Bear Mountain

Yesterday, a friend and I went upstate to Bear Mountain. I knew of Bear Mountain from On The Road by Jack Kerouac. I just remember that when Sal first sets out for Denver from New York City, he takes a bus to Bear Mountain but then realizes there are no connections or any other ways west so he has to go right back to New York and he's all bitter about the wasted trip. I don't even know why that stuck with me, but it did.

It was a beautiful day and we brought wine and food. The lake was pretty, but Bear Mountain is something of a misnomer. I feel like maybe it should be Bear Bunny Slope.

We hiked around the lake and had our picnic, and I was probably an annoying guest because I was pretty terrified of ticks the entire time, lulz. The white wine made us lazy so we took a nap on our blanket. I woke up and just laid on my back and was watching the clouds go by when this FLYING MONSTER started getting close. It looked maybe like a flying ant or wasp, if they were black and as thick as a finger and as long as my entire hand. I told myself to stay calm and it would just fly near and then away, but it was coming in for the landing. I didn't move. But it was definitely going to land on my knee or something, so that's when I screamed bloody murder and started thrashing and my friend woke up and freaked out and probably thought I was being bloodily murdered and we didn't really sleep much again after that. At least no one spilled their wine.

For the way back, my friend insisted that I drive. He just bought a new BMW and wanted me to try it out. I really hate driving friends' cars with them in it, because they all turn into passenger-side demons, and with my sterling driving record, I really resent the criticism. And no offense, but BMW drivers are probably in a class all their own. He kept insisting, so I said okay. It wasn't so bad, and the car really did drive well. I got a few of those "Put the pedal to the metal! ...okay slow down now." You win some you lose some.

Summer Night & Gandolfini

Yesterday after work I went to Washington Heights (north end of Manhattan) to help a friend pack up her apartment. She took the whole week off from work so she was leisurely getting it done, but had friends coming over here and there to help with the process.

I got there in jeans with my game face on ready to wrap and pack. She seemed less enthused. We did a lot of kitchenware pots/pans (including my ALWAYS useful advice whenever one is deciding between throwing away or packing up an item in relocating: "Would you miss it if it wasn't in front of you? WHAT IS YOUR HEART TELLING YOU?!) before she wanted to take a break.

She has a basement level apartment which is actually quite awesome because they get the entire back patio for themselves, which is shaded by a lovely mix of trees, surrounding buildings, and barbed wire. (Nature). We laid on the lounge chairs in the back, in the deliciously warm and breezy summer night, drinking beers, talking, and getting to pet and play with her roommate's Dutch shepherd dog. It felt so normal, it was the most normal thing I'd done in a long time, which maybe just says I'm not from New York City, but that total house-party Californian. We then proceeded to order in food and watch Arrested Development before I left before midnight. That was the easiest packing I had ever done!

And today is James Gandolfini's funeral, which is being held at St John the Divine's Cathedral, just down the street from my work, and directly across from my old faithful bar.

I walked by it on my way in to work this morning and it's all media and celebrities, and a little sad.

Hashtag: HORRIFIED

What you are about to read, is straight-up nasty. Don't say you weren't warned.

The 7 train terminus is Times Square, where I get on it. This means it comes, I'm one of the first people on, and I sit and wait until the train is filled so they can leave.

Yesterday, going home, I got on and noticed that there was something of a spongey puddle of blood right in the middle of one of the seats, left by the last person in it (I'll let you do the math). I sit in a clean seat across from it. I watch as more people come in, get close, notice it, and walk away to another seat. In New York City, it's not even worth batting an eye over or making a comment. The train starts going, and at each stop with the new load, it's the same process: get close, notice it, walk away.

On comes a lady from the Grand Central Station stop, in a nice, summery work outfit. She goes right up to the chair, while bringing her hand out. She points one long, boney ET-type finger in front of her and RUBS THE BLOOD, I'm assuming to see if it is fresh, or a dried stain (which, let's be honest, wouldn't be the first in those subway cars). I was SO HORRIFIED, my jaw ACTUALLY dropped, and she ended up walking away, so I suppose that was the verdict, which was equally horrifying. I think I watched a little something like this:

Let me rewind a little so the folks at home get the full impact of this scene: This was a woman in work clothes getting on at Grand Central Station. She could be anything from a receptionist at a dentist's office to a creative account exec a la Mad Men. She was not a delirious, homeless baglady. And I myself am not the cleanest person in the world. I don't carry hand sanitizer around, and I've been known to eat food even after it's fallen on the floor, but MY GOD this incident haunted me all evening. Not even Game of Thrones was intense enough to take the memories away!

See, this is the New York only the natives know.

Happy Birthday!

The birthdays keep rolling along, and today is mi papa-san's birfday.

I heard that Heather and Kathleen were taking him to a Dodgers/Giants baseball game tonight and just wanted to point out, Heather, the last time you took him to a Giants game, it went a little something like this...

Muah ha ha ha ha!

Happy Birthdayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Summer Solstice Weekend

If you tried to use the words "babe" "baby" "honey" or "dear" this weekend and found that your mouth simply couldn't form the words, it was because the quota for all the English speakers in the land to use these were met by all the couples in my cooking class over the weekend.

Turns out, cooking classes is a very couple-y thing to do, but it wouldn't have been enough even if I had paid someone to be my boyfriend for the night. No, I was with the real dregs of couple society. Holding each other during demonstrations, kissing before they handed over the measuring cups, and insisting "Babe! Will you share yours with me? It looks so good" "Oh babe you know I always share with you!" I just felt bad i didn't warn everyone as we sat down to eat together at the end that all the dishes were sprinkled with a light dusting of my vomit, because I was throwing up a little in my mouth just tooooo often during that 4-hour class to not let some of it slip.

It wasn't all bad news though. After cutting my finger right on the tip so a bandaid was useless, I made pretty good friends with all the chef helpers, who were graduate students at the culinary school there and they were way better company than Schmoopies 1-300. Aside from making the American regional cuisine spreads, I learned how to humanely kill a live lobster before boiling them (like seriously, we did it), skinned cod, deep fried beignets and I even took a beer to go. I put it in a paper cup and wasn't convinced it was entirely legal, but my God, after four hours of couples retreat, there was no suitable alternative.

Deep-fried cod fish tacos (San Diego)

Five-way chili (Cincinnati), Lobster Rolls (Maine), Philly Cheesesteaks (Philadelphia), Buffalo Wings (Buffalo, NY)

My battle wound. Who knew knives were so sharp?

I also visited the New York Transit Museum this weekend in Brooklyn, which was pretty cool! They have real subway cars and trolleys that were used back from turn of the century up until now. Original advertisements were kept on for their decade, so lots of buying war bonds and cigarettes and Campbell's soup.

Thennnn I went to the Brooklyn Bridge Park (these waterfront promenades are my new favorite thing) and I got to talk a lot to my German friend Anja, currently in London getting her PhD, because she got an iPhone and WhatsApp and now we can be friends againnnnn! (Emails just aren't instantaneous enough)

Aaaaand then yesterday was a Pride Kick-Off brunch in Chelsea with Nick. It was a really fun time and I got a huge gift bag before leaving, which included a Betty Crocker cakemix. Well I ain't gunna say no to that!

That cake was good too, only so annoying  because each layer was a different flavor and they didn't get to red velvet until the base, so there I was just eating every piece in sight then passing it off once the next one came around.

Thanks to Summer Solstice, at least it is officially summer and the sun is officially out and I can start in on that mythical tan I was once told I had.

Long Island City Riverfront

Long Island City is a hidden gem in New York. Maybe hidden is the wrong word... it's right there in the open, along the water of the East River just truckin' along, but since it's in Queens... few people dare venture out. I live just inland of this, so I pass it often. I left work at 5 o'clock sharper (which is my new way of saying 4:59) to make it to Trader Joe's before the crowds rolled in (read: because it is always crowded, before I had to wait in line outside to even get in, and no I'm not joking, that happens all the time in NYC) and was home by 6:30. It was still bright, and warm, and perfect, and I love rivers. So I schlepped myself down to Long Island City, in time to see the sunset, which I didn't even plan.

It really can't be overstated how much summertime changes the city. People going to (and staying in) the parks, lounging on rooftop bars, restaurants pulling out the outdoor seating, people on the promenades, sitting in the grass, by the water, or doing yoga (it's a fact, check out the pictures) and the Long Island City piers even have playgrounds, deck chairs, lounge chairs, and HAMMOCKS.

I was so enjoying the night (despite bug bites) and the view and the sound of the water, and taking in LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver and Florence + The Machine's Ceremonials that I decided to walk home from there. It's not exactly a grid, so getting myself, at least to Queensboro Plaza, was quite the trek.

Since I only traverse the towns via the 7 train (which runs above ground, and is helpful), I had to take visual cues from the train ride to decide where to go, which was difficult as I got turned around on the directions of the streets, sides of buildings, etc. I'm proud to say that I made it to Queensboro Plaza unassisted, and from there it was a cakewalk, since I had to walk there from home a few times during the hurricane when the subway system wasn't fully restored.

I also would like to add that I love music. I know that everyone "loves music" but sometimes I really suffer without it. After having really woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, no amount of positive thinking or deep breaths made me feel as good as the right song, or album. Well that, and stand-up... nothing like inappropriate Daniel Tosh jokes to take your mind off of irrational irritability.

The Great Gatsby Party!

A few weeks ago, Betsy stumbled across an announcement for the 8th Annual Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor's Island

Naturally we had to go! Herewith, it became known at the Great Gatsby Party, which I'm sure he would take well to, were he around to know about it...

It was fun! Governor's Island is a small island between Manhattan and Brooklyn that is open in the summer via free ferry rides, it's grassy and old-timey and sunshiney and nice! The weather was great, which was great cause the day drinking started early! It was hosted by St Germain and they came up with a great white-wine sangria. There were picture booths and vendors and vintage cars and performances, and many people brought blankets and picnics, which we never thought to do ("Lawn Party" should have given that away, but it didn't), so we continued to drink.

The best part was how into it everyone got! Some people looked straight out of the 20s, or as memberships of a barbershop quartet, and I realized anything from the 50s and early would suffice, and a lot of people even seemed to know how to dance for it! (They had lessons earlier in the day but I didn't see them). It was a great time, and Pooja even joined

After the festivities we took the ferry back to Lower Manhattan and came to what is supposedly the oldest pub/ale house in New York (I've heard that about a few places, but considering how Manhattan was built from the lower end of the island, and this one is the closest, I'll believe it. Apparently George Washington stayed a night there too or something. I forget).

After that was a speakeasy in midtown East before getting S'mac by 6p and being back home and exhausted by around 7:30. It was fun though! Thank goodness for the great weather on Saturday. And, dare I say, Gatsby approves!