combat depression and help the elderly do the hanky panky (yuck). But while those beautiful people are kayaking or skipping through flower fields are you listening to the side effects? Because they are hilarious.
Loss of vision, difficulty breathing, swelling of the face, I even heard "clay-colored stool" once. I just googled a popular prescription anti-inflammatory and one of the side effects was "coughing up blood or vomit that looks like coffee grounds." SICK!!!
It's like, "Hey! I lost a limb and I'm blind but at least my heartburn is gone!"
The other day I saw an ad for an eyelash growth medicine. Seriously, the FDA is busy approving life-saving drugs like this? It's called Latisse and Brooke Shields is the spokeswoman. It promises longer, thicker, darker lashes.
The side effects? Itchy, red eyes, darkening of the eyelid skin and yes, even "increased brown iris pigmentation." Eye color change? Really? I think I'll stick to my tried and true mascara. Geeze.
Last weekend we went to the park with Cameron's little cousins in Jersey. Brookdale Park has a great dog park and Cam and I always spend a couple minutes there watching the dogs and laughing. (Does watching dogs run around together put you in a good mood too?) Anyway, we're standing there with his cousins and after a few minutes the littlest one, Liam, yells loudly,
I saw Cara Muhlhahn, the midwife from The Business of Being Born, on 181st today. In the mommy blogging world that totally counts as a celeb sighting, right?
That documentary absolutely scared me to death.
Today was a good day to be unemployed because it rained ALL DAY and I didn't want to leave the apartment. So. I slept in. And then I spent all afternoon in the kitchen. I can't believe how much fun cooking is when you have tons of time to do it.
Totally unrelated, but Cameron and I were walking down Broadway last night and some mysterious, warm liquid dropped on our heads. ICK. We looked up expecting to see a bird, but nothing. Just planes in the sky. Then I'm screaming at Cam, "DO YOU SEE POOP IN MY HAIR? NO? NO?! ARE YOU SURE? OK WELL DOES IT SMELL? SMELL IT!!!" I'm hoping it was some kid on his fire escape with a super soaker but who knows. This place cracks me up.
Spotted some more characters on the C train this week. I love how stealth the iPhone camera is.
T-minus two days and I don't have a job. I've applied everywhere. Did you know it's harder to get an Apple Store job than to get into Stanford? Even Crate and Barrel has a hiring freeze. I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel here folks, pun intended.
I'm excited slash terrified of all the free time I'll have this summer. Sure, I have some fun trips planned to see family/friends. But those weekdays with 11 a.m. wakeups, 2 p.m. showers, 4 p.m. lunches and SVU marathons? Yeah, I'm not looking forward to THOSE days.
As usual, it's one of those "you don't know what you got til it's gone, grass is always greener" things. The second I'm back on the 9-5 I'll be screaming for a day in pj's. Just watch.
Fun weekend. Hillary and I planted herb gardens. Despite the downpour, Cam and I made it to the Big Apple BBQ for the third year in a row and proved that we WILL stand in rain for Kansas City style ribs. Yum. Son of Rambow was our Netflix pick on Saturday, highly recommended.
I continue to attend church as a widow. Cameron is Elders Quorum President at the Chinese branch in Chinatown. He feels like he is back on his mission in Taiwan. I loved this text he sent during Sunday School.
Don't you love the iPhone's text display? Sort of want to make a book of my ongoing conversation with Cam.
Perk of working at a loaded private school #395,203,957: You get to take home the most gorgeous peonies after graduation day.
I always felt like flowers were such an extravagance — a luxury reserved for weddings, funerals, mother's day and prom night. Maybe it's my excuse for Cameron's infrequent flower buying? Either way, we never have fresh ones in our home. And for the past two days I've sat on the couch beaming at these beauties.
The best part? When I took them home on the bus/subway, I had dozens of people smile at me. I had made their day by carrying around pink and white fluff balls, imagine that. It put me in such a good mood and made me want to sign up for one of those once-a-month flower subscriptions. But then I thought about all the clothes/food/hair products I could get instead and my practical side creeped back as it always does.
Have a weekend as beautiful as these fluff balls.
The Times wrote a feature on the phenomenon that is Mormon return missionaries selling security systems/pest control door-to-door. Oh yes, yes they did.
FYI, I updated my blog roll. Some of those links were mighty old. If I missed you, let me know.
Also, no more BlogHer ads for me. Love the company but I only made $13 for letting them commandeer my sidebar for a year. Guess I need more traffic?
Will you not tell anyone if I keep "journalist" in my header and profile even though in six months, when I still haven't found a job in the media biz, I'll be retail-ing, secretary-ing or stay at home wife-ing? Shhhh, it's all about image here in the b'sphere. Don't want anyone to know about my secret, boring life. : )
Ah ha! Just when I post about the ever elusive "city that sleeps," Penelope Trunk asks her readers, Do You Belong in New York?
In short, no. But do I like it? Yes. Most days. Some days. Ok, every third Saturday. But only the third Saturdays when it's sunny and not humid.
The first year here was hard. Really hard. Come home, pull down the blinds and watch Dawson's Creek reruns hard. Cameron worked longer hours, we didn't know anyone, we lived in a fourth floor walk up, the list goes on. You mean we actually spent our savings and both took paycuts to move out here? Why why why?
We could have easily turned west instead of east on I-80 when we left Utah and headed for the comfort zone of California. Don't get me wrong — I dream, even ache, for my home state, but I'm really happy with our decision. I've grown more in these last two years than any other time in my life. Living somewhere we "belong" is ideal, yes, but it probably won't challenge us. And challenges, while frustrating, are what make us unique.
So no, I don't belong here. But I'm taking advantage of my experience anyhow. And when I'm ready, I'll go skipping home to the West, taking my unrivaled parallel-parking skillz with me.
(NY readers, take the Do You Belong? test for yourself here.)
Yesterday, after a long day at work I was walking to the bus and started to yawn — a big, huge, no-hand-covering yawn. This crazy old lady (there are lots of them here) walks up to me and yells, "DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE IN THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS?"
I smiled and laughed.
But what I really wanted to say was, "Can you direct me to the city that sleeps? I think I belong there."
I swear to you, I shared an elevator with Yoko Ono yesterday at my doctor's office building on 57th street. Either it was her or it was a tiny tiny (tiny!) Asian woman wearing ALL black including huge black sunglasses and a hat (just like the pic here).
My celeb sightings in New York have been so dismal. In my two years here I've only seen:
- Lance Armstrong at Columbus Circle
- Harry Connick Jr. at Patagonia in Soho
- Tina Fey speaking at a private school graduation
- and now, Yoko Ono's doppelganger
Rachel has a list easily six times that size on her blog. Lucky duck.
I have better luck in my hometown of LA it seems. My sister dragged me into Barney's in Beverly Hills once and I felt so out of place. I was awkwardly browsing and I look up over a jewelry case and there was Steve Martin. Some sort of animal noise came out of my mouth, I think it sounded like "Heyurrr." I was in such shock. And oh yes, he laughed at me and walked away.
Another time at LAX my friends and I spotted David Spade. He was drunk, high and a complete mess. Literally, he was hiding behind one of those ticketing booths. But we walked over and asked him for autographs anyway. I asked first and then when my friend Andrea asked him for one he said, "Ooooh, a double dipper, eh?" all slurred and stuff. Hahaha.
Happy happy birthday to Abbie!
This girl is like family to me. (My brother married her husband's sister and we share the same nephews...I know, sounds incestuous.)
This photo is circa 2004 and one of my favorites. It was the first time I met Abbie and we all spent a weekend in St. George. Robbie & Jess had just gotten married and Adam & Abbie, Cameron & I had just started dating. Life was so easy then, geeze.
Thanks to JetAmerica's $9 flights, I'm visiting her and baby Olivia in August and couldn't be more excited.
If you look through our photo files, chances are that in about a third of them, Cameron is wearing a bright blue Patagonia fleece. He has a million jackets, but for some reason this one is his favorite.
It's a fine jacket. Keeps him warm. It's just the color — SO BLUE. Like electric blue. And it's fuzzy and stuff. I never mentioned anything because why should I tell him what to wear?
A couple months back we were sitting in church next to a friend and her toddler. Cameron is, of course, wearing the fleece over his white shirt and tie. The toddler starts to get fussy and the mom pulls out a Sesame Street Grover puppet. Cameron looks over and starts laughing. He grabs the puppet and holds it up to his fleece. I kid you not, it is the EXACT same fabric. Hahahaha.
And yet, he kept wearing it!
Last weekend I finally let him know. "Cameron, the fleece, can you not wear it as much? It's just it ends up in all our photos and it's so, it's so, BRIGHT." He agreed, he wears it too much.
The very next morning, I kiss him goodbye for work and give him a big hug. Bright blue fuzzy Grover fleece and all.
Does anyone else create a secret language with their best friend/boyfriend/spouse? There's just something about spending every waking moment together with someone that causes people to throw grammar out the window.
Cameron and I frequently shorten and then pluralize words.
subs = subway
lits = just a little
sodes = soda
Sometimes we use them as one-word queries like, "Reds?" for "Are you ready?"
Cameron's allergies have been terrible this week so he's been saying "My als! My als!" a lot to complain. Except the other day he broke form and yelled "My al jazeeras are killing me!" I don't know where he comes up with this stuff but it's freaking hilarious.
