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Posts Tagged ‘flowers’

A wise man (or maybe just some first date that didn’t go anywhere) once said, “You never need to buy an umbrella in New York.” He was right. There are several ways you will acquire an umbrella when you least expect it:

  1. “An umbrella” is high on the list of Gifts to Get Someone You Don’t Know Very Well.  Chances are you will receive one as a gift.
  2. Have a gathering at your house. Someone will bring an umbrella and forget it. This just happened at my Yellow Submarine party. Anyone missing a cute fuchsia umbrella?
  3. Wait for a promotion. I did one for the Weather Channel at office buildings in the Financial District. If you were there, I gave you a gigantic, high-quality, golf sized, black umbrella with a tiny Weather Channel logo sewn in a corner.
  4. Go anywhere in the city on a day with a chance of rain and on the floor of the subway or under the table of a cafe you will invariably find a lost, forgotten umbrella.

It was one of those days where the threatening sky looks like it will open up at any moment. I had a small compact umbrella in my bag. I was prepared. I was walking down the street in Chelsea and I saw an umbrella propped against a building that mesmerized my inner child. It was the umbrella I longed for as a six-year old, the umbrella my practical mother would never buy me because I would have been devastated when I inevitably lost it. Chances are, it was broken. This was too rational for the little girl part of me, now jumping up and down with glee. Just as the first raindrops began to fall, I went over and opened it. Perfect condition. I should leave it for an actual six-year-old, I thought, make her present dreams come true, rather than indulging my past.  But….her mom probably wouldn’t let her pick something up off the street….I rationalized. Who was I kidding, that umbrella was mine.

It’s an instant ray of sunshine every time it rains. I stand under it and my world transforms from gloomy and wet to star-studded (it is covered in blue, pink, and yellow stars) and gleeful. Ii’s such a simple mood transformation, I might even buy I replacement when I lose it. I would highly recommend one to you. With an umbrella that brightens a rainy day, you might just find yourself singin’ in the rain.

April showers bring May flowers.

Tulips in front of the Plaza

Nothing like finding flowers that perfectly match my second favorite rainy day accessory: bright pink tights!

What are your favorite rainy day accoutrements?

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Easter: a holiday I don’t really know what to do with. I don’t believe in Jesus, I don’t have kids. Since my first Easter away from home, it’s been a day where I feel like I should do something, but I don’t really know what.

The Easters of my youth were classic: dying eggs, a basket from the Easter Bunny, egg hunts, church, a fancy spring dress, Easter dinner with roast beef. In college, most Easters were spent rehearsing for plays, which always opened around beginning-mid April. The most I celebrated was by giving up something for Lent. Not for religious reasons, but to see if I could handle the challenge. I successful refrained from meat, corn syrup, eating outside the meal plan, each for a string of 40 days. Last year I went to a Passover Seder. This year, I’ve decided to celebrate spring. That’s something I can fully get behind. It’s a glorious day and there are flowers everywhere.

Tulips at Columbus Circle

Cherry blossoms on Fifth Avenue

Tulips and street art on Park Avenue

Tulips in Washington Square Park

Tulips and my shadow: am I making a peace sign or a bunny shadow puppet? Your call!

Can you tell tulips are my favorite (gentlemen callers, take note)? Now I’m off to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Happy Easter! How do you celebrate?

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“March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” That’s the old cliché. It seems a bit strange to use that turn of phrase for March 2012. That is, unless you think lambs are the most gorgeous, beautiful creatures alive on this green earth. This week heralded in the official start of spring. New York City has outdone itself with this seasonal change. The city is nothing short of glorious. The weather sunny mid 70s. Everything is green, apart from the brilliant blue sky and the colorful flowers that are blooming everywhere.

There is a tangible energy change on the city streets. The sentiment of “I’m cranky, cold, and you’re in my way” that has been emanating, all winter long, from those I share the sidewalks with has changed. Now there’s a smile on everyone’s face, or at least a twinkle in their eye, and an overwhelming feeling of, “I’m just happy to be alive and outside!” You might think they put Paxil in the water. It’s amazing what some sunshine can do.

Yesterday was the warmest day yet, anyone short of the undead wanted to spend as much time as possible outside. I took full advantage of my unconventional work schedule, complete with a picnic lunch and a leisurely walk through Central Park. It was a truly fantastic day. If you are sitting at a computer right now, don’t fret. Pretend you’re walking with me in Central Park!

Don’t wait for the walk signal. Jaywalk! That’s what New Yorkers do!

Happy Spring everyone! Hope the weather is as lovely where you are and you can make the most of it this weekend!

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I can count on one hand the number of times men have bought me flowers. (No, one of them is not my father.)

1. Cute Theatre Boy bought me flowers. They were a thank-you for doing him a favor. He had to run to an audition but his laundry was still soggy in the drier at the laundromat. I am an awesome girlfriend and told him I would take care of it. He returned to folded laundry and handed me a bouquet of orchids, the kind that sit in blue water so the petals turn blue. “I didn’t know what kind of flowers you’d like, so I bought you my favorite.” This is not the right thing to say to the woman who just folded your t-shirts. She wants to hear, “I got these because they reminded me of you” or “because I thought you’d like them” or “because they’re so fun and colorful, like you”. Perhaps this is why men never get me flowers, but is it too much to ask that you get me something you think I would like instead of something you like? Perhaps my lack of enthusiasm is why he dumped me before those orchids had even wilted.

2. A blind date brought me a single red rose once. It was sweet but by the end of the date, my favorite thing about him was that he bought me a rose and dinner. There was no chemistry. No chemistry and the fact that he ordered lobster, didn’t know how to eat it, didn’t ask for help, and ended up wasting an unforgivable amount of precious lobster meat: these are deal breakers. I walked home from that date and left his rose on a picnic table in Lincoln Square. I hope someone picked it up and it made their night a little brighter.

3. My friend George bought me a pink rose once. The man was smitten/lusted after me for the nearly two years we did theater together. Normally I would never have agreed to meeting him for a drink, but I had heard he was dating a mutual friend of ours. I thought we could finally have a friendly drink, catch up, and maybe I’d get some good gossip. I walked in the bar and he greeted me with a rose. The rest of the night he tried to get me drunk, only succeeding at this endeavor for himself. Completely hammered, he told me how he wanted our mutual friend to be his girlfriend but she was not interested in being exclusive. It became painfully obvious I was his attempt to not be exclusive either. Apparently pink roses mean “I wanna get with you to prove to the girl that I really like that I don’t really like her.”

Today is Valentine’s Day. From all my experience, I know I can’t count on men to buy me flowers. But what do I spend every Valentine’s Day hoping for? A man who will buy me flowers. So what’s a single gal to do? Get productive? Join several online dating sites? Try speed dating? Ask everyone I know to set me up with eligible bachelors?

Too much margin for error. I bought myself flowers this Valentine’s Day. They are lovely pink spray roses. They suit me perfectly. I’m a spray rose kind of girl: quirky, cute, not perfect or artificially colored, and nice smelling. It was not the Best Valentine’s Day of the Millennium, but it was a good day.

Instead of kissing someone this Valentine’s Day, I spent my day giving people free lipstick. I promoted Covergirl today, and guess what that means? I got free stuff! You know what that means! Valentine’s Day giveaway!

One grand prize winner will receive every thing pictured (except the roses, someone who loves me very much got those for ME): a black canvas bag, “liquiline blast” eyeliner pencil, “lashblast 24HR” mascara in black, “intense shadowblast” eyeshadow, “eyeenhancers” eyeshadow in “golden sunrise”, “lip perfection” lipstick in “delish” “euphoria” and “spellbound”. One other winner will receive the “euphoria” lipstick and “lastblast” mascara.

To enter please follow this blog in some fashion (like on Facebook, follow on Twitter, subscribe via email/Wordpress) leave a comment on this post about a time you received flowers. Winner will be announced on Sunday February 19th; you have until that announcement to enter!

Good Luck & Happy Valentine‘s Day!

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There is one day a year I wait for with more anticipation than a five year-old waiting for Christmas, than a 17 year-old boy waiting to lose his virginity, than a 50 year-old police man waiting to retire: the day leaves return to trees. Every Spring I forget when this magical awakening happened the year before. As the Ides of March pass, I wake up giddy with anticipation. I peer out my window, searching for greenery but so far I’m met by naked trees and maybe a naked neighbor across the courtyard (and by “courtyard” I mean sad strip of concrete with a couple sad-looking tables). However, there is no doubt Spring is in the air. Birds are singing about it and if you talk to any New Yorker they won’t be able to resist- “The high is 70 tomorrow!!”

NYC is not a city known for being green. Quite the opposite really. “Hazy Shade of Winter” being more the Paul Simon theme song rather than “Kodachrome.” Gray skyscrapers, black asphalt, neon lights concentrated in Times Square. The one exception of course, is Central Park, which I found myself in the midst of yesterday afternoon. At first glance, the park was like the rest of the city. Bear brown trees, branches crisscrossing across the cloudy sky like winter roads on Google Maps. But then I decided to look at the world through “Tourist Eyes” where every thing is fresh, the element of wonder at one of the greatest cities of the world. Time isn’t about getting to your destination as efficiently as possible, it’s about savoring the moment. Through these eyes I saw things that made me clap my hands together with glee. Fortunately, the only people near by were European tourists who are less judgmental of spontaneous illogical applause than New Yorkers. Crocuses! Lovely little flowers peeping out from the ground. They scream Spring like nothing else. I practically jumped up and down and began snapping pictures with my (piece of shit, but I’m getting a new one by the end of the week!) camera phone.

A near by carriage driver, dragging on a cigarette while standing next to his poor bedraggled horse, growled at me, “We won’t be responsible when you get mugged!” Seriously? In broad daylight at 2 in the afternoon? I laughed. You might scare little tourists, but you can’t fool me you big bad carriage driver!

I continued my walk, wishing the flowers indicated a warmer temperature and also wishing I had opted for pants in the 40 degrees. (I was wearing tights an a skirt, this was not another No-Pants activity, sorry to disappoint.) It was not a day for sitting on a park bench and reading, that doesn’t become a go-to activity until May. Central Park is relatively empty on a chilly weekday, but one can already see days spent sprawled on the Great Long, patches of grass barely visible between groups of sunbathers and picnics. I didn’t run into any street musicians, I didn’t get picked up by any cute guys, I only interactions were with crocuses and a crotchety driver. Then, just as I was leaving the park, I saw what I had been searching for for weeks. No, not a job, not a boyfriend. Leaves! The first leaves of the season!

A small tree with branches at my eye level right at the West 63 entrance, he’s an early bloomer, way far ahead of his compatriots. I have no idea his type- magnolia? dogwood?- but I know it’s my type. I wish I could wake up to his glorious green every morning. But I have no doubt he’s started a trend. It’s only a matter of time before the trees outside my window give into the peer pressure. Here’s looking at you guys. He certainly inspired me. Today I am wearing quite conspicuous green knee socks. I think they’re super cute, but they are the kind of accessory that needs a second opinion. I am wearing them in homage to my favorite tree and, oh yeah, because it’s St. Patrick’s Day.

You can read last years rather bitter post concerning the holiday here. Two years ago, I was painfully dumped on St. Patty’s day- it left me with a bad taste for the holiday. But that’s a story for another time, and also not the break-up story you’re looking for. I know. Fear not, I will wrap up my Safa Boy Series soon! I needed a break, so until then, have a pint of Guiness or something alcoholic with green food coloring and have a laugh with friends. That’s my plan tonight. A toast to spring, a toast to getting over shitty break-ups, past and present.

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