eo Explores

Chance Encounters

2010-04-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

D'y'ever see someone on the train and want to know their life story? Well this happened to me tonight and granted, I had a few in me, but regardless, he was a story waiting to be told. After a lovely dinner with good friends Angie and Barry, I got on the 6 to transfer for the R to Queens and saw this large Black man with amazingly braided dreads standing behind me reading his book. A book, I might add, that was secured in one of those B&N-type vinyl holders. So I thought to myself, "it must be an important book to protect as such, maybe a bible of some sort or just a special novel?" So I watched him for a while on the platform and he seemed to be distracted by every noise and every person rushing down the stairwell but never once looked in my direction which was RIGHT in front of him where HIS train would be arriving. Odd, I thought. So we got on the train. Me first because I wanted to position myself so I could continue to watch him read his book. He stood exactly opposite from me on the train. Me at one side's door, him at the other. He kept wiping his brow because beads of sweat kept flowing down his forehead and from his sideburns. But it didn't stop him from reading. He only took short moments to use his bundled tissue to wipe his face. Back to reading he went. But the next drips that trickled down his center were too much to ignore and I think at this point, he felt my stare. He took out his smooshed-up napkin and wiped again and looked straight at me. I smiled BIG and he smiled back but in that way where you are trying not to smile but it keeps breaking through in a BIG way even though you're trying especially hard not to smile. But it was inevitable. He couldn't stop. So he programmed himself to not smile and go back to reading JUST as I was about to tell him that I absolutely love watching people read at the very end of their book because their expressions almost tell the passerby whether it's worth reading or not. But just then, we got to Queens Plaza and he exited. Not even looking back to smile again at me. Just got out. No turning back. I still want to know.... what was he reading?

How it made me feel when I touched it

2009-10-21T09:03:00.000-07:00

[NOTE: This is a writing assignment I had to do for my job. We went on a Design Excursion to SoHo, NYC to look at various shops that sell interesting items with differences in cultural significance, functionality, utility, and price range. Here is my essay.]

Industrial design fascinates me. The textures, the curves, the thought put into making it functional, yet beautiful. It’s all very intriguing. For me, the items I purchase in my everyday life are so often mundane. They don’t possess those unique features that we only notice when someone did take the energy to think about how something is used and what frustrates people about its current state of design. The items that always stand out for me are the ones that feel right to my sense of touch. While gallivanting around SoHo, we made our first stop at Pylones (pronounced pee-lone), a French company who boasts that they have “delighted customers with thoughtful designs and innovative twists on everyday objects.” I’ve always felt a bit overwhelmed by all the colors, shapes, sheens and almost psychedelic patterns on everything from toasters to staplers whenever I’ve passed by in recent years. I mean c’mon, if I walked into someone’s apartment and they had it decorated with Pylones purchases, I’d be a little concerned. But since our mission was to focus on the design integrity or the innovative slant on something typical, or typically boring, I concentrated on those aspects that make me say “hmm.”

The single item that struck me as “feeling good” was the nail clippers. We all have that standard issue set at home that we don’t even think to question. They’re just nail clippers, right? They serve a very simple task that isn’t something we normally chat about when discussing good design. Instead of just peering at its nutty swirls and pastel-colored bug handle, I opened it up to simulate using them. I quickly realized that someone took a lot of thought to make that section where your thumb lives, a concave, smooth dip that cradles your big finger so comfortably that you don’t slip while you’re attempting to access those hard-to-reach places. Manicures are serious business and we all have those horror stories of the hangnail gone awry, so it’s essential that the tools we use are slip-proof and snug, so we don’t cut off the wrong bits. Ouchy! Placing my virgin thumb on Pylones’ nail clippers made me appreciate industrial designers even more and hope there are more innovators out there who will focus their energies on improving the feel of everyday objects so we can all get the job done better, quicker and easier.

This is hilarious!

2009-10-20T12:51:00.000-07:00

HOME SWEET HOME: NYC Skyline has never looked so good

2009-09-17T18:48:00.000-07:00

All good things come to an end and this cross country trip has done just that. I spent my last night on the road in Virginia visiting with friends from NYC that moved out there last year. Had stayed in West Virginia the night before but didn’t really do much there. I think I just wanted to get home. It was a great night catching up, drinking wine, not eating much because we were laughing too much. Approaching Virginia, I fell into the same antique mall trap I did years ago when I visited an Oswego buddy, Jennifer, in Blacksburg, VA. Route 81 is dangerous. There is one on practically every exit and they just draw you in with the amount of square footage. It’s insane, overwhelming and so much fun. Bought lots for the cottage and some fun trinkets for memories.

Ended my trip up in Saugerties where it sort of started. Saw my niece’s “under 8” soccer game and spent the day rearranging things at Kippagh. I think I’ll need a few more days to process the trip and have reflections. But for now, I think the highlights were Rod in Mansfield; Mike in Decatur; Bill, Al and Carol in New Ulm; Milty in Custer State Park; Mike, Paul and Brian in South Dakota; the two bison in Yellowstone (yikes); Matt, Wendy and entourage in Five Points; Paula in Conifer, Sherry and Heather in Salina; the two friendly cops who didn’t give me tickets; the other motorist who paid for my car wash after splattering roadkill all over my Subaru; the blade sharpening mother/son duo who didn’t chop me up into bits; and catching up with Kathy and Mike in VA.

Thanks for reading. Maybe I’ll keep this up even though I’m back home and back to the ol’ job on Monday. We’ll see…

Losin' Steam: This post covers MS, AL, TN, KY and WV (woah!)

2009-09-13T20:58:00.000-07:00

First horrible motel experience thanks to being placed right across from the housekeeping room. Now, I have sympathy for chambermaids, having been head of housekeeping at a summer hotel at the tender age of 21, but these ladies were just obnoxious. Granted, I could have written a short story about their failed relationships, incarcerated children and lack of money for rent or even smokes but I truly wanted to take full advantage of the 11:00 a.m. checkout time. Again, people share a lot around here and at a volume that easily surpasses the teens on the subway when high school lets out in New York. Corinth was nice. They had this walking and driving tour of town that took you past all the historical homes and told you all about who lived there and why they were important. It was actually kind of neat. First tour type thing I’ve done on this trip actually. It took me into the residential area, which was really nice and I found my first yard sale. I thought I would have run into many more of these on my travels but I guess because I was always in a national park or at a friend’s place on the weekend bits, I didn’t see that many.

I ventured into Borroum's Drug Store on my walk and learned from my pamphlet that it was the oldest drug store in Mississippi, still owned and run by the same family. I noticed immediately that they, too, had Golden Guys sitting and having some coffee. I asked the girls at the counter why it was that mostly men monopolized this ritual and not the ladies. They had no idea other than, “maybe the women kick them out for a few hours each day to have peace and quiet.” Could be. But these fellas were adorable like all the rest. Sitting around talking about whatever was going on in town, or with their families. Happy to be retired and enjoying each other’s company. So sweet.

I also ran into the area’s Masonic temple. It wasn’t all that but they had a thrift store and I found the coolest stinkin’ purse there. I think it will accompany my dress very well for the wedding. Cha-ching. $4 and it’s vintage. Would probably go for close to $100 in Manhattan. Easily. Did I say cha-ching already? Remember, I’m not robbing these people blind. I’m stimulating the economy one small town at a time.

Near Borroum's was the county courthouse and although no one was going in or coming out, it was Thursday so court must be in session. I went in and opened one of the doors and sat down. As in Manhattan, there aren’t windows on the doors so you can’t see what you’re about to walk into. Sure enough, it was a tiny little room and all eyes were on me, even the judge’s. A court officer immediately came up to me, not because I was doing anything wrong but simply because he figured I was lost. I explained that I worked in the courts in NYC and just wanted to observe if that was okay. That explanation made its way to the entire room in seconds, mostly because when it was relayed to the judge, everyone could hear. I think my living room is bigger than this courtroom. There wasn’t much going on. Just motions and hearings so I wasn’t going to waste precious time listening to stuff that I can see back home. But it was still neat to go in and ruffle up some feathers.

Before leaving Mississippi, I saw in the distance, the words “falafel” and “kebab” and had to investigate. This was literally my first discovery of anything Middle Eastern on my entire journey. Granted, I wasn’t necessarily seeking it out but this was a sight for sore eyes. I immediately drove over to this little “house” by itself beside a department store parking lot. I instantly thought, ‘Oh good. I can ask this guy what he thinks of all the Christian stuff all over public grounds.’ I walked up and he opened his “ORDER” window and asked if he could help me. I ordered a chicken kebab and a Vimto, “a raspberry drink you can’t get here.” Uh, no duh. You can’t even get good Chinese here so I’d assume a soft drink with Arabic writing on it is hard to locate too. I introduced myself as being from New York and being thrilled to see an eatery serving this type of food. I asked him where he was from and he immediately started listing New York, New Orleans which was nice and all but I meant ‘where are you from originally?’ He said Jordan. So I asked if he’d mind me asking a personal question. He shook his head. “How do you feel about all of the Christian billboards and radio programming here?” He said it was a very nice place to raise a family and that he himself is Christian. Oy vey! I felt like a heel. Not that I was putting it down but I still felt bad to have brought it up as if it was an annoyance (which it sort of is to me, but that’s beside the point). I think I’m just so utterly curious to know how it feels as someone of another religion to live in an area that bombards its residents with Christian-centric messages at every corner, on every station, at all times of the day. That’s all. I guess I will have to ponder this alone or find a Southern States/Midwest Support Group for Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, Atheists, etc.

Okay, forget that, guess what happened next? I’m leaving Mississippi and I see this huge sign off the side of the road, “INSIDE FLEA MARKET,” and there’s this warehouse-lookin’ building with the door open. I pull over and go in. Now, I did see the “Mower Blades Sharpened” sign at the door but for some unknown reason, it didn’t even phase me. I entered a mess but those are sometimes the types of sales that you find a gem among trash. And sure enough, I found one of those 60s sunburst wood/chrome clocks on the floor, cobwebs and all. Awesome, I thought. But then I looked to the end of the room through this pass-through window and saw what appeared to be the scariest looking man with missing teeth and spooky eyes and they were following my every move. Ick! I think he asked me if I needed help with anything but his mumbling was hard to comprehend let alone pay attention to when faced with such a sight. I hate to be so mean but when his mother came out from the back, also sans-dentures, I thought I would die. Had I just walked into Alabama’s version of the Bates Hotel, except that she was alive and kickin’? So I asked how much the clock was and sure enough, it wasn’t theirs so they had to call someone to find out which prolonged my stay in this godforsaken place and gave Junior ample opportunity to tinker with my car out front and make me have to stay the night. Okay, I’m going overboard here but if you had seen this guy, you would have been on board with my exaggeration. It turned out to be a whoppin’ $5 so I said, “I’ll take it!” Gave her the cash and was on my way. Phew! Survived that one.

Driving through Alabama, I also saw a young girl driving a beat-up hearse. It was still primarily black but it had some purple bits on the right side. Not sure if she was a fan of Six Feet Under or just got a hand-me-down from her pops who ran the local funeral home but I started thinking, not a bad idea. With all the garbage picking I do (furniture finds and the like), it might be a good choice for my next set of wheels. Mine of course would have to be painted hot pink. I would have contemplated a light pink but then I saw this Escalade that color and did not like it one bit. Apparently, if you sell enough Mary Kay, they give you one of those beauties. Well, I’m sure the teen hearse driver has lots of friends in rural Alabama. Poor thing. I hope she finds her other tortured souls on St. Mark’s Place real soon.

Not so strange but not an ego-booster either, I came across two young men in Athens, Alabama who mistook me for (1) their teacher at college and (2) their own mother! This was two different boys but needless to say, I won’t be wearing my hair up ever again! Huh? I just realized, maybe his mother was a teacher at the college. Whatever, who cares. Athens was nice enough but nothing exciting to report there. This is the point in my trip where I started to lose steam: wasn’t as willing to strike up conversations with folks, didn’t enjoy driving long distances anymore and wanted to be around people who I could understand the first time around. This is the same point (3 week mark) where I started getting homesick when I was in Southeast Asia back in March. NOTE TO SELF: Only make vacations that are 3 weeks or less next time.

Heading into Tennessee, I stopped for some BBQ at Whitt’s in Ardmore and it was yummy and cheap! I knew this was a favorite of locals because there are many of them and folks are usually lined up in their cars for the drive-in window. Got a pork sandwich with beans and sweet tea. It hit the spot alright and I needed to fill up on food and gas because I was heading out to find Nameless, Tennessee, a town I had read about in Blue Highways, a book some girl gave me when she heard that I was taking this trip. The title refers to the color of the country roads on the atlases back in the late 70s. Not quite rural roads but not interstates either. They are the type of routes I was taking in the beginning of this trip but now had no patience for the stop and go action when you enter a little town and have to go from 65 to 25 mph.

So I had Google Mapped the town and had my directions written out. They were complex because this place is in the hills of Tennessee. I won’t bore you with the details but let’s just say, these folks could care less that their little no-name town is of interest to some lunatics who read about it in a book and think it’s neat-o to drive through for shits and giggles. I went down some of the scariest roads to locate this blip on the map and for what? Not much I tell ya. But whatever, it was an experience. TIP to the next idiot: When you see Dead End signs, turn back quickly! All wasn't lost though. I did come across this spooky graveyard with an abandoned house next to it. All the headstones had the family name Lee on it and some were current. I thought that was kind of cool. The earliest was someone who was born in 1844. I didn’t enter the house because the porch was no longer and I would have fallen in and gotten eaten by the termites that were crawling all over. Gross! What struck me as funny though, when I was entering the town, were the house numbers. They were large. For example, one I saw said “11492 Martin Creek Road.” I hadn’t seen a population sign anywhere but there sure as hell were not more than 20 families in this town. You’d think that just 1, 2, 3, 4, … 20 would suffice.

Leaving Nameless, I was stupid and took what seemed to be the straightest point from A to B and that is not always the smartest thing to do in the mountainous areas. Those red or dotted lines signify gravel or winding mountain roads and I should have taken the interstate even if it would be “out of the way.” Along those nutty roads, I saw quite a few grown men and women having cans of beers on this Saturday night in the parking lots of car washes, convenient stores, etc. but all closed with overhead lights on. Did this town not even have a bar for these folks to go to? WOW. Now that’s small. It reminded me of high school when kids would hang outside of Lou’s Corner Store and drink beers and smoke. But these were people in their 30s and 40s. Shame.

Without cell service and almost on ‘E’, I kept on going and finally reached Somerset, KY, where I settled in for the night. I found a Days Inn and for a moment, my friendly, way too honest self, came back to life. The young man behind the counter was Indian and maybe I thought I’d bring up the whole Christian bombardment issue again and be successful this time, but instead, my knowledge of India sent him swooning. Minutes before, he saw that I didn’t have a ring on and asked if I was single and I stupidly said yes. Instead of handing me my key, he said there was something wrong with that door to that room so he walked me to my room and asked if he could call me sometime. I thought I would be kind by jokingly saying that I was “geographically undesirable” since he seemed so young and impressionable, but he didn’t understand that phrase. So I simply said, “oh I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend” and closed the door.

I woke up to a beautiful day in Kentucky and it was Sunday. Time for church. I promised myself that I would attend a Baptist service before I left the South and this was my only chance. I went to the First Baptist Church of Somerset off of Route 80. Let’s just say, I was extremely underdressed in my jeans and white T-shirt but it didn’t matter. The sign was right, “Everyone Welcome.” I sat in the back and observed for a while but felt a little bad, like I was at a zoo looking at the animals interact. I’ve always wanted to go to one of those gospel brunches in Harlem so I guess I thought this would be similar but it wasn’t so I left. Check, off the list. Now all I had to find was a livestock auction.

On the road, I heard that new Miley Cyrus song, “Party in the USA” for the umpteenth time and listened intently to the lyrics to see why it had been ripped to shreds on the news the prior night by conservative Christians in the South. Apparently, in addition to dancing on a pole somewhere recently, part of Miley’s song refers to going to a club and dancing. Oh no! Horrors! What is this ‘Footloose’ all over again. So what people? She didn’t say anything about downing beers in a parking lot at least. So this gave me a business idea. Now I’m sure others have come up with this before and failed but of course my idea won’t. TEEN CLUBS. Why aren’t there more of these? Is it because the fear that they will bring in alcohol or drugs or is because parents wouldn’t let their kids go? Well, I think it’s an untapped market and everyone should try to start them up in their town. Teenagers WISH they could go to bars or clubs to hang out with friends and dance and eat and drink. Why not give them a place to dance, drink juice or cola and eat overpriced snacks? Hire some bouncers that will frisk them for contraband and maybe even parental chaperones to wander around the dance floor. But at least they’ll have a safe place to hang out where their parents can pick them up from afterwards. It can be set up like Friends with Salvation Army sofas and end tables and the music can be DJ’d by some popular kid whose iPod is ‘da bomb.’ (I know, I’m so old). If anyone’s in, contact me. We could make a killing! Otherwise, they’ll all just go to house parties and the woods for keggers and get sloshed and drive home drunk. Is that a better alternative? I think not! I’m so sure my constant aloneness is getting me to formulate business plans on my long stretches of road. BTW, the Daniel Boone National Forest (in West Virginia) is stunning and even still, folks were tossing full bags from Wendy’s and McDonald’s out their car windows onto the interstate. Isn’t that unreal?!

Things I learned since I last posted: (1) Fruit of the Loom undies are made in Bowling Green, Kentucky and Walt (Something) is employee of the month. Isn’t that sweet? They put up the EOTM on the marquee thingy by the road, (2) Awana is a newish religion started in Illinois and it’s spreading to the South, (3) Folks don’t seem to have Subarus down here. I actually had a woman ask me what type of car I was driving. I guess they’re all Fords and Chevys in these parts, (4) Southern porn retailers don’t mince words. The local “adult store” in Elkton, Tennessee is called “Boobie Bungalow.” Gotta love it! (5) Peyton Law Firm in Nitro, WV wants you to know that when you are faced with a jury, choose them because they’ve “been there, done that.” Okay, not sure that came across the way they wanted it to. (6) In that same town of Nitro, overheard two men in their 40s talking about having lost their jobs but said things were looking up because “they say industry’s movin’ in soon.” I wonder who THEY is and what INDUSTRY means. But I wish them all the best, (7) saw a billboard which makes me think West Virginians prefer Wonder over the brown stuff. It read, “Whole Wheat Nutrition with the White Bread Taste.”

Staying in Beckley, WV and heading to Woodbridge, VA to see Kathy tomorrow night. Then New York-bound. Home Sweet Home.

Radio highlights: “Easy Like Sunday Morning (Lionel Ritchie), “Moondance” (Van Morrison), The Doors, “Round & Round,” “Goodnight Sweetheart Well It's Time To Go,” “Get Together” by the Young Bloods (I wish we all would all “try to love one another right now”), “99 Red Balloons” (did you know how political this song was when it came out? I didn’t but now I actually listen to lyrics I guess).

(As you can probably tell, I think I am losing steam with writing too. Sorry if this is just hard to follow. Nitey nite.)

Junktique, Soul Food, Toad Suck Park and “too many foreigners”

2009-09-10T19:34:00.000-07:00

Woke up to lots of rain, which totally does put a damper on being a wanderer. Regardless, I went to historic Morrilton’s downtown and donated my stuff to the shelter and headed to the junktique stores to fill up the car again. Junktique was a term I learned at the rest stop when I asked about where antique shops or flea markets might be along Route 40. Let’s just say, the term is accurate. There were some stores where I wasn’t sure it was an area to shop in. Kind of like that damp corner of your basement where you just don’t go anymore. Gross! But those can be the best places to find treasures because they don’t know what they have. So sure enough, I did find one piece for $4 and it was McCoy. Cha-ching! The tag said “old ashtray” but meanwhile, it’s totally a candy dish. There aren’t even those valleys for a cigarette to rest so obviously the previous owners just used it for ash. Needless to say, I will wash it thoroughly. I can see it now… all my friends reading this will now question any dish I serve things in from now on.

On my way out of Arkansas, I stopped at one last town known for their antique shops, Brinkley. Unfortunately, this town also has been hit hard by the economy and doesn’t seem as booming as I’m sure it once was. I had to get gas and the strangest thing happened. I pulled up to the pump and realized that there was no gas station, just pumps. Now that’s cutting back, right? Took a turn to the left and saw this Soul Food restaurant. No one else was in there but the food looked great and I had smothered pork chop with beans and mac & cheese with cornbread and sweet tea. YUM!

I parked myself down at a table and watched The People’s Court on the big screen. This place probably used to be hoppin’ back in the day. You could tell. Shame.

And after lunch, I ventured into the last shop I saw on the strip and was met with an “Obama Sale” sign advertising 40% off everything. I wondered. Is this meant to say, “Thanks a lot Obama. Now we have to put everything on super sale” OR “Isn’t it great that Obama is President! Let’s have a sale!”

Oh and in this town, I saw a John Deere bureau. I asked the shop owner if someone would actually buy that and he rolled his eyes and said, “oh yea” but fully understood my disgust. He was as gay as the day was long so he had taste. He he.

One place I went into today had a man and woman chatting in a living room set in the front of the store. I was their only customer so it was super quiet without the typical Christian radio station blaring throughout. So I could hear their conversation and it was a doosie. The woman (owner) was telling this guy that she was “done” when it came to her daughter. She had already given her $42,000, “$18K for a house and the rest for the lawyer and cigarettes and food and stuff.” I love how cigarettes figured into the budget recollection. Anyway, I was soooo curious to find out what she did to get into a court situation but the shop didn’t have anything I was interested in so I moved on. I hope it wasn’t meth-related because I’m getting depressed hearing these constant radio addresses about the evils of meth. It’s so sad. But when I walked out and said ‘thanks’ to the couple, she hollered, “Come back and see us, k?” Everyone, and I mean everyone, says this when you leave a store or restaurant. It’s so stinkin’ cute!

Some highway/radio observations: at Exit 129 on Rt. 40 the area is called Toad Suck Park. Nice, eh? And what is up with all the torn up tires on the highway? How did the car survive that? It just blew and they left it there on the road? If someone knows what this is, do tell. Great bumper sticker on a filthy pickup that drove past me: “This vehicle is undergoing a scientific dirt test.” There was an ad on the radio today for a jeweler that is buying gold but they used an Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonator to say that his state was in economic distress and if you go and sell your gold at this store, you can give California the money afterwards. Now, why would an Arkansas jeweler choose this to market their gold buying deals? Who knows? But it’s especially insensitive right now due to the fires that are making the deficit even worse and the recent loss of his uncle-in-law. Oy vey! That impersonator must have cost a pretty penny to keep that spot running.

I also saw a billboard that read something like, “Use the rod on your child and you will save their life.” Underneath was a bible passage. I couldn’t get my camera out soon enough to shoot it but trust me, it was very odd to read on the interstate. Then again, I also saw an 18-wheeler drive by and on its rear was a HUGE sticker that had a bible passage. And that is on a commercial vehicle representing a company. I just find it so odd that companies are fine with putting religion and business together. But like I said, all the shops I go to have Christian music or commentators on all day long. While listening to some of the radio around here, I wondered whether they would think it was just as shocking to listen to Brian Lehrer or Leonard Lopate or NPR in general. Maybe that would sound completely maddening to them. Who knows? I did get angry though when one shock jock said that “Americans had all lost confidence in Obama.” I was like, “WHAT?!”

Checked into a motel in Corinth, Mississippi and the young man at the counter reminded me that there are still lots of folks in this country that forget that we were all foreigners here at one point. He saw my ID and asked where I was from in New York. He said he had been there and Niagara Falls. I asked if he liked NYC and sure enough, shook his head. I said, “Too many people?” and he nodded but added, “too many foreigners.” Wow. To add insult to injury, he gave me my room card and said, “Thank you ma’am.” MA’AM! What about ‘miss?’ I thought all of my kids got MISS from their Southern roots. I hate ma’am. UGH.

Just hit 5,000 miles. Crazy! Had to drive through suburban Memphis area to get to Mississippi, which by the way I keep singing the spelling of this state in my head [ok, out loud]. The housing developments there are so icky. I mean, they’re nice to some but too cookie cutter for my taste. Thank goodness I live in Queens where the architecture varies from house to house, even within a house). Variety is the spice of life I say. Oh wait, someone else must have said that first. I’m sure of it.

Off to the Waffle House for din-din. Who knows what I will find there. It’s open 24 hours though so it’s gotta be good. Right?

Radio highlights: “Open Arms,” Tina Turner, “Jump (for My Love),” “Hard Habit to Break,” “Dead or Alive” (Bon Jovi), “Open Your Heart.”

Twisters, armadillo roadkill, brassiere assistance, Obama haters and blue hair

2009-09-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

Oklahoma is Cherokee Nation but it's also tornado nation. I drove through this state scared for my life. I had never known or been told what to do if you are in the car and there is a tornado going on nearby. No one else seemed to be phased by it but I was having flashbacks to Helen Hunt watching those twister-chasers swept up in the Oklahoma’s Tornado Alley. I saw one car pull off the road and sit under an overpass made of cement so I did the same but it was getting dark and if the storm didn’t let up soon, I didn’t want to be driving in this Armageddon in pitch black. So sans-Bill Paxton, I mustered up the courage to forge on and drove into the light. The light was Tulsa. I left the storm in my dust and found a place to bunk for the night. I had intended to stay in Muskogee, Oklahoma because I saw that name on the map and it reminded me of a song from the film “Good Morning Vietnam.” Sure enough, now armed with the Internet, it was Merle Haggard's "Okie from Muskogee.” Yea, well, the song didn’t mention how desolate the town really was so I had to hightail it out of there and head to Sallisaw instead. This was a Cherokee Nation area and it wasn’t all that fun to hang out in but I just needed a place to rest my head after a treacherous evening of driving through hell.

I had stopped in Blackwell, Oklahoma earlier in the day and that town was a bit depressed, as are many small towns that have lost some industry and folks don’t have the money to be out shopping. But it seems that there is an oil industry there. The farms, among the grain fields, have oil pumping out of the ground. Not sure how it all works but they are scattered among the wheat grain. The scary thing about the storms here is that you can see the bolts of lightning since the area is so damn flat in all directions. If I hadn’t been driving, I would have loved to capture some of these zig zag wonders on camera. Down the road some, I think I saw what was the result of lightning hitting a field and burning it to a crisp. So sad. I can’t imagine seeing all of your hard work burned to bits in one fell swoop thanks to Mother Nature. Ugh, she can be a bitch!

Two asides: Before the storm had begun, I saw a dead armadillo on the side of the road and it reminded me of that cake in the film “Steel Magnolias” with Julia Roberts but that took place in Louisiana so they must have armadillos too. I also saw a great roadside billboard near Tulsa that read: “Bust Stop. Supporting Tulsa since 1992.” Of course you’d pull over for a bra or two after reading that stroke of advertising genius.

Upon entering Arkansas, the rest area women gave me some good tips on where to find antique or flea markets in the state along Rt. 40. She also pointed out some wineries where there are tastings daily. I had just told her I was alone since they ask for government statistics once they hand over the free map so why would she think I could get boozed up along the way? Strange. But anyhow, she was very helpful and I was off to do some more shopping in Van Buren, Russellville and Morrilton.

Van Buren was great. They had just restored their historic downtown area and Main Street was very picturesque. I discovered a lot of gems in the shops along the way but my best find was a vintage silver dress that I will be wearing to Fred and Antigoni’s wedding at the end of the month. I saw it hanging there and was in awe of it. There was no size tag since it had been handmade so I had to try it on. There was no dressing room but there was a back room of the store so I simply closed the door and guess what? IT FIT! When I was checking out at the counter, I told the very friendly shop owner that I was so excited to find it because I had previously found this neat old hat to wear but didn’t have the perfect dress to pair with it. She insisted that I send her a photo after the party so she could see how well it looked on me. How sweet is she?!

For lunch, I popped into Carol’s Café and what a great choice. Not only was the chicken fried steak divine but the conversation in this Alice-esque diner was what movies are made of. Two women waited tables but the three ladies that were finishing up their lunches at opposing booths were a hoot! One was talking about dying her hair jet black but the man that walked in with a “Van Buren Old Timers” T-shirt on said, “That’s what we call blue hair. Your hair will really turn out lookin’ blue.” Now, I was having a hard time understanding these folks. Not the content of what they were discussing but their accents were so thick that many times, I had to mull over the sentences a few times before I got the gist of it. And I am not exaggerating. The ladies were also talking to themselves. Well, not really. But they were doing that thing where they’re reading the paper, reacting to the ads and saying something aloud hoping that someone will say, “huh?”

What struck me most was how much they shared with one another in public even though they might not even be close friends. They were talking about relatives that had to see counselors due to arrests and such. One of the waitress’ pregnant teen came out from the back and started talking about how much she has to pee lately and that her boyfriend and her were going to get a place together real soon. The woman reading the paper eager for conversation appeared to be a Crawford County Volunteer for Literacy, yet her English was consistently incorrect grammatically. I was worried for those learning the King’s English from this character. But at least she was volunteering. I should not judge. I felt like I was watching an SNL skit when the discussion came to what sex the baby was and if there were any names picked out. It was a girl but if it had been a boy, it was going to be Jackson Lee. The explanation for choosing that combination was too in-depth for me to keep up with so I will spare you the details.

The meal hit the spot though and I was so glad to have interacted with these fine ladies on a rainy day in Arkansas. Everyone is so super friendly here and it seems totally genuine. No reason for it not to be I guess. When I saw that chicken fried steak was the special, I ordered it with mashed potatoes, mac & cheese. When asked if I wanted white or brown gravy though, I was stumped. I felt like there was a wrong answer in the South so I hesitated and sure enough, my waitress said, “Most folks get white.”

Down the road a bit, with a full tummy, I was in this antique flea market and the shopkeep had the most unusual exchange with her neighbor. She simply said, ‘Whadya know?” and then the other woman answered, “I don’t know nuthin’” I know that sounds odd to read but it was as if it was their typical greeting. Like ‘what’s up?’ with the answer, ‘nothing”? Who knows. But another standard that I now love saying is “will gawwwlee” when I see something I like in a store. When in Rome. And by the way, this is the same store where I saw the John Deere handbag with black feathery accents. Someone went way too far here folks.

Another shop I walked into was manned by a husband/wife team. They had to be in their 80s and were the sweetest folks around. I bought this crocheted poncho (Matthea and Cara are laughing right now because I have an actual poncho collection. I know, RIDICULOUS). The woman went into this long drawn-out monologue about how she’s been telling her daughter to come down here to see THAT poncho because she would have loved it. Mind you, clothing is not really sold here. It’s mostly old Ball jars, guns, dolls, lunch boxes, etc. So she was doing this as a way to tell the customer that they just got there in time to snag this great deal. It was sweet. She asked where I was from since my non-twang stood out like a sore thumb. I told her and she immediately said, “Oh my gosh, my daughter lives in Maine.” I had to contain my laughter at how stinkin’ sweet this lady was to think that Maine and New York are practically the same because they are both on the east coast. I guess to her in Arkansas, they are. Before I came to the counter, I had been listening to the radio program she had on in the store. It was this über-conservative radio host spewing out lies about Obama’s health care plan. Saying that he pretty much wanted senior citizens to just die already. I heard her tsk-tsk-ing and wanted so badly to say, “How could you even entertain such an insane thing?” But I refrained. Instead, I asked her what this pin that was hanging by the register meant. It had a piece of rice with initials underneath and she couldn’t recall the manufacturer’s name but informed me that Arkansas is one of the largest producers of rice for the country. That I did not know. By the way, that radio host actually told this joke on the air, “How do you know when Obama is lying about conservatives? His lips move.” Hardy-har.

On my way to Morrilton, where I stayed for the night, I saw a sign for an upcoming livestock auction. I think I want to go to one of those before I leave this part of the country. That would be interesting to say the least. Maybe I can raise my paddle right away for a steer just to participate. Only if it’s got 4 legs though. I wouldn’t want to get stuck with something too big for my Subaru. Speaking of which, “Ain’t No Junk in This Trunk” is being donated to “The Safe Place,” a domestic violence shelter for women and children. I need more room for the obscene amount of stuff I’m accumulating. I look at it this way. I am singlehandedly stimulating the economies of many small towns across America so it’s a good thing.

Radio highlights: “Don’t Be Cruel” (Bobby Brown), “When Doves Cry,” “Hurts So Good,” “All Night Long” (Lionel Ritchie), “Ghostbusters,” “Dancing in the Dark,” “Separate Ways”

5-legged steer, There’s No Place Like Home, Sliders and Faux Fur

2009-09-10T06:18:00.000-07:00

(hit 4,000 miles on my way to Kansas)

I have to admit, driving 7 hours from Denver to Salina, Kansas to visit with my friend Angie’s mom, I was expecting some level of Oz experience. I mean, who wouldn’t? Throw me a little tornado, an old lady on a bike, maybe Toto running along the highway, a hot air balloon festival. Am I going to meet a lot of Dorothys? But I got nuthin’. I passed this harvested grain field (just like the song “Wichita and the wheat fields of Kansas”), and saw a dust whirlwind so I guess I’ll have to take it or leave it. The closest I came to the wizard was seeing the Tin Man on a big billboard advertising the Oz Museum at exit 328 in Wamego.

Just an aside … heard this country song on the radio that I had to mention. (Sometimes I lapse into a trance driving such long distances and leave it on). Who knows what imbecile wrote this piece of nonsense but it was about this man buying into all the new technology, getting an HDTV with 500 channels and a cell phone even though he “doesn’t have much to say.” Now if he doesn’t have much to say, why the hell did I have to hear a song about his recent high-tech purchases? Seriously people. How does this get produced and played on the radio when there are real artists out there that can’t get signed to a record label?

Along Interstate 40, I saw a plethora of disturbing signage. I won’t get into the anti-abortion messages because they were just too overwhelming. But my favorite was the 5-legged cow at exit 70 in Oakley, Kansas. This guy Larry Farmer has a regular freak show of wildlife. I guess the old saying goes, “If you build it, they will come.” Is that old if it’s only from “Field of Dreams” which was released in 1989? I think so, because on the radio the other day, they played the Fat Albert theme song and said, “If you know what this song is from, then you’re listening to the right oldies station.” I was like, “WHAT?!”

Arriving in Salina, I had my directions on a post-it note and was glancing down to follow them when I noticed the lights. Yup, pulled over again. But this time, I was innocent. The cop said I was doing 48 in a 35. Now way in hell was I going that fast on what reminded me of Route 6 back home: absolute chaos with folks coming out of store parking lots at every turn. He was on crack but I didn’t tell him that. I just gave up my documents again and he went to his squad car. Or cruiser. Whatever the hell they call those things. I saw him in my rear-view mirror writing something up so I knew I wasn’t getting away with murder this time. He came to my window and handed me a ticket that said WARNING in big red letters up top. NO FREAKING WAY. I am the luckiest leadfoot around. And then he helped me with my poorly written directions and sent me on my way. He even said I could make an illegal u-turn to get back on the main road. Hilarious!

Found the place in no time and arrived to a happy hour with two fine ladies. Any home where happy hour starts at 4:30 is great in my book. It was even accompanied with a music recital from Miles, a percussion virtuoso who lived down the street (Angie’s nephew to be more specific). At the tender age of 7, he had already mastered something I could never even slightly learn when I dated a drummer in high school for 2 years. Dinner at Gutierrez was delish (had the pork chimichanga but no pic) and the tour of town was very nice. Showed me all the hot spots I’d hit the next day on my way out of town. My biggest jaw drop was this enormous church/school that was purchased by an architect for one dollar because the congregation could no longer afford the upkeep. And he was actually living in it. You could see the light on in a few windows. This had occurred years ago but he still hadn’t done anything with the place. Gosh. If I had that place, I’d find funding to open a youth center and potentially employ so many of the people in town who had lost jobs recently. It would be an awesome space for that. There are grounds, it’s already set up as a school. Ah to dream…

After a lovely night at home with a good, but slow, Netflix, I had the best sleep of my life. One word people: Tempurpedic. In the morning, I hit Salina with full force. First stop: Cozy Inn. This place looked identical to Nick’s Hamburger Shop in Brookings, SD but of course, I had to go inside to be sure. They had the same “Buy ‘em by the sac” tagline but the interior of this place was much more authentic. It might be due to the fact that it hadn’t changed hands as often and remained in its original location since 1922. Shane, the nice man behind the counter who made me my first Cozy slider at 10 a.m. told me a bit about its history. And when he asked me where I was from, he told me about his years in Baltimore in the service when him and his buddies ventured up to New York City to see what the big deal was. They literally did a drive-by in the car because they couldn’t imagine getting out. Again, too many people. He even added that he couldn’t imagine living where you have a few feet in between buildings. Understood. He was very sweet to give me some tips on the neighboring areas to visit like Little Sweden and to be sure to stop at a cemetery to see the tombstones that say things like, “Got shot in the back at a poker game” or “fell under the tractor, survived by his wife and kids.” Pretty literal in these parts. I wonder if you had to pay by the character back in those days. Probably not.

Downtown Salina was very good to me. Not only did I get some cool shots down by the railroad of some graffiti-laden train cars but I found this retro motel that had been abandoned and had some interesting lattice work.

The antique shops were amazing and I even bought a hoochie mama faux fur jacket at the Salvation Army. The art deco buildings in this town are superb. They are a must see if you’re ever in this neck of the woods. The Municipal Waterworks building was my favorite.

Radio highlights: “Private Eyes,” George Michael, “She Bop” (Cyndi Lauper), “Rod Stewart, Mary J. Blige.

Conifer, Red Rocks and albino bison

2009-09-09T07:59:00.000-07:00

Driving up to Conifer from downtown Denver was amazing; and to arrive at this unbelievable home filled with treasures from all over the world, a treat. It was like a museum tour going through each room, learning about the different items and the stories behind them. It reminds me of what I do when someone’s first been to my place, except that the most frequent response to “Where did you find that?” is “the garbage.”

I especially liked the story about the chandelier in the dining room. It had been in the home of the seller’s father and he was someone that played poker with the likes of Doc Holliday and Jesse James back in the day. How cool is that?!

Paula and I ventured out to tour the countryside and had an amazing brunch at this old inn, Historic Brook Forest Inn with a little spring in the back and gorgeous tiny rooms for small people above. It would be a perfect setting for a wedding. We had biscuits and gravy and Eggs Benedict. Apparently, the place crossed hands a few times and at one point, it was a hangout for Harley revelers. I can’t imagine with all the flowery fabrics and lace now, but I’m sure it was fun for hogsters too! The whole tour was an education. I learned about the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), a public work relief program for unemployed men, focused on natural resource conservation from 1933 to 1942. I saw many of the oldest barns in Jefferson County and saw how settlement occurred in this part of the country (Paula wrote an amazing photo essay about this).

I saw an albino bull at Ron Lewis’ range, this nice man that lives near Conifer and operates a farm for folks to see wildlife and such. He also has a cool silver mine shaft in the back and gives folks that don’t want to be embalmed when they die, the opportunity to be buried in his cemetery in just a shroud and be one with the Earth. There’s also a peace memorial on the property.

Red Rocks was amazing. Paula explained all about the geologic phenomenon that is this park. The formations and inclines are stunning to observe. I can’t imagine how much fun it must be to see a show here. The amphitheatre was starting to fill up because Ween was playing the day we visited. There was much tailgating and the parking lot smelled similarly to Cervantes the other night. Paula and I had a discussion about the hippie kids and how odd it is to see them reliving or latching onto an era long gone. At the end of the drive around, we tried to find this garage sale and failed but it was not a lost trip because I got to see an incredible rainbow and Mt. Evans from the mountaintop.

We had also stopped to see a neighbors’ amazing wood carvings on his land. A dolphin, a bear, an Indian and he was working on a totem pole next.

Conifer is a little bit of heaven and I can see why Paula lives there. So remote yet so cozy and welcoming. Thanks a bunch for a great few days and I’m so glad I finally got to stay there and see the wonder of Colorado. I will definitely be back!

Radio highlights: Hall & Oates (Rich Girl), "Missing You," INXS, "Jive Talkin'," Sheila E., "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night."

Trippy Denver

2009-09-06T19:05:00.000-07:00

Arrived in Denver on Friday night of Labor Day weekend and met up with an old friend from high school. Hadn’t seen him in at least 20 years. We had happy hour sushi and sake and caught up briefly on the last two decades. It was a blast! A friend of his stopped by to have a drink and mention that this great band, Vinyl, would be playing at Cervantes that night and they were going to get tickets and wanted to know if we were in. Cervantes was apparently a club that used to be THE place to play on your way from anywhere east to Los Angeles. So folks like Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn played there.

We first headed to some “cowboy bar” where I had the pleasure of meeting Chuck, a passerby just lookin’ for a drink on this end of the summer evening. The guys had just bought shots of whiskey, which I don’t do, so I offered mine to Charles and he accepted. He told me a little about himself. He used to be a horse wrangler and had been kicked a few too many times in the arse and had even had a few run-ins with larger game. I told him about my near-death experience and he sympathized. He had just lost his job which was why he was asking for the kindness of strangers so I gave him a fiver and apologized but we were heading out to see a band in Five Points now. We hugged and we were both on our way.

When we arrived at Cervantes, the band hadn’t yet started so my friend and I went to this speakeasy-type place that mostly (primarily) catered to African American folks. He had always wanted to check it out since it was “known” by many. We went up the stairwell and on the door was a sign that read something like, “Don’t bother coming in unless you want a drink.” In other words, this isn’t a place to people watch or simply see it for yourself. We sat down at the bar and it was just a regular little hole in the wall but I guess since there seems to be quite the color divide here, it was novel for a Denver local. For me, it’s not so far fetched for me to be a minority (white) in an all-Black bar. But whatevs.

When we went back to Cervantes, things were getting started and the band was incredible. From what my friend Sarah tells me, it sounded like a jam band. She defined that as being a band that doesn’t necessarily play a song list but more so just plays. And yes, that was this. Everyone in the room was tripping or stoned or drunk off their ass but they were the friendliest group of people I’ve ever danced in a room with. It was a sight to see, the women especially. They were dancing in their own little world. There was one woman in light blue jeans, the ones we used to covet in the late 80s, and she was getting’ down to this psychedelic rock/jazz music as if she was pole dancing to gangsta hip hop. It was hilarious! And then there was Amanda who was lovin’ life and would dance with anyone who needed a partner. She was very sweet. THEN, there was this other woman, maybe in her early 40s, high as a kite, doing the whole Woodstock waltz all over the dance floor. She didn’t really talk to many folks but didn’t need to. She was havin’ her own party in her head. I make fun but really I enjoyed watching these folks enjoy themselves. It was all very communal and fun. And although I was sober, I prefer to be in these situations. Otherwise, I may not have recalled all of this.

The unique thing that I had never seen before in a music venue was artists painting on platforms while dancing and groovin’ out to the tunes. Most of it was the black light, psychedelic-type paintings of whatever crazy thoughts were going through their heads at the moment. There was straight up painting, some airbrushing and I think I even saw some finger painting (unless that was just corrective).

After Cervantes, we went to a friend’s house to hang a bit but had to go to another friend’s house to feed her pug. That’s where we stayed and it was so comfy there. I was the designated driver of the evening (again) and it was funny. Apparently, I drove the length of downtown Denver because the paranoid folks were worried I’d forget a turn, not use my directionals or go too fast in a 30 mph section. Hilarious! At one point in the ride, we passed this guy in his car having what looked like a hissy fit. I was told to look away. LOL. But then right at the same moment, there was a man on the side of the road digging up his lawn at 3:30 in the morning as if he were going to dump a body in the hole he’d made. To this, the lovely lady in the car with me said, “And this is the landscaping district.” Best line of the night.

In the morning, driving back to our cars, I got to see a wide variety of Denver architecture. Loved Bonnie Brae Ice Cream shop on University Blvd. and fell in love with the little bungalows in the Cherry Creek neighborhood. So adorable. I want one. NOTE to friends: Denver bungalow for EO for Christmas. Thanks.

I can’t seem to exit Wyoming just yet. Maybe it's the cocktails, liquor, music and comedy!

2009-09-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

I want to leave but it’s so massive and I decided not to go west into Idaho and south into Utah. I am heading toward Denver and then east into Kansas and so on. Leaving Dubois, I needed something to eat and stopped at Fort Something-or-other. It ended up being an Indian reservation called Wind River. It’s funny because us New Yorkers called these folks Native Americans being all PC but they seem to call themselves Indians and white folks call them that here too. Who knows? From what I could see, there weren’t any restaurants, just the convenience store that sold fast food stuff. I got a corn dog (can’t have enough of those) and some trail mix. Noticed that most of the young men in the area were dressed as if they were in a street gang in Tijuana. What’s up with that? I also passed a stinky skunk on the road and pondered whether skunks always smell the same no matter where they are. Is that a stupid Deep Thoughts-like question or is it not so bad? I mean, has the smell never evolved? Can it change based on what the skunk eats? Okay, enough about that.

On the radio, I heard that the feds in Tulsa shut down a meth lab operating out of a stairwell in a state office building. Yikes.

Later, I stopped for gas in Walcott and had to use the facilities. I walked inside and the cashier instantly pointed to the women’s room and said, “You from New York?” Affirmative. I did my business and on the way out, I asked, “Well you know where I’m from, where are you from?” Yonkers, he said. But I left there 50 years ago via Tacoma, Washington. Said he’s never been back, which was a lie. I think folks just like to say that because it announces their distaste of the east coast. So odd. He asked me what I do back in Queens and I said I worked with juvenile offenders. I’ve been alternating between that and website designer. Sure enough, the guy next to me who I thought was a rent-a-cop was indeed a correctional officer. I remembered seeing a state penitentiary on the map a few exits back. He just nodded and was on his way. Guess he didn’t want to talk shop.

Did you know that they announce hunter arrests on the radio here? They do. First and last name and city of origin. So strange. Can you imagine if they listed all the offenses each day in NYC and outed you on the radio? Unreal. I know there are police blotters in the Post but it’s just a sampling, right? Not a full list. Anyway, they also have showers at gas stations. Neat, eh? I also love how there are drive-in liquor stores. You have an itch and you don’t even have to get outta the car. Oh, and can we all start saying “Holy Mackerel” again. I heart that phrase. I heard it today and it made me giggle.

While driving through the part of Wyoming where no one lives apparently, I wondered whether Geico had a wildlife clause. What if I hit a bear or buffalo? Would that be covered? There was even an ad for a program that teaches folks how to be careful around bears that creep up on them in their yard or near their children. I never want to live in a place where I have to bring my kids to a program like this. Don’t talk to strangers should be the extent of it. One guy commented in response to the program, “they live here too I guess.”

I started getting hungry again after Rawlins so I thought I’d stop at the next exit (Sinclair) but it smelled like sewage and all my windows were closed. Therefore, I figured any eating establishment would also smell like poo. I passed on Sinclair and waited until Laramie to eat. Tried what seemed to be the only Thai restaurant in the historic area and it was awful. I got the safe dish that no one can screw up, Pad Thai. They screwed it up. I ordered it with chicken and the poultry tasted like fish and the noodles were hard. Gross! Otherwise, cute downtown area. Just don’t go to Anong’s Thai Cuisine. Yucky.

Ran into some other graffiti photogs on my way to the motel. Building's going to be demolished soon so it's a good thing they're documenting it.

Have you ever heard of the Continental Divide? I hadn’t. But it’s this line that divides one side of this continent from the other. Thus, the inventive name. Apparently, I’ve been following it all day long and the signs indicate what elevation you are at. The highest point I noticed was 9500 feet and soon after, I psychosomatically started feeling altitude sickness. I’d like to officially place blame on all of my history/social studies teachers for never fully teaching us geography. It has nothing to do with my not studying. Not only have I never heard of this line on the map that splits the continent in two, but I keep having to look at my kid’s atlas that Brynn gave me to remind myself of my potential routes. How embarrassing is that? Hand me a map of Europe, however, and I’m good.

Hit 3000 miles yesterday. Nuts!

Trade, did anyone have money on Wyoming?

2009-09-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

Arrived in Yellowstone at about 7:00 and went straight to the first campgrounds. I was going to finally tent it. But right as I drove into the registration area, I saw the sign that said no sleeping on the ground due to a lot of bear activity. Alrighty then, so where the heck was I going to sleep, in my car? Granted, I had thought of that before leaving NYC to save on cash but now it wasn’t sounding so appetizing. I walked in anyway and asked if they could help me find a place where I could in fact “sleep on the ground.” The kind gentleman behind the counter showed me Bridge Bay 4 miles down the road so I went there instead. But not until I got something in my belly. The last I had eaten something was the corn dog and let’s just say, that didn’t fill me up. I went and got a pulled pork sandwich with fries at the Yellowstone General Store and it ain’t no real general store. It’s more like a tourist trap extravaganza. Merchandise a plenty with this cute little lunch counter in the back. All the folks that work there are from various countries around the world. I guess they have some kind of exchange program. My waitress was from the UK. Rachel was her name and you could tell that she was so tired of answering folks questions about where she was from in England because they had visited England before. Woop-di-doo! I wasn’t at all tempted to buy anything because all that stuff always turns me off. And I read somewhere, probably in Lucky magazine, that women over 30 should never wear T-shirts with words on them. Maybe because it gives men an excuse to stare at your chest? Who knows.

At Bridge Bay, there was a bit of a line to register so I listened to the questions asked so I’d be prepared once it was my turn. The folks before me were from Denver and had a popup camper on their pickup and asked to be placed as far from others as possible. I think they were on their honeymoon because the man kept saying that his woman was costing him lots of money and she would respond, “well, you married me.” I stepped up to the window and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Please place me next to a lot of people. This is my first time camping solo at a real campsite.” Sorry Mom and Dad, but Point Sebago doesn’t count. The woman asked for my information and as I recited my Woodside address, I chuckled and said, “it sounds like I live in a place like this but it’s New York City, Queens to be exact. I do have some trees outside my windows but that’s the extent of nature in the area.” I also asked if I could be near the amphitheater since I overheard another person mention that there would be a park ranger presentation there at 9:00 and it was 8:15. I was soon to be the new resident of space E233 which was easy to remember since my grandmother lived on W233 in the Bronx.

She proceeded to go through the rules and asked if I wanted any firewood and/or kindling when she came to the safety regulations pertaining to campfires. I laughed since I couldn’t imagine pulling that off in the dark (which it was now) along with getting my tent situated. After all, what would I do, warm up the beef jerky that was in my purse still? Next was the wildlife discussion. I had already seen quite a few signs about being careful on the roads and then of course the bear warning at Fishing Bridge up the road but she told me that if a bison were to park himself next to my tent, to just ignore him. Now, who on God’s green Earth would seriously be able to ignore a 2000-pound monster is they were sitting beside their flimsy tent? But she wasn’t kidding. The morning after, I saw a bison right across the way from where my tent was. Since she now knew how green I was, she asked if I had a flashlight because I’d need one to walk to the amphitheater. Check. Always had one in my car for emergencies.

So I drove over to the site, not easy to find in the pitch black even with headlights. It was more than sufficient for me since I didn’t have much else than the tent. I opened up my self-erecting tent bag and sure enough, it just popped up and was done. I had noticed on the board next to the registration lady that they were expecting a storm so I put the additional rain guard on top of the tent and secured it in all the right places. But I didn’t bother with those bendy things. I didn’t have the patience to figure out where they went and it was already resembling a tent so whatevs, as Nicole would say. I threw my sleeping bag in there and took the the flashlight with me to the amphitheater. I had no clue where the path was to get over there but I took whatever looked traveled upon. It was a cute little spot and the ranger was about to start. The presentation was entitled, “Photographing Yellowstone.” It was a series of photos from around the park that he took and he told helpful stories of safety and prime spots to shoot the sights. It was a great introduction to see what I’d be seeing in the next couple of days and what not to miss. I walked back to the site and simply went to bed. No air mattress, just me in my bag on the ground. Slept very well until 3 a.m. when it started raining. I thought, ‘please let it stop,’ since I had nothing between me and the ground, like one of those tarp things. It stopped soon after thank goodness. I woke up at 6:30 because I started to hear others waking up. Went to the restroom and came back to disassemble the tent and get on the road to start seeing the park. That was the part that wasn’t so easy. I wish I had bought the self-disassemble AND self-erecting tent. There were directions on the inside of the bag that held the tent but this NYC girl was stumped. Luckily, there was a seasoned camper next to me, a teenager on vacation with her parents from Minnesota. She did it in 4 seconds flat. She even undid it and did it again so I could watch one more time. I think I have it? I told her I was from NYC so this wasn’t so second nature to me. I think I keep using that whole “I’m from New York City” line as my “get out of stupid jail for free" card.

Had breakfast at Lake Lodge’s cafeteria and headed off to see Hayden Valley and the Mud Volcano. The volcano and caldron were already teeming with people. (Mostly seniors and European couples since school had already been in session since last week Wednesday, there weren’t many kids in the park.) The mud pots were cool, bubbling over with sulphur-smellin’ steam coming out of them. One guy said to me, “Can you imagine what the people that discovered this place must have thought when they saw this? They probably thought they were in hell.” He was so right. It smelled awful and smoke was coming out of the ground all over the place. There was a trail that went up the hill that looped around to the parking lot again but it was about a 2/3 mile “hike” and some parts were steep. I figured I might as well do it so I could get myself acclimated to doing some exercise in case there were other sights that I would HAVE to walk a lot to get to. I went up the boardwalk (which is what the ranger said last night you should always stay on) and there were these two guys from Wisconsin who were coming down and they warned me that they had just seen a herd of bison crossing the boardwalk and had to wait it out. They said they had gone already but to be careful nonetheless. I walked up over the hump to see if the coast was clear and I saw the herd they spoke of going up into the mountain with a few stragglers that were following their same path. I was about 1000 feet away at this point. Once they were all out of sight, I continued on the boardwalk trail. Right before I reached the spot where the others had crossed, two bison surprised me from the left, so I literally backed up. I had just taken my camera out to take a photo of the landscape. Granted, I was probably 500 feet away when I saw them because I remember taking a photo at full zoom. But instead of following the same path as their friends, they literally got ON the boardwalk and started heading right toward me.

Now, I don’t have cable at home so I’m not a frequent Nature Channel viewer but I did know that with bears, you’re supposed to play dead. But Mr. Ranger last night didn’t say a thing about what to do if a bison is charging you ON the approved boardwalk passageway. I was following the rules. The damn signs everywhere said to always remain at least 25 feet away from a bison. Who the hell are they kidding? That’s like 5 short people lying down one after another. I was 500 feet away and I know what that looks like because I once asked a fireman how far that was since it always says to keep that far back behind a firetruck. Now as many of you reading this know, although I’m thin, I am severely out of shape, so running was a challenge. And from what this sign says …

… USELESS since they can run three times as fast as you. And in my case, probably 6x as fast as me. But I have no death wish so I ran like crazy down the boardwalk back to the people I had just been alongside. I really wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out of this situation alive (and I know I am an exaggerator at times but I am being completely serious). I mean, look at this photo of them coming at me.

I was only taking a photo from 500 feet at full zoom because I assumed they were going to go UP the mountain just like the others. It’s mating season after all. Didn’t they want to follow the girls? (I learned that last night at the presentation. August is mating season for bison). So luckily, once they got to the part where there were railings, they went down onto the pasture and barreled down the hill toward the parking lot. I finally stopped running and these elderly couples asked if I was okay but I was hyperventilating. Now, the last time and only other time I hyperventilated was when I hit a 10-point buck (that’s an old deer I think) on my way to my high school one evening to hook up with my mother at a PTA meeting. So there’s got to be a pattern here. I need to breath into a bag whenever large game are involved. One of the women that came to my rescue literally dumped her souvenirs on the boardwalk to give me the paper bag they came in. Soon enough, I was okay and had calmed down a bit. But I still cannot believe that these enormous animals were literally inches away from me and I wasn’t even sure if they would strike. I’m so sure my mother was worried about me going off with strange men in South Dakota. Who knew that I’d come close to meeting my demise in a national park considering all the third world countries I’ve travelled to alone. Or better yet, all my visits to jails and prisons. You’d think Rikers would be scarier than Yellowstone. I think I now know why those in middle America have guns. Yikes!

I got back in my car and headed to the next sight. Waterfalls. They were beautiful and so plentiful. The ranger last night had said that they were in full force in May and June once the snow starts melting so I wasn’t expecting a lot of water coming down but woah! Along the trail to get to the best vistas, I heard this woman say to her husband, “Oh look, there’s that poor girl who was almost gored by those bison.” And then down the hill a bit, another woman came up to me and said, “How are you doing? That was scary, right?” I nodded. “I guess you should be insulted though that they didn’t want you as their prey. Maybe too thin, not enough meat.” Then her husband chimed in, “Maybe they didn’t like white meat.” These retired folks have a lot of time on their hands to come up with these clever quips. One guy in their party asked where I was from and said, “Oh, so you’re just used to being chased by purse-snatchers, not wildlife.” So needless to say, I’m glad to be alive. I started in on this trail to another waterfall and when I stopped seeing folks around, I doubled back. No self-guided trails for me. I am definitely spooked by this experience and it wasn’t until I got cell phone service at 10 p.m. that I was able to call my mother and recount the whole ordeal and I wept like a baby. That was a good thing because I wrote all this soon after it happened and instantly went into humor mode but when I told the story to my mother, it all came back and I was seriously inches from being severely hurt or killed.

The rest of the day was spent going to the many sights in Yellowstone. One of the roads was closed for repairs, which brought on detours that added to getting around but the park was pretty much empty in comparison to the regular summer months. It was nice because there weren’t tons of people in your photos. Seeing everything is a lot of stopping and going along the roads. There are these pullouts (vista points) where folks stop to take photos and I did a lot of that, as you will see in my Flickr set. It’s a must when you are faced with such amazing views. At the same time, the roads can be pretty scary. Sometimes, there aren’t shoulders and you’re looking down at the abyss. And other times, the non-CDL-license folks who have rented from 1-800-RV4RENT are barreling around curves and have no clue what they are doing. I overheard one senior couple talking to another at one of the geysers about their RV. They never had any intention of buying a recreational vehicle before but when some friends of theirs did this trip and said they had a hard time finding places to stay with their dog, they figured this would be the best way to have the pup and have no hassles. Their 20-something daughter chimed in saying, “Yea, some life this dog has. He gets a $60,000 RV so he can come along on the family vacation and they wouldn’t even pay for my college.”

One strange observation I had today was that celebrities could totally have a laid back family vacation here. Wear stupid clothes with dumb sayings on them, a baseball cap, sunglasses and hiking boots and no one will recognize you. I saw this one woman at the Norris Geyser museum and I instantly thought she was famous because of her amazingly toned body and perfect tan and gorgeous boyfriend or husband. I heard them speaking to one another and it was a language I couldn’t quite place but from the looks of her, I figured it was Nordic. She was about 6 feet tall, blonder than blonde and perfect in every way. I asked her where they were from and she said Norway. Not knowing whether a joke would be understood, I said it anyway: “Do all women in Norway look like you, because if so, I’m never going there.” Yea, she didn’t get it. She just nodded and smiled and moved on. But this old guy behind me got it and smiled at me.

Although Janet suggested at least 3 days in Yellowstone, I have to admit, having taken “the senior tour” and staying off the trails (which obviously take a while), I hit everything in a day. Granted, I woke up at 6:30 and left Old Faithful, my second to last sight at 6:45 p.m. but it was a good run. It was almost like that feeling when you go to Six Flags and you’re trying to get all the rides in before your folks tell you it’s time to go home.

Another hilarious overheard statement was from this young girl with her boyfriend sitting and waiting for the every 92-minute blast. She said, “Isn’t it amazing that all the roads in the park are so close to all the things we want to see!” Yea, she’s going to college.

After seeing the Grand Prismatic Spring (http://www.astrosurf.org/luxorion/Documents/yellowstone-grand-prismatic-spring.jpg) from the ground, not like this aerial shot, I was back on the road, trying to leave Yellowstone and the trauma of my day. From the ground this amazing sight isn’t as colorful. I even tried to use that function on my camera that Matthea taught me once in Central Park where you can add color to pictures but it looked lame. Oh well.

Sure enough, I hit mountain road construction and it took me one hour to go 7 miles and I was starting to get tired. Stopped at the next lodging area in Grand Teton National Park, just south of Yellowstone and rented a tent cabin for the night. She warned of bears and I just ignored it because I really wanted to rest easy. Once I arrived at my site, I called my mother and went to bed.

I realized that traveling through Wyoming was going to take a while. I am now heading southeast toward Denver and plan on visiting friends there. Using Dubois, WY’s library. Another friendly, quiet place sans-wildlife. On my way here, I noticed all these ATV enthusiasts. They look like bandits with their bandanas wrapped around their faces. Scary. And there were also a bunch of cyclists along the winding, up and down mountain roads. They must be serious masochists to do that to themselves. There was even more construction getting here. The signs said, “Your Recovery Dollars at Work.” UGH! Construction in the mountains is no joke. Instead of just saying “slow down,” they have to escort you the whole way because it’s that treacherous. And based on the radio spots for the Idaho and Wyoming Meth Projects, teens talking about their addiction and quick demise, maybe an escort isn’t a bad idea. Why is meth a small town America problem and not seen as much in big cities?

Radio highlights: Didn’t have the radio on too much because I could usually only get country and as we all know, that’s not REALLY music. But I am now obsessed with Hope Waits. She’s the new Norah Jones from what the disc jockey said on KMTN. I really like her voice. Other than that, the only blast from the past I recall was “More than Words.”

Forgive me for the 200+ photos this time around. I didn’t have time to edit down. And stop your naggin’ Brynn. I know this isn’t the culinary photography trip you hoped for but if you were with me, you’d realize that following the Food Network guy’s Diners, Drive-ins and Dives is harder than it looks. He probably flies into each place and then rents those 50s convertibles. So I hope my roadside sandwiches and lodge cafeteria helpings have been enough for you. ☺

And for those of you that were stumped by the title of this post. My colleague Trade at WGEN started a pool on which state I would meet my demise, so I thought I’d send a little guilt his way.

Yellowstone is yonder...

2009-09-01T14:42:00.001-07:00

After seeing the national monuments, I went back to my mountain lodge in the sky and relaxed watching some television and went to bed early. 4 a.m. ain’t regular for me either boys. (FYI, I was tame in my depiction of my night out with the guys because they’re reading this so I’ll tell y’all what really happened when I get back home – he he). Leaving Deadwood, I took a different loop around to head toward Sundance, Wyoming. Didn’t quite get to see Robert Redford and wasn’t at all cognizant from the freeway that there was even a town that celebs would trek to each winter for the film festival but Sundance seemed to be a big city so I stayed away. I ended up staying in Buffalo at this roadside motel with shoddy WiFi after having amazing flautas at Sol de Vallarta, a great Mexican restaurant in town. Bummer because I could hardly upload photos. Now, I’m in Cody, Wyoming at the library taking a break from driving since I’m almost at Yellowstone. Back in Deadwood, the guys said that the population of South Dakota practically doubles when the Sturgis Rally comes to town. I think that out here, that must be the case too because it doesn’t look like many folks live in the towns I’ve been passing through.

Got gas in Ten Sleep, WY and learned that it’s called that because the Sioux used the name towns based on how many nights of sleep it took them to get there from their home base. So neat! At that gas station, I ran into a few Golden Guys (cattle farmers) that were having their lunch together talking about selling property and having to subdivide if they went past selling 2 parcels of land. No idea what that’s about but it involved the government regulations and they weren’t too keen on the Feds interfering in their land dealings. It’s funny because back in Custer when I met Penny thru Milty, an elderly woman was getting coffee next to me and said she had just watched the entire Ted Kennedy service and Penny asked her, “You really liked him even though he was a Democrat?” She said, “of course, I grew up with them and now the legacy is finished.” I wondered whether she would just out and out not like me if she knew I was a Democrat. She already said that she never wanted to visit NYC because there were too many people. So we already didn’t have too much in common. But her hope for a next vacation was to go to Zion National Park and that sounded good to me. I know Cara would love for me to hate Republicans but I imagine I am meeting a bunch of them on this trip and they are good people, just have some different views and I’m starting to realize why.

There will always be differences when you live in a totally different environment. Like this morning… I woke up to check out at 10 a.m. and there were a bunch of young guys outside my room drinking beers and chatting. Now I would think it’s a bit early for that but who am I to judge. And for nature-surrounded folks, you’d think they’d use less Styrofoam but it’s everywhere. When you ask for food to go, it’s in a big Styrofoam tray and when you get coffee at a truck stop, Styrofoam cups. I have a thermos so I just fill that up each time. And there are runaway truck ramps here so if a truck loses its breaks on a steep incline, it can go up this gravel path and slow down to a stop hopefully. I also took notice of the lady who ran the motel I was at. Do these folks just watch TV all day long since they have to be around and near the counter all day, every day? That seems like the dullest existence personally but it may just be her cup of tea.

When I got off the road in Sundance to get a map from the Visitor Center, these two men in a van saw my plates and asked what park of New York I was from because they were from upstate. First New Yorkers I’ve met so far. From Elmira and were going hunting in Cody and beyond. Matter of fact, the passenger was drinking a beer in the van too. Whatevs. They suggested a few things for me and were very nice to invite me to their campsite for a beer later (as if I would know where that was). So wait a minute. They were going hunting and on the radio, I heard a public service announcement educating hunters visiting Cody on what a black bear versus a grizzly looks like. Now if these guys’ target is a bear, what the hell do they do with an 800-pound grizzly or black bear when it’s dead on the ground? They didn’t have a forklift on their 70s disco van. Do tell if you know. I hope they don’t just leave it there to be feasted on by Bambi and vultures. Ewww…

The countryside is so incredibly gorgeous out here that I keep stopping the car to take photos but I have to quit that or else I’ll never get anywhere. And then you take the photo and it just doesn’t express how amazing it is to see these sights and to be driving on lengths of road that are surrounded by unreal mountains and forests. Of course I’m listening to the radio the whole way and another thing I noticed about ads on the radio here is that the owners of the companies advertising often do the talking themselves rather than hiring some snazzy voiceover person. Maybe folks around here prefer hearing the guarantees from the guy himself but I keep laughing because they often have no personality on the air. They sound like a monotone Hank Hill reading everything without any enthusiasm whatsoever. Another thing I’ve heard on the radio is that the winter is going to be awful from the Rockies to the Appalachian Mountains according to the Farmer’s Almanac. I’ve seen a few of these pamphlets at antique stores and I don’t understand. Are farmers also meteorologists? Anyway, they say we’ll have to button up big time this coming winter. They even plugged Snuggies saying you should probably go out and get one. Those are the full body blanket things that everyone makes fun of, right? Oh, and I think I saw a real live vulture on the road before eating some carcass. Ewww… And, I think I want a big round red pickup truck some day. They are just neat. It has to be old though. Surprise, surprise, right?

Stopped for a corn dog and root beer at the A&W American Food drive-in and because I’m an idiot, I pulled into the wrong slot so I couldn’t press the button for a carhop. I learned that term because my lovely next door neighbor in Queens, Jennifer, used to be a carhop at an A&W back in Fairborn, Ohio. Wait til you see in my Flickr photos, the bathroom there. So odd.

Radio highlights: “Life in the Fast Lane,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” Barry Manilow, “All out of Love,” Fleetwood Mac, “Love is a Battlefield,” “Addicted to Love.”

The Nicest Guys Ever are from South Dakota

2009-08-31T21:59:00.000-07:00

(written August 30, 2009)

Wall Drug is for kids folks. Unless you want to buy silly souvenirs, there’s not much need to stop in there. Ironically, the town made it quite easy for me to leave soon after I arrived because the entire town’s power went out. Got on the road and headed to Custer State Park where I was planning on tenting out in the wilderness that night among the buffalo and whatever other wildlife they could throw at me. I have a zero degree sleeping bag with me and a self-erecting tent so I should be fine. Took the exit for the park and realized that the blackout had reached this far too. All the traffic lights were out and no one could sell you gas because the pumps were all electronic now. I had enough to last me the ride through the park and more but since I had a few near missed on “E,” I was trying to be cautious. Got back on the road and realized I was going in the wrong direction because I paid too much attention to the gas station and didn’t see that the gas station was the turnoff for the park. Oh well. By the time I made it back to the gas station, their price light was on indicating power was back on so I got some gas and needed some caffeine.

As I was going inside to get coffee, a man saw my plates and said, “Far from home, eh?” His name was Milty Belt, a retired professor of psychology at a nearby college. He had a black pickup and was very interested to hear about my trip so he waited outside on the bench to chat as I got my drink. We talked for a while and he was awfully funny. Told me how much bales of hay cost ($600-800 for those big round ones), and got a kick out of my city girl ignorance of all things country. Penny, the woman who worked at the station came up to clean up a bit and was saying how she NEVER wanted to go to NYC, “too many people. The only thing I’d want to see is the Statue of Liberty anyway.” They seemed to know one another and I later found out that he lived up the road in Keystone. He asked if I was going to go riding and I assumed he meant horseback. He meant motorcycle riding. Right! I forgot that so many folks around here are bikers because Sturgis is just north of here. There are Harleys everywhere and there’s even a special hand gesture they do to one another when they pass on the road.

Milty asked if I’d be interested in a ride since he goes around the park at least twice a week to get the bike out and enjoy the scenery. He understood if I didn’t want to since I just met him but I assured him that this fact didn’t stop me from experiencing something fun and he seemed to be someone that folks around here knew. We were to meet at the park entrance in 30 minutes or less and on the way, I left a hilarious voicemail for my folks, giving them his name, the cross-streets of the gas station, that he knew Penny who worked there and added that if I didn’t call back in a few hours after the ride, assume the worst. Needless to say, I did. It was a blast. I have never been on a Harley before. He asked and I mentioned my Vespa ride through Manhattan, which was also with a guy I had just met at a gallery opening. But “Uncle Milty,” which was always his nickname, looked at me and said seriously, “that’s a scooter.”

We saw the Needle’s Eye, some buffalo resting along the road, drove through the town of Custer and he brought me back to my campsite where I’d tent that night. He thought I was crazy since it would get down into the 40s that night but I was intent on doing it. The area was situated right on a lake with swimming but it was already so cold. I didn’t even have socks on during the ride because I didn’t think I’d need socks in the summer! I had to borrow proper shoes and a sweatshirt from my “ain’t no junk in this trunk” collection. Thank goodness I hadn’t gotten rid of that stuff yet. The ride was chilly but being behind him cut down on the wind. I thanked him for a lovely ride on his Road King and he wished me safe travels in the future. He said I reminded him of a girl he used to date and she was crazy too. With those kind remarks, he went off into the mountains.

At this point, I was not about to set up tent just yet. I wanted to explore other parts of the park and get something to eat. I happened upon this lodge and a general store. Bought some jerky and cheese (hilarious) for emergencies, a bacon pop for Kobe and went for an early dinner at Blue Bell Lodge. Had the buffalo meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a glass of cabernet, the second drink of my trip so far. Two couples were just leaving the outdoor patio when I sat down so I pretty much had the place to myself. I used the time to take advantage of my weekend minutes and called Matthea to tell her about my ride. As we were wrapping up, three guys came out onto the patio and sat down with their drinks. I felt I might be too loud on the phone so I apologized. They were cool. Told Matthea I was going to go over there when I hung up to join them. Just felt like it. Sure enough, it was a good decision. They were very nice. All married with teenagers, all from eastern South Dakota. They were on a golf/hiking/gambling boys weekend and had just returned from the summit of Harney Peak, a 7,242 feet peak nearby and were doing the rounds at the lodges in the park.

They didn’t seem to believe that I was from New York because I didn’t have an accent and wasn’t swearing so I took out my ID and proved it. We chatted about my trip so far and what they all do for a living: sales, jewelry and telecommunications (Mike, Brian and Paul respectively). Mike was the basketball coach for their kids and that’s how they all met each other. Their kids have been friends for years. Sweet. So they were staying near Deadwood and were heading up there soon to go out to some restaurant and go to another casino. I didn’t know much about Deadwood. Hadn’t seen the HBO show and as with most of the places I had been, didn’t do much research. This was the town where Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back of the head. He was a gunslinger in town. Deadwood was also a mining town and I got to see a mine from the road. It just kept going down.

The boys invited me to come with them and I accepted. I already trusted they were good men it sounded like an adventure. Brian drove with me and we followed Paul and Mike. I had already eaten but they had dinner at Midnight Star, a restaurant on Main Street, Deadwood, owned by Kevin Costner. He had filmed “Dances with Wolves” nearby and loved the area so he opened his own restaurant and plastered the walls with himself (costumes, photographs, memorabilia from each and every one of his movies). Very humble. I had chocolate cake for dessert and afterwards, we headed to Saloon No. 10, another famous spot. This was where Hickok was shot in the late 1800s. It had sawdust floors, smoke-filled air, blackjack tables, slot machines and young girls in corsets. It seemed to be a trend among the ladies but some of them were wearing them with strap bras, which was just tacky. If you’re gonna wear a corset, ya gotta have your breasts hanging out properly. C’mon ladies! Mike and I played the roulette machine and won $45 in less than 20 minutes. It was fun. Although it was his $5 that started us off, he split the winnings with me. What a generous guy. Paul, on the other hand, was playing blackjack and I don’t think he ended up in the black at the end of the night. But he did get to participate in some very interesting bachelorette festivities and I’m sure that made it memorable. Similar to Hogs & Heifers in NYC, this seemed to be the place to come for your hen party. There were girls all over the place handing out condom bead necklaces and brides-to-be asking for personal items, scavenger hunt style, that she could wear. You could also see penis straws in the drinks of many girls’ glasses strewn across the bar. My new friends were very good at meeting gals obviously. A few they met on the hiking trail snuck up on them at the restaurant that night and later on the street when we were all kicked out, offering us a cab ride home since they ordered a 16-passenger van. See, all the girls must have known that these were the good ones.

After a stroll down the road to another bar that had live music but few patrons, we met another young lady from Colorado who had enough energy to power Deadwood. We assumed she worked there since she recruited us to come in and enjoy the tunes but we think she just felt bad there were no people around and the band was still playing their hearts out. She strangely turned a night out drinking with friends into a lesson about homelessness and how the government could do better economically to house them for free than let them live on the streets due to the high costs of frequent ER visits by homeless individuals. Not sure what this girls major was back “home” but it must be either political science, social work or theatre because she was definitely a character with a lot of research under her belt.

We went back up to Saloon No. 10 to meet up with Brian’s friend Mike who was a realtor in Deadwood and had found his house for him 6 or so years ago. His wife, daughter and her boyfriend were also in attendance and they were a fun bunch! Be sure to check out the photo of Kim’s boyfriend because it was killing me to come up with the actor who he reminded me of. I said Noel Wyle but I think he’s more like this younger actor that was in all of those “American Pie”-type movies. After the saloon closed at 1:30, we all headed to their house for “breakfast.” Mike and Diane actually made a huge spread for a bunch of drunks who didn’t want the night to end. I had drive their Escalade there since these kind gentlemen were in no shape to drive at this point and were responsible enough to let the New Yorker who knew when to call it quits have the keys to gladly chauffeur them around.

Breakfast was fabulous and hanging out with this crew was a blast. We headed home to the house near Deer Mountain. The guys had already offered me a floor in their house to stay over since the park was an hour south and I sure as hell wasn’t interested in tenting any longer. I had a lovely room all to myself and we all crashed immediately. Woke up to see what an amazing property this was. Surrounded by tall Ponderosa Pines with wraparound decks, this lodge in the Black Hills (named by Sioux Indians due to the darkness of those Ponderosas) was the perfect place to chill out and write. And that’s what I am doing. Brian graciously offered the keys to me so I could stay as long as I wanted before I headed out farther west on the next leg of my trip. So cool.

After breakfast with the fellas, as they headed back east for Monday jobs, I chose to go see Crazy Horse and Mt. Rushmore in one fell swoop. It was a beautiful day, perfect for viewing mountaintop masterpieces. They were both incredible. I was worried that I wouldn’t be impressed, having seen so many images of them over the years, but hearing the history and how they were created (and are still being created), was very educational and a cool experience. I even got a piece of the rock blasted away from Crazy Horse for free outside of the sculptor’s studio and plan on giving it to my nephew who will hopefully some day take his family there and see the completed sculpture.

A few things I learned from being out with the guys: no dice games in South Dakota casinos (why, dunno), “motorboating,” “tramp stamp,” “2-bagger,” some guys are sensitive enough to buy the David Foster tribute album from PBS and South Dakotans love to “call bullshit.” Can’t explain here, look it up.

Golden Guys, Free Haircuts and Badlands

2009-08-31T21:26:00.003-07:00

(written Aug. 28, 2009)

Lunch for farmers is 10:30 a.m. apparently. Jerry, who sat next to me had a huge slab of fried ham and hash browns and brought his own tomatoes in a Ziploc bag. You might be wondering if Jerry, with his checkered buttoned down and suspenders, chatted me up like all the only kind gentlemen I sit next to at the counter. Well, no he didn’t. And yes, I took offense. I got the Midwest nod but that was all. This all occurred at Betty’s Café in downtown Mitchell. I had my first meal of the day there at 11:15 and many of the towns’ farmers were already finishing up lunch as I ate my eggs over easy, hash browns drowned in butter and wheat toast. I highly recommend drowning your hash browns in butter. They probably singlehandedly put me in the grave a year earlier, but it was well worth it. Right as I was leaving, another Golden Guys crew was having lunch together. Where are the Golden Girls? Do the older women in these towns not like one another enough to meet up for lunch each day? Or are they too busy making up their homes to come out to the local coffee shoppe?

I just so happened to arrive in Mitchell in the middle of their corn festival so Main Street was lined with amusement rides and food vendors, mostly BBQ. I asked at Betty’s why it hadn’t started up yet and she looked at me for a second and said, “because the kids are still in school.” Duh! I wonder if she thought I wanted to jump on the tea cups ride as soon as they turned it on. The town itself was very cute if you could see it past all the cotton candy and prizes for squirting water quickly into the clown’s mouth. I took some of the side streets to get away from the excitement and saw this little old-fashioned barber shop. I walked in but no one was there. Then, all of a sudden, I heard “Can I help you sweetheart?” A nice gentleman that resembled a good looking Dom Deluise came out from the back room. The cool Hawaiian-type shirt may have helped the Dom look-alike come to mind. So I asked if he’d cut my hair straight across and how much that would be. I told him I usually went to barbers in the city since it was cheaper than going to a girl salon. I didn’t remember to use my regular come-on, “Do you do girls in here?” That always goes over well back home. He said we’d “figure something out.”

So I sat down in the cool red chair and he put that little white tissue paper thing around my neck as if I was going to get a shave and began chopping off the inches. He even recited the amount of months it would take to regrow. I never realized there was a calculation for that. 8 months apparently. Woah! Dave asked what I did back home and whether there were real George Castanza’s there. He also knew about Five Points so I mentioned that I used to work in the courts right next to that spot. Maybe he’s seen Gangs of New York or something because when I asked him if he had ever been, he said no. But he had a friend from here that had gone out there to do his music thing downtown, but ended up in computers. Since I already knew what he did for a living, he proceeded to tell me that George McGovern’s barber was cutting my hair. I think he sort of asked me if I knew who that was and honestly, I recognized the name but couldn’t for the life of me remember exactly who he was, but I nodded regardless. I knew he was a politician though. And now I was assuming he was from South Dakota. Sure enough, I was spot on. He apparently grew up in Mitchell and lived right down the road. Mr. Carter, my new barber, said you could even go knock on his door and he’d invite you in for a chat. Not sure I wanted to do that but good to know. So the cut was done and he did a fabulous job. I asked him what the damage was and he said it was on him. Unreal! Another gentleman giving me somethin’ for nuthin’. He said he enjoyed the conversation and he wouldn’t take anything. So sweet. I thanked him and plan on sending him a postcard from Mt. Rushmore.

Down the road was the Corn Palace and the way it was advertised, you’d think it was an amusement park of some sort. It’s cool to see but I do hope no one travels here to see just that. As luck would have it, I arrived on the day that Joan Jett and the Blackhearts was playing there and I couldn’t help but wonder when I saw the auditorium if they would sell out the seats. She’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I heart her but I still didn’t want to stick around until 7:00 and pay $35 for “I Love Rock & Roll” and a bunch of other songs I probably wouldn’t recognize. Sorry Joan. I did walk around and learn some history of the palace. It’s quite a structure. Made of corn husks and dried kernels. Very unique for sure! Walking back to my car, I ran into Joan’s tour bus driver. He was cleaning the bug carcasses off the windshield with a ladder. He said, “it’s like it’s raining bugs around here.” Considering I had to stop twice on the way to clean off my own, I agreed. And their guts get all sticky and make it real hard to clean. I feel bad for the Queens car wash guy that will have to deal with my vehicle when I return. Gross!

So I got back on the road and headed to the Badlands. On the way, I got mooned by these young boys in a pickup. I saw the ass all of a sudden but couldn’t believe that kids still did this sort of thing. After the pants came back on, they drove so fast, I never caught up to give him a thumbs up. Wasn’t enough of a quick draw to snap a shot of the full moon. Sorry. I stopped at a rest area to get some information and this kind woman gave me a ton of useful tips on seeing the Black Hills and all the cool monuments in 3-4 days. I have no clue whether it will take that long but I did tell here I wasn’t all that interested in anything museum-related or exercise-related. Hiking (which really means walking) was fine but no biking or any of those exertion-type things. So I got my map and was all set. The sunflowers along the route were cool and the highway signs advertising Wall, SD and other sights were hilarious! They know how to keep you entertained on such a long flat road. And I hit 2,000 miles on this stretch.

With one eye on the road and the other on the signs, I kept mistaking “Supper Club” for “Stripper Club.” I started to think this highly Christian part of the country had some skeletons in their closets. The fonts they use confused me at 75mph (don’t worry, on this interstate, the limit is 75 so it’s all good). I also saw a billboard for an auto show that had the original General Lee, the red “01” car from the Dukes of Hazzard. It all comes full circle because yesterday on Fresh Air, Quentin Tarantino was saying how he had studied under James Best, the guy who played Roscoe P. Coltrane. I’m still a little surprised that South Dakota never welcomed me on the way in. But they did notify me that I had just entered Mountain Time Zone so now I was 2 hours behind New York.

The Badlands I am not even going to write about because I am still in awe of what I just witnessed. I know I went to the Grand Canyon as a young child, about 6 or 7 years old I think, so I don’t remember my reaction to that. But this was just incredible. I felt like I was in a painting or someone was going to pull on the Sears Portrait Studio scene cord and it would vanish behind me. So just check out the photos and you’ll maybe see what I mean. While I was taking tons of photos, I had one of those “thank goodness for digital” moments. I had this flashback of what it must have been like when we had film cameras and I wanted to take lots of photos on a family vacation. My mother must have limited us. I don’t remember her doing that but I do remember her limiting our use of paper towels while “camping” in Maine. And flash bulbs and developing rolls of film are much more costly in comparison to a few Brawny’s. While in the Badlands, I did learn why those bales of hay are scattered all over the land. I thought they were separated so the horses could wander over once they were done with one and scratch open the plastic that wraps it up. But stupid city girl that I am, I learned from this nice couple in the Badlands that a baler machine goes around and collects the hay (which I guess is just floating around?) and makes those bales and leaves them wherever they are. And later, the farmer collects them for use with the animals. I also learned from a couple of women that I met at a rest area that I was “known” on the highway but other travelers. She said that they always talk to folks along the way and they kept hearing people say, “there’s someone from New York on these roads.” Hilarious!

Now I’m in Wall, SD, which was recommended to me as a quirky tourist attraction but a must-see. Since I just drove through that part of town, I now see what she meant. It’s like a replica of an old western town with the saloon and the drug store and other types of shops. I think some of it is authentic since it says it was made in 1931 but it seems so updated that it’s hard to see the old West with all the souvenirs and prairie women mannequins in the display windows. I’ll stroll through tomorrow and take some pics. Right now, I’m sitting and having an angus steak with texas toast and waffle fries at the Red Rock Restaurant and will slumber at the Motel Welsh where owner, Wes, has given me a good deal because he stuck me in Room 2 which is pretty much a bed and a shower stall/toilet. On my way out of the office, he said, “thanks for the business.” You don’t hear many folks say that anymore…

Joke of the day: Q: What do you call cheese that isn’t yours? A: Nacho cheese.

No radio highlights today because I mostly listened to NPR. Learned that the lyrics writer for “Do Run Run” and “Going to the Chapel” died.

Minnesota Local Charm and South Dakota Burgers

2009-08-27T19:54:00.000-07:00

Dropped in on the Coffee Hag in downtown Mankato. Cute little independent coffee shop run by women and enjoyed by many. When I took this photo of her, she asked what it was for and I simply said, "me. I'm on vacation and take photos of everywhere I go." She responded, "ahh, it's like paparazzi." This place reminded me of my favorite coffee place on Avenue A and 3rd Street in the East Village. Salvation Army couches, board games, wall of photos and good chai. I know Laura Ingalls shopped here but besides a cute little antique shop, there wasn’t all that much going on here. I almost went to lunch at this Italian restaurant that seemed to be the only place in town with cars out front but it ended up being dead inside, no characters to sit next to at the bar. So I got on the road instead. Had a large breakfast for free so my tummy was satisfied.

Next stop along Route 14 was New Ulm, Minnesota. Hadn’t heard of it before but when I got there and saw the “Downtown” arrow sign, I figured I’d take a look since Mankato wasn’t all that. I was immediately pleased because it was a little German town and it smelled of cheese. Apparently, there was a processing plant down by the river and it made me hungry but it was 2:45 and the restaurants were no longer serving lunch. Total bummer. This town reminded me a bit of Bariloche in Argentina, another German settlement.

New Ulm was a big industry town (AMPI was headquartered here, milk producer) but it also had the historic downtown Main Street that I liked. Parked the car and started taking photos of the German restaurants and such when all of a sudden, this man said, “Oh, did you recognize him, that’s why you were smiling?” Confused, I said, “No, I’m not from here,” unaware that he knew full well I wasn’t from there and this was his way of getting me to stop and talk. Three men sat outside this small independent bookstore sipping coffee at the one café table with chairs on the sidewalk. It was the picture of Golden Girls but with men and no cheesecake. They were adorable. I asked their names and offered mine. Bill and Al were both retired attorneys, mostly estates, trusts and such, but some divorces now and again. I never did get what Carol had done before retirement. Bill was the talker. Anything that came out of your mouth, he had a story that popped into his head that was sometimes only loosely related to the topic at hand. And if Carol was telling me about the sights to see in New Ulm (pronounced by Bill as “gnome”), and Bill interrupted him, he simply said, “wait til I finish!” with a ‘sheesh’ look on his face. You could tell these guys have known each other for a long time and later I learned that they meet up each day at the same time (around 2:00) to have coffee and chat. So sweet.

They asked me what I was doing in New Ulm, if I had family here, where I was staying. I explained that I had no clue about their little town and that I simply stopped because I always stopped when I thought there might be a fun little town to discover. They asked what I did back home and I talked about my work in the courts since they were lawyers. Al kept calling me the “most interesting person” they’ve ever met, and I said, “I’ll be sure to tell my friends back home that.” Each person that walked by while I was talking to them learned all about me. That I was from New York City and that I was traveling across country by myself with no itinerary. It was a hoot! Carol went and got me the tourist guide for New Ulm and even went and highlighted the pages that he felt were ‘must-sees.’ When I shared that I had never driven more than 6 hours straight before in my life, he gave me a tip to stay alert on the road, “Just drink a little Mountain Dew and you’ll perk right back up.” I smiled and thanked him.

They kept referring to Hermann the German as if I knew who that was so finally I asked. He was this famous German warrior that fought against the Romans in the year 9 A.D. and since many of the folks that settled here were from Germany, they built an enormous statue in town in his honor. It’s the 3rd largest copper statue in the U.S. And since this year was the 2000 year anniversary, it was understandable that they were all up in arms about it. They all had a lot of pride in New Ulm. It was nice.

We then got on the topic of New York and how quick paced it is in comparison to Minnesota. I agreed of course but explained that you can make it feel like a small town if you make the effort. I told them that when I lived in Manhattan, I used to walk crosstown to work and waved to my dry cleaner each morning, got coffee at the same diner on the corner and knew all the doorman on my route there. They liked that story. Just then, a couple walked by and of course they had to learn where I was from. Bill popped up to give them the news and the man said, “I used to be your paperboy” because he realized Bill didn’t recognize him. Bill asked what he was up to and the man said he was retired as well but he was only 49. He then proceeded to say that he sold his company recently for 65 million dollars. I was instantly turned off. How strange to just blurt that out in the second sentence you share with a group of people you only know as acquaintances. Later, when he left, Al relayed the conversation to me as if I hadn’t heard the figure and I said I thought that was uncouth. He agreed. Al said that he invented some cure for something using pig’s ears or some other part of the animal. So the man and his wife went off to play a round of golf or something. Whatevs. Bill wanted to escort me to Hermann with the fellas in tow, but I declined. I wanted to duck into this antique shop before it closed and wasn’t sure I was going to stick around. Al and Carol kept telling him to stop putting me on the spot. I loved their banter. I think I’m going to see if they’ll be my pen pal, along with Mike and Rod. I miss having pen pals and I’m not sure any of these fellas use the internet much. What’ll be interesting is to see if I can write to them with simply this address:

Bill, Al (retired attys) and Carol
Nicest guys in New Ulm
Drink coffee together at 2:00-ish each day
on and around N. Minnesota Street
New Ulm, MN 56073-1729

Next stop along the way was Brookings, South Dakota where I learned that there are only about 700,000 people living in this large state. “There are more cattle than people here I bet,” said a retired military man that I met at Nick’s Hamburger Shop on Main. He and his wife were enjoying a lovely evening outside listening to live music at his high school mate’s burger joint. Dick Fergen, who had also done quite a bit of traveling in his day, was the current owner of this 1929 burger establishment and it was obviously a favorite to many. It seemed like anyone who was out that night was here. I went inside to order and they asked, “how many?” The slogan is “Buy ‘em by the bag” because they are small little guys, similar in size to White Castle but cannot compare to taste and quality for sure. What was interesting is that they ask you what you want as “fixins” when you order. They put the pickles, ketchup and such on the burger themselves. When I got my bag, I realized that they weren’t even wrapped inside, just piled on top of one another with toothpicks holding them together. So cute.

So I ate with the biker couple (ex-military and former nurse) and got loads of helpful hints on seeing the Black Hills and Badlands out west. I really do step in it. These folks had traveled through 48 states on their bikes and were just the nicest people ever! She had been a nurse at Columbia Presbyterian for 3 plus years and liked NYC very much. I didn’t catch their names but the gentleman even went out to his bike to show me the map that I’ll get when I go to Wall Drug. They had just been in that area because Sturgis has this annual biker festival and they go each year. He said it is the largest one of its kind and a sight to see. There might even be some remnant bikers from the festival in those towns when I get there. FUN! So they wished me happy travels and I was back on the road to get to Mitchell where my former Newsweek colleague Alexandra told me there is a Corn Palace that is a must see.

Radio highlights: “Bad to the Bone,” Guns & Roses, Sheryl Crow, Eminem, Percy Sledge and my favorite, Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts.”

Amazing sunset on a lake toward Mitchell, SD

Art Deco, Wisconsin Police, Iowan General Store, Minnesota Sunset

2009-08-26T21:28:00.000-07:00

Woke up to a lovely day in Mt. Horeb. Gallivanted around town, checked out the two antique stores and bought the most fabulous floor lamp. I had to. It was a steal. And I usually say that when the owners don’t know what they have but these two ladies knew that this was an authentic 50s art deco lamp in pristine condition. Now let’s hope I can keep it that way for the next 3 weeks in the back seat of my car. The shade is similar in style to the one I have from my grandparents but I can’t just have one. The ladies were surprised that someone so young appreciated these things and I explained that I inherited a lot of my grandparent’s and aunt’s furniture and I cherish it. I then thought, who will cherish it after I’ve gone and said that out loud. This woman, in her 60s I assume, said, “You enjoy it and that’s all that matters. If I thought about that with my kids, I’d be sad all the time. Even if they donate it when you’re gone, your things will make someone like YOU that appreciates antiques extremely happy when they find it in that thrift store.” So true!

Leaving Wisconsin on the country roads, I continually faced the MPH dilemma and was still shocked that I hadn’t gotten nabbed. It’s just so easy to go fast when you can’t see anything other than a straight road up ahead. So sure enough, I’m about to slow down for a 45mph bit when a little town cropped up, and I see the lights in my rear view mirror. I was already slowing down so I just pulled over without making him tell me to. I got my license, registration and insurance card out immediately and rolled the window down. When the officer approached the car, I laughed and said, “Ya don’t have to ask my why you pulled me over. Sorry about that.” I think he appreciated that. He said he clocked me at 76mph, 21 over the limit. Told me he’d be right back since he has to run my plates and such to make sure I’m not wanted in 3 counties. I was pissed at myself but figured it was bound to happen considering how much I had already gotten away with. He returned to my car and handed back all my documents and said, “In Wisconsin, this would cost you about $280 but I’m going to give you a warning. You just passing through?” I said yes and that I would be more careful and thanked him. WOW! Unreal. This would never have happened in New York. Even with a retired cop for a dad. And it worked. I have been slower on the road. But it’s weird because some states have a 70mph limit and others 55 so it’s hard to keep it straight. I didn’t say THIS to him of course. Ignorance is not an excuse to a police officer.

Soon after that, the craziest thing happened (maybe it was punishment for speeding). I was going the speed limit (learned my lesson) so this minivan behind me wanted to pass and it was a straight road, but a little dippy here and there. You know that type of road where you can see that shimmery black line where the road is about to dip down. So they started passing me and right as the road reached its slight peak, there was fresh road kill to the left of the dotted yellow line and the passing car didn’t see it. So they ran right over it as they passed me and it splattered all over the driver’s side of the car. I almost hurled. It reminded me of the time I hit that buck back in high school. I could already smell the stench. But I think that was psychological considering the windows were closed. And thank goodness the windows were closed. Can you imagine how offensive that would have been? As if it wasn’t already going to be nasty. So they pulled over and so did I and the man was just horrified. He apologized over and over again and I said it was okay. It’s not like he did it on purpose. He asked me if I knew what it was as if we’d have to notify its parents or something. His wife thought it might have been a possum. I’m not even sure what a possum looks like so I just nodded and said, “Yea, maybe?” So the man didn’t know what to do but handed me $20 for a car wash but he wasn’t from the area and didn’t know where the next car wash was. I said it was fine and appreciated his offer. Luckily, there was a car wash down the road and I got the “super wash” option. I mean, after all, there wasn’t a “wipe the possum off your hood” option. And no, I didn’t just go into the car wash like nothing was hanging off my tires and such. I explained what happened and I swear, it was as if they get this every week. Grrrroooosssss!

In Iowa, I strolled through both Marquette and McGregor, both incredibly cute spots. An old-fashioned diner in town with large black and white checkered floor and red stools at the counter. Adorable! Both resemble the type of towns in westerns where the train rolls through town through the mountain and folks nod and take their hats off when they walk by. It was so cute. And in McGregor, the buildings still look like Jesse James is going to come and rob the bank. There’s even a Savings & Loan like in “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

So glad Maura’s friend recommended this town. The sad thing in Marquette was that the old schoolhouse was now an antique store. Ya gotta wonder where the kids learn? There didn’t seem to be another school nearby. It brought to mind the old grandparent mantra, “I had to walk 3 miles in the snow BAREFOOT to get to school.” I wonder if that’s the case now for some kids.

The real General Store in Marquette was just a riot. Chaotic organization is the best way to describe it. I swear the woman who ran the place must know where every nut and bolt is but walking down the “aisles” if you can even call them that was an adventure. You could buy everything from shoelaces to Christmas ornaments to doorknobs and scrap wood. So cool.

The one disturbing thing I overheard that day was in the antique mall in McGregor. These two older women were discussing the health care reform issue. One of them said about Obama, “He’s just not working for our people.” I guess I should be surprised that it’s taken this long (almost a week) before I heard such a comment but luckily she stopped there. I felt as if I would have said something if she continued. Not in an abrasive way but to see what she really feels. I don’t know…

Between McGregor and Mankato, I stopped in Waseca, Minnesota and saw the most amazing sunset ever! On the lake and all. The most beautiful colors and clouds. Just breathtaking. All that emotion made me hungry and I had to stop to eat. Found a place called Old Country Buffet. One thing I have noticed about these small town family restaurants is that folks aren’t bothered by having their conversations heard by others. This one table had two couples, one older, one in their late teens or early 20s, with a baby in a carseat. The young husband/father was lamenting about how they don’t have friends coming around anymore. Since the baby, none of their friends call or stop by for a beer or to watch the game. It was so bittersweet. I felt so bad for them. They were so young and so sad already. The other family in earshot of me was this couple in their 30s with an 8-year old son who was having behavioral issues at school already. School started Wednesday for some. So this mom was reprimanding him loudly for the entire restaurant to hear. I guess this just shocked me because when we were kids, folks used to come up to my parents and praise them for how well behaved we were in the restaurant. Granted, this was thanks to my father beating the hell out of me once when I was 3 when I acted out in Florida restaurant while on vacation. My sister Denise never let me live that down.

Some random observations: (1) Llamas roadside for sale in Wisconsin. (2) Amish aren’t just in Lancaster. They’re in Minnesota too. (3) Learned that executed prisoners in China are involuntarily having their organs harvested and the doctors (or government) are saying it’s the least they can do for doing something wrong, (4) Laura Ingalls shopped in Mankato, MN on Little House on the Prairie (thanks Erin).

Radio highlights: Steve Miller Band, Aerosmith, Blondie.

Recession, Lingerie Football and Mortgage Brokers, Oh My!

2009-08-26T07:14:00.000-07:00

Woke up in another time zone. Wish I had realized that before going to bed because it would have made me feel better to know I was getting an extra hour of sleep. Little did I know that I would need comforting after what I was about to see.

If I though I knew what the recession in the United States looked like back home because friends or family have been laid off or times have been tight, Gary, Indiana was a huge eye-opener for me. This place needs some serious help and I surely hope it gets it because otherwise, it may just become a ghost town. Some parts are already on their way to that classification. I felt so bad taking photos around town but initially I just wanted to shoot the amazing signage all around but once I got into the inner city, it was just depressing. Broadway, the main drag, which you can imagine being a bustling street back in the day, with all its shops, restaurants, etc., was slowly creeping along with a few people on the sidewalks maybe. Mostly, it seemed that they were either going into the housing authority office or the job center honestly. But I finally found the people of color, that’s for sure. In the first part of town (toward Portage), I went to a bistro that was listed on Yelp and it was all white. I had the crab cakes. They were alright, nothing to write home about.

But I saw this book next to my table about the best Indiana restaurants and they were in it. The only other Gary restaurant was on W 11th Street. So I asked my waitress where this was and she said she thought it had closed down but really I just wanted to know where the other “downtown” was since this little street couldn’t be it. She started telling me but then interrupted herself and said, “it really isn’t very nice.” I figured I’d be the judge of that, just tell me where the damn area is. Even on her street, there were a lot of closed stores. Miller’s Pharmacy seemed to be a family owned drug store that had been shut down for a while now from the likes of the overgrown shrubs all around. What’s Poppin, the gourmet popcorn shoppe seemed to survive for some unknown reason? But Lake Street didn’t seem to be all too “nice” either. I’m sure when the Obama Shop down the road was open, there was more activity and then there was the Michael Jackson memorabilia shop opposite that. And the gas station sold adult DVDs for $4.99 and I’m sure they were getting business considering they made the special sign and all.

So I drove down to the “other downtown” and found a plethora of cool signs but really felt terrible for all of these people. There were makeshift tag sales on the sidewalk and it looked like folks were just selling everything and anything they still owned. Some houses’ porches had moving boxes piled up as if they had just been foreclosed on and had to get out quick. Many entire streets were boarded up or had homes with windows broken. There wasn’t even graffiti on the boarded up buildings which made me think kids couldn’t even afford spray paint to have their fun. I couldn’t even find a postcard anywhere to send another indication to my niece and nephew as to where I was on my trip so far. Found the post office though and asked to buy two books of postcard stamps. The clerk could only find one. She looked and looked but finally, I said one was enough. The waitress back in the good part of town had said that the city was trying to develop down here in the next couple of years but I can’t imagine how a few years will turn this all around. I do hope so. Maybe Jackson's estate can help his hometown because they surely have not forgotten him.

Another thing I noticed were a lot of older men riding bikes around. Not your typical sight in larger cities that actually have public transportation. But I fear it’s out of necessity. Let’s hope their politicians are competent because they aren’t going to be able to rely on the federal government to get them out of this one. After all, on the radio leaving Gary, the local Chicago DJ was saying how experts were reporting upward mobility in the economy and wanted listeners to call in to express their feelings on that notion. I was so tempted to call and tell them they were crazy because I had just left Gary, Indiana and there was no relief coming for those folks for a long time. Stimulus was a word they didn’t understand. And they sure as hell would have laughed at the “experts” saying that folks are now spending more.

So on my way through Chicago, I was reminded of my 7 months spent flying to this town from NYC to stay in Schaumburg, Illinois. Ick. Worked on Motorola’s e-business site at their compound there. Not fun. But didn’t recall lingerie football. Is this new or unique to Chicago? Do tell readers. And Hooters is everywhere too around these parts. But what I did think was how I wished I hadn’t been attached when I had that job back in 1997 because I could have been spending each weekend flying to a different state on my IBM miles and exploring the country back then instead of going back home to Queens each weekend and getting right back on the airplane Monday morning. Oh well, no regrets.

Right as I reached Wisconsin, my “At Oil Temp” light went on (blinking) and it freaked me out. I got off at the rest area immediately since I didn’t know what that meant. I pulled over into a gas station in case I needed help and immediately called the only person I knew who knew anything about cars, my brother-in-law. It went right to voicemail so I left a welcome home message since they just got back from vacation yesterday. No need to worry them since I knew it would be fine. I had a full workup on my car before heading out on this adventure. Next, I went through my cellphone address book to see who else I might call to reassure me and realized that very few of my guy friends knew much at all about cars. Correct me if I’m wrong fellas and no offense to the girls, but… But then it struck me, Row knows all. So I called him and Suger and I spoke for a bit, she put in her two cents and then Row got on and gave me the skinny. Granted, I had already read in the manual that this didn’t even require stopping the car. And if the engine was just running when it happened, simply don’t go up steep grades or be in stop and go traffic. So I took Row’s advice and checked my levels. Opened the hood, took out my towel to wipe the stick and sure enough, a man came over to help me. I knew what I was doing but why not let him get dirty instead. All was fine. I’m actually meticulous about maintaining my car and read the whole manual when I first bought it so I’d be informed in these situations. Back on the road, the light never came on again. Phew!

Spent the ride listening to Fresh Air with Terry Gross on NPR. Mike Judge was on talking about King of the Hill and Beavis and Butthead and his new film “Extract.” Funny stuff. Especially since his experiences with folks in rural America were what started him writing King of the Hill. The situations were ones I felt I was experiencing or overhearing at diners and drive-ins myself now. Cool stuff. Will have to check that movie out when I’m home or in the next drive-in I come across.

So I arrived in Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin at around 6:00 p.m. and thought, “Dave, what were you thinking recommending this place to me? I wanted old small town with no Starbucks and character coming out of the seams.” Then I realized that I had to drive a few miles down the road to hit the old downtown bit. Phew! Sorry I doubted you Dave. My first stop was at the Karakahl Inn or Motel. Who knows what they call themselves. The place should be condemned today and then used in a horror film. It was scary shit and they were seriously charging $50+ for a night there. Check out the photo. It doesn’t even show how spooky this place was. Luckily, down the road some, I found the Village Inn, a cute Catskill-esque strip motel that had those awesome multi-colored metal chairs out front of each room. I hearted it immediately. Went into the office and they even had WiFi. Now I’m convinced that everyone does. Paid for the night, got my troll information and Norwegian town guide and was on my way to dinner. Adorable town. Can’t wait to start walking around today. I think I saw 3 antique stores and plenty of other cute shops to pop into. So last night, I got a Wisconsin cheddar burger at Bistro 101 and headed down the road to the Firehouse for my first beer with the locals. And thank goodness I did! What a trip! Sat down next to Pat, an excavator from Madison who was on his way home from his family’s farm in Iowa. Nice guy. I asked him if he knew how much pool was and he said he thinks 75 cents or a dollar. Then Jen, the waitress outed him as a regular who definitely knew how much pool costs. I asked if he’d be my partner if the couple playing now wanted to play us. He agreed. The couple was Shauna and “her man.” That’s how she referred to him to others. He seemed a bit younger. She was 38, Class of ’89.

Apparently Pat was really good at pool because Jen was shocked each time we lost. But that was my fault. He was really good but I kept messing up. Brandon, I needed you by my side. So we lost 3 times and Pat really needed to end on a good note so I said I could stay for one more and we won (thank goodness). But before that game was over, the best thing ever happened. Shauna opened up. This song came on that she had put into the jukebox called, “In Spite of Ourselves” by John Prine. She kept saying, “it’s a love song, just listen to the lyrics. This is going to be my wedding song. Granny will be allllll ‘wha?’ but I’ll just shrug like I have no idea what they’re sayin’.”

Here are the lyrics for you so you can appreciate what I was listening to as she swayed back and forth dancing to her future nuptials.

She don't like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin' her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She's my baby I'm her honey
I'm never gonna let her go

He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby
And I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

She thinks all my jokes are corny
Convict movies make her horny
She likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs
Swears like a sailor when shaves her legs
She takes a lickin'
And keeps on tickin'
I'm never gonna let her go.

He's got more balls than a big brass monkey
He's a wacked out werido and a lovebug junkie
Sly as a fox and crazy as a loon
Payday comes and he's howlin' at the moon
He's my baby I don't mean maybe
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

(spoken) In spite of ourselves

So Shauna used to bartend at The Firehouse for 5 yrs. She had also been a horse trainer and a roofer before her current job as a senior mortgage broker at a local bank. She had even met my partner Pat before but she had no recollection. Her man wore those massive washer-looking things in his ears to expand the lobes and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. He was the quieter of the two. In order to bond with him, I told a little white lie. I said I used to paint that design (his T-shirt) on the backs of jean jackets back in high school. I think Steve actually did this for real but I was channeling him for now. He immediately high fived me and we were BFFs. That’s how I learned when Shauna graduated because she asked me how old I was.

She seemed to know a lot of the folks walking in and kept lifting up her shirt to show them her new tattoo. I had already seen quite a few even though she had jeans and a T-shirt on but this one was clearly hidden. To her surprise, “this one hurt like a mutha fucker. Granted, I was hungover from my birthday the night before but I’ve never had it hurt this much before.” She said that she woke up the next day in pain, but not from the tattoo, from clenching and being so tense throughout the 4 hours it took to do the damn thing. “It was like how you feel after a full day of exercise and I don’t exercise.” Now this was a girl I could relate to. I’ve totally woken up after some odd occurrence like that and felt like I was in a gym for a day and meanwhile I hadn’t done a lick of exercise. So I’m nodding telling her how I hate exercise too. And she says, “the only time I run is when someone’s chasing me.”

So she goes on about the flabbiness under her arms and how she needs to get rid of that and her bagel. Her bagel is the space around her belly button that she shows us that when you squish it together, it totally DOES look like a bagel. So she joined a gym again, even though years ago, she had done the same and only went 3 times in a year and was paying $60/month. Again, I sympathized. She laughed because she had won a year’s worth of golf at her job for being selected for the President’s Club but she said, “what am I going to do with a full year’s worth of golf when all I would do is ride around on that cart drinking vodka.” So she gave the pass to a friend.

She still couldn’t get over the fact that when she applied for this job, they asked if she had any experience and she said, “if bartending, training horses and roofing is experience, SURE!” She had to take the state test and did very well. “I guess I still had some brain cells left over because I rocked the test.” Meanwhile, she didn’t even know what a mortgage was. She said she had grown up on welfare mostly and was now a renter. But she figured it out and the real reason she was doing so well was that all the customers liked her spunkiness. She never even sat down when she had customers in her office. She paced and talked with her hands a lot the whole time. She said it “put people at ease. Even though I was the only tattooed freak in the office, I’m doing really well there.”

I seriously adored Shauna. She was my kind of girl. Talked a lot. Shared too much and sang Journey out loud when it came on the jukebox. Apparently, I wouldn’t have to nudge folks to do this with me.

Radio highlights from yesterday: “Jukebox Hero,” Whitney Houston, Tom Petty, The Cure, the Go Gos, Peter Frampton, Van Morrison, Van Halen (with David Lee Roth) and Lenny Kravitz.

Mike, the nicest guy in Indiana

2009-08-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

Radio highlights from yesterday: Marvin Gaye, “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” “Come on Eileen,” and ZZ Top. Being a Hot 97 gal myself, this whole 80s and rock flashback has been very interesting for me, let alone having the radio become my new BFF. As I sang along loudly to each tune, and mind you, I now talk to myself frequently in the car, not in front of folks (yet), I remembered how bad I always was at knowing the words to songs back when I was in middle and high school. I just wasn’t disciplined enough to sit there with the radio and write down the lyrics or listen to an LP or cassette over and over again to make sure I had it right. I took the lazy way out sometimes if it really meant that much to me and bought the sheet music at the record store in the mall. Young people nowadays don’t even know this process because they can Google the lyrics to just about anything probably but back in the day, you had to buy them or at least stand there in the record store long enough with a sheet of paper copying them down without the salesperson noticing. I wonder if my mom kept those in the piano bench for us.

So as I left Ohio, I not only heard an advertisement on the radio for a restaurant that said if you spent over a certain amount of money, they’d donate 10% back to your church, but then I saw this poor guy in a van get pulled over by not one, but four state police cruisers on the highway. It was unreal. Do they always do this when there’s a call in about a rogue van on the interstate? I know. I have no clue what the issue was but it seemed excessive for one man and a van. Then down the road a ways, I saw it again. Maybe they just don’t have that much excitement going on that they jump on the chance to arrest someone in numbers. I do hope it wasn’t for speeding because I should have been hauled off to jail a long time ago. AND, what’s infuriating about these small roads connected little towns is that you’ll be on a 55mph bit, then all of a sudden, it’s 35, then 45, then back to 55, all within 2 minutes time. UGH!

So once I hit Indiana (the welcome sign alerted me, otherwise I would have never known since there’s just more corn everywhere), I happened upon this adorable little town called Decatur. I was on my way to Peru but had to stop when I saw how cool some of the buildings were and that there seemed to be some activity on the streets. I stopped in to this antique store on the main street and had a ball. My first find was this vintage hat that I will find some way to wear to the wedding I am going to at the end of September. It’s just lovely and in pretty good shape, not perfect, but neither am I. And then I found an Italian cowboy hat and it was only $10 and it came in a NYC milliner box called Dobbs. So cool. Not sure what I will do with it but it was in perfect shape (the hat, not the box). I then moseyed around the corner and saw Hitler’s image framed on a bureau next to an old radio and lamp. I thought, “that’s odd, it looks like he’s being featured as someone important in a good way.” Let’s hope not because the two gals running the shoppe were very nice and I can’t imagine why he had this kind of prominence in the store but there it was. I continued to shop and found many goodies for friends. Since I bought so much, one of the ladies helped me out to my car with it and immediately said surprised, “You’re from New York?” She was stunned that I was traveling alone with no itinerary but at the same time thought it was super cool. I assured her I would be safe and was on my way.

Before heading to lunch, I wanted to take a few shots of the amazing signage in this town. Some very funny and some so retro you hoped it would never get replaced with modern signs or neon godforbid. So in wandering around town shooting signs, I came across this Window Store, aptly named, but it took me a few seconds to realize why it was so strange looking. There were NO windows on the Window Store. Not one! Just solid entry doors. Hilarious!

Down the road a bit before I hit Decatur, I had seen a billboard on US-24 for a placed called West End Restaurant and it said it was 3 miles ahead just before the railroad tracks. Looked like the kind of place I’d like to try. So I went in that direction and sure enough, it was the easiest thing to locate right before the tracks (especially since a very long freight train was making its way thru town at the moment). I parked my car out back and walked in to find that it wasn’t all too busy but then again, it was a little later in the day for lunch. There was an older gentleman sitting at the counter so I decided to sit next to him, one stool separating us. I said hello and then took a look at the menu. Ordered a fish sandwich and lemonade and looked around a bit.

One of the fellas that worked there was having an exchange with my neighbor about what he likes to be called now. Apparently, he used to work for him years ago and used to go by Barry. Mike was the former owner of Decatur Packaging and had since retired. And Barry, or whatever he goes by now, used to work there as a young man. I found out what type of business he was in when he struck up the conversation about having employed this kid. And he told me all about this big Vegas convention show that he landed and how it was huge for his company to get bragging rights to such a big account. It had to do with packaging for drinks like Manhattans and martinis and such. I didn’t quite understand fully but I was enjoying listening to him talk about his work. Again, I had met someone who truly loved their job. I asked him where the company had been and whether someone was still running it. He started giving me directions and when I looked extremely lost, he said, “Oh, are you not from here?” Told him I was from New York City and he said, “I’ve been there a few times. Great place. My aunt owns a hospice for travelers there and back in my sophomore year of college, me and my buddies went to Larchmont and went out to a bar drinking and got pulled over by this Irish cop. We were honest that we had had a few and he started opening his ticket pad. But once he saw my Notre Dame emblem on my jacket, he flipped the cover and asked if I went there.” Needless to say, the Fighting Irish got them out of a ticket and the cop apparently followed them home to make sure they’d be safe. Gotta love those Irish cops! So I told him my father was one of those but not with the accent since while he was doing the part of the cop in his story, he put on a brogue. He asked what my last name was and then said, “Yup, that’s Irish alright.” Said it was a lovely country. He then proceeded to tell me all about his travels far and wide. He had also been to London and had spent some time in Germany (Heidelberg specifically where he had his first German girlfriend), Egypt (this came up when I told him that I was hoping to make it as far as Mt. Rushmore but hoped seeing the sculpture wouldn’t be a letdown the way the Sphinx and pyramids were). He had also been to Rome and apparently did some swimming. I guess he didn’t have trunks of his own so he had to borrow or buy some (he spoke very softly so I didn’t always make out what he was saying precisely but this part I didn’t miss). “You know they wear those bikinis there for me, when in Rome, ya know, so I put those on and if they had been one size smaller, you would have had two bottle caps and a cork.” Took me a second and then I just started laughing hysterically. This guy was hilarious! When in Rome…

Mike then asked me if the Golden Theatre was still around in NYC. Because back in the day, he had gone there to see Victor Borge, the famous Danish pianist. “He hardly ever got to playing the piano because he was always cracking jokes.” He had fond memories of this trip. I wanted to ask whether his wife that he had mentioned earlier was still around but I realized that I didn’t even ask that of Rod the previous day. I think I didn’t want to have to say “I’m sorry” if they were deceased. I hope not. But Mike did say that he married in his late 30s.

So we talked a bit about my trip and how unplanned it was but that I hoped to make it to Keystone, South Dakota. He even knew the name of the sculptor of Mt. Rushmore and said, “Can you imagine getting it so precise, a nose, being up that close?” I wholeheartedly agreed. I think that is why I find this stuff fascinating. I wish I had been a lot less critical in Giza. Of course those sights are incredible but I fear that our constant viewing of things in magazines and on TV almost make the experience of being right there in front of it a little less stunning. It’s a shame. I will try not to imagine it until I get there to see it firsthand.

So just like that, Mike jumped up, after his last cigarette and cup of joe (you can apparently smoke in Indiana restaurants), and bid me farewell. He went to the register to settle his tab and on the way out, past my stool, brushed my shoulder and said ‘safe travels.’ It was so utterly sweet. What a kind man. I was done with my sandwich and ready to get back on the road myself so I put my money on the check and the nice waitress said, “Mike took care of it.” The owner came over and said, “Mike’s a really intelligent guy,” and I responded, “I know. He just told me all about his business and his traveling around the world. I’m so glad he spoke to me. Such a doll.” And he was. I think I’ll send him a postcard from Mt. Rushmore when I get there. I’ll send it c/o The West End Restaurant, Decatur, Indiana.

Stopped in Markle, Indiana on my way to Peru. They had a smaller, but still substantial antique mall and it was great. Lots of old Raggedy Ann dolls, Mork & Mindy and Laverne & Shirley board games. Never knew those existed. Wonder what you do in the game? Sew L’s on sweaters? Found some Pickup Stix though and I heart those. Also, apparently, you can’t swing a dead cat in the Midwest without hitting a root beer drive-in. They are everywhere! And here I thought it was somethin’ special that I happened upon one in Pennsylvania. Sheesh.

Along the way, I also saw a crucifix on the top of a barn and couldn’t help but laugh. Not at the crucifix, but at the concept of making sure it’s visible in case God was looking down one day and chose to do something destructive to only the bad people of America. This way, he’d see the cross and realize he should spare this Christian family. Good placement folks. I also saw a sign for the Dan Quayle Museum. That threw me for a loop. What the hell is that?! Then I realized that he was born in Indiana. I guess I had tried my darnedest to put that time period behind me. Needless to say, I didn’t stop in for a gander. At that point in the road, there was a detour because a bridge was out so I luckily got to pass by “The Boondocks,” a local watering hole. I had to take a photo of their self-proclaimed small town pub sign but as I did, this man had just arrived on his Harley and didn’t quite like this New Yorker finding humor in it. He scowled my way with his long, shiny, gray Farrah Fawcett (RIP) locks blowing in the wind. I ignored and carried on. You can’t have a name like that and not expect tourists to take notice. Sheesh. Down the road a bit more, I stopped for a snack at Clare Lake, just this public access “beach” with lots and lots of crickets in the marshy bits. It was very pleasant and a nice relaxing spot to take a rest from driving. It was near Huntington, Indiana.

So Peru, Indiana is a quaint little town. The only place to stay in town (from what I could see driving down Main Street east to west, was this motel with scary truckers drinking beers very quickly on the second floor banister. So I pretty much decided then that I would grab a bite to eat at the Mandarin Buffet (free WiFi) and head up north a bit closer to Gary, Indiana (like the son). I spent a bit of time though going around Peru, shooting various things like yet another drive-in joint, select saloons, the Peru Tribune, the Circus Hall of Fame, some cows. Overall, my impression: Looks like the kind of place you want to walk down Main Street and hold hands for the first time with the girl you’re smitten with. :-)

Me? Are you talking to me?

2009-08-23T21:33:00.001-07:00

So I ended up being soooo over the whole 11:00 a.m. check out time and had to get some work done and rest a bit, so I stayed in Ohio for another night and I’m so glad I did. As you can see below, lunch was at Bob Evans and it was lovely. After many hours of writing, I needed to nourish myself again and figured it was easy to just walk over there and eat dinner. I’m so over trying to find authentic, independent eateries in these towns. It’s just too much work. I have found some by chance but it’s not high priority anymore. It would take a lot of research and considering this trip only started being thought of about a month ago, I didn't exactly have the time to plan or the desire to. So I ordered a BBQ fried chicken tortilla chip corn on the cob salad. Yup, all of that was in there. And lettuce. It was dead this time because it was 8:30 p.m. and folks were probably getting ready for bed. But not two gentlemen who were nice enough to strike up conversations with me. The first simply saw me with my laptop and said, “what’s that you got there?” and asked if I was doing my homework. He was very cute. Asked who made it. I said Apple and he nodded with pursed lips. Said good night and was on his way. Then another gentleman walked in and sat at the counter. The adorable waitress asked if he wanted his “regular” and he nodded as she recounted each part of his order. The other cutie patootie behind the counter confirmed that he is now a full-fledged regular if she can recall all of that. His name was Rod and when he saw me on the computer, he too, asked if I was doing my homework. I said, “work but not HOME work since I am pretty far from home.”

This exchange made me realize that this was the first person that started a genuine conversation with me since I left Saugerties. Sure I had spoken to folks but no one actually initiated anything. So he asked where I was from, what I did for work and why I was in Ohio. He was very sweet. Every few minutes or so, he’d stop and say, “Sorry if I’m buggin’ ya.” I kept reassuring him that this was the most I had spoken to someone in days and it was a welcomed change. And I think that these are the only places where folks will talk to me because they are damn friendly, they're relaxed and this IS where most folks go when there is a chain option. Not sure why but it's the truth.

He asked if I would critique his company’s website since I had the laptop and all and I agreed. Luckily, it was very nice and organized. He said a French guy did it and he liked the guy. Rod explained a little about his furniture business and said that it was housed in one of the oldest barns in the state and it was made of brick, not wood. He told me a little about the area and said that a few weeks back, the GM Metal Fabrication Division down the road closed so a lot of people around these parts would be out of a job. Lots of depression type feelings going on around here. I said that I had been to Bucyrus and got that feeling there. Lots of stores closed down and little going on other than the bratwurst festival. Rod had lived near Mansfield his entire life. Had been a golf pro for some years and went to college a few hours away but ultimately lived in the area his whole life.

I explained that I was heading out tomorrow to go to Indiana for the next leg of my trip and he asked if I’d like to see his store before I went to the movie I had scheduled for the evening. I said yes, took a photo of his license plate without him knowing (just in case), and followed his car to the Furniture Barn. It was incredible! Took lots of pictures, learned a lot of history and saw amazing craftsmanship. He showed me the only known pool stick holder with 24 (?) locks for back when players would leave their stick at the bar but lock it up. He now found an ingenious way of making his own using lipstick. Sorry Rod, I hope I'm not giving away trade secrets but I love when I meet folks who absolutely LOVE their work and have a passion for sharing it with others. He is a collector of many things antique and country (slot machines, horseshoes and copper bins) and I had a great time seeing it all. Little did he know that he came across the one person in that restaurant that WOULD truly appreciate all the antiques and stories behind the barn's history. They even made moonshine in a small house out front but it's no longer there.

So if you are ever in Ohio and are in the market for some high quality furniture, drop by. Here's his website: springmillfurniturebarn.com. And be sure to tell him Elizabeth sent you. Then again, I'm not sure I ever told him my name after all that chatting. Funny, eh? Then again, I'm sure he doesn't run into too many NYC girls with laptops at Bob Evans so just mention that instead. Apparently, folks fly in on helicopters to shop there! I saw the pictures.

He took a photo of me in this enormous chair that has travelled to many places as a fun prop. And on my way out, gave me a yard stick with the company’s info on it. So sweet. I couldn’t help but ask as I saw his vintage slot machine collection whether he had children that would inherit this all or maybe even continue the business. He has a son and daughter but didn't think they'd be interested to continue the business. Understandable but sad nonetheless. Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet him and I was so glad he spoke to me. I told him this as I shook his hand and headed out to make my movie.

Sure enough, I got "lost" and once I got to the theatre, I was at the wrong one. So instead, I doubled back and went back to his shop because as I was leaving the driveway, I noticed an active drive-in theatre across the street. I would have bailed on the Cineplex if I hadn’t already purchased my ticket on the internet (only $2.50). But whatever, it was a good twist of fate. I went to see the same movie (“Funny People”) at an old-fashioned drive-in theatre across from the oldest barn in Ohio. I am just steppin’ in it left and right. First the drive-in root beer place, now this. So the girl at the ticket booth at Springmill Drive-In Theatre told me to tune in to 91.9 FM and just pull up to Screen 2. That’s right. This drive-in had not one, but two screens. Never heard of that before. It was awesome. I sat my Subaru between two pickup trucks that had young folks making out on blankets in the flat beds. How cool is that! Now I’m back home at the Motel 6 watching some Comedy Central. Good times, good times.

Another thing I realized today is that this is my vacation. I didn’t plan it and although I had these crazy ideas when I set out for this adventure, it doesn’t matter one bit if none of those things comes to pass. What I was thinking when I devised this plan to have an on-the-road tag sale, I don’t know. I would have to have major cojones to pull something like that off. Major! Also, the idea of only going to small towns and finding a place to stay. Not as doable as it sounds in the little movie I’ve made up in my silly head. This is so like me though. Since I was a young girl making up stories about passers-by in the mall while my mother and sisters shopped, I’ve always thought my ideas could become reality. Even when they involve middle America, a hatchback and an umbrella to keep the sun away. But I’m glad I never stop making up these insane scenarios. It’s still fun to dream that life can be like the movies.

By the way, the real reason I stayed another night here is that the light in here makes me look fabulous. You girls know what I’m talking about. When you look in the mirror, even without makeup on and start unscrewing light bulbs to see what brand they are because you’ve never looked better! That is this room! I look tan, have definition in my face in all the right places, and don’t even need to put eyeliner on. Oh, and Matthea and May, I totally did my EO-TaiChi today outside of Room 107. Granted, no one was around to watch, but I did it. I needed to after all the lying in bed with my laptop on my legs. They needed some stretchin’.

So if I can get my ass to bed now, I am going to try and wake up at a reasonable hour to get on the road and head to Peru, Indiana.

Wireless everywhere

2009-08-23T09:51:00.000-07:00

I'll tell ya, I know in small towns, there probably isn't wireless internet for free everywhere, but in small-ish towns, there is. Not only does my Motel 6 have it but then I just ducked out with laptop in hand (since I'm working along the way), and Bob Evans (which, by the way, is sort of like Friendly's I guess), has it too. You just have to agree to their policies (like not going to inappropriate websites and promising that you will always shop at Wal-Mart when faced with options of other department stores). I hit ACCEPT of course.

So I ordered the "Knife and Fork Homemade Meatloaf Sandwich" and it's divine. And free refills on the Arnold Palmers. Those are half ice tea, half lemonade drinks. Yippee! You don't even have to ask for a refill. They just bring it to you when you start getting near the bottom. And when you leave, they ask you if you want a free refill to go? Where the heck am I?

And next to me at the counter sits the nicest little family. Mom, Dad and little 3 yr old girl. She's drawing pictures for them and they're both agreeing that it's the best house picture they've EVER seen. So cute. Truly happy. So no joke, it's almost 1 p.m. and this place is hopping! There's a line out the door for seats but thanks to me being a loner, I'm at the counter with my MacBook updating the ol' blog. Just realized, (edit) it's Sunday and these folks go to church in the morning and come here afterwards apparently. The sea foam skirt suit and broach on this woman just tipped me off.

I have to point out that the only employee here of color is the bus boy (man). He's about a 65-year old African American man and just brought in pounds and pounds of ice for the wait staff and no one even looked at him. It's just something that keeps cropping up for me. The communities outside of the cities are mostly white and the employees that are customer-facing are white too. That BBQ guy and his staff at the fair yesterday were practically the only black people at the fair. And when I looked up his website, Lil J's BBQ, he's from Columbus, Ohio, which apparently has a large black population. I know I shouldn't be so surprised by this but I still am. I did, however, see an interracial couple at the fair. And an Asian couple with kids. So I guess slowly but surely. But they were all getting looks.

Strippers, Guns and Bratwurst

2009-08-22T19:56:00.000-07:00

So downtown Clarion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Main Street was dead and apparently, girls just don’t dress like me there because I stood out like a sore thumb. And I was just wearing a tunic. Oh my gosh! So instead of going to a pub and grill, I snuck into Vinny’s Pizza to get a slice to go and bring it back to my motel room. As I waited for my slice to be warmed up, I got to “meet” the barmaid from the next door, Vinny’s Bar. She wore a sexy short red dress (stripper-ish), high heels and had much enhancement in the chest area. Needless to say, I have to get over the whole townie bar thing and venture inside next time. She was something else. I wish I could have shot her. Would’ve been a great photo.

Came home to that stupid Meryl Streep ABBA movie. How did that get made? Woke up to a continental breakfast that included waffles! Isn’t that nuts? Usually, it’s bagels and cereal and coffee. But there were fresh waffles with syrup for free (miss you Shawn). Checked out and went into town to see the place in the daylight. It was still quaint and scattered with folks going for breakfast at the country kitchen. I bought some postcards, got stamps at the post office (no line) and visited the local Goodwill where I found this great platter with the Pennsylvania Game Commission on it. Thought that was for casino regulation or something but on my way back from the dude ranch up river, I learned that it’s like deer and other targets. I stopped along the road because I saw this strange setup with men and guns. Apparently, they were shooting “300s.” That’s the name of the type of rifle they had. It was super loud. I had to hold my ears and it still hurt. But they shot at their targets and probably thought that I was making fun of it all but I do know that deer mate like mad and cause some trouble and unfortunately need to be shot. Right? That’s what the boys in my high school told me when I hit a buck with 10 points with my little Toyota Corolla. Population control. Whatevs. So I met these boys with guns and it was fun.

On the radio driving around town, I couldn’t help but notice again how awesome the songlist was. I know Doug, it’s evil Clear Channel. But it’s sooooo nostalgic. Air Supply, Tom Jones, Billy Joel, “She’s a brick house.” There is also a lot of glam band rock on the airwaves. Aren’t those mostly men in robes with makeup on? And that surprises me considering most of the people around here have bumper stickers that say “Marriage: YES! One man. One woman.” I even got into the car once and that song “I lick ya boom boom down” was playing. Not sure what it’s called but I know you know the one I’m talking about. As “Piano Man” played, it brought back so many memories of high school and going up to Lake George with Amy, Casey and Mary E. We used to tear it up in that town and I had to remember how easy that was to do. Now I’m legal, I have to venture into a bar fer gosh sakes. And maybe they’ll have a jukebox and I can get everyone to sing to a Billy Joel tune.

Or…. This DJ had just finished playing “Flashdance” by Irene Cara and made a mistake saying that there was a remake of that film out now. He meant “Fame.” Duh! How could you mess that up! But then Flashdance came to mind and I thought, I’m going to go thru some steel towns. Why can’t that happen to me? Meet some hot dude and look very cool about town in my tank and worn-in jeans. Oh wait, she was also a stripper at night, right? Scratch that. Speaking of stripping, there are an awful lot of highway adult stores here. And the billboards are funny because they’re like "EXIT NOW!" as if it’s an emergency to find porn while driving on the interstate. And NOT speaking of porn, there is a lot of God TV here. Ministries on every channel. What’s up with that? Oh, and I’ve decided after today that one of my series of photos will be the messages on the marquees outside of churches. They are a hoot! Also, it’s like 53 degrees at night yet it’s summer here too, right? Sheesh. Actually, I shouldn't complain because it was like Africa back home. This is a welcomed change.

So before arriving in Bucyrus, Ohio, where the annual Bratwurst Festival is, I stopped at the AAA I-76 Antique Mall and what a distraction (no guns allowed in the mall FYI). These antique malls are everywhere other than NYC and I heart them. But they are like 40,000 square feet of booths and it’s exhausting. Okay, back to the sausages! Wowsa! It was a seriously cute little festival with rides for the young-ins and lots of greasy food for the rest of us. Funnel cakes, cotton candy, deep fried Oreos, BBQ ribs, blooming onions and lots more! I went around shooting everyone and it was genuinely fun to share in this big event for this small town. And I mean small. BTW, I got to meet Miss Bratwurst 2009.

So there literally wasn’t anywhere to stay in Bucyrus, not even a scary motel. Another thing I noticed about the kids in Ohio, they’re all blonde for some reason. Their parents aren’t but they are. And on the news tonight, I learned that this guy with really white teeth that lives in this town shot 3 women in a fitness club because he was sick and tired of being turned down by women. Yea, so I’m going to close on that little tidbit. I’m rambling, I know. Tomorrow, I head to Peru, Indiana, a suggestion from Shawn at work. They pronounce it Pee-roo. Hilarious! It’s apparently the site of The International Circus Hall of Fame. Can’t wait!

Tornadoes, Drive-ins and Corn, Oh My!

2009-08-21T17:23:00.000-07:00

So what the hell was I thinking? I hate driving. Always have. On my way to my folks’ house in Cortlandt Manor, I got stuck on the Major Deegan in some MAJOR traffic and wanted to just die. So by the time I got to Peekskill to collect my tent and the many care package items (Cheerios included) that Agnes put together for me (that’s my mom), I was questioning whether I could even take a cross-middle-of-America tour in my Subaru being the solo driver. But today changed that. From Peekskill, I had to start my journey in Saugerties because my housekeeper Denise (my sister) is in Florida and therefore, could not get Kippagh ready for its next guest that arrived this afternoon. So after a day of resting in the hammock and getting my fill of HGTV before heading out west, I left this morning at 11 a.m. (it’s not like I’m gonna wake up early to go on vacation) Pi-sha!

Thruway here I come! But before I knew it, there were interrupted classic rock tunes on the radio because there were emergency weather advisories. Tornadoes were coming to New York and I was apparently right in the middle of it all. Oy vey, I said to myself. The rain was torrential. I could hardly see what was in front of me. My windshield was like that cloudy mess you see when you’re going through a car wash. Luckily the two truck drivers behind and beside me had TONS of lights on their rigs (that’s right, I said rigs) and that helped me to stay in my lane until it subsided. But phew! What an ordeal. Then I got farther into Pennsylvania and it started lightening up. I was now hungry and had finished a whole can of Pepsi so I needed to stop for some relief.

I stopped at an exit called Nescopeck. Why? Because out of all the FOOD plaques on the highway sign, there was one that wasn’t a chain and it was called “Tom’s Kitchen.” Sounded just like the type of place that I wanted to visit on this small town, non-commercial adventure. Little did I know that Tom’s Kitchen looked like a scary funeral home and since it was already 2:30 p.m., there were two cars in the large parking lot and I bet they were staff. So I pretended like I had to make a u-turn and got the hell outta that joint. The car needed gas so I pulled into a bp station and filled up and lo and behold, there was this ice cream cone atop this strip mall looking building and below it was a café called Cookies and a Stewart Root Beer Drive-In next door. So stinkin’ cute. I had to go.

I pulled in and went straight for the ladies room. I was hoping there was one outside since I wholeheartedly planned on eating at the drive-in, not the indoor café, but the young girl in the ice cream shoppe said it was inside. I had my camera and soooo wanted to shoot the inside of this place but there are those times when you have NY plates and you know it would be highly condescending to take a photo of the inside of this early bird special eatery. So instead, I will try to briefly explain. It was like the figurine area of a Hallmark store threw up in this place. You know the ones (Brynn and I JUST talked about the little angels or fat cherubs). The overly floral plastic table cloths and the wagon wheel light fixtures just didn’t go together. I was a bit surprised by that actually. There wasn’t a suggestion box so I kept my comments to myself and used the facilities.

Outside it was pretty dead but then again, Armageddon just happened moments earlier and I’m sure folks were still under cover. I ordered a burger from the nice young man behind the counter who proceeded to not only inform me about the origins of Stewart’s Root Beer but also that the item named “halupki” on the wall menu was a stuffed cabbage delicacy with meat inside. Apparently, I had stumbled into the Slovak area of Pennsylvania. Wasn’t up for cabbage at the moment but was glad to learn something new in the world of cuisine. I also found out that down the road there was a drive-in theatre. “How cool!” I told him. But with my exuberant exclamation came scorn and disapproval from the young, pretty thing in the back making my burger. This young man worked with adorable teenage girls at this summer drive-in stand and I had just upset the apple cart by talking him up. I guess I wasn't going to be able to show him how you pick the lock of your car (just learned it in my Worst Case Scenario Survival Guide book). Now please, I could be his mother fer gosh sakes. But regardless, I knew my time there was limited and ate my burger quickly, glanced over at the trays they put on your car window when the 14-year olds (as he put it) work on busy days. A real drive-in burger joint! And it was my first stop. AWESOME!

So along the way driving, there was never a dull moment. My car odometer went from 49,999 miles to 50,000 while stopped in traffic. Very exciting for my 10-year old Forester. I saw my fill of fireworks warehouses and cigarette outlets along the interstate and murdered my share of bugs as Leadfoot O’Connor sped through Route 80. Along the way though, there was such great music on the radio and I think that this alone is what kept me from hating this particular drive. Richard Marx, Pink Floyd, Pat Benatar, Journey, Bad Company (my first ever concert without parental supervision), Def Leppard, Jimmy Buffett and many, many more. I’ve definitely tapped the steering wheel before when a good song comes on but it got ridiculous. I think this is the start of a long trip of me talking to me and beltin’ out the tunes. Luckily, in this technology age, folks driving by will simply think I’m talking on my Bluetooth.

So next was getting off 80 and venturing into DuBois, which they pronounce Doo-Boyz. Whatevs. I thought it was supposed to be a pretty large town where I might find a motel to stay at but I was dead wrong. I drove a ways and found this corn field and then another corn field and then another. So I pulled over and started taking some shots at this one in particular that had an abandoned barn. Sure, there were no trespassing signs but really, it’s not like I’m going to shack up there. I just wanted to smell the hay and take some corn pics.

This nice elderly couple in a Cutlass stopped next to me and asked, “Sweetie, can we help you with anything?” and I shook my head and smiled and said, “Oh no, thanks, I’m just looking at the corn.” Yea, so they drove off thinking I was insane. But I was. I don’t think I’ve ever been up that close to cornfields. And they were vast. Just kept going for miles it seemed. The farm I was trespassing on was called Plum Hollow Dairy and it was sooo stinkin’ cute. They had an adorable farmhouse and those silos and tractors and all.

At this point, I had been on the road nearing 7 hours and I wanted to finally settle in for the night in a stereotypical motel with a pool and of course the old fashioned wifi. Although this is more for one night than I’ve spent on an entire month’s lodging in most of the places I visit, it was a good thing because I needed a dip in the pool, a good shower and to remember that I was still connected to y’all. So I’m in Clarion, Pennsylvania and for those of you who said that I wouldn’t be able to avoid Wal-Mart .. you were right! Bonus feature: the helpful fella at the desk informed me that all Quality Inns have wifi without passwords so now I can pull up to the many I’ve seen along the way if I ever need to get some free connections. I had to use 3 big pillows to sit ergonomically correct on the executive chair at the desk to use my laptop.

I know, crucial info to share. So now I am off to the pool because it’s open til 10:30 (woohoo) and I heard on the college radio station that there’s this new cool spot to hang out at on Main Street and I have a hankering for meat wrapped in cabbage now! And by the way, motels have come a long way since I was head of housekeeping at the William Baker Hotel in Chautauqua. This bedspread actually looks like it’s been cleaned and everything is actually pretty spot on. I tried to get into the Super 8 because I just love their logo but they were filled with the largest contingent of GT owners I’ve ever seen in one place. Now where is that bikini….

MJ Tribute

2009-07-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

On my way home tonight from work, (I switch at Jackson Heights) there was this huge crowd forming at the top of the stairs. When I stopped to see what they were all looking at, folks were simply watching the BEAT IT video on a flat screen TV that was in a subway-level shop window. It was so sweet. Just all these commuters stopping in their tracks to simply watch that awesome video and pay homage to an incredible entertainer.

I still don't understand how people could be making jokes about his death. Well, I get it, but I guess it just makes me sad because I seriously feel terrible for this poor man. His childhood was an utter nightmare and folks don't seem to understand that it's not your fault when you've grown up that way. I never did believe that he hurt a hair on any child but even if he had done something inappropriate, it wouldn't surprise me considering what he grew up thinking was "normal." I know I'm guilty of making fun of people, especially celebs that I don't even know, but in this case, I just wish everyone would respect the extremely negative life he had. I don't believe in life after death but if he did, I hope he's in a better place now. Because even in his adulthood, it still didn't seem like he was surrounded by people that truly cared about him. Shame.

The good ol' days

2008-12-11T18:48:00.000-08:00

I just met a woman named Flash. You gotta love New York. When asked where she grew up, she said, "Delaware, but I haven't grown up yet." And true that was. She is a comedian, writer, illustrator, designer, among many other things I'm sure. I met her with Nicole at a book signing party in Chelsea. The author whose book was being honored was Laurie Rosenwald, another amazing woman in her 50s. The woman created a font fer gosh sakes. But her book is an utter hoot and a half. I started reading it on my way home and it's like a thought dump that I wish I had written. She is utterly insane and I love her even though I don't know her (yet). This group of friends that she has accumulated over the years were unreal. One of them said that 30 years or so ago, her friend with incredible blonde hair and just that way about her, was pursued by Jimi Hendrix. These folks are the real New York. These are the people who used to hang out with de Kooning, Pollock, Ginsburg. I have to get into this circle. I think Nicole and I found a good way but I can't write about it here because soon you'll read it about it elsewhere (he he). Anyway, the only downer was that someone took my umbrella, the one that I found left at a bar in Flatbush. It was my favorite. Now it's gone. But now that I meditate, it's all okay. I took another black umbrella. Granted, it was broken and not as functional, but I believe I got as wet as I would have with my awesome one that is currently in someone else's hallway. Ommmmmmmmmmmmm.....

Sorry Ms. McIlhon

2008-11-25T20:19:00.000-08:00

Ms. McIlhon was my creative writing professor in undergrad and she would be outraged at how lame my posts are here. I'm outraged after all. I am better than this and starting this blog was partially in order to hone my former skills as a writer by practicing as often as possible. I was recollecting what I wrote last night and realizing even away from the computer how much they lacked in any detail or interest.

I wrote that there was "great food" at the consulate? That doesn't even remotely describe the food there. Shame on me. So I plan to rewrite that post (not delete it) and hopefully I can salvage the small amount of dignity I have for my writing prowess with a concentrated edit. But not now. I am currently streaming all of the Gossip Girl episodes I missed while vacationing in Europe. So ta ta for now. More to come...

Slumdog Millionaire

2008-11-25T12:53:00.001-08:00

This is a MUST SEE. Granted, I have not been to many films this year but this was the best this year. And why did I stop going to independent films? And boys, it's not a chick flick. There are aspects of chickyness in it but there's also all this gangsta and violence shit that will satisfy you if you're into that sort of thing. It's such a great story and you'll love the way the writer framed the storyline. I did. I heart this film and want everyone to go see it. The actors are AMAZING. And I recently saw them interviewed on some morning show I think. They are so humble. So adorable. You will be laughing, crying, on the edge of your seat. ALL OF THE ABOVE. But you may take my advice (even before I saw this film) and never go to India. It's a tough place with a lot of icky folks unfortunately. And I guess I could be sympathetic and say that poverty can make some people do horrible things but this is just AWFUL. and so much of what I saw there is just heart-wrenching. ENJOY THE FILM.

Oh, what a night!

2008-11-25T12:45:00.000-08:00

Little did I know when I woke up yesterday that I would be hanging out with Indonesian pop stars at the Indonesian Consulate of all places. It was so much fun. Great food and I got a photo of me with them so if I ever go to Jakarta and show some teeny-bopper the picture, I'll be so envied. The lead singer (Fadly) was a cutie-patootie. I wanted to squeeze his cheeks. And so nice. The whole band was so nice. I decided that I think I'm going to try and figure out when other consulates have these shin-digs. I could eat and be entertained for free all over the upper Eastside of Manhattan. No one checked a list, I just signed in and smiled a lot. At first I was the only non-Indonesian person but then some middle-aged journalist walked in to cover it and that was that.

http://www.sobatpadi.net/content/view/29/54/lang,en/

My cutie, Fadly, is the one directly in the middle. They played in Brooklyn the other night and are heading to D.C. on their American tour. Check them out if you can. They're great!

Take backs - I hate the MTA

2008-11-25T12:40:00.000-08:00

So last night, I'm leaving the Columbus Circle area so I go to 57th and Broadway to catch the R. I just get down to the platform and the R closes its doors on me and I wonder if it's the last of the night because it's nearing midnight. So I see an N next but wait to see if another R will come. Nope. But that damn garbage train comes that creeps by at a snail's pace. So we have to wait for that to pass to get another N train. So angry. (thank goodness I had my Glamour magazine with me). So then another N comes and I get on it but it doesn't go anywhere. It just sits there in the station and finally announces that NO train will be leaving out of this station AT ALL and you have to go downtown in order to go to Queens. So I finally got to Times Square and had to walk to the E train and then wait for that. A typical 20-minute door to door trip took me about 90 minutes and then it was pouring to add insult to injury. I didn't have an umbrella so now today, I'm sneezing a lot. Damn the MTA! (just not that nice conductor dude).

A kinder, gentler MTA

2008-11-23T20:45:00.000-08:00

So coming home tonight from Murray Hill (my friend Shira's Swami Celebration; she just received her certification for teaching yoga), I got super lucky with the 6 train uptown to 51st and then lucky AGAIN with the E train to Queens. But when I got out at Queens Plaza to transfer to the R train, I stood on the platform for some time waiting. No biggie though, I had my trusty girlie magazine with me to read (Glamour, not Penthouse). So the R finally comes and we all hurry to get on. So while I'm sitting there after the doors close, this gentle voice gets on the loud speaker announcing the next stop but then he pauses and says, "I just wanted to apologize to all of you that have been waiting for a while. We are about 12 minutes behind schedule due to some congestion on the R line so that is why you were waiting so long. We're sorry for that." I was STUNNED. And for those others around me that didn't have their iPods on, they were all smiling because it was so sincere and heartfelt. MTA should take this guy to the next training and tell everyone to stop saying the standard "thank you for being patient" when they fully know that no one is BEING PATIENT and it's just aggravating to hear someone TELL you what you're feeling. This guy had it right. Just say sorry in a believable way and it makes New Yorkers smile. We all need to relax regardless. It is what it is. The subway system is robust and complicated. We're not always going to get what we want. And in order to relax ... I know this great new yoga instructor you should really check out. :-) Ommmmmmmmmmm......

Who knew a church staple was so naughty?

2008-11-23T20:29:00.000-08:00

Around where I grew up, there were often church banquets or dinners that the parishoners would put on to get to know other people in the congregation and often help the elderly be social and such. There might be a pancake breakfast or a turkey dinner but no matter what was on the menu, it was a way to bring the community together.

So you can imagine how shocked I was to learn this tidbit of information. I almost busted a guy last night at this party because the hostess and host had both just gotten back from about a year of campaigning for Obama in Montana and Pennsylvania and told me this story about how someone invited this Asian woman to a spaghetti breakfast and she almost passed out at the suggestion. Why, you ask? Because "spaghetti breakfast" is a euphemism for "tentacle rape" (see below illustration). So here they were having a friendly, get-to-know you Obama event serving a cheap-to-make food item on their budget and this poor woman thought she was being introduced to some twisted porn ring in Billings, Montana. Sheesh. Shows you how we should all be more up on our slang intake.

P.S. There's even a Spaghetti Breakfast Club (get it). Their Google description lists, "A group for people who like ravaging with, or being ravaged by, non-human entities, like tentacles, demons, aliens, et cetera." I love the etc. bit. Like you can use your imagination for all of the other types of serpents that have tentacles and could possibly defile you. Wacky stuff, eh? Apparently, there's a whole genre of porn about this stuff too! Where have I been?

http://www.geocities.com/nconner23/spagh.jpg

There's a first time for everything...

2008-11-23T09:56:00.001-08:00

So I'm at this party last night in Brooklyn and my stupid friend is in this conversation with this guy who's driving her crazy so what does she do? She sends him my way. In her defense, she must have thought we'd have more to talk about since he lived in Thailand currently and I was thinking about going there for a few months soon. So he instantly weirded me out, maybe because he was way drunk but moreso because he was THAT guy, the one who has traveled the world and wants you to be AS impressed by it as he is. So he said one thing that was worth all the minutes I spent talking to him. At one point, I thought asking for his work URL because he worked for a language teacher organization in Thailand would get him to go away, he said, "Let me go get my trifold." Now there's a new one. Never had a guy go to get one of those before. So he comes back with just that. A glossy trifold which he made a point to add that all of the photos on the cover were shot by him. He also proceeded to tell me that the area I was planning on going to was overrun with American tourists who say things like "I really want to go hang out with The Hills people," which I'm assuming are indigenous people in the mountainous areas? But in his next breadth, he said that he lives in an area just like that. So wasn't he one of those stupid trust fund kids that wanted to really "experience life?" Whatever. My outlook is: don't hand out pamphlets while you're at a party. It's cult-ish. And while you're pointing out the photos that you took on the cover, don't fall over drunk onto the boob of the girl you're trying to impress. What was the BEST was that after I finally got him to go away by concentrating on someone else's conversation, this other girl from the party came over to us and said that she totally offended this dude from Tibet (Thailand but she was drunk too) when she said "Fuck Tibet. Put 'em all in prison." She was just being funny but he didn't think so. I guess those NGO folks are way serious about their saving the world shit that they can't even laugh at a good joke.

I figured out what I want to do in my next job

2008-11-23T09:46:00.001-08:00

I think I will be an investigator with the New York City Public Administrator's Office. The job is such that when someone passes away that lived alone and doesn't seem to have anyone to take care of the arrangements, the investigator might go to the home of the deceased and look around to find any possible connection to family or friends that might want to know that he/she passed or find someone who might be able to arrange a funeral or take some of the belongings. I heard about it on NPR's This American Life ("Home Alone") and I think it's such a special job. The investigator they followed for the story went into this woman's home who had just died in the hospital with no visitors and she read old letters from her husband who was in the service. She discovered when he died and how long it had been. So she was able to follow somewhat of a timeline of a woman she doesn't know but is now assigned to. Very sad but bittersweet as well. Has anyone ever known someone who does this for a living because I'd love to talk to them.

http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=346

Grumpy Old Chap

2008-11-11T19:39:00.000-08:00

I uploaded a bunch of my photos from London, but just 2 days worth. I think I have over 900 left to caption and crop and color correct. UGH! Luckily, going upstate this weekend. Between raking leaves and replacing light bulbs, I will post more. And write more here.

This guy was my favorite subject. Okay, I guess you can't call him a subject since he looks like he's about to grab my camera like I'm some kind of paparazzi but his face and expression is priceless. Oxford Street was insane this day. It was Monday, Sarah's last day in London before we headed to Geneva. And we had to shop fer gosh sakes before she left. So she was in the store getting this kick ass boots and I was hanging out outside snapping shots of walkers-by. It was fun. Only a few saw me do it. You can probably tell who. Oxford Street, as Sarah said, is the equivalent of the Macy's area. Large department stores and little shops in between. This was the day I discovered Primark and I will never be the same. It's the English version of Target. But dare I say, better?

Words Cannot Express The Relief...

2008-11-05T10:05:00.000-08:00

So instead, here is a photo showing the sheer excitement and joy felt last night in my apartment when we learned that Barack Hussein Obama was our new President. It may not come tomorrow or next year, but change is surely in reach.

Telefon Douche

2008-10-14T03:41:00.001-07:00

I think I grew up with one of these when I was a kid but they are so much better as an adult. they are everywhere in europe now. ooh-la-la.

Bloody Hell

2008-10-11T10:07:00.000-07:00

London is loving me right now because I brought super warm weather. It's Indian Summer here now. Sooooo nice to be wandering around. I really stepped in it. I'm living in the celebrity neighborhood. The equivalent of the West Village I think from what I can gather. It's so stinkin' cute and lovely to walk around at night and see the insides of the houses, the artwork, the design, etc. I had great Lebanese food Thursday night and today we went to see Westminster Abbey and Big Ben and walk around Green Park. It was quite a bit of exploring (total new thing).

Tonight we are heading to Notting Hill to meet my Hugh Grant. Hope the bookshoppe is open. Darting off to Geneva on Monday and will be going to a hockey game Friday thanks to Fred. can't wait. I'm gonna be loud fer sure.

Photos to come!

A Quickie

2008-10-06T19:13:00.000-07:00

So it's been some time since I blogged and I still don't have a ton to say (or moreso the time to say it) but I wanted to share some quick thoughts (or photos) before I head to London and Geneva tomorrow night for three weeks.

For those that know me, I have been extremely lucky finding gems in the discarded items we toss to the curb each week on "big pickup day." This past week was one of those lucky streaks and I found the below piece of wood furniture only a half block from my apartment. I love that something like this is hundreds of dollars in a Crate & Barrel catalog or Pottery Barn but I get to tell people, "Oh, that old thing. Found it in the garbage. Isn't it great?" And funny enough, it fit perfectly at the end of my new roomie's bed so now she has a place to display her things in a fun way. My home decor is based on the old phrase, "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

My new thing recently was taking a photo of my family home, the home I lived in since birth. For some reason, I had never done that and it gave me a totally different perspective on the place. Number one, it's so quaint and cute. But Dad, if you're reading this, it looks like someone dropped a bowl of blueberries on the roof and I think there's a lot of dirt on the siding near the garden. Otherwise, the gardens up front are gorgeous. Well done Mom! Beautiful choices in greenery.

This one is simply to continue my series of sleeping persons on the NYC subway. She was my latest victim. On the F train coming home from work.

The below photo is from a dinner I had recently at Brick Cafe in Astoria with Serge, the gentleman that went to Thailand to volunteer for MaryKnoll and never came back. He graciously gave me all the info I wanted on what it will be like there when I teach English for 3 months in Chang Mai (sp?) Can't wait. Thanks Serge for a lovely evening. Can't wait to have some Thai food with you in Bangkok. Oh wait, it would just be called "food" there, right?

On Mondays and Tuesdays, I get to look out on this view from my Design Department desk. It's awesome. This day in particular it looked like Armageddon but the photo itself almost looks fake because of the way the light was hitting the steel on the Manhattan Bridge.

Macy's Round Two

2008-09-24T18:56:00.000-07:00

Strangely enough, I've lived in NYC for 13 years now and grew up only in Westchester fer gosh sakes, yet I never went to Macy's until recently to find a gift for a friend that I saw in InStyle magazine. But tonight I went again, and this time, not to shop, but to learn how to cook Asian cuisine, or at least to eat some. Akhtar Nawab, chef and owner of Elettaria, was the guest chef this evening at the De Gustibus Cooking School located on the 8th Floor at Macy's, right between coats and bathing suits.

I've never taken a class like this before. It was a new thing for me. It was enjoyable and I met a bunch of nice people who also took the class. If you are able to attend such a thing, it's a unique experience because you get to ask the chef how to prepare things, those steps that everyone watching cooking shows never gets to ask the person doing it with such ease. For them, it's such routine but for us laypeople, it's totally foreign at times. I got to ask the very complicated question of what the difference between a pressure cooker and a slow cooker was. I know, I know. You already know the answer. But I didn't know, really! Since you're judging me, Google it yourself suckas!

One of the most enjoyable parts was the host. She was a spitfire and delightful to listen to as she shooshed folks that were chatting and asked great questions at the perfect times. In defense of the chatty cats, there was quite a bit of alcohol served, so I can understand. But she was a hoot and a half. I liked the vibe in the room.

My favorite part was dessert, as always. The pineapple upside down cake, created by Elizabeth (what a lovely name), was delish. I ate it in about 2 seconds I think. So good. It was perfect. The dishes prior to dessert were extraordinary. I am always hesitant with tartar ever since Larry Santiago took me to Café Un Deux Trois before we went to see the Buddy Holly Story on Broadway in high school. I ordered the Steak Tartare because the word "steak" was the only thing I could understand on the menu. Little did I know that they'd bring me raw meat in a lump on my plate. I pretended it was what I wanted but really, I wanted to ask the waiter to take it back, slap it on the grill and get me a nice juicy burger. But Akhtar's tartare was SUPERB! I loved each bite. And then the scallops were perfect as usual and the pork was so crispy and full of yummy fat. I heart fat. Patrick was all cute being all stealth walking in here and there. Well done to the entire team. It made me want to go out and get some spices of my own. Oh wait, I have some and never use them. That must be why I just go to Elettaria instead of trying to do it myself. Much better...

There's Only One Way to Say It?

2008-09-23T17:40:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm just warning you but this post may come across a little "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey"-esque. So what's the deal with the strict way we refer to couples once they have coupled? In other words, I have these friends who are couples and whenever I refer to them as a couple, like "I'm going over to Heidi & Akhtar's," I never say it the other way around, "Akhtar and Heidi's." Why is that? It's Steve & Phuong, Row & Suger, Denise & Jeff, Mike & Agnes, Tom & Ag, Sunil & Steffi, the list goes on. I would never say Phuong and Steve's house. That just doesn't make sense. Do you think it has to do with who we think is the "heavy" in the relationship or is it simply whatever flows better? Because I know that many people use my combinations. I mean, who ever says, "Judith & Tommy's"? It's always Tommy & Judith's. Sit on that for a second or two and you'll see what I mean. Groundbreaking, right?

Belly Laughs

2008-09-22T18:39:00.000-07:00

I had to share this but you've all probably seen it already. This Stride Gum commercial made me belly laugh (ya know, one of those hard belly-workout laughs). It's so unexpected. Oh gosh. Now I've ruined it. Now you're going to be waiting for the unexpected bit. Sorry. Enjoy! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojgi16des-U

By the way, the reason I find belly laughs so significant is that there have been few in my life. I know my most recent one with with Amy at some Indian restaurant on 6th Street and another was at Newsweek in our closet-for-an-office when I told Jennifer about Paddy, my parakeet that died in the winter and because I wanted to bury him in the yard, he just stayed in the garage until it was warm enough. So he literally was just there, for a very long viewing. RIP Paddy.

Lost in the Bronx

2008-09-21T17:20:00.000-07:00

Considering my parents are both born and raised in the Bronx, I'm embarrassed to say after 35 years of traveling there from Westchester, and the city, I still get lost on a regular basis. This morning was more embarrassing because I had my British friends with me because Charlie, my former intern, wanted to see one of my kids that I was giving driving lessons to and so her and her beau came along for the ride and then were going to hop on the subway into Manhattan. But sure enough, it was just like Bonfire of the Vanities and we were turned around and even went down this strange narrow wooded street where I know her boyfriend was questioning why in god's name he agreed to take this detour before brunch. So when I didn't want to keep trying to find Crotona Parkway (which btw if you're ever looking for it, it's right parallel to Southern Blvd and very close to the Bronx Zoo), I stopped by a tire/body shop to ask for directions. Sure enough, the only guy working there spoke Spanish so with my knowledge of izquierda and derecho, I comprehendo'd. he he. So sure enough, I was very close and found the place and played my Driver's Ed instructor role for the day. And the Brits quickly got onto the 2 train and got the hell out of Da Bronx.

As for the driving school, we went over to City Island because I felt that might be a slow-moving community to learn in. But little did I remember from my only trip there for seafood, that each and every street is a dead end. It makes for a whole lot of 3-point turns when your pupil doesn't want to cross Main Street yet. I think it's interesting to remember what it feels like to not know how to drive. I quickly remembered when just the simple step of STEPPING on the gas is something you don't feel comfortable doing. Or remembering that you are in DRIVE and not REVERSE (sorry to the owner of that hedge in front of the last house on that street that we were up and down all day long. I'm sure it will grow back).

Cops or EMS?

2008-09-21T17:05:00.000-07:00

So I was walking home from Sri Pra Phai, my favorite Thai restaurant in Woodside, Queens and I saw this man dressed in white lying on the sidewalk, not moving at all. He was just lying there and no one was around. It was very dark, after 9 p.m. and that area is not too happening. So I reached for my pocket and realized I didn't bring my cellphone with me. Duh! The one emergency I've had since getting a damn cellphone and I leave it at home. So I ran to Northern Blvd to a pay phone. He wasn't moving at all. I even looked at his chest and there was no motion. So I call 911 and the operator starts asking me some questions after I gave my name and said that there was a man, possibly dead, on the sidewalk between 61st and 62nd Streets on Broadway. She asked if he was drunk and I asked her how I was supposed to know that? She asked if he looked homeless. Again, how was I supposed to know that. But I actually answered her by saying, "He's wearing ALL WHITE, so I doubt it." (As if homeless people don't wear white?). So then to top it all off, she asked me if I wanted her to call the cops or EMS? My response: "Isn't that your job to assess the situation that I just detailed to you?" Unreal. So she then CONNECTED ME with EMS as if she couldn't just give him the address and the situation on her own. But actually, I'm glad she did because then, I realized that this EMS guy on the phone was just as apprehensive about answering the call. He asked the same homeless, drunk and "is he breathing" questions and I got so frustrated and simply asked if they would please hurry up and come. So then he told me to go home, that I did what I could and not to wait. So of course, I waited because I was fearful that they weren't going to come at all. I waited 20 minutes far enough away from the man lying there and when EMS showed up, they kicked him foot a little to see if that would jar him but it didn't! They reached for his wrist to see if he had a pulse and thank goodness he did. They put him on a stretcher and into the ambulance and took him to Elmhurst and I walked home. He was in his mid- to late-50s. It could have been a stroke or something. He wasn't resting against a fence taking a break from a bender. He literally looked like he fell as he was walking past this house on a quiet, residental block. I wondered how many people may have walked past him and thought the same that these operators assumed. As citizens, I think we truly need to protect ourselves first in situations like this but picking up a phone and calling for help when you're not sure WHAT is going on doesn't hurt anyone, right?

Bock Bock...

2008-09-15T20:18:00.000-07:00

So this is an e-mail string that my sister is going to kill me for blogging about but hopefully she'll see this photo I made and just laugh and laugh and laugh and forget that she was going to kill me.

Let me set the scene. Sunday morning, I called Michelle to see if she'd like to sky dive with me before our nephew's birthday party at the end of September. We'd be heading up that way anyway and why not jump out of a plane on the way upstate to kill some time, right? So I called to make the reservation and they told me to go on their website and download the forms to save time filling them out when we get there. And that there are also videos to watch before making the jump and if we watch them online and sign the waiver that we actually watched them and absorbed the knowledge, we'd once again save time on the actual day. We are on the wait list actually but the woman said that folks always cancel closer to the date because they chicken out. So she practically guaranteed that we'd get a slot. So Michelle got my e-mail where I forwarded the link and this was our exchange...

MICHELLE: Do you know that most of the stuff on these forms are about injury and death. What the hell is wrong with us??????

EO: i don't know about me? but what the hell is wrong with you that you DON'T want to just jump out of a plane and not worry about the consequences. see, this is why there are open spots closer to the date. because of CHICKENS - bock bock....

MICHELLE: Whatever

EO: think about it. it's TANDEM. do you really think those guys would go to work every day knowing that TODAY might be their last day on God's green earth? I don't think so. I'm sure they are quite adept at keeping themselves and US alive. But after we jump AND survive, we can tell the story of how the ripcord was jammed and we got down to like 2000 feet before it worked and it was literally LIFE or DEATH. and aren't the people listening to this story soooooo glad that we made it?! ahhhhh....

MICHELLE: So you are saying that mom didn't really land in a tree. She just added that to the story to make it sound cooler :-)

EO: that was 1969 fer gosh sakes. I do hope things have changed in free-fall technology since then. and i'm not sure she was tandem to be honest. i think she was solo. and listen, we're talking about mom here. she isn't exactly the most coordinated person. have you seen her on Wii yet? Ask her real quick to point NORTH or EAST or LEFT or RIGHT. You'll see what I mean....

Editor's Note: (1) My parents skydived before they were married and my mother apparently landed in a tree but was unscathed. (2) My mother is totally "with it," I'm just bustin' on her.

Who needs a dressing room

2008-09-15T20:01:00.000-07:00

So sure enough, I've once again done something new even though I said I would stop that nonsense. This evening after my volleyball playoff game, I decided not to change out of my game clothes because I wanted to walk out with my teammates since this was it and I won't be playing next season but as they all know, I always change out of my clothes because I have icky, unflattering workout clothing in my wardrobe and that's not gonna get me anywhere in case I run into Prince Charming on the R train home. So once I got to the R train platform, I went all the way to the very end where no one was and changed out of my volleyball clothes into my sleek black pencil skirt and blouse. It took seconds, but the guys who saw me pass by originally looking like that girl you weren't sure about on the field hockey team, saw a hair-down, fancy-schmancy girlie girl out for a night on the town. I have to admit, I sort of felt like Wonder Woman, minus the twirling around a bunch of times (by the way, i used to do this constantly thinking that it would actually work at least ONCE; had the UnderRoos and everything! FYI, it never did work). But tonight, no twirling. That would have made me dizzy and I could've possibly fallen onto the tracks and then I would just be a very FLAT girlie girl in a cute black outfit. And Mike, there were no photos of this new thing (dirty dawg).

In memoriam

2008-09-13T12:38:00.001-07:00

This was a memorial in Battery Park that I happened upon as I was picking something up in that neighborhood. I must admit, I happened to stay away from anything "9/11" that day, but I was glad to run into this so that for a moment, I could remember. NPR had done their regular moments of silence at the times that the planes hit and the buildings fell but that usually gets me too teary-eyed for the first thing in the morning so I turned it off. As strange as it may sound, I'll never forget obviously but I like to forget each year during this time...

Big Meat and Fab Shoes

2008-09-13T12:16:00.000-07:00

So I pick up my car this morning to find that the work I had done was much less money than I thought it would be (AWESOME). I decided to take advantage of being up early on a Saturday morning and go to Salvation Army to shop for deals. I parked at a meter spot and right as I was getting my stuff together to leave the car, the woman in front of me backed up right into me and shocked the hell out of me. She got out of her car to apologize saying she didn't even see me there (mind you, she got into her car after I had already pulled up there). So I just made sure there was no damage and said it was fine. But then she had to add that my car is so low that she can't even see a low car like mine from her big SUV. In my head, I was like, "that's not my fault lady." But I had to let it slide because recently, I hit a cabbie in the rear and he let me go. Good karma.

So I wanted some pencil skirts and thin sweaters for the new school year. Yea, I know. I don't go to school but it's a nice excuse to buy new stuff for yourself in September. Got those things (2 pants, 3 pencil skirts, 2 thin sweaters, 2 crop jackets, and 3 dress shirts) for killer prices (everything was under $100 because I had a bunch of pink tags and those were 50% off) but the icing on the cake is that I also found these HOT Bebe boots for $6.99 - Cha-Ching!

They are exactly my size and so comfy. Well, I didn't walk around the store in them for hours but they seemed comfy. As I checked out, I walked across the street to put it all in my car and there was a meterman giving me a ticket. I was bummed but when I got to him to say that it must have JUST expired because I was taking notice of the time, he said he already printed it and then he added, "Sorry." So I said, "No worries. It's my fault and it's your job. Have a nice day." It was a $35 ticket and since I got such a great deal on all the fly clothes, I truly didn't care. My new lease on life. I'm too happy with everything else to care about a ticket.

So I get home and go to the market to get some granola and yogurt and as I'm leaving to cross 31st Avenue, a man in a car stopped at the light says to me, "Yo. You ever had some big meat?" Now, first of all, my name isn't 'Yo." Secondly, even if I had had some big meat, I highly doubt I would converse with him about it being that I don't know him and that's sort of a personal thing.

Screw the new thing concept

2008-09-12T20:03:00.001-07:00

Listen, we all do SOMETHING new each day. But I think I'm tired of thinking of what that new thing was. I think the first week I was unemployed, it was easy to do something significantly new because I didn't have anything else to do but now I'm sort of working again but nothing with high commitment. So I'm safe. So NO MAS (no more for my Spanish-deficient readers). This blog has a new purpose now, no longer a NEW THING digest, now it's just a place for me to rant about the bizarro things that come to mind. Like CLEAN HOUSE on-the-road (but that's for a different post).

Instead, today I did a bunch of things that were so similar to what I did yesterday. I had coffee in the morning with a buttered roll, I rode the subway, had ice tea for my free drinks at work, read my book on the subway (re-reading Staggering Mind Genius book, can't recall the real title but you know what I'm talking about). It's nutty and I like it. As I read it, it reminded me that I have to get off my tochus and write my father's eulogy. I promised it to him for last Christmas and still haven't delivered. I always thought it would be cool for him to be able to read it BEFORE he kicks the bucket so he'll do the whole PHEW, she isn't going to roast me at my own funeral. That sort of thing. It's a really funny piece (in my mind) but I truly have to get it down on paper (or whatever the computer equivalent of paper is, what do we say, "get it down on document?" - whatever.

I did actually have a NEW THING today (of course now that I've abolished it, I'm gonna easily come up with them each day - whatever!). The new thing was that I did Car Talk-like audio descriptions of what is going wrong with my car to the nice gentleman at A&A Radial Auto Service station on 58th Street and Northern Blvd. If you ever need an honest car repairman, this dude is IT! I have been going there for almost 10 years since I got my little Lezbaru (thanks James) and they are so kind and don't charge an arm and a leg and explain things in a very layperson kind of way. Go them! So I got to explain how this thingy on the bottom of my car or maybe under the hood is making this rattling noise like the way a fan would sound if it was slighty, oh so gently, hitting something metal as it was spinning around cooling you off. And it had kind of an angry growl accompanying the beforementioned sound. It was all too complicated to SAY with words. I had to act it out. I think the guy appreciated it because he knew right away what I was talking about and said that my so-an-so's needed tightening and I replied, "they sure do."

Hotel Bars, Hot Spot - Fact or Fiction?

2008-09-10T19:27:00.000-07:00

FICTION. So I thought that hotel bars were a good place to meet boys (men) that wanted to actually meet someone who was serious about meeting someone. Boys (men) who would actually go up to you and say "HELLO, what's your name?" But I was wrong. Dead wrong. Went to the W tonight with my other serious friend Maura and nada. So it's still NYC and still lame. Boston, here SHE comes and who knows where I'll end up. Do send me suggestions that claim otherwise successful because I'll check them out for pure validity reasons of course. I feel like an episode of SATC.

Pea Size Dollop - I think not

2008-09-10T19:20:00.000-07:00

What's the deal with all those pricey product people telling us that all we need to use is a pea size amount to make it work. Yea right! How can a dollop the size of a pea do anything on your entire face and neck? C'mon man. That's ridiculous, right? I have this night cream that says this and I don't know about your face and neck but mine does not get covered with that much. It needs at least two caterpillars length.

Anita, my new elevator buddy

2008-09-09T19:43:00.001-07:00

So if anyone knows me, they know I take a compliment well, but if it's about my outfit, I typically follow up "THANK YOU" with "It was only $10 at Marshall's." A nice woman named Anita at my freelance job saw my outfit yesterday and immediately complimented me on it. I had been waiting for it all day because I absolutely LOVE my new outfit. I sound like the character in that new Devil Wears Prada-esque film. So I said thanks and told her how inexpensive (not cheap) it was and where I got it. Heidi hates this and I understand why but I can't seem to kick the habit. I love my thriftyness. I used to call myself "cheap" but Agnes alerted me that this word made me SOUND cheap so I have modified my language a bit. Mo even said yesterday when he complimented my new Kenar dress ($10), Nine West crop jacket ($15) and Nine West peep-toe pumps ($25) that I should say it was wildly expensive instead, but for some unknown reason, I get more satisfaction and thrill from telling people what a DEAL I got rather than seeming like I spend my entire salary (even if I don't currently have one of those) on fashion! It's almost more fun to see folks be jealous. they, too, could have great outfits if they only had the skills I had. he he. There goes my snobbery again. Gosh, I'm full of myself. I think this whole blog thing is bringing out the worst in me. Nah. Coverage on the Emmys, Oscars and Golden Globes do that. I'm savage during those red carpet shows.

So, just to rub it in, I also got this new BCBG dress ($15), Etienne Aigner gray patent leather slingbacks with a bow that matches the dress believe it or not ($7, that's right, I didn't miss a zero), and a vintage brown velvet clutch from Salvation Army for $3.50. See accompanying photo that Mo graciously took of me at work when it first debuted. Some of you may be asking yourself, "isn't she out of a job?" but as Kathy said when I told her the deal I got, "It would have been a CRIME to not buy those things." And I agree with Kathy (miss you honey bunches of oats)....

Eat, Pray, Yawn

2008-09-09T19:19:00.001-07:00

I know the following is going to sound like I'm a total travel snob or adventure snob but I am, so there. But this book, Eat, Pray, Love was so annoying to read. And I actually made it through the entire thing. My colleague Kathy is the one that told me I "HAD TO READ IT" because she felt it reminded her of me. ME?! This woman was so nauseating about this or that in Italy, in India, in Indonesia. I wanted to barf. I'm not saying there wasn't anything redeeming about the book but I constantly kept feeling like WHY DOES ANYONE WANT TO READ THIS? Then again, why are you reading THIS? He he. I'm the first to admit that I can talk talk talk about myself but I'm not sure I would have written a book in THIS way. I can't put my finger on what made it dull and annoying to me, but suffice it to say, it made me laugh when I saw this GUY reading it on the platform on his way home this evening.

Without stereotyping it as a chick book, I immediately assumed his girl made him read it to UNDERSTAND her more and possibly nudge him into shaping up or shipping out, considering the character, Liz, leaves her boyfriend for the unknown that she painstakingly describes in 3 "chapters". Save your $16.95 and wait for the movie. Julia Roberts is playing her and I'm sure she'll be better as Elizabeth then Elizabeth is. Gosh I'm mean. But Oprah isn't always right people.

Union! Union! Union!

2008-09-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

So if the really cute guy on the subway is reading this, the one with the four tiny hoops in his left ear, all dirty from a hard day's work, with the paper thin, worn-in Local 123 T-shirt on, I'm so sorry I waited until AFTER you got off the train to smile at you. Thanks for looking back. So if you want to email me, just put the subject line: "You're an idiot" and I'll know it's you. Okay, so I didn't pay attention to the union number but you know who you are....

Girls and guys of NYC, why do we do this to ourselves? Have these missed opportunities? We were looking at each other from East Broadway to 14th Street. It was sooooo obvious but noooooo, no one in NYC would dare actually go up to someone and start talking to them. That would be crazzzzyyyyy. UGH. I'm gonna move, I tell ya. This is getting ridiculous.

Free Fragrance Foibles

2008-09-07T20:33:00.000-07:00

In an effort to save money, as if I'm not always cheap (I know Agnes, thrifty), I have been using free magazine perfume samples. The only snag is that if I'm in a hurry in the morning and reach for one from my pile, I have been incoherent enough to give myself a paper cut and that does not look good on the ol' wrists if you know what I mean. I literally went to work last week with a slice right across that very important vein on your wrist. No one noticed of course because I work in the most antisocial office EVER! (gee, i hope no one from my office ever finds this blog, then they may not offer the free leftover conference room lunches that are sometimes offered to lowly temps like me when they're all done with it). that chocolate mousse was delish! keep it comin' and i'll keep smelling nice (gratis).

1st Day Organizing (Personal not Community)

2008-09-07T18:37:00.000-07:00

So today was my first full on personal organizing day. It was tiring. But very results-oriented which i love. We got a lot done (see before and after of my client's dresser of clothing.

Mind you, I didn't take before photos of each drawer and I should have because they were messy but now they are all lined up and organized by type of clothing. It took a while but it was well worth it. Now she can see all of her clothes rather than having them on top of one another. We also got a ton of paperwork shredded and bags paired down. DONATE, TRASH or KEEP. That's it. And then I got this lovely Thai dinner afterwards for my hard work. YUM-e. The papaya salad was a bit spicy but I better get used to it if I think I'm going to Bangkok for 3 months in January. My tolerance needs to get amped up.

Organizing and seeing your client be amazed at how much they purged in such a short amount of time is so satisfying. It's something everyone CAN do but who actually sets aside time to have someone push them to do it? Hopefully some do or else I won't have many clients. He he. Having a well-organized space and no or little clutter is an amazing feeling that can seriously change the way you feel when you wake up or go to bed. Everyone should do it. (peer pressure). he he.

Another funny thing that happened was when I arrived across the street from the former Andrew Hamilton house location, there were tons of European tourists outside getting a tour of Harlem so when my client came downstairs to open the door for me, I looked back at the huge crowd of people right in front of her building and said, "I brought my network." I'm funny, right?

And then when we were heading to the Thai restaurant, suri, on 101st and Bwy, very good, great design (even the bathroom), my client saw an ad for Manhattan Storage and it said, "You can't save the world if you can't find your socks" and it was this superhero without a sock on one foot. She thinks that would be a good advertisement for eodesignnyc. I agree. She can now find all of her work and casual socks.

What a shit job (literally)

2008-09-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

So I've decided to do some WWoofing when i go to Switzerland next month. World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF). As I did a little research on the Web, I found this hilarious video and it was only DAY Three of this guy's WWoofing adventure. It's so funny how "down and out" he seems after three days. But who knows? Maybe I'll be shoveling shit too. I do know how to breath through my mouth though. I learned that on the subways of NYC.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Zvjaa02oz-k&feature=related

First things first, Air India canceled my 2 flights to and from Europe so I have to get my refund and then rebook for October. Still haven't notified a family but I'm on it. Can't wait to go and see Sarah and Claudia. Hope to keep it cheap with the dollar the way it is. So I'm anticipating a lot of market jaunts and then the farm is free room and board. Yippee! I hope it's not a mushroom farm. That is my least favorite veggie. That would just suck. Then I'll have a YouTube clip showing mushrooms growing out of my pores. ick.

Does Showing up Count?

2008-09-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

Now what kind of country do we live in that you can't buy a Hummer at 8:15 on a Thursday night. Sheesh. I went to the Northern Boulevard HUMMER dealership to do my test drive. I had my whole story worked out about my boyfriend wanting to buy one but I had to feel comfortable driving it because it would be at our country home and his friend who's a partner at "the firm" recommended "you guys" because he liked dealing with "you guys" when he bought HIS Hummer. And how he was supposed to meet me there but had to stay late at the office, BIG DEADLINE. I was even ready with flip flops in case heels wouldn't work. But noooooooo, they weren't even open. Whatever! Every other freakin' dealership on that road was open. I was tempted to test drive a Lincoln Navigator on my walk home but didn't think that would quite equal the HUMMER. My friend Maura is outraged that I would even test drive the Hummer due to our environmental status in the world. She suggested a Prius instead. Now, does anyone else see the BLAH factor in that alternative? I'll try again but maybe on the weekend when it's light out. I can totally see myself taking out a few car mirrors on these slender streets of ours. I did that in Dublin when I had to learn how to drive on the other side of the street. My cousin just told me to keep going. So I did. I'm very influential that way.

Harlem Heights and SoHa

2008-08-31T18:29:00.000-07:00

Had my first personal organizing/interior design consult this morning in Harlem Heights, right across the street from the former location of Alexander Hamilton's house on Convent Avenue. They recently (in June) rolled the house one block west on Convent Avenue and then one block south on 141st Street to the new St. Nicholas Park location. The six-hour event was a popular neighborhood attraction. It's a great street, really nice neighborhood.

The consult went well and I'm super excited. I know this is going to be a great move for me. When I have "after" shots, I will surely be posting them on my new website (that is yet to be launched - eodesignnyc.com). So check it out there. But again, excited, elated, encouraged, exuberant (can't think of any other "e" words to describe it.

As for SoHa (South Harlem - gotta love New York City realtors that MUST come up with an acronym for neighborhoods to make them gentrified-sounding). My new client took me to brunch at Kitchenette, this fabulous little joint on 123rd and Amsterdam just east of Broadway. It's adorable. Like walking into an old-fashioned diner but with a cute, pink and polka-dot flair. Great food too. French Culinary chefs. Amazing omelettes and mouth-watering cheese grits. Grits always remind me of My Cousin Vinny by the way. So I highly recommend this cute brunch/lunch place. And they have other locations downtown. One on Chambers and one on Amsterdam and 79th. They bake cakes and cupcakes and cookies that are works of art. Really cute stuff and edible.

A Hard Day's Night

2008-08-30T06:50:00.000-07:00

Apparently, my new thing is taking photos of people sleeping on the subway. Because I have not graduated to the degree of taking candids of coherent individuals, this is my outlet currently. It's fun. Sometimes I just do it and look like I'm adjusting my camera or looking at my day's shots but other times if I have a book or my HUGE September issue of InStyle magazine with me, I use that to shield the fact that I'm capturing their soul in digital format. This time, the Uma Thurman-adorned pages assisted me in my quest.

I love this shot because at first, I took it horizontally and didn't get his backpack and kicks and it was okay but not good enough. The poor guy ... it looks like he had a really hard day. He hardly woke up when we entered each station to see where we were. I kind of figured he was going to Queens with me even though he was already on the train when I got on at York Street. And of course THIS reminded me of my ex-boyfriend's mother. It's a funny story actually and she'd die if she ever knew I was writing it down here. But whatever, she wasn't all too nice to me when I broke things off with her precious son -- so there.

For a worldly individual who has been to many corners of the world and spent decades living in one of the most culturally diverse cities on the planet, I cannot put her down for what she did, I can only laugh (which is what many of her family members do when this story is told). One day she was on the R train heading downtown when she saw an Asian family trying to decide where they were getting off. They were looking out the window to see where they were now and trying to locate the subway map. My ex-mother-in-law (practically speaking), got up and rushed over, taking it upon herself to let them know that THIS was indeed their stop, Canal Street/Chinatown.

My ex always rolled his eyes in disbelief that she actually said this to them and made that assumption that all Asians must be heading there because that's where they belong. It was an honest assumption, I must admit, considering when I saw that this guy was not getting up when I was getting off in Jackson Heights, I had that same feeling. (We all do, we all just don't admit it or get caught TELLING people to get off here because it's your part of town). I thought, 'he must be getting off here, he's just a SLEEPY Muslim Indian. I don't want him to wake up in Forest Hills.' This must happen all the time in New York since we're all so helpful and love giving directions. I imagine that many a New Yorker on the J/M/Z line has offered assistance to a Hasidic family fumbling for their map as they approach Hewes Street. Everyone knows all the Hasids live in South Williamsburg :-)

And since I'm on the stereotype/generalization kick, I went to Yonkers last night to celebrate the knocked-up-ness of a good friend of mine and cannot get over the influx of Irish there. I know that's not new news but I think I'm gonna round up some single girlfriends and take a gander at some of the pubs there. We may find some good craic there (pronounced CRACK, translation=FUN).

Yes we can! / Si se puede

2008-08-28T21:31:00.000-07:00

I've really gotta get better about taking photos on my adventures. Tonight I purposely wore my new pink dress (the one I got in Marblehead for nothing) and I was going to take a photo of me, matthea and cara at our Obama event (new thing, never went to a convention speech watching event at a bar) and then i plum forgot. so instead because I couldn't pass up shooting me in this dress, I held the camera and got a shot of my chest because that's all everyone wants to see anyway, right? but the sticker slipped inside (i left it cause i thought that was cute). The event was sort of lame except for the exceptionally cute boy sitting in the next booth with his stupid girlfriend (boy, if you are reading this (doubt it), please realize that i am the one you want to be with, not her). The older Asian woman who was like the whole room's mother (cleaning up after spills and handing food around) was adorable in addition to Pam from N.C. who spoke in Denver. Well done Pam. You ROCK! And I loved Barney Smith. I guess with Google nowadays, any campaign's speech writer can find the man they need to really get to the issues at hand. Hilarious!

now back to me. mo is my inspiration when it comes to street photography and not being afraid to shoot people no matter where you are. today, when i showed him this photo that I took on the F train on my way to work alongside him, he said, "it's a free world, right?" RIGHT INDEEDy. "So there" to that guy sitting next to me that was scowling as I shot this sleeping dude next to the 99cent stickers stuck to the homeless woman on the ad in a smiley face pattern. Ya can't pass this shit up.

And then on my walk home tonight after taking out Steve and Phuong's garbage, I saw how they make those white lines on the road for pedestrians (new thing). I was gonna whip out the ol' camera but I figured you could all imagine it without visuals. I thought they painted it with a big brush but they don't. They have this machine that looks like the one they bring out on the baseball fields and it's like powder and then they seal it with something so that we can't just blow away the powder the first time we walk on it after they've done all that hard work at midnight all over the city. well, obviously it's not done AT midnight ALL over the city. That would be difficult to achieve. Well, unless there were tons of those workers synchronizing their watches. Okay, goodnight folks. That's enough new things for this evening. Oh wait, it's morning.

Hell's Kitchen is Right

2008-08-27T18:20:00.000-07:00

The kitchen part, that is. Before my volleyball game Tuesday night, I took the long way and walked around Hell's Kitchen taking in all the new cuisine this neighborhood has to offer (new thing). I used to frequent this part of town in my Newsweek days since there wasn't much going on at the intersection of Broadway and 57th Street restaurant-wise. We'd go to Uncle Vanya's, Puttanesca, Patsy's and Matt's Grill a lot, Mangia y Bevi on 9th Ave. and sometimes Kennedy's. The crew also went to East but back in those days, I didn't do it raw so there was no sushi for me. But now, there are a ton of places there that I'd like to check out. One in particular is on 50th between 8th and 9th and the chef is in her 80s or maybe even 90. She's adorable and although I only had time to peek inside, it's cute too. Very intimate but says on the window that it has authentic french cuisine so I'll have to check it out. Of course I've forgotten the name but I know precisely where it is, on the north side of 50th closer to 9th.

Another thing I finally captured (new thing) was a photo of this unbelievable sidewalk garden that I've passed for years on my way to the High School for Environmental Studies where Big City Volleyball has many of its games. Whomever tends to this concrete garden has done quite a lot with little space and no earth to speak of, except in the pots of course. A nice man came outside while I was taking a picture and offered to take a photo of me in front of the garden (like it's on the Time Out New York walking tour or something. It's nice, but c'mon sir (sorry, that was mean. I'm in a weird mood tonight).

The other thing I get a kick out of in New York City is the mix of architecture which brought on this next photo. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I don't. For instance, this shot is something that I like because it reminds me of that movie in the 80s where that big developer wanted to build somewhere and there was one holdout - this building with a little robot or do-dad that helped put the little white tiles back together in the entrance foyer (can't recall the name) but it often looks like that when you look up on a city block in these neighborhoods. There's old school charm and then high-rise luxury within spitting distance of each other. This is why I love New York. But one thing I don't like so much (and I was recently discussing this with Mo as we waited for a table at this great noodle joint), I'm not fond of mixing architecture in ONE building like the Louvre or the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Or the Hearst Building on 57th and 8th Ave. Why? I don't get it.

Crotchless Undies

2008-08-25T14:48:00.000-07:00

Did you know that there are Tupperware-like parties where you can buy crotchless panties AND undies for him that hold his piece but look like Groucho Marx? Yup, you can. E-mail me for details.

So Maura and I went to Marblehead from Boston on Sunday and met up with Mary Elizabeth and Marwan to see the town. It was lots of laughter and lots of shopping. This town is the most adorable place to walk around. So much history and the homes are to die for. We luckily happened up on this little consignment shop called Madam Had'em on Washington Street I think. It had cute stuff and I found this Tara Jarmon dress for $23 but it was 50% off so of course I had to get it. After we got back, we googled Tara Jarmon since Maura knew it was a high-end designer, and her dresses sometimes retail for $500. Cha-ching. I love a bargain. That was a steal! We got to see Mary's cupala (sp?) and convinced her, as her hubby has been doing, to join Facebook. So there. Job well done. Oh and my new thing is that I drove Maura's Prius home. And am the proud owner of a French-made Tara Jarmon floral dress (new thing).

Hay, FREE food

2008-08-25T14:33:00.000-07:00

My lovely friend Maura invited me up to Boston because she was staying there for the summer and her most recent flat was on Newbury Street, as she put it, "the Madison Avenue of Boston." So when she heard I left my job, she said, "You'd be an idiot not to take me up on this." So I'm not idiot. I bought my $15 Fung Wah Bus ticket and was on my way. It was a beautiful location and I was just happy to be away. We did a lot of sightseeing and it was great because although I have been to Boston a few times before, I hadn't been to the Haymarket before or Little Italy for that matter (new thing).

Granted, we got there at the end of the day, when many are taking veggies and fruit for FREE, that's right, gratis. So it was an even more interesting site to see. People with their carts, taking whatever was left. On their heads, on their hips, with their kids, etc.

I love shooting these types of things but this one woman at the end, the small Asian woman, was not all that happy that I shot her. Oh well. I love the shot of the woman with the cart AND the crate on her head. It was like we were in Africa or something. Cool beans.

And then this one kid was just getting a kick out of rolling the Sarah Wrap down the road. Wasteful but cute.

In general, I'm not too keen on Boston as a place to live, but it's nice to visit. First of all, the Red Sox fans have got to calm themselves. This rivalry with the Yankees is taken to the extreme there and I know this is not new news but it's so silly. There were guys with "Yankees SUCK" T-shirts and then I will never forget when I went to visit Wayne at MIT, a guy at a club came up to me and said, "Why the long face" as I was waiting for Wayne to come back with drinks and I simply joked and said, "Oh, well, the Yankees lost." He literally turned around and told his friends and I seriously thought they were gonna punch me. WHATEVER. Get over yourselves and get a life! And these same guys need to get a clue when it comes to their wardrobes, and I'm not referring to the stupid T-shirts. They all dress alike. It's like Stepford. Get rid of the Dockers and step away from the weave belts. Ick.

Jaws 3 and Red Snapper

2008-08-21T17:10:00.000-07:00

Do you ever take time to actually notice things that you do every day but don't bother to analyze. I did that today on my commute home from DUMBO. In all the four years I worked on the upper Westside on Amsterdam and 84th, I never felt that I was on a daily grind, or "commuting to work." There was enough variety each day in the people but also the way I got there (streets I took, train combinations I took, etc.) that it didn't seem like a static, routine task. But today, as I was leaving Washington Street, I realized how much it does feel that way in just four DAYS. It's not a neighborhood. It's somewhere people go to each day to work in the larger buildings and then all line up on the same street to walk toward the ONE subway train, the F at York. And then you enter this Blade Runner-like hallway to finally get to the stairs that take you to the platform. The only highlight today was that this girl slipped a little on her way up the stairs and her skirt went up and I saw her day-of-the-week panties. That made me giggle. And even though one might think that all these uber-hip trendsetters are so unique that there is VARIETY, I think NOT. They're trying too hard in my estimation.

Well, enough about that. On the train, I realized that I hadn't really done anything new today so I decided to cook something new. I went to the Asian fish market across from my apartment and got some red snapper (new thing). Granted, I've cooked some fish before, but never red snapper. Here's a pic of it. FRESH FISH!

I bought one filet ($1.06) and the guy behind the counter just looked so sad as he tried to fish the largest piece out of his selection. Then he bagged it up and gave me that look where he knows I'm alone. Wah-wah. So I cooked it, just some salt & pepper and viola. It was good. I turned on the boob tube and one of my favorite fish movies was on: Jaws.But Jaws 3, the one that came out in 3-D (this is what the poster looked like in German). The one with Dennis Quaid and Lea Thompson. I had the biggest crush on her when I was a kid. I think I still do. I loved her in Space Camp. That was the bestest movie ever! I was either going to work at Sea World or take off into the cosmos.

Facebook Explosion

2008-08-19T20:35:00.001-07:00

I must say, I am always game for signing onto the next internet fad (Friendster, MySpace, Vimeo, etc.) but this Facebook thing has really exploded recently. I went to dinner tonight with Amy and we were talking about how many people have added us as friends that we knew from back in high school. It's insane. It's like a virtual reunion but of all different grades. I have to admit that I like it. I'm such a voyeur that this is fun to see what folks are up to even if I didn't know them very well back then. It's neat to see who's married, who has kids, who does what in their careers. So Panas folk, keep the friend requests coming... I know I'm not as on point as Row with my ol' memory but I never forget a face (unless you've gotten all bald and tan or toothless and hairy). Row, that was not a dig at you.....

My new thing today was answering my cell phone at my freelance job under my desk so no one else would see me talking. i felt like i was one of those hostages in a bank robbery film where they didn't quite see me yet so I was calling for help. anyway, it's so damn quiet in there and no one else seems to have any conversations with anyone that i just couldn't be like, "Hey Amy, so where are we meeting for supper?" I do wish there was water cooler chatter, but nada. All those cute boys and everyone seems to be actually working. What's up with that? Amy suggested that I just start blasting Howard Stern from my desktop and see what the kids' reactions are. I think I may try that. I'll let you know what transpires...

F to DUMBO

2008-08-18T20:38:00.000-07:00

worked for mo today. quiet office. no water cooler chatter. cute boys though. the only thing is - none of them talked to me (and i think most of them were single). sheesh. it's like high school all over again. seriously, cool office. great work they are doing. looking forward to being part of it part-time. great to be watching mo's creative juices flowing again right in front of me. that area has changed so much in just a year. i think i was there only a year ago and there are so many cafes, shops, etc. now. wow. hey, that rhymes. ok, gimme a break, i'm trying to catch up on days here. shot a cool construction wall mural.

I did get to see the last of 4 waterfalls by that olaf dude (new thing). big woop though. what's the big deal. it's water falling from a metal thingy. gosh, that took a lot of thought. sorry artsy folks...

Thank goodness for Lemsip (08-17-08)

2008-08-18T20:24:00.000-07:00

Got the flu or something last week, but thankfully, I still had my supply of Lemsip from Ireland here in Queens. This stuff would never be sold over the counter here but it does the trick. It has something called psuedopehredine (sp?) in it. Maybe we can get a petition together to get the U.S. to allow this stuff in. It rocks! Granted, you fall down like a druggie after one glass but it allows you to work the next day. Oh wait, why would you want to do that? also went to a noodle place on 4th avenue and 10th street (new thing) and saw ben stiller's latest movie, Tropic Thunder (new thing) - (eh, can't recommend you spending $11.75 on it but I did laugh a lot).

Oh! the Rambles (08-16-08)

2008-08-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

Not sure if every New Yorker knows this yet but tourists don't seem to catch on that quick. The Ramble (that portion of the park behind (pardon the pun) the Boathouse, has been and still is a cruising area for homosexuals. It's fun to watch. I hate to make it sound like a zoo exhibit but it kind of is. Men walk up onto rocks, check out the pickins and then come back down, sometimes with a package, sometimes without. I introduced my friend Matthea to this fact and she can no longer see it in any other light. Although I have been to the Ramble before, we ventured to one area that I had never seen before, the gazebo (new thing). It was quite occupied but that didn't stop me. It seems to be inhabited actually. And that it was. About 8 gentlemen seemed to "hang out" there together on a regular basis because they welcome us to their "home." They were quite friendly and asked us where we were from because they probably figured two New Yorkers would not be strolling past them and venture inside to chat. It was cute. I said something along the lines of "hadn't wandered across this before. there are so many turns and hidden spaces" and they were like "uh, yea," probably knowing EXACTLY what I was talkin' about. Nice guys. Next trip there, we'll be taking a hot air balloon ride over Manhattan. Can't wait. And the gondola. Did you know there's a dude that gives gondola rides on the pond? Ask him to tell you his life story. Apparently Matthea has hired him 30 times and is almost to his childhood.

Friday, I'm in Love (08-15-08)

2008-08-18T19:29:00.000-07:00

Today, I discovered Carl Shurz Park (new thing) near Gracie Mansion. Really cool spot.

I highly recommend checking it out. You can bring your large or small dog. They have dog runs for both sizes. No mixing please. After my lovely morning appointment, I donated my $1 to the Met (you do know you don't have to pay the suggested $20, right?) to see the Superheroes exhibit and the Koons sculptures on the roof.

But I found this one special place that I have never been to before in the Met and that is the glass cases of old furniture (new thing). How could EO have missed this area? It's in the American wing on the 2nd floor and it got me thinking that I might up my apartment insurance.

I love going to museums by myself because you never have to pretend that you are looking and thinking in front of some work of art. You can breeze through, run away from the boring bits and bypass the porcelain white naked dudes with missing noses. Whatever. Even though their pieces are in clear view, it just doesn't do it for me. I did however like this young chap. If anyone knows the model for this painting, do tell.

In and Out, Up and Down

2008-08-14T14:57:00.001-07:00

So after having a lovely lunch at the Comfort Diner with my hot friend Nicole who works at the Flatiron Building (pronounced fla-tier-on), which I've never been inside of (new thing), I hopped on the M23 to peruse the Chelsea Galleries (is that supposed to be capitalized? I don't think so). Anyways, it was fun as always. This semi-annual outing is not new to me, but of course all the new art is (new things). I fortunately made it around 24th and 25th Streets before the heavens opened up and splashed me silly with rain water. I got to see a photo show on white supremists/KKK members and oddly enough, when I was walking to catch the C train uptown, there was this elderly black man with a cane standing outside of the Elliott Chelsea Housing Projects, trying to hail a cab and no one would stop. I asked him if he'd like me to help and he said yes so one stopped for me (new thing). Sad.

I highly suggest everyone go and stroll around the galleries. It's really fun. It gets your creative juices flowing and you meet neat folks. I met Ari from Israel (new thing) who didn't understand fully (and who would) that you just simply enter random buildings and take the elevators up and down to various open (and sometimes closed) doors that say "gallery" or "studio" on them. It's quite fun to be so B&E about it (well, not the B). Then you go in and out of warehouse-type storefronts. His English was cute and he had to be all of 19 years old. He was staying with his sister who is living here. I'm sure you'd love for me to go on and on about Ari but I'll change the subject.

So then, I'm in this one building that has lots of floors and I get off on the 5th Floor and see this sign outside one door that says "imaginary forces" and I'm alllll, "oh my gosh. that's where steve works. how funny." so i knock. never been there before (new thing). this woman answers and i ask if he works there and she doesn't seem to want to confirm or deny that fact so she calls him and says that i'm here for him. he indeed did work there and showed me around - thanks steve. cool stuff btw. i'm slowly realizing how fortunate i am to know so so many creative (and sometimes mildly famous) people. i rock! (oh wait, they rock). aww snap!

oh, and today i wore a backless shirt. it was fun. you get dirty looks from girls and hootin' and hollerin' from construction workers. i know girls say they hate that when sweaty guys with uniforms and hard hats cat call but i think it's fun. i sit and watch cute boys go by when i'm on benches in public and think naughty things but i just don't say it out loud. maybe that will be my new thing for tomorrow (prospective new thing). that's the ticket. what would that be called? dog calling? or just plain harrassment.

So I took tons of photos of the art, I think my favorite was the scary fairy tale dolls.

Or the dangerous women. So now I'm off to din-din with Heidi at La Rural (new thing), an Argentine restaurant on Amsterdam and 97th Street. Can't wait. I've always wanted to try it and her birthday is as good a reason as any. And there will be lots of MEAT. yum-e!

Sushi and Prosecco

2008-08-13T20:54:00.000-07:00

So someone with the initials AK was missin' his regular drinking buddy and used me for the evening. Sheesh. Like all it takes is a little sushi and prosecco to satisfy me. Gosh. Had a pleasant evening talking about business ventures and such and feel very invigorated about going out on my own, whether it be organic farming (which I know nothing about), organizing people's lives/apts/homes, or starting my own alternative to incarceration program in NYC. the sky is the limit. (I think someone once told me never to blog when you're tipsy but when they told me that, I wasn't a blogger, so does that advice count?)

It's a Zoo Out There

2008-08-13T14:08:00.000-07:00

So get used to it. I think my headlines will always be corny. Today I awoke to some aggravating phone calls that I didn't answer but I wasn't going to let it bring me down. It was Wednesday after all, HUMP DAY. I had to do something fun. So I remembered that Wednesday is FREE DAY at the Bronx Zoo. I will go visit with the animals. And visit I did. After walking my own little borrowed animal, LuLu, I hopped on the 2 train and headed to West Farms to stand on line with all the other thrifty New Yorkers who don't want to pay $15. It was a beautiful day and it's great that so much of the zoo is in the shade because I do love the shade. I saw a lot of the park but enjoyed Tiger Mountain the most because when I first entered the building that looks out onto the "mountain" where the tigers graze, there weren't ANY in sight and everyone was really pissed off because they waited on line to get in. So just as some people were leaving cursing (which is sooooo appropriate to do when you're at a family place), a tiger surfaced. Granted it was merely because he (or she) saw the zookeeper atop the building with raw meat that s/he threw onto a rock for the tiger to devour.

But regardless, they know how to make the visitors happy. I got so many great shots of him with his mouth open, looking straight at me, it was all very exciting. And although I could have let the little ones in front of me to get a better look, I didn't. So when I left, I walked toward Fordham to see if I could catch the tail end of what seems to be a Wednesday/Thursday flea market (new thing) that I read about on my favorite blog, design*sponge, but it ended up being a far walk and just a bunch of crap honestly. But I got to see the university where my cousin Seamus (James) Finlay was the Dean of Students (new thing). Fordham even named a building after him. Finlay Hall. My dad just told me that. Cool beans. So now I'm back home making arrangements to meet up with mothers that are possibly interested in my babysitting services. Oh, but something icky happened too. I was just exiting the express D train after running into a former client of mine which made me so happy to hear that he's doing so well, and some grimy guy grabbed at my privates. Gross and ewwwww. Who does this!?!

Tuesday Galavanting (08-12-08)

2008-08-13T13:50:00.001-07:00

So this day started with me posting an ad on Craigslist offering babysitting services (new thing) and to my surprise, it worked. I got two calls within the first day. I love kids and figure that while I am starting my new organizing business, I might as well make some money so I can do those things like eat, drink, transport myself from point A to point B. So after that, I showered and put on my new Burlington Coat Factory Naturalizer $24.99 shiny shoes and headed to lunch with Maryssa at Lacoste, well not AT Lacoste, they sell clothing, not burgers. We went to Burger Heaven and let's just say that classic burger with pickle was indeed like heaven. Hadn't had the red meat in a while. Yum-e! So it was great to catch up with her and since I was already near 5th Avenue, I shimmied over to Henri Bendel's to get gifts for both Heidi (who's birthday is this weekend) and Judith (whose birthday I missed back in July - oops). I've never purchased anything in Henri Bendel's (new thing). It was fun to be all glammed out shopping in these shops. The salespeople were all very nice to me and I got bags and fancy boxes for my gifts and everything. My only suggestion would be to the skin care lady. Don't say "help for your skin?" to people who obviously have a huge zit under their nose. It doesn't make us want to sit down on your black chair and chat about our bad picking habits. So then, I ventured over to Tiffany's. I mean duh. There, I bought cute little candy dishes for my girls, the counselors I worked with at my job who also resigned for bigger and better things. It was so regal how they wrapped them and I was going to present it to both of them at this little shindig I was having at my adopted parents' pad later that evening (new thing, never had a party at someone else's house when they weren't home, they knew though). So after Tiffany's, I pulled the ol' Havianas out of my bag and shoved the glitzy ones away for now. No band-aids on hand. Shame (as Jim Bacher would say). Walked my way to Sherry Lehman to buy my two mainstays and headed thru the park toward the west side. On my way, I saw the Victorian Garden at Wollman Rink (that amusement park they constructed on top of the rink for the summer) - so cute with all the kiddies getting all excited about lame rides. I mean, c'mon. It's not Kingda Ka. Paalleeease. So as I surfaced onto CPW and saw the Trump Hotel, I thought, "I want a drink in a very civilized atmosphere" and strolled over to the entrance, only to learn that they didn't open up again until 5:30. Now, there I was with my shoes back on (had to represent) and my Tiffany's and Bendel bags a-flowin' and they still told me "CLOSED". So I picked up my bags and headed over to the next best thing, the Mandarin Oriental (new thing).

Shot myself up 35 floors and entered the lounge, "one please." The waiter kindly asked what I'd like to drink and I chose the cheapest sake on the menu. $8 to be exact. He brought it to me in this curvaceous glass and I sipped slowly while taking in the AMAZING view of Central Park and Central Park South. It was very "lady of leisure" and I plan to do it again in a variety of fine establishments all over NYC thank you very much. So once the CNN electronic billboard "rang" 4:00, I got the check, had the waiter take my photo with the park background and went back down to the "regular people." Got on the train, back to reality, back to picking up LuLu's poop, and hightailed it to DAG's to get the makings for guacamole and corn salsa. The girls (and Mo) started arriving at 6:00 and it sounded like a hen party. So great to see them all together again and chat up a storm. I will miss them all but hope to keep in close touch. (Tommy, don't worry, the big shindig was over at 10:00 and we did keep the sex, drugs and rock & roll to a minimum).

Monday Showtime (08-11-08: cheating)

2008-08-13T13:37:00.000-07:00

My first official unemployed day (I know I'm cheating by naming this Monday and writing it on Wednesday but how else do people do this blogging stuff?).I woke up to torrential rains and sooooo wanted to go out but full seasons of Weeds and The L Word were calling my name. That is, after I wiped up all the water that came in through the windows of the 3-bedroom duplex that I'm house and dogsitting in. So I guess the new thing there was that I've never watched that many episodes of Showtime on Demand series in my entire life. So there. It was very exciting. I heart Mary Louise Parker. She's a hoot. Now, I'm not saying that I love her in the L Word kind of way, just the "you go girl" kind of way. And that's not to say that I advocate selling marijuana and creating grow houses but the writing for the show is amazing. See, that's how I got myself out of that one. Sound intelligent, compliment the intelletual WRITING. Besides watching a massive amount of TV, I simply stopped in to visit my favorite 2-year old for some yummy pasta that her mommy made and called it a night.

Launch of eo Explores

2008-08-13T13:33:00.000-07:00

Since leaving my full-time job, I promised myself that I would try to do something new each day and so far, I have been pretty good at keeping my promise. I'd like for all these new things to be wacky and crazy but I'm realistic and know that some will be mundane to readers, but maybe a little nutty to me. So I hope you can stalk me a bit by reading this whenever you get a chance and comment on my escapades, adventures, and explorations.