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Posts Tagged ‘new york’

I don’t know how much longer I can take it. The first day of spring is two days away, yet winter seems unending. It snowed all day Saturday. The current 10 Day forecast shows nothing close to 50º. Late March is always the beacon of light at the end of the winter tunnel. St. Patrick’s Day is a marked in my mind- the first sign of leaves usually appear around this notoriously “green” day. Still no sign this year. I keep thinking of March 22, 2012, a day bursting with color and temperatures in the 70s. I’ll never forget that day, one of my all time NYC favorites.

March 22, 2012. I know I shouldn't be dreaming of the past...but this is all I want right now!

March 22, 2012. I know I shouldn’t be dreaming of the past…but this is all I want right now!

This California girl is craving color, I’m dying for it! Nature is giving me nothing, not even a blue sky, and so I look elsewhere. Fortunately, New York is on my side! March 20th is not just the first day of spring, it is also New York Macaron Day! Never heard of this, you say? Neither had I! It only began in New York in 2010, taken from Paris’ Jour du Macaron. I am so excited to participate this year!

macaron1

It’s hard to find something as cute, classy, and colorful as a macaron!

Macarons are right next to flowers on my list of “Things I Would Buy Much More Often If I Had Money”. Delicate, airy, and sweet, they are the perfect two bites. I would eat them all the time if I had the $2.75 to spend on two bites. That is why I’m so jazzed about Macaron Day! Bursts of the sweetest colors and the sweetest tastes at a price that can’t be beat. Fifteen bakeries throughout Manhattan are participating and providing FREE macarons on Wednesday!

The Macaron Cafe, an adorable hole-in-the-wall on E 59th Street between Madison and Park, is one of the participating bakeries. That’s where all my pictures are from, it’s such a lovely shop! The ambience is cozy and colorful with original art displayed on the walls. They also make great salads and sandwiches. It is really busy at weekday lunch hour. But come on a weekend it’s the perfect spot to catch up with a friend, over coffee and macarons!

The seating area in the back is small, very New York, and perfect for singles or couples.

The seating area in the back is small, very New York, and perfect for singles or couples.

I plan to visit as many of the participants as I can, who wants to join me? View the full list here. If you don’t live in NYC, stop by a local bakery and see if you can convince them to give you a deal because it’s Jour du Macaron (I recommend saying it in a thick French accent)! Or make your own: Not So Humble Pie has detailed her experience and recipe here. Or just wait for my upcoming blog post detailing my Macaron Day adventure to live vicariously!

VIVE LE MACARON!

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Stuffing yourself on Thanksgiving: it’s all-American. I’d suggest it’s an all-American cliché. When the menu consists of butter-herb turkey (didn’t even wish it was chicken), mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, green beans, and sweet potato casserole portion control is frowned upon. It couldn’t have been much more traditional or delicious. Do we stop there? It’d be entirely unAmerican! Because there is nothing more American than apple pie. Oh boy was there pie: pumpkin, peanut butter, chocolate, eggnog cheesecake, and I had to sample each one, with whipped cream on top.

The waistband of my dress was a tight when I waddled out the door. Having feasted in Queens and chosen to wear shoes that pinched my feet (they’re fabulous and new, I pray I just need to break them in), walking home was not an option. I hopped on the subway and once home promptly hopped into bed, drifting to sleep on a cloud of tryptophan.

I awoke Friday morning and felt fat. Yep, a girl cliché! Instead of whining and feeling sorry for myself, I laced up shoes that don’t pinch my feet and set out on a five mile walk. I started at 42nd Street hoping to catch a walking tour. Arriving 20 minutes late (oops), no such luck. Instead, I made my way through the sea of shoppers on 5th Avenue, soon crossing to 6th Avenue where there was more room to breath. Salvation Army bell ringers, store front windows, decorations around buildings- Christmas was coming at me from all directions. It felt odd in the perfect fall weather- a sunny 55 degrees- to still see snowflakes of all shapes and sizes. Fall gets a horendous truncation in my book. I hold on to summer until the very last moment of September 20th, a month later, it’s the day after Halloween and Starbucks is playing “Let It Snow”.

As Central Park came into view, I knew I’d come to the right place. Nature knows it’s still autumn! Brightly colored leaves against the striking blue sky, it was the perfect fall day. I know we’re all excited about Christmas, but I haven’t eaten enough butternut squash soup yet. It was glorious to just walk through the park and savor the present (meaning NOW not GIFT) season.

I was not alone in my stroll. Thousands of others were in the park taking advantage of the beautiful weather. So many people inhabit this city, stacked on top of each other, that it’s impossible to ever actually be alone. Yet New York is a notoriously lonely city. Feeling lonely but never being alone is truly a phenomenon, however oxymoronic, a New York cliché. I know enjoy alone time more than most people. I will happily go for a walk with just my thoughts for company. But on this day after Thanksgiving, seeing all the families and couples in the park, I experienced rare pangs of loneliness.

I had no headphones, no music to accompany my walk. I soon realized I’d even forgotten my cellphone- a feeling of simultaneous freedom and solitude. When was the last time you went on a walk without these distractions? I felt brave- so many of my generation are afraid of silence and their own thoughts. Not that it’s ever silent in New York. I eavesdropped on some fun conversations- a group of women discussing their figures (“You went through a really skinny phase, Justine.” “Yeah, when I was running marathons!) who confirmed the “I feel fat” post-Turkey Day cliché. A little girl whining at the park’s entrance: “I don’t want to go in there!” “Why not?” “It’s a scary forest!” That’s a true New York native. The best sounds of my walk? The crunching of leaves.

I was shocked and pleased to see boats still on the lake. This is something I meant to do all summer, and never did. For a second I thought to myself, “Go now! Get a boat all by yourself! Otherwise, chances are you’ll be waiting ’til next spring.” I didn’t do it. I can’t imagine a situation more lonely than being stranded in the middle of a body of water, struggling to maneuver a row-boat all by myself, wishing I had a man with strong arms to man my ors.

I turn into a little kid around autumn leaves. I’ll shuffle through piles that collect in the street gutters, even though it’s dangerous (you never know what could be lurking under the leaves!). I love the sound and the feeling as they scatter around my shoes. You don’t get leaves like this in California. It’s my ninth (WOW) east coast fall but I’m still making up for 18 years sans foliage. Another thing about solitary walks? There’s no one to take pictures of my back. It’s too weird to ask strangers, nor advisable to turn my back on my camera. Instead I took self portraits of my feet in the leaves. Like my polka dot tights?

I saw a lot of cute couples on my walk. I’ve been on a break from dating for almost six months in an effort to figure some things out (cliché!). Maybe it’s the holiday season, maybe it’s because I have figured a thing or two out, I want to be one of those cute couples. Have I figured enough out to not pick the wrong man for once? I’m hopeful.

The last time I went for a long walk in the park was in the spring (remember?). There are some big changes between the park in these seasons, the most surprising one was the drained model boat pond on the east side as you can see in these photos.

The most beautiful changes were obvious.

This lovely scene at the Conservatory Gardens really made me miss my family. A little girl leans on her mom as they sit on a bench admiring the pink and yellow flowers that form a circle around the fountain. The three frolicking ladies of the fountain made me think of my three best friends, who I call my sisters, all in San Francisco for the holiday. When I got home, I was greeted by text messages from each of them, sent around the time I took this photograph. There was also a picture in my inbox of our moms hanging out together. Perfect. I hadn’t thought about family on Thanksgiving, wanting to avoid that feeling of missing. This walk was the perfect time to feel those feelings. I let them simmer, wistfully smiled, and felt so thankful for my wonderfully supportive family: parents, aunts, and uncles. And sisters. Love.

I got to the top of the park and realized I should have collected leaves along my walk. Why didn’t I think about that at 59th Street!? I picked up a bright orange leaf only to discover some sort of city sludge on the bottom side of it. New York cliché #253. Collecting pictures of leaves is just fine.

I got my fall closure (I can embrace Christmas now instead of muttering it’s too early!), crunched a lot of leaves, felt lonely in a way that made me give thanks for being a human with feelings (…if that makes sense… let’s just say I’ve squashed feelings down recently and it’s no good. I want to feel- good and bad), and appreciated my family- something I don’t do enough. My Black Friday was the most colorful Friday I’ve had in some time.

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I am thankful that I can share my thoughts with you. So much thanks.

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It doesn’t get much more cliché than talking about the weather.

A lot has happened since my last post. Storms, Halloween, presidential elections.

But you knew that. You’ve read about all three thing in loads of other sources. It doesn’t excite me to write about things you already know.

Every time I’ve sat down to blog in the past 2 weeks I’ve gone through the same thing, “Nope, don’t want to write about that. But how can I write about anything else?” The result? Silence on my part. Again, you knew that.

I may or may not have taken this picture long after Halloween. I may or may not have, moments ago, dug my costume out of the wrinkly dredges of my laundry basket and begged my (super awesome, wonderful) roommate to take my picture. That may or may not be the fabulous(ly soft-focused) exposed brick wall of my bedroom.

I never lost power, not even for a second. There’s no excuse there. My neighborhood weathered the storm incredibly well- one tree fell down in the middle of the street, not hurting anyone nor damaging anything. I ran outside in the middle of the storm to visit friends who live across the street. I’m so lucky. On Halloween, while many people in the area had no power and others had major damage to their homes and cars, I dressed up as a “killer bee” complete with toy “buzz buzz” gun and bloody war paint. While many evacuees were stranded with tunnels flooded and public transportation shut down, I walked 80 blocks of the Upper West Side, stopped at a bar, and drank pumpkin ale and ate pie with Charlotte and Miranda.

My biggest complaint these past two weeks is that the heat in my apartment was too high. The irony. My roommates and I opened all the windows and stripped to our skivvies whenever we got home. We felt like jerks for complaining about it, but when it’s 92 degrees inside it’s hard not to. If only we could donate all our excess heat to the thousands on Long Island shivering with out it!

Then there was the election. Which seems so far away now, but a week ago I was a bundle of nerves when the possibility that Obama might not win hit me hard and left me with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my (it’s mine and still fully in my control PHEW) uterus. Working a week of 13 hour days leading up to the election left me a bit brain fried as well. But Obama won and that paycheck will be sweet: win-win.

Also it snowed. That was weird. The weather is whack.

Today it was 60 degrees and sunny. That’s the fall I know. The leaves are changing, they fixed our heat, the subways are back and most people have power restored.

I got a nice taste of foliage on a recent visit to the New York Botanical Garden. As a born and raised California girl, I’m still dazzled by seasons!

There is still major devastation in the Rockaways and Staten Island- I hope to have time to lend a hand out there this week. Because my life is pretty damn grand considering. My heart goes out to the many who haven’t had it so easy. Those can’t find parts of their life in the wreckage of their homes while I sit in my cozy apartment, struggling to find time to blog. I live a charmed life, I know. For that I give thanks, it is November after all.

Now I’ve covered the New York events that are too serious to be called clichés. Tomorrow we’ll get back to things that can seem frivolous business- like how my life is currently a TV show (upgrade from chick lit!), why I’ve started wearing lipstick more, and why Chinatown makes me homesick.

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Some weeks in NYC are crazy, non-stop, don’t have time to eat or blog. This has been one of those for me. Between auditions, working a vacuum promotion on Long Island, and looking for a new apartment, this is the most I can say. TGIF right? Not for me! I’m working 20 hours this weekend! So as I gear up for that, I’ll be thinking of fun weekends of my past. Like a recent one where Miranda and I found ourselves on a SoHo rooftop with the most incredible view. Rooftop parties are the best. Especially when the host provides glow sticks and NYC provides a spectacular view.

Can you spot me? Clue: I twisted blue and orange glow sticks together.

Have a great weekend- what are your plans that I may live vicariously?

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We kicked up our heals and circled left. Then the other way around. The fiddle player crooned and the banjo player strummed as the caller told us to swing our partners. I hooked Charlotte’s arm and we whirled around, just like we had as little girls.

Well blow me down with a cactus if we weren’t square dancing in the middle of New York City.

Click for full info about the this shindig!

Stranger things have happened, sure, but it’s not how I typically spend my Monday nights. No sir-ee. A week before, when I saw the sign proclaiming free square dancing in Bryant Park, I let out a hoop and a holler. “Come hail and high water, I’ll be dang busted if my patootie is not at that shindig,” I thought to myself, “And Ima gonna git my favorite little missies to join me.”

They didn’t take any convincing. Miranda and Charlotte yee-hawed right along with me when I told them about the event. We went whole hog outfitting ourselves in checkered shirts, affixing suspenders to dungarees, tying bandanas around our necks, and braiding our hair into pigtails. When offered a plastic cowboy hat by the event staff, we said “Thank you ma’am,” and topped our ensembles. Not quite up to our usual standards, but festive enough that a group of tourists begged us to take a photo with them exclaiming, “You look like real country girls!”

Miranda and Charlotte on the back drop of Bryant Park, the New York Public Library, and the Crystler Building just peeking out on the left.

(more…)

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Eleven years ago, I had yet to call New York City home. I can only imagine, hearing the stories of those skyline, life line, changed forever on September 11th. The ghost town of ash, the browning core of the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps in a coma-like state. I pray I never know that NYC. Today I reflect and rejoice in the vibrant, revitalized neighborhoods that I call home. The streets that burst with inspiration, hope, and strength.

Streets that are an artist’s canvas. That embrace color, that compose love poems and foreign messages sent over seas.

This artist was commissioned by a man in Spain to create this work in chalk, a love letter to his girlfriend (wife?) for their anniversary.

Streets that are a sanctuary. That create community, that foster acceptance, that raise voices in song.

Hare Krishna members chanting and singing. They can often be found in Union Square.

Streets that are a playground. That leave you jumping for joy, that welcome all who want to join the game. (more…)

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When we last left our hero (me), she was attempting a move uptown but evil villain movers were thwarting her plan.  After a battle with an armoire, a screaming match with the a-hole moving company owner, a perilous ride in the front seat of a truck smooshed between 3 grown men, and the aid of my darling friend Walter, I emerged victorious. More or less. Everything got moved and that’s all that matters. A week later, it feels like home. From where I stand, there was only one moving casualty. It always has to be something.

I woke up Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, refreshed and ready to get back to work. I was going to be a good little blogger, write about my weekend in the timeliest of fashions, including dozens of pictures, it was going to be great. And then I couldn’t find my camera USB connector. Buzz buzz! I ripped my newly organized room apart in search of the thing. To no avail. I racked my brain, called friends whose apartments I had recently visited. To no avail. I ransacked my room again, double checking every nook and cranny. Nowhere. That’s how I spent my week in the greatest city on earth. Is there a worse feeling? When you have a plan and then forces beyond your control thwart it? Just like my movers. It’s always something. Yesterday I gave up and went to Best Buy and purchased a universal USB connector. Today I write this belated post. Without further ado:

Governor’s Island, swimming distance (if swimming were allowed/advisable) from the southern tip of Manhattan, is a fantastical place. A former military base, only accessible by a five-minute ferry ride from Manhattan, populated only with abandoned buildings and summer attractions. It is open only on weekends from May 26-September 30. “Governors Island offers a diverse array of arts, cultural and recreational activities for visitors of all ages to enjoy.” say’s their website. I have been meaning to go for years, but again, it was always something: I was away for the summer, it’s a whole ferry ride away, I work weekends, I’m a lazy excuse-spewing American cliché. Nothing motivates an American cliché like money, which is exactly what finally brought me to Governor’s Island. I booked a job for Labor Day weekend working an event called “Pig Island”. (more…)

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