Gorgeous

The Blue Fairy has the best eye.



Happy New Year!

Pete Goldlust

Animal Farm

Charlotte's Web was lovely - true to the book, which is what makes or breaks the cinematic rendering of a childhood classic around here. A key factor was the minimization of Miss Fanning. John Cleese, as Samuel the sheep, kept stealing the show, admonishing his fellow ruminants for following along - "Think for yourselves!"

Which brings us to the Passport Office Thursday morning at 8:55 a.m. The room is already full of people - FFather and I are #66 10 minutes after they open. No radio, no tv, no food or drink are allowed in the room (although cell phones are permitted). There are big screens at the front of the room flashing the numbers of those who are being served, and those who are next.

Everytime a new number appears, there is a quiet but audible chime to alert the public, who look up and murmur the number of the next person to go to the front. In unison. Repeatedly.

I'm just saying.

Boxing Day: To the left, to the left

Everything you own in the box to the left
You must not know 'bout me
You must not know 'bout me

~ Irreplaceable

Shuesday: The FG punts

Despite all the anti-principessa sentiment in the news, every FG deserves a holiday, non?

Besides, who re-invents the wheel these days? Espeically when The Manolo has done the work for one?

A little less conversation ...

Things have been busy this week, but here are some high, and low lights.

• I walked the sweetest Rottweiler ever, and a little Jack Russell who was all id, around the Prospect Park lake at 7:30 in the morning. I loved it! Maybe I do want a puppy. Hmm. Maybe I should start with an apartment.
• I was served a cold Americano. How is that even possible? New Year's resolution, try French pastry shop near office in ongoing search for good coffee in NYC. Or Google - surely someone has resolved this issue.
• I called a car service to take me from Bay Ridge to another part of Brooklyn for a house-sit interview. The 40-something, Brooklyn born & raised driver was a little overly friendly, but nothing I couldn't handle at 7:15 a.m. Then, the same guy took me to the airport Friday morning. And, in the course of conversation about my fellow Canadians living south of the border, he managed to object to Canada's taking in US draft dodgers during the Vietnam War, claim that Peter Jennings delivered a skewed version of the news, in comparison to Fox (where they tell it like it is), and use the "N-word" twice within 5 minutes, in reference to OJ Simpson (no idea how we got onto that topic) whom he'd once driven somewhere. I don't think I've ever heard that word used in person, and of course we were still 15 minutes from JFK. Needless to say the conversation, such as it was, screeched to a halt, and we will NOT be calling that car service in future.
• I finally wore my winter boots for the first time all year - it was just a little windy, and that did the trick. It was also the first time I've been out of heels in three weeks. Ahem.

Shuesday: Winter White

This is a lovely Tod's shoe ... which you could still wear in The City, because it's still relatively warm and sunny here. I know it's well after Labor Day, but with the right outfit, it could totally work. Or take it with you on your tropical holiday vay-cay.

City Living

There are perks to living in The City, and the opportunity for excellent dining is definitely one of them. Midwest Medved was in town this weekend on business, and so we ate brunch at the Tribeca Grand (while we waited two and a half hours for the hotel to retrieve his rental car so I could move to Brooklyn). They had it all - omelette and waffle stations, a selection of breads and spreads, including lemon curd, Greek yoghurt and granola, breakfast meats and smoked salmon, delicious macaroni & cheese, fresh figs and an extravagance of desserts. The coffee was appalling, but I've almost given up that ghost anyway.

Later that day, having completed the move and secured new jeans for the entire party, we went back out for a late dinner at the Union Square Cafe. I had grilled tuna steak with wasabi mashed potatoes and gingered veggies, and MM had grilled smoked Cedar River shell steak with mashed potatoes and frizzled leeks. The flavours were so nuanced, and the service, perfection. For dessert, we had a warm chocolate tart with egg nog ice cream and their signature banana tart with honey vanilla ice cream and macadamia brittle. And a lovely bottle of 2002 Yamhill Valley Vineyards Reserve Pinot Noir. The wine was delish, I learned that when you order a two inch thick tuna steak rare, it arrives pretty close to seared, and they could charge $100 a pound for the macadamia nut brittle.

Chicken Little

I swear, it's not about me, but since I arrived, two ceilings have fallen in. The first was at the place I'm staying in the East Village. There were men working on the roof in the morning, and when we got home from work, there was a piece of plaster and a lot of dirt on the floor, and a one by two foot hole in the ceiling. It didn't look too bad that night, but in the morning, we realized that we could actually see the sky.

The Lead Singer called the landlord, and it was taken care of within 36 hours. The patched area cracked as it dried, but it seems to be OK. Of course, they were back this morning, banging away, so who knows what's happened over the course of the day.

Then, on Wednesday, East Coast Guy came home from a concert to, well, nothing short of disaster. There'd been a fire in the apartment upstairs. Which was extinguished with water. A lot of water. How do we know, gentle reader, that it was a lot of water? Well you might ask. We know because the ceiling fell in, releasing the water into his apartment - over the bed, entertainment center and onto his beautiful rug from Morocco. There are not words for this. He took pictures, took necessities, and took himself to one of our favourite hotels.

And still came out for dinner with The Blue Fairy, The Painter, and various other artistic folk. We started with drinks here - note: when eating at a place named after a food item, be sure to order something involving said item - and ate here, because it's unique, we were in the neighbourhood, and there were people with dietary concerns. Cocktails and appetizers were very good, but I chose the wrong dessert. Always, always go with chocolate!

Better late than never

An Overdue Visit

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the nation
Friends of Freedom knew it was a special occasion.
Lady Liberty stood taller just off the shore
Her torch shining brighter than a few weeks before

But it wasn't the flame turning her cheeks all rosy
It was thoughts of Snowe, Feingold and Nancy Pelosi
And leaders from every side of the aisle
Who would soon bring the Bill of Rights back into style.

The Amendments had all hurried out of their beds -
Which was no easy task, they were nearly in shreds -
And they rushed to the window on papery feet
As a jolly old man flew right over their street.

"Could it be!?" they inquired as the roof shook and trembled
And they crept toward the mantle, peaceably assembled,
Just as someone emerged from the chimney with flair
In a shiny red suit, with a shock of white hair

And a top hat, and pants all in red, white and blue -
"Wait a minute," the Amendments exclaimed, "Who are you?"
"Don't be frightened my children," he said, "it's no scam.
"You can't have forgotten your old Uncle Sam!"

"Holy crap!" said Free Speech. "Stop right there!" yelled Bear Arms
And Privacy cried "Who shut off the alarms?!"
The Fifth remained silent, but Uncle Sam said
"We've been having some trouble, but Freedom's not dead."

The Amendments were cautious. "It's just been so long
"We've seen Liberty lost, we've seen so much go wrong.
"The President's trying to mangle and warp us,
"The Fourth is in tatters, so's Habeas Corpus!"

The old man sat down - he had had quite a ride -
But he told them "Don't worry, the Law's on our side,
"'Cause the nation's fed up and more people are crying
"For Justice and an end to illegal spying,

"And secret abductions by the CIA,
"And laws that would take women's choices away,
"And Gitmo tribunals and secret detention,
"And other intrusions too numerous to mention - "

"Not so fast," said a grinchity voice from above
And Don Rumsfeld pushed past the Fourteenth with a shove.
He was covered in soot and he looked kind of scary.
It seemed like his Christmas had not been so merry.

The Amendments said they weren't happy to see him:
"You tried to throw all of us in the museum!
"You've done so much the Constitution forbids!"
"And I would have gone on, but for you meddling kids!"

Uncle Sam told him "Rummy, your plans just won't do,
"So we've got a brand new timetable for you!"
And as Rumsfeld retired and crept into the night
The Amendments cried out "Have a good secret flight!"

From the distance they heard him reply with a snort.
"Bye-bye, Rummy!" they answered, "we'll see you in court!"
Uncle Sam rode the chimney up out of the room
And, like Frosty, he said "I'll be back again soon."

But they heard him exclaim "Oh, and just one more thing!
"This year, when the holiday bells start to ring,
"Try to honor religion. Honest faith can't be wrong.
"It's America, can't we all just get along?

"So, on Christian," he cried, "Muslim, Hindu, and Jew!
"On Quaker! On Shaker! And Atheist too!
"On Buddhist! On Taoist! And to show we're not chickens
"We'll file a few lawsuits defending the Wiccans!

"Your belief is your right, so get out there and savor it.
"Uncle Sam's not a preacher, and he doesn't play favorites!"
So this holiday season, whatever you do,
Warmest wishes for Freedom, from the ACLU.

- Jed Miller

Shuesday: A cameo appearance

Since it's still in the 50s, temperature wise here in New York, you shouldn't have any difficulties slipping into these and heading out to one of your many holiday fetes. And I know BS will find us the perfect handbag to go with them. Enjoy!

Lessons in Cultural Competency: Silence is Golden

New York isn't a quiet town - from the early morning trucks to the honking cabs, the busy office with ringing phones to the DJ neighbours (couldn't figure out why I kept hearing the same 24 bars of music over and over and over again), and the NYU student neighbours who host parties and play music until 3.* But taking the subway is like visiting an abbey where the monks and nuns have taken a vow of silence, especially compared to the bus in the Emerald City. In part it's because cell service is less than reliable underground, but those annoying conversations held by fellow-commuters in outside voices have been virtually eliminated. And everyone is reading - books and text-heavy magazines. I've barely used my Nano at all, and I like it.

*(I'm not complaining, I'm just noting it. And loving it, frankly. So far ...)

Snap!

A cold snap, that is. I'm promised that tomorrow will be balmy (for December) once again. At the moment, it's quite chilly. But my boots arrived - YAY! (which is more than I can say for any of the rest of my mail ... grrr.), so I'm set for the next cold day. And the sun keeps on shining.

Tonight, The Lead Singer and I head to a cocktail party, hosted by a magazine (ask me how intimidated I am - George Packer!) . I've been advised to smile and ask (famous) people what they do, which won't be hard, because I won't recognize any of them anyway. Perhaps they'll find me ... refreshing?

(Nod to TK, parentheses much?)

Lessons in Cultural Competency: Starquirks

To lid or not to lid? You wouldn't think it would be that big a deal, but witness. In Toronto and environs, you'll lid your own drink at your local Starbucks. In Seattle (proverbial home of the big green mermaid), your drink is lidded for you by the barista. Unless you've brought your personal mug, in which case you hand the mug over sans lid.

This morning, in Lower Manhattan, I handed over my mug and was asked for the lid - "The coffee's hot, miss, and I wouldn't want you or the barista to get burned."

I'm so confused.

Shuesday: Winter approacheth

Although it's been beautiful since I arrived - sunny and clear - the times they are a changin'.

I think I've settled on these for my new winter boots - they solve the brown/black dilemma neatly, and are cute without being completely over the top.

Thoughts?

On Being The New Girl

Let me begin by saying that the New Girl is not my thing. Seriously. I've gone to great lengths to avoid it.

But when it's thrust upon me (namely, when I've sold it all off, picked up what's left and moved it cross country), there aren't many choices. In fact, there aren't any choices. So we're off. The /why I moved/ story is being told in its (edited appropriately) fashion, the /how I got here/ story is being told in all its glory, and the /what's to come/ is a mystery to us all.

In the meantime, I'm meeting the troops at an open bar event tomorrow night, and have plans for Friday and Saturday this weekend. What more could a New Girl ask for?

Day 8: Roselle Park - Brooklyn - East Village. 26 mi.

They say that the first cut is the deepest, and no one is saying that the path from Seattle to Coeur d'Alene was easy, but today, today was a b****.

Getting out of NJ went well, until New York's finest informed us that we were, in fact, a commercial vehicle. Which meant that we couldn't go through the Holland Tunnel. We had to go through the Lincoln Tunnel. We didn't have directions to get to Brooklyn from the Lincoln Tunnel. The Fabulous Father - of course behind the wheel for all the hardest parts - pulled it off, including toll payments and inspection of the truck by more of New York's finest on our way into the tunnel.

On arrival on the isle of Manhattan, we headed south, hoping to re-connect with our original directions, while I frantically phoned everyone I thought might be near a computer. Midwest Medved came through and sent us back uptown and across 34th Street. At noon. Twenty-four days before Christmas. Past Madison Square Gardens. Needless to say, it took an hour, while The Painter cooled his heels, waiting to help us unload.

When we got to the storage unit, we waited to pull the truck in, and then went to get the keys. They said, You have the keys. Overcame the temptation to deliver the immediate NY response - if I had the f***in' keys, why the f*** would I be asking you for them? - and made a couple of phone calls. Ten minutes later, I had the keys, an apology, and the pleasure of watching four grown men being chewed out by the Fabulous "They don't read anything!" Marlene.

Two and a half hours later, we were done. A 6x10 storage unit is now loaded to the gills, I'm trying not to think about what will happen if anything falls over, and we were off to return the truck. Dad got into a shouting match with a Shell station attendant who was up to something fishy with my credit card - this was when I realized how tired we were - but we made it and the lovely people took back the truck and called a car service to take me to the East Village and Dad to the PATH back to Roselle Park. We unloaded the things I'll carry for the next few weeks onto The Lead Singer's stoop, and Dad sped off into the night. And I was home. For the moment. And it was good.