Tap on a Gloom-ay Day

Originally uploaded by shadowplay.

Today is dull and gloom-ay, kind of like my mood. Last night I had big plans of going to a Cardiobarre class and then a vocal class today, but that gave way to sleeping until 11:00 AM (when Cardiobarre started)and settling for a theater tap class that was an inch harder than what I was used to.

I love tap, as regular readers know. I figured a semi-advanced theater tap class wouldn't be too crowded in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. Then I got down to studio 4B and there were gobs of people waiting, many of them under the age of 18 and rather lanky. The other half were these seasoned dancers who were all too fabulous for their own good. (They actually used jazz hands without irony...)

The teacher was awesome and sunny and her drills were helpful. The combination was SUPER fast, had a train motif to it, and would have been easier to learn if I hadn't been fighting for space with 25 other people. All in all, I think I'm going back.

As for the rest of the day? Maybe sushi, maybe a film, maybe some real writing.

Or maybe more Style Network. That channel is like crack.

Pookie the Fearless

Lucy: waiting mode
Originally uploaded by Philosopher Queen.

My amazing cat Pookie has been out in Connecticut with La Madre since this summer. It was getting very warm in my apartment and I hated to see him suffer. I sent him out to Norwalk and he and my mom bonded quickly. It's now Christmas and he is still with her.

A few days ago La Madre called and told me that Pookie didn't seem right. I told her Pookie was a weird cat, so she really wasn't saying much. Then she told me that he was dragging his hind legs behind him and he didn't make it to his litter box a few times. I freaked out. I told her to take my favorite pile of fur to the vet..STAT.

Today I got another call from La Madre who told me that Pookie saw the vet today and was well behaved. The vet had a few guesses, the first of which was a herniated disc in his back. (Just like me!) He gave the Pooks a shot of cortisone (Just like me!) in an effort to fix it. He also worried that Pookie may have had a stroke (He's 9 years old) or worse, has cancer.

Next week the Pooks gets blood work done which may or may not rule out the cancer or the stroke. If he is that sick, I'll have to (egads!) put him to sleep. (...sniff...)

However, La Madre said that when she took him home, Pookie was looking better. He was running around, so maybe his limp legs were due to a herniated disc. Let's hope. I couldn't lose the Pooks, even is he is in another state right now. I need that guy around.

So please think good thoughts for Pookie this week. He's only nine years old, which is too young for cancer or strokes, regardless of what species you are.

Two A Days

battling the bulge - press up
Originally uploaded by flickrwegian.

I've never been very good at functioning during the week before Christmas or the week after. Maybe it's the leftover undergraduate in me. That said, I took two weeks off this year to decompress. I quickly realized that I had nothing planned. With few other options, I went to dance class. And yoga. And back to dance again...

This week I've been on a strange, two-a-day schedule. A yoga or pilates class in the AM and then tap or jazz in the PM. Along the way I'll eat or read or watch obscene amounts of the Style Network. I have a useless cruch on Isaac Mitzrahi, just so you know.

Anyway, exercising this much does a number on the quads, hamstrings, abs and arms. No pain, no gain...

Assorted December Photos

December is a busy month. There are parties and shopping and random things to do, like paying $100 for Christmas trees. (!?!?) Here are some shots from my December. More on La Flickr:

With Colleen At the Olde Money Holiday Affaire


A Dapper Chap


Be Merry...Or Else!


Much Love for The Host


Allison Threw a Lovely Party the Same Night


Jason Came..and Hogged the Camera


Holidays Mean an Inflatable Deer Head


Mes Amis


Doug's Tree.. With Presents!


I Heart my Heart Necklace


The Man of the Hour


Time now for a mid-winter's nap!

Life Lesson #317: Don't Get Involved in Someone Else's Lover's Quarrel

Christmas came and went and all in all I'm pleased with my bootie: A new yoga mat, a duvet and some pillows, and a set of antique, silver plated silverware, among other things. I still have to track down my brother Andrew and give him his gifts. He was fun to shop for since he's a hip, young guy with an appreciation for irony.

Anyway, La Madre drove me back into the city on the 26th. As I was carrying the typical post-holiday detritus into my apartment, (gifts, dinner leftovers, fashion mags, etc.) I was startled by a woman standing in my little hallway. There's only one other apartment in my little crook, and you really have to know where you're going to get there (again with the basement apartment nonsense.)

The woman was standing in front of the door knocking. I smiled and said hello and then tossed my pillows into my apartment so I could go back up to the car and get more stuff. When I came back, the woman was sitting on the stairs in the lobby. She asked if I knew Kevin, the guy in the apartment across from me. Of course I did. He was a cool guy and we chatted whenever we did laundry. She told me she was his girlfriend and he never came by her house on Christmas Eve. She was worried. Crying, even. She asked for the name of the super.

I went back down to my apartment, left a bag of groceries on the kitchen floor and brought her back a piece of paper with the super's name on it. As I was bringing yet another batch of Christmas crap down to my apartment, I saw that two policemen arrived and were headed over to this mysterious woman.

Sure, all of this was none of my business, but I'm a journalist to my core. I left my front door open as I put some things away. Soon, Joe the Super showed up and he and the two cops were at Kevin's front door. Were they about to find a body?

Enter me, dragging a trash bag out of my apartment as the super and the fuzz cracked open Kevin's door with an extra key. Through my own rattling all I heard was the super saying. "You're okay? That's all you want us to tell her?"

Whoa. This was getting crazy. Seems that Kev was in the apartment the whole time and just didn't want to talk to this woman. This was nuts. Here she was crying and calling the police and Kev-Nice is around the whole time.

I went back up to the car, took my last bag and sent La Madre off. When I came back, the fuzz and the super were gone.

I mussed around the house for a bit and then decided to go out and shop and find some pillowcases for my new bedding. As I came out of my apartment, the woman was standing out in the hallway, cell phone in hand and crying. Oh geez...

"I don't know what's going on," she said between sniffs. "I keep calling and knocking but he just won't talk to me."

I nodded sympathetically, because there was nothing I could say. Who leaves their woman on Christmas, literally? It was a sad scene to witness. If he was sick he would have said so, so clearly their equation was much more complicated than I could fathom.

I went out and shopped for about two hours or so, hoping that the woman wouldn't be there when I got back. She wasn't.

Do you see why I really need to move out of that building?

Greetings From Connecticut!

Metro North Board crumbles under the pressure - NYC 2005 Transit Strike
Originally uploaded by MacRonin47.

Hello again!

I took a few days off from the inernets to sleep and watch TV and clean the apartment. In the week or so since I broke for the holidays I feel like I'e sufficiently decompressed. I don't know how anyone functions at work during this time. I think we should all just take off, European style.

Another reason why I want to leave my apartment:

A few days ago I was in the laundry room putting my clothes in a washing machine. The laundry room is in the basement, as is my apartment. The transit strike was still on, so a lot of people were home and likely doing their laundry.

When the machines and dryers are used a lot, heat builds up. To make matters worse, the laundry room is pretty much just an oversized closet with no ventilation. The easiest way to cool the room down is to leave the door open and let the heat empty out into the hall. Naturally this makes the basement apartments very warm. Longtime bottom-dwellers such as myself accept this quirk of basement apartment living and thus wear tank tops and light pants when doing laundry.

Anyway, as I was loadng the machine a man, about 40 or so, pulled the door shut behind me and went into his apartment. It was no less than 100 degrees in the laundry room. Was this guy some sort of a masochist? What kind of a person closes the door on someone who's in a room that you could literally boil water in? I started the machines, opened the door and forgot about it.

About 40 minutes later I was back in the laundry room, seperating my clothes and putting some in the dryer. It was hot and had it been socially acceptable, I would have been doing the job in my bra and underwear. Out of no where the creepy, 40 something guy came into the laundry room and said, "I have to ask you to close the door. It make me apartment hot."

I said. "I can't do that. It's 100 degrees in here and I'm not going to pass out just because you don't like a little heat."

He said, "It makes my apartment hot. You have to close the laundry room door."

I said. "Not my problem. I didn't design the building. Talk to the super."

So here's the best part: The creepy 40-something quickly turned and went back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him...pouting like a little girl with a skinned knee.

My building and its tenants have reached new levels of suck. Does anyone have a lead on a space on Spring Street? East side?

In the meantime, have a great holiday everyone, whether you're opening presents or eating Chinese food.

Off to See the Wizard

denied
Originally uploaded by say anything.

I am starting my winter vacation as of seven minutes from now. Like everyone else in this town, I'll be hoffing it to Grand Central with a huge bag on my back and a sack of gifts in my hand.

I'll be back on the blog over the next few days, naturally with photos and hopefully with something that resembles wit.

In the meantime, stay warm!

Dumb Press Release of the Day

The transit strike will be blamed for everything from loss of Christmas revenue to a baby boom. However, to say that it has increased online poker playing is going an inch too far.

If it weren't for publicists I think I would be really bored.

*****

Online Poker Site DoylesRoom.com Sees Record Amount of Players During Early Stages of MTA Transit Strike

December 20, New York – It is only mid-afternoon, but already internet poker site DoylesRoom.com is seeing record numbers online in the New York City metro area. It appears, due to this mornings New York City transit strike, many commuters are staying home from work and playing poker online.

Normal peak hours for online poker are between 8pm EST and 1am EST, but today, many accounts that are active only in the evening hours went live by as early as 10:00am EST in New York City and surrounding areas affected by the strike illustrating the fact that many commuters that opted to “work from home” were instead playing online poker.

"At first we didn’t know what was going on with the flood of players we were getting from New York City,” stated Marty Wallace, COO for DoylesRoom.com. “Then we realized that the transit strike they’ve been threatening since this past Friday finally took place."

The winter season is the peak time for online poker rooms like DoylesRoom.com because people spend more time indoors away from the cold and log online. With the addition of a transit strike in New York City, those numbers have reached record levels.

A Transit Strike? Are You Kidding Me?

transit strike 8
Originally uploaded by tmcdaily.

This morning I woke up at around 3:15 AM, not out of pain, but because I left my lights on when I fell asleep. (This is a strange habit of mine when I am busy.)

I realized it was past the 12:01 deadline for the MTA transit strike, so I turned on my radio as I wrapped some Christmas gifts. A few minutes into the cutting and taping, I heard it was on...and I almost didn't believe it. I said a few days ago the transit workers wouldn't go on strike...and yet they have. How about that?

Tonight is my last day at work before breaking for Christmas. I will not be back in the office until after New Year's. This brings me much joy.

I walk to work a lot, so getting ready this morning to come to work was no big deal. I did, however, have a huge bag of presents to carry as well as a duffell bag. Even without the subways and busses, NYC seemed to be running as usual. A few stores were closed at 8:30 AM, but the coffee carts were still brewing and the traffic was still congested in Herald Square. Even the deli below my building was fully stocked and open for business.

Shy of a complete blackout, I think it's hard to get New York to shut down completely. Yes, it's Christmastime and there's sure to be some revenue lost from the strike. However, from what I've seen thus far, and judging from the amount of co-workers who hoofed it in the morning, I don't think this strike will keep us down.

Although I am jealous of my friends who got to stay home today.

Tomorrow I'll get some film back from one of the parties this weekend. I'm sure it will please most of you.

Until then, stay warm and keep walking. (Because right now, there is no other choice)

Reading is Fundamental

Sunday Morning
Originally uploaded by michellej.

It's Monday, I'm exhausted and I still have to teach a class tonight.

Here are some links that may help you get through the afternoon.

Keep up on the pending MTA strike.

The lead singer of Weezer has decided to stick with his self-imposed celebacy. Now, I understand self-control, like giving up chocolate for Lent, but sex? For two and a half years?!?!

British researchers say they have found that young girls tend to mutilate Barbie dolls.

You may be able to send an e-mail to yourself in the future.

Resolutions and Wishes

wish
Originally uploaded by myrealityphotography.

I'm not a big fan of resolutions, because I have never been very good at keeping any of them. However, last year in a Gothamist Interview I said I wanted to become a better tap dancer in 2005, and by all accounts I think I accomplished that.

Anyhoo, it's the 19th and I've been giving some thought about what I would like do and accomplish in 2006. Here's my list. What's yours?

1. Find a way to move to Spring Street

2. Find out exactly what is wrong witrh my back and fix it.

3. Keep up current good flow of writing work.

4. Be a better tap dancer.

5. Learn to play that 12-string guitar I bought three years ago.

6. Go to the next level with my photography habit.

7. Remember singing? Remember performing? Yeah, get on that...

Mistakes I Made This Weekend

Ikea Christmas baubles
Originally uploaded by Beezy..

Friday:
Saying out loud, "Oh, I don't think I'll need a reservation at Balthazar on a Friday night at Christmastime."

However, I managed to get in. I got a little table and agreed to sit at it for half and hour while waiting for Doug and downing Bellinis.

Saturday:
Thinking I'll just "stop in" to the Barnes and Nobles in Union Square to browse. That would have been a good idea if I wanted to plow through throngs of people in overstuffed coats. It looked like a Turkish bazaar. How many David Sedaris books do you people need?

...and after six years in New York I finally saw a sick passenger on a subway at 42nd Street. He was twitching and passing out, and so the fuzz came and carted him away.

All in all it was a great weekend, full of parties (photos to come this week!), some great meals, movies, Connecticut and defintely not enough sleep.

I'll have links or something later on in the day. Right now I'm just really tired. Hrmph.

Cold Showers

morning meditation 2
Originally uploaded by AgataL.

Ye Olde Herniated Disc roused me from sleep at around 5:00 AM. While I paced around the apartment and waited for the painkillers to kick in, I turned on the radio to see if the transit strike had happened. It hadn't. Not that walking to work would have been so horrible today. It's actually quite nice out. Balmy, even.

I went back to sleep and woke up again at 7:30 AM, as planned. Much to my chagrin there was no hot water. (Is this what I pay $1,300 a month for?) I really needed to was my hair and so I had to bend at the waist, stick my head under the stream and lanthered, rinsed and repeated in the cold water. I jumped in and out and of the water in an effort to wash the rest of me, but a cold shower in the middle of December is not my idea of a good time.

Nevertheless, I found some smelly lotion and perfume, put on some clean clothes and headed out to The Job.

My hair is clean and fluffy, which is all I really ask for in this life.

This morning's run-in with cold water made me realize how much I am starting to loathe my apartment. I moved in in 2003 because my roommates at the time were drving me crazy. Every year since I just kept renewing the lease because signing a piece of paper is loads easier than actually looking for a new place. But I think I'm starting to outgrow the Grmaercy bunker. I want to head down to Spring Street, east side, because it's my favorite 'hood in NYC.

The problem is that I'm locked into my current lease until June 2007. Yeah, you read that right. And getting out of leases is expensive, not to mention a pain in the arse. So unless I come into a pile of dough soon, it's me and the bunker runtil my 30th birthday. Feh.

Today on The Simon

Here is my most recent post on The Simon about the pending NYC transit strike:

A short selection from it:

Luckily, we have a savior: Mayor Bloomberg. If there was ever a time I was glad we had a billionaire mayor, this is it. Mayor Bloomberg is a money guy. He likes capitalism. If there's one person who can step in and tell all parties involved to stop, collaborate and listen, it's him. Never in a million years would a man whose personal fortune rivals that of a third-world country let his city fall dead when everyone within a 10-mile radius feels the need to spend dough in the name of holiday cheer.

Dance Class Wednesday

Brook
Originally uploaded by jclutter.

Wednesdays are usually reserved for my tap class with Chuck Kelley, but last night I realized I had left my shoes at home and wouldn't make it up to class in time. Instead, I went home, grabbed my gear and hit a Theater Dance class instead.

At first I thought it would just be a bunch of overgrown, high school drama girls trying to live out their dreams of one day singing, "All I Ask of You" on Broadway.

During the warm up, I thought it was exactly that. As we stretched and loosened up I listened to selections from "Swing Kids" and "Fosse." I was worried, very worried. I'm all for dance and learning routines, I just don't enjoy triteness. Show tunes, as catchy as they are, tend to lean towards hokey.

Nevertheless, the class turned out all right. We spent a good amount of time working on leaps across the room. I was surprised at the amount of height I was able to get. Then we got into the routine, which was more music video than stage show. All in all, good times.

This morning I feel tight and achey, but in a good way. My back is fine (for the three people who worry about such things) but my abs feel taught. Yay! Progress.

I don't have much else to report, other than this weekend is full of parties. There will be many photos next week.

Here are some stories to read and peruse:

Doctors are working on removing a 16-pound growth from a Haitian girl's face.

In Cat News: Two people in New York City are fighting over custody of a pseduo-stray named Oliver/Gatsby

Since I can't say enough good things about yoga, chronically ill patients turn to it for relief.

Stay warm!

A Random Roll of Film

I had a little disposable camera in my bag for a few weeks and I took some random shots. Thought you guys might like to see some of them. The complete set, as usual, is on La Flickr.

Vamping for the Camera at Bryant Park


Doug Dodges People Who Can't Skate.


The Abomidable Snowman Ornament


My Chirstmas Tree...It's Actually Quite Nice


Snowy Trees Outside My House


La Madre and Mini

Tuesday the 13th

FRIDAY 13TH IS COMING..
Originally uploaded by Andy Welsh.

There were many reasons why I wasn't all that jazzed about getting out of bed this morning. For starters, it's cold. Damn cold. I also had to be up earlier than usual to work on some Golden Globes stuff at The Job.

Did I mention I lost my ATM/debit card? I had it all day Sunday as I hit the shoppes in Union Square and purchased my body weight in new clothes. (I had so many sacks of clothes I looked like a homeless person. Only with more peasant skirts.) When I couldn't find the ATM card yesterday morning at work, I thought it was in my weekend purse. When I finally got a hold of the weekend purse, the card was not in there.

I called the esteemed [insert sarcasm herre] Bank of America and they told me that even though it was lost, no one had used it illegally. That was good news. But without an ATM card I couldn't take out any dough to take a cab to work. So at 7:30 AM I had to get on the N/R train and deal with the cold with the rest of the bougeoise.

I planned to dress warm with tights and a long skirt. As I picked out clothes from my closet I also pulled a bottle of Diet Coke out of my refridgerator. I figured a little jolt of caffeine would shake the sleep out of me. I twisted the top off and the soda sprayed out like I was in a locker room after the World Series. It covered me, my clothes as well as my floor and walls.

I swabbbed up most of it up with some paper towels, but I was still too groggy to concentrate on the assorted pools of cola all over my floor. I threw on some clothes, dried my hair and headed out the door.

Thus far the job is going well. The nominations went smoothly and someone brought in Munchkins. At lunch I have to get some cash from the bank, old-skool style at the teller. I don't even think I know how to write a withdrawal slip! What is this green paper you call currency?

Not That Tap Dancing Has Anything to do With Anything

My first tap shoes
Originally uploaded by Freddy Newendyke.

This weekend, between roaming aimlessly around New Jersey and making the rounds at holiday parties, I also went to tap dancing class.

This is notable because those of you who follow this blog on a regular basis know that the herniated disc in my back has stopped me from running, jumping, and even wearing high heels on a regular basis. I can't even sleep more six hours at a stretch because it acts up, hense my 4:00 AM cleaning sessions in my apartment.

Anyway, over the past few days I've noticed that when I did start to ache, plain old Advil could fix it. For whatever reason I suddenly didn't need fancy painkillers or a back run. Just some ibuprofen, a little Diet Coke and I was good to go.

So Sunday morning I woke up early, had some chow and hopped the N train to Broadway Dance. I took Shea Sullivan's beginner tap class, which anyone at the Broadway Dance community knows is nowhere near beginner level.

I got right in front near the mirror and shuffled and flapped and worked on my riff walks while stealing sips of sugar-free Red Bull between drills. By the end of the class I was sweating and tired and a little unfocused, but so happy that I was back in the dance class.

Best part: Today I feel great. My legs don't feel weak and my back isn't knotted up. Maybe after this whole year of back problems and cortisone shots I might actually be recovering.

In the meantime, I'll be at Chuck Kelley's class on Wednesday night.

Driving in New Jersey and Other Weekend Adventures

driving is fun
Originally uploaded by Ben McLeod.

The family threw my brother Robbie Rob a birthday party on Saturday afternoon for his 30th year. It was at his house in Union, and it was set up while he was at a class at Rutgers. Hun and her mom got the food while La Madre and I were asked to get the booze and wine.

La Madre came by my house in Manhattan Saturday morning and we drove to a Trader Joe's in Westfield, NJ to peruse the wine selections. Getting from NYC to NJ took all of 45 minutes. I had directions and since I'm always a good navigator, I was able to direct my mom through the intracacies of the Garden State Parkway.

Westfield turned out to be an awesome little town with lots of shops and quaint houses. It's also no more than 20 minutes away from Union. La Madre and I loaded up the booze, but somewhere along the line took a wrong turn. Next thing I knew we were touring the slums of New Jersey and heading east.

We whipped it around headed back towards Union. We got there, and even though it was broad daylight, La Madre couldn't find the street that her own son lived on. We circled around and got honked at by irate Jersey drivers. Finally I suggested getting back on the Parkway and taking the usual exit for Rob's house, which may have put us back on track.

That seemed like a good idea, until we headed north instead of south, got into the wrong line at a toll and once again were literally shouted and cussed at by angry drivers as we scrambled for exact change. Now we were in Irvington, NJ, where apparently no one was from the area and couldn't give us directions to Union, which again, was no more than 20 minutes away.

Finally, some guy cleaning out his car pointed us in the right direction and we got to Rob's place in one piece, wine intact.

The party had a great turnout, but by 7:00 PM I had to get back to NYC. There were parties I needed to attend. Rob's friend V. (yes, that's what he goes by) offered to drive me to Jersey City so I could take the PATH train. I was pleased for the free ride, and so I hopped in his van and made small talk .

Everything was fine until we got onto the highway. V. went from 40 to [no lie] 100 MPH in Saturday night traffic in an Econoline Van. (Hardly the most aerodynamic vehicle ever created.) He wove into the fast lane and gunned it from Union to Jersey City in just under 10 minutes.

Once we hit Jersey City he got off and swiveled around some back roads until he dropped me off at the Pavonia Newport station. By then my nerves were rattled, not just from the warp speed of the free ride, but from the mix of coffee and red wine at the party, and from being in New Jersey for far too long.

Back at chez moi I decompressed for an hour or so, fluffed my hair and headed to Zoellner's party. There were writers and margheritas aplenty. Finally, I felt homeostasis set back in.

New York City, I will never stray again.

Rob's Dirty 30th Birthday!!!

My middle brother Robbie Rob turns 30 today, but the fam gave him a surprise party on Saturday afternoon. It was a good turnout of relatives and folks from Turtle & Hughes, where he works.

Here are some snaps:

First off, the food. It was insane:


Rob Wonders Why Everyone He Knows Is In His Kitchen


La Madre and I Have Our Way With the Buffet


I Housed the Cake While Auntie Made Funnies


A Grandma and a Great Grandmother


Pass the Kid, Cut the Cake

At Last, A Quality Snow

Snowstorm
Originally uploaded by Pxl3000.

Four years at Syracuse University has given me many things: Enormous student loan debt, a questionable attitude towards alcohol and, most importantly, an appreciation of snow. It just wasn't a semester until the snow started falling, usually in early November.

The first time this happened as a freshman it freaked me out. Then I realized the snow wasn't going anywhere, and I adjusted. By the end of the first semester I would walk to my finals wearing nothing but a big flannel shirt, a hat, gloves and scarf. I made sure I would never be mistaken for a silly newbie.

I was happy to see New York City blanketed in snow today. Those big, thick flakes were reminiscent of Syracuse. The kids at the school across the street from me were having a snowball fight, and so I took a photo of it. My socks are still a little wet from my ghetto boots that don't seem to be water proof. Nevertheless, snow is welcome, especially in December.

Insomniac:
Sleeping has not been my forte lately. There are two versions of it: I'll either fall asleep at a normal hour and then wake up at 4:00 AM, ready to run, or I'll pass out at 8:00 AM and wake up again at midnight with nothing to do.

Yesterday I fell asleep around 8:00 PM , only to find myself wide-eyed at midnight. My back hurt a little so I popped a Darvocet and sat down to start my Christmas cards. Three people had already sent me cards, which only reminded me how I was slacking.

I popped a few CDs into the stereo and sat down with my cards, labels, Rolodex, address book and a few good pens. My first CD was John Mayer's Heavier Things, an album I thought had been stolen from me two years ago. I had been listening to it while on an overnight shift in 2003 and suddenly it disappeared. I thought I had left it in one of the computers at work and someone had walked off with it. In fact, for two years I had been secretly blaming one guy in particular for taking it.

Then last week while moving my furniture around I found a copy of Miles Davis' Bitches Brew, one of my favorite albums of his. I opened it up to slip it into the stereo, and there was Mayer's album.

Heavier Things didn't get the greatest reviews across the boards, and admittedly I was a little underwhelmed the first time I heard it. But since I've been spending some time with the album lately, I have a new perspective on it. For whatever reason, the album reminds me of driving around the back roads of Fairfield County, CT, twisting about and looking at all the pretty houses. Heavier Things is a mellow body of music, and I think sometimes that's what someone needs, especially when it's one o'clock in the morning and they're writing Christmas cards.

I also listened to Herbie Hancock's Cantaloupe Island and Kenny Rogers' Greatest Hits. I just can't shake that guy.

1997:
While writing up the Christmas cards this morning, I stopped and marveled at how mellow I felt. Make no mistake about it: I am a spaz. I lose things. I forget to take out the trash. I leave my clothes hanging dry in the shower for days after they could be folded away. But last night, as I licked and folded and tried my hardest to come up with witticisms for everyone's cards, I realized that the last time I was this calm was December, 1997.

I had just finished the first half of my junior year at Syracuse. I was 20 years old. 1997 was when I discovered the joys of long-distance running and fell into my stride as a writer. I spent that summer working as a receptionist at an insurance company in Stamford, making a whopping $5,000 in four months. I spent most of that money on cool clothes and trips around the tri-state area. It was one of the times in my life that I never worried about cash. I also drove a car, a 1984 Ford Ranger pick up truck, the first and probably only time in my life I drove on a regular basis.

That first semester of junior year was an important one. I earned a 3.5 GPA while living in my sorority house and partying like it was going out of style. I wore little tank dresses and Blue Asphalt jeans. I met an aspiring poet named Jon and we spent many a snowstormy night in his spacious apartment, watching The Simpsons and discovering the pleasures of the flesh.

During the month or so that I was home between semesters I worked at the Victoria's Secret at the Stamford Mall, helping clueless men pick out bras for their wives and girlfriends. When asked for the ladies's bra size, some guys would say they were "a handfull" while others would tell me they were "chesty, like you, sweetie."

When I was at home I would sit up in my room and read Tobias Wolfe short stories or try to figure out a computer game about The Titanic in which I had to stop the ship from sinking and save a rubiyat. I was at a crossroads, from being a confused undergrad to focusing on writing and getting to know the art better. (I soon did, although I'm still working on understanding the people in the writing world better. Y'all are a little nutz.)

In 1997, particurally in the fall and winter, I moved on to The Next Level.

1997 was a great year. 2005 has been a great year. They are 8 years apart. In Chinese culture, the number 8 is supposed to be good luck. I'm starting to believe it.

Kenny Rogers is Not Dead

Originally uploaded by minato.

Last night while decorating the tree with Doug, I put on some CDs I had picked up at work. One of them was Kenny Rogers' greatest hits (yes, he had more than one). Doug couldn't understand why I was listening to him, because he thought Kenny Rogers was dead. For the rest of the night between hanging up shiny balls and ornaments and flipping between "Through the Years" and "Islands in the Stream" Doug asked over and over why I would want to listen to someone who, if not dead, was certainly on the far end of geriatric.

So, for all you non-believers out there, Kenny Rogers is not dead. In fact, here is his official website, with current tour dates.

Also, here is a link of men who look like Kenny Rogers, but aren't him.

In other news, my Christmas tree looks awesome. I took a bunch of photos of it last night once it was all done. Doug hung the lights like a champ and found the perfect spot for my abomidable snowman ornament. Yes, the one from the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer movie.

Tonight: I'm heading to the gym for the first time since my lastest shot of cortisone in my back. I'm getting a little soft in the middle and I need to tighten up. Then I need to tackle Christmas cards.

La Vie Fabuleuse

Friendly advice
Originally uploaded by ale2000.

Last night I decided to hit a few parties. It is the Holidaze, after all, and this time last year I was stuck on a hellish overnight shift and didn't get to go to any Christmas parties. Being that I have much more free time this year, I want to take full advantage.

I had four parties on my roster but realized I wouldn't be able to hit them all. I started out at the Mediabistro party, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

I thought it would be fun hang out with other writers, but then I got the to Mediabistro event and realized it wasn't my scene at all. I was hit up for my business card way too many times, and often within five minutes of a conversation. Why would someone who just met me and barely knew me want my business card? Wasn't this a party? I was there for drinks and conversation, not networking. After about 20 minutes or so I left. I stopped at a local CVS and bought more ornaments for my tree, and then went home to get ready for a Valentino fashion show at Nikki Midtown, a club on 50th Street that used to be called Club 151, among other things. (Back in 1999 I went to it when it was Club 151 and I saw Derek Jeter. He was way hot and wore a big silver chain.)

Going to the Valentino show was the best decision I made all day. The club is huge, and it has a very clean, white, beach theme to it. The DJ was amazing. I think it was Felix Da Housecat. Everyone was gorgeous and fashionable and it made me wish I had at least put on a skirt, as opposed to my Express suit pants.

By chance I was seated next to one of the publicists for the club, who was genuinenly sweet. She had a bunch of friends with her who were fun, especially for commentary about the clothes, once the show started.

Since the drinks were free I was pretty buzzed after only three. It was a great way to save the evening, which I thought had completely gone to the dogs.

Tonight, Doug and I are going to decorate my tree. Tomorrow I am in work early to help with the Grammy Award nominations.

Da Mail

Old Letter Box II
Originally uploaded by Smaragd .

It's been a reasonably good day for mail here at The Job. Publicists are starting to warm up in this holiday seaon.

The people at Tide detergent sent over a random press release about how to save energy costs this winter. (But no samples?)

The Napa Valley Mustard festival sent me a jar of mustard. Thanks!

I got a press release about the new Franz Ferdinand DVD, which I will be happy to peruse.

Soon I am off to a few parties tonight. Nothing crazy, just run-of-the-mill schmoozing.

I Like The Cold

por /ludowitzka # 5
Originally uploaded by vee.vee.

When I was walking home from teaching class last night, I realized how cold it has gotten here in the city. And I like it. Maybe all those years at Syracuse are starting to have some effect on me. Or maybe I just have a really good coat. It was, after all, made in Belarus.

Today seems to be an exercise in just getting things done off a checklist in front of me. There are cards to mail, articles to finish and a class to prepare for next week. I'm a little sad that class is officially over on the 19th. I really liked this group of students. They were all very talented and asked really great questions. I was but a secretary, reading their stuff and telling them it was good.

I also started re-reading Anne Lamott's book, Bird by Bird yesterday. Initially I bought a new copy for the lesson on the writer's voice, and now I can't keep my nose out of it. It's funny how a book as popular as hers can still actually be very true about the craft of writing.

Tonight there are an array of parties I could go to, including a fashion show. I think I will check them out, if only for the goody bags. My enormous Christmas tree is also doing well. It just needs some sparkles on it.

Weekend of Doug

meet me at the plaza
Originally uploaded by Janesdead.

My paramour Doug and I had a most wonderful weekend. What started out as a quick sushi dinner at The Bryant Park ended two and a half days later with the two of us setting up a five foot Christmas tree in my apartment.

Friday:
Doug and I met up after work, ate sushi and then saw Syriana. It's an amazing film and I highly recommend it.

Saturday:
My crappy back roused me from sleep at around 6:00 AM so I cleaned a bit before getting bagels and coffee for Doug and I. After bagels we headed out to go skating in Bryant Park. It was a sunny day and the crowds weren't terrible at all. We had a lot of fun.

Bryant Park wasn't Zamboni-ing the ice and it was getting pretty rough, so we decided to quit skating and amuse ourselves elsewhere. We headed down to the South Street Seaport to check out the Bodies exhibition. Again, get yourself down there and check it out quickly. It's awesome being able to see a human body inside and out, and in every possible way. I saw many spined and vertebrae, which certainly helped me understand all my back problems.

All that science and skating made us hungry, so we headed over to Pastis for a Saturday night dinner. We got a great, cozy table, but not before having to wait about 20 minutes and putting up with some trust-funders sipping scotch at the bar. Once seated, we had monkfish and white wine, followed by a Crepe Suzette for me and a Grand Marnier for Doug.

We walked all the way home from Pastis back to my place in Gramercy, again, a great idea to help keep my back from acting up. Once at home we moved around a lot of furniture beause my apartment was in need of a new look...and we needed to make room for the coming Christmas tree.

Sunday:
Doug and I got up early and headed to my corner diner for breakfast. I was strangely nauseous and could barely eat my two eggs over easy. Since the weather was less then we went to the cinema and saw, "Walk the Line." Again, highly recommended.

Afterwards I got my nails done while Doug had a beer at Pete's Tavern. Then we picked out a Christmas tree from the guys who were selling them on my corner. I got a five foot tall Douglas fir. It's very fat and very pretty. It needs a day or so to open up and then I will put up all my ornaments.

Thus far, the holiday season is working out well. Now if I could just get around to those Christmas cards...

Hooray for Photos!

No, they're not wedding photos (for once) but instead I have some photos from an outing at The Intrepid and from my pop's (egads!) 65th birthday. All photos by me, unless I'm in them.

A Real Checker Cab


On the Deck


Overlooking the Deck


Pop and Me


Rob And His Kid


Andrew, Rob and Me


Da Fam!