I have seen Fashion Week, and it is great

It's Fashion Week here in NYC and I must admit I'm really getting into it this year. In high school and college I was quite the junior fashionista. When I re-arrived in NYC I had the opportunity to walk in a plus-size show for a friend who styles (plus size! I'm an 8 for goodness sake!). In 2006 I attended three shows in the tents and in 2007 I was at one. But more recently my body and budget issues have put my fashionista aspirations on the back burner. Over the last couple of mmy freelance projects have revolved around fashion. Though the industry is kind of messed up in terms of ego savagery it's been fun to get back into the exciting whirlwind that is FASHION, all caps.

This year I was particularly interested in getting into Leifsdottir's Spring 2010 presentation. I realized it too late and didn't start making calls to the peeps I know until the beginning of September. I didn't have high hopes. Though I had no luck through my connections it was great to get in touch with friends, some of whom I hadn't spoken with in a couple of years.

Usually the response I got was, "Can't do Leifsdottir but I can get you into X." I was shocked! I got invites to some great shows. All I had to do was ask!

Friday was by far the craziest day. After failing to get an invite to Leifsdottir through friends by sheer luck Anthropologie's PR firm invited me directly. I could not have been more excited. I put in a 3/4 day at work and then went to the presentation. Unfortunately my partner in crime F had to bail so I went by myself. It was such a beautiful presentation and I loved just about every single piece. The presentation was my first time blogging about a show and I had trouble editing myself because I was so pleased with what I saw. Here's the post.



Friday was GROSS in NYC -- rainy and cold and more like October or April than September. Soaked to the bone, I ran from 38th St & 7th Ave to the tents to make Nicole Miller. Thank goodness these shows always start late. My friend J was understandably pissed that I was late but once the show started all was forgiven. I loved Ms. Miller's show. She had an intense peacock modern print in several pieces that I found intensely awesome, even from the second-to-last row.

I was a bit embarrassed by how underdressed I was. I usually break out the DVF for Fashion Week and had my Pilar dress set to go. The rain completely messed with my plans. I ended up in jeans, a white tank and a grandpa cardi. Not exactly front row material.



I did much better on Saturday. Rain again killed my Pilar plans but I did wear a fabulous pair of wide leg trousers, awesome 4" ruffle heels and a Theory blouse that was flatteringly...umm...flattering. I was lucky enough to see Christian Siriano's show on the promenade. Again I was in the second-to-last row but I heard that many people didn't even get in so I have zero complaints. His collection was stunning even from that far back. I saw later in the online pictures just how cool the prints he made were and there were several pieces I only wish I was famous enough to have an occasion to wear. My friend F tried to introduce me to Tim Gunn but the poor man, dapper as ever, was swarmed.



And yesterday it was a dream come true as I somehow got into Diane Von Furstenberg's show. I kept pinching myself...could not believe it was real. I broke out a Missoni dress and a pair of Cole Haan heels. Looking at some of the frocks inside the tent I would have been safe in DVF. I love almost all of her stuff but last year was a rare miss for me. I liked what I saw for 2010 a lot better. I didn't think her show photographed very well. The photos I've seen have not captured the movement her pieces had.

The end of the weekend was almost a relief. I have an invite to one more show: Nanette Lepore on Wednesday. I would love love LOVE to go but it's smack in the middle of work. Not sure what I'm going to do. But in terms of seeing shows Fashion Week has already been quite the lucky success.

Weekend of free

It's Memorial Day weekend and here in the city that means many of the residents flee out to the Hamptons for the weekend. I enjoy the emptiness, which I prefer to think of as a little more room to move around. When I lived on the Upper East Side it was almost comical how few people were left -- it was like "I Am Legend" up there. Down here in Financial District though it was still pretty crowded with tourists in town for the long weekend. I only mind when I'm trying to get to the 4/5 subway line and everyone is trying to take pictures of George Washington.

The last few days have been much better. One thing I do appreciate about myself now is that no matter how hard I try to be moody and depressed it never sticks. I can do it for 2/3 days max. I used to be able to go for months. I am so glad I've grown out of that and receded into optimism. It's tiring being sad. Plus NYC is just always so alive. The kinetic energy is impossible to repulse for too long. T stayed a few extra nights because he was in protector mode and I totally appreciated it. I of course responded by giving him a had time. Especially when I did the math and realized that he's turning 40 in a couple of months! Or 39 again as I used to tell an old acquaintance. We played it loose -- he hung out with friends while I was at work.

One common thing that happens here (and really everywhere) is that my friends will disappear for months at a time and then reappear just as suddenly. So it went this past week with my friend J, who works in the fashion industry doing something international. A buyer maybe. On Wednesday nite T and I went out to dinner at Brasserie with her and then went to the Top of the Rock -- one of my favorite places in the city. Just adore the view.

My big project this week was all about music. My first project is a poster. I took the lyrics to one of my favorite songs and designed it into a text art poster. It came out really cool, I must say. I finally got around today to researching printing costs. A friend had recommended Zazzle and the cost was going to be $180 or something ridiculous like that. But Zazzle was having a 70% off (!) sale so I ended up paying $60. Pics to come once the finished product comes.


The other was hanging up my basses and guitar, something I'd been planning to do since January. It was nerve-racking. I couldn't get the wall anchors in and neither could T so I decided to risk it with just the screws. I tested on the Ibanez (far left) first because, well, it was the cheapest one to replace. It stayed up overnight and so up went the other two...after a trip to Home Depot. The wall hanger's actual hanger piece had a long screw that was pertruding too far out the back to mount flush. A nice store associate offered to saw it down for me. Thanks nice guy!! I hope that having my guitars out and available all the time will inspire me to write and play more often. So far though T and I are just staring at how pretty they are.

Earlier today T once again proved how he's got mad skills. We were riding down the elevator when he ran into an old friend and somehow got us invited to a party in my own building. I could only laugh...I have a lot to learn from him or someone. We declined though. He left for Jersey for man stuff and I have plans to go surfing tomorrow if the weather holds up. I can't wait either way. These days off are so refreshing.

Adventures in...Tofurkey

After all the drama of apartment hunting (still hunting) I was happy for the Thanksgiving break to have something else to think about. I spent the week before mentally preparing myself to gain five pounds in potatoes of the mashed variety, stuffing and turkey. Then I got an invitation I just couldn't pass up. Friends H & G were attending a vegan Thanksgiving and invited me along.

At first, I was like, no turkey? You must understand that I see a dish and think, "hmm, how could I add some meat to this?" I am very much the steak and potato kind of girl. But I was intrigued by the idea of tofurky...tofurkey...whatever. Not real turkey. I knew the stuffing would also taste different. I was in anyway.

Don't tell anyone, but I'm a big tofu fan. The only reason why I don't eat it more often is that I can't stand the smell of it raw. Give it to me grilled or cooked somehow and we're all set. I curious to see how it would hold up vs. turkey.

We met up at the restaurant around 4:30 on Thanksgiving. Soup to start with lots of veggies -- carrots, celery, peas, onion, yum. I kind of missed chicken or turkey in the soup but it was just a starter. Then we lined up, buffet-style for the main course. The side dishes were a'plenty: mashed regular or sweet potatoes (with pecans), stuffing, sweet potato pie, green bean casserole, noodle pudding, mixed veggies, cranberry sauce, some kind of bean dish, vegan gravy.

Then we finally got to the Tofurkey. I was trying to picture what it would look like. Would it be shaped like a turkey? Would it be rectangular? Would it resemble spam? Truth is it looked more like a ham -- big, ovular, kind of pinkish brown. A server cut into it with the classic turkey knife to reveal the stuffing in the middle. I took a slice on my already full plate and headed back to my table.

H & G watched me take my first few bites and waited for the reaction. It took me several bites before coming to the conclusion that it was pretty damn good! The tofurkey had the same consistency as turkey -- kind of moist, easy to break apart with a fork and a little bit tasteless. In no way would you ever mistake tofurkey for turkey but it was a suitable replacement. The stuffing was a bit of a disappointment (something to be said for sausage and the like as flavoring) but in the end the meal was delicious and I stuffed myself just as much as I would have with the real thing. Shopping on Black Friday was predictably a disaster. Nothing fit. And that's the way it should be -- making me buy nothing on Buy Nothing Day.

Halloween...of superheroes!

As a kid, I honestly only remember trick or treating once or twice. I definitely remember wearing the same pink panther costume until I was like 10 but that was just to school. Once year I was a poodle skirt 50's gal. And then in college I was always a sexy devil. Boring old me. Last year I was Pebbles from the Flinstones. That was pretty fun. I was also very sick as I remember. That was not so fun.

So I was pretty damn excited when T asked me to be his date to a Halloween party up in Connecticut this weekend. The theme is superheroes and villains which totally means that I get to extend the Summer of Superheroes a bit longer! (I am not letting go of it. Maybe ever.) I have met the couple friends throwing the party before and they are very cool. The wife is an art dealer and the husband used to work for Marvel comics. Now he works on graphic novels I think.

When T called, he said I was the first of his "many, many girlfriends" that he thought of because I am a nerd. And it's true. I know a surprising amount of trivia for someone who has never read a comic book. My first question was naturally, "Well, do we have to go as characters from the Marvel world? Or can we branch out to DC too?" T just laughed and I know he was rolling his eyes at me. "Roxy, you're killing me," he said. But he still wanted my ideas. His criteria was that he didn't want to look dumb. My criteria was that damn I don't know how I feel about spandex. I was trying to think of costumes that wouldn't require too much. I gave up on that quickly. I can't think of a single female character that wouldn't need leggings or something skintight.

He offered him as Magneto and me as Mystique, which would have gotten a slap had he been here in person. I countered with him as the Scarecrow and me with a bat to fix his straw stuffing. He challenged me to come up with something better. He retorted was him as Mr. Fantastic and me as the Invisible Woman, which I have to give him props for. Quick-witted bastard, that one!

Here's what I came up with: him as Venom (he rejected Spidey as too emo) and me as Black Cat. Him as Daredevil and me as Elektra. Him as Captain America and me as Wonder Woman. Him as the Joker and me as Harley Quinn. Him as Batman and me as Catwoman. Him as one of the Ninja Turtles and me as April O'Neill! Him as Cyclops and me as Jean Grey (I thought this one would be kinda cool -- he could do the Cyclops version from the X-Men movies and just wear red-tinted sunglasses with a leather jacket. Alas, he said no.)

I think we have finally settled on him as Gambit and me as Rogue. It was easy for T. He has a long trench that will work great. Then all we needed was a Under Armor top and some baggy jeans. I got him a bandana in case he wants to one and we tied rope on a broom to look like a bo staff. We even found these cool light up cards he can use if we wants to be fully propped. He's currently working on his Nawlins French accent. It's gonna be really tough for me. I have no clue how to pull of that green and gold number Rogue wears. And I'll need a wig. I have the tiny jacket and gloves though. The chances of me successfully pulling off a southern accent are slim. I am excited to see what everyone else does.

Oh, sure, NOW you wanna go to the Financial District

Stone Street -- appropriately named.

BFF M invited me down to the Financial District last week to drink. The prospect of hot Wall Streeters in suits sealed the deal for me. We took the W train all the way to the end and headed to Ulysses first. Pearl St and Stone St are in the oldest part of the city and they're lined with bar after bar. The entire street was filled with picnic tables and umbrellas. But it was raining when we arrived so we started inside. There were certainly plenty of Wall St suits there drinking and yelling and talking about the upcoming NFL season. But there were also a few loners drowning their sorrows in beers (maybe the latest round of Lehman layoffs? or the depressing DOW drops?). We gals took a seat at the bar and made our own party for awhile.

The bar at Ulysses.

Because of Labor Day weekend the place was a bit more empty than usual. We didn't mind. We played a little game trying to guess people's names by looking at them. In our minds there were lots of Scotts, Todds and Dougs at the bar that night. Also maybe one Javier. Somehow we never got around to actually talking to anyone outside of our group. We were having too much Ladies Night-style fun.

Once the rain stopped we moved outside. It was a pretty scene -- lines of tables on the cobblestone street. Tall buildings all around. Groups of people having a nice time. Etc etc. Being outside also meant dealing with a lot of smokers and the more I drank the more I wanted a cigarette. I don't even smoke!

The table next to us was being kind of obnoxious. We couldn't help but listen in because THEY WERE SHOUTING LOUD ENOUGH FOR THE WHOLE BLOCK TO HEAR. Sorry. It was two clueless but charming guys hitting on three girls from Russia. The ladies totally had the guys whipped; I think the guys bought every round. Go ladies! To impress them one of the guys got up on the table and started dancing around the umbrella pole, only to knock the umbrella over directly onto our table. Nothing broke besides the guy's ego.

Later on we were getting thoroughly trashed when our previously inattentive waitress rushed over. She grabbed a cigarette of BFF M's bench -- someone had flicked it directly at her. Luckily her clothes weren't burned but yeesh. Ridiculously careless. We decided that was our cue to book.

Being an idiot on the subway.

With a bit of sidetracking we made it back to the Whitehall St station. And that is where the ludicrous stuff started. A W train was waiting for us and most of the cars were empty. It was a cheap thrill. We had a dance party waiting for the doors to close and then proceeded to be idiots while the train was moving. Hanging from the bars, etc. Not one of my proudest moments, but one of the silly fun ones. It of course led to a challenge: could you hang on to the bar for a whole stop? This is easier said then done when drunk. I got pretty lucky because I only had to hold on until Rector St, which is a short ride. Pity friend E who had to hold on until City Hall.

Eventually other people joined us in the car so we toned it down. We made jokes about the long ride back up into the grid, etc. By the time I got home I was a tired but happy drunk. Maybe the Financial District is cooler than I thought.

DUMBO makes me feel numb-o

Oh, how my world has shrunk. It's interesting because I used to make fun of many of my friends in high school that had never left New England. Or those friends in college who had never crossed from Colorado into another state. How could you not even have a desire to see the world I wondered, or at least another state? City? Nothing?

Now going above 96th St or below 14th is a big deal for me. I try to take the 4/5/6 line whenever possible; even taking the N/R/W makes me grumble. My life takes place mostly within 50 or so blocks. I hear the voices of the world in NYC tourists but I myself have become the definition of a townie. A citie? Give me Manhattan, or give me...yeah I sound horrible.

Uh, anyway. There was a time; let's call it 2002. I was in college plotting my move to NYC from the comfort of the Ellis dorms at Colorado State University. And my friends back home in the tri-state NYC area were telling about this great place called DUMBO. (That's Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass for the record.) On the tip of Brooklyn all of these factories were being converted into rentals and condos. You could get a place for $900/mo or $250,000. Significantly cheaper than Manhattan. The area was filled with artists and musicians according to the magazines and newspapers. It was like the new Village!

The deals didn't last. I looked at a couple of places in Brooklyn during my 2007 moving plans but the places were the same price as Manhattan. So I moved to NYC proper, without a real reason to go to Brooklyn. The longer I've lived here the further away Brooklyn has gotten so to speak. Cabs hate going there. It's like a 40-minute subway ride and forget walking there from the Upper East Side. Yet I feel a connection to Brooklyn. I spent a lot of time in the Flatbush and Sheepshead Bay areas as a kid visiting my Dad's family.

All any of that really proves is that I need to get out more. I made the trip to DUMBO twice last week: once for a women in business networking event at the HUGE offices (they're really big!) and once for a job interview. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Brooklyn has awesome views of Manhattan. I had some time to kill so friend A and I went to Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park. It brought back some fond memories of racing down to the area for U2's 'secret' concert after they shot their "All Because of You" video. I'm pleased by the simple surprises of the area. Closed-down factory! Weird arty sculpture things! Cobblestone streets! Two or three brides taking their wedding photos! And of course the Brooklyn Bridge which I love so dearly.

The problem with the area is that it feels kind of empty compared to Manhattan. There are plenty of buildings but they all seem to be residential or offices. Where are the corner convenience stores? And the little lunch places? I saw a few clothing shops and a chocolate shop and a bar. That was about it. Granted I'm no expert about the area but it just seemed lacking to me. Friend A expressed the same. Do people live the NYC life in that they just sleep in DUMBO and do everything else somewhere else? Or was it like Chelsea where every warehouse is actually a secret bar? Maybe I just don't know the code.

After my interview I met up with a couple of friends for Happy Hour drinks at 68 Jay Street Bar. The crowd definitely skewed more 30s than 20s but I enjoyed the chillness. Still, something was missing. Is it that I've just gotten so used to pretentious bar scene in NYC? Hard to say. We walked around a bit after we'd had our fill and I marveled at the lack of storefront after storefront. On my way back to the C train, I passed by a West Elm. It was an oddly welcome sight to see city decorating digs. Confirmed: I am now urbanized. Even Brooklyn feels like a suburb to me.

You meet people everyday, but which ones stick with you?

One of the most common questions I get from my non-NYC resident friends is, "Is it hard to meet people in New York?" The answer is a resounding yes. I think there are several reasons why.

1 - We live in a small area physically and so we tend to separate ourselves mentally even when in crowds. We listen to our mp3 players and ignore whatever is happening right next to us. To give ourselves the illusion of privacy, we emotionally space ourselves out.

2 - We turn off our social faculties. I don't read body language or look for non-verbal cues as much in NYC. Think about how tourists say there is a lack of etiquette in this city. It's probably not on purpose; it's a result of constantly being surrounded by other people. Some hot guy could totally be flirting with me on the subway and I would never notice. Oblivious? Yes.

3 - We're so driven we tend to forget or forego our social needs. Socialites not withstanding, the young in NYC are here to make themselves and that usually means working really, really hard. I know I've spent the last 6 months working 60 hour weeks to try to get ahead of work. The last thing I have time for is spending 2 hours primping to wait in a 1 hour line to get into some club that I stay at until early the next morning. This could potentially mean I'm boring...not really sure.

4 - When we are social, we surprise each other and take away our comfort zones. We get so used to having this bubble around ourselves that when someone actually takes a chance, nods your way and says "Hey," we're so shocked that we don't know how to react. We get that deer-in-headlights look. We give a goofy smile. Sometimes we recover and are able to make a connection. Most times we have an awkward minute-long conversation before turning back to our respective circles.

5 - We're just rude; or it's just me. But please tell me this isn't it. I'm naive enough to think there must be another reason.

So whether it's friends or a date, NYC is tough. I admire those who have the skills to come here with nothing and build large social circles. I'd love to know their secrets (do they blog? probably not). Ever the eternal optimist I try to put myself out there as much as possible. But sometimes I just want to stay home and play Halo. Or check my favorite distractions for the upteenth time today.

I'm sure my independent nature has a lot to do with this. I remember what I was like in middle school...always on the phone with one of my three best friends, talking about nothing for hours on end. Movies and the mall every week. Rinse, repeat. But in high school I changed into a dreamer and adventurer and it was hard for my friends to keep up. New York City suits my nature well. But while it was easy to flip the switch to loner, it is harder to switch it back to social. In college I would go days without returning friends' calls. Not on purpose. I was just easily distracted. Eventually some of them gave up, and who can blame them? Even now I sometimes reject invites to go home and be alone. I don't know if that is normal, healthy or what. But after a day in a crowded city I sometimes just want to come home and think.

So what to do when no one around you is paying attention? Put yourself out there. Yeah, it's hard and you'll fail more than you'll succeed. But even if you knew you'd fail 9 times out of 10, at least you have that 1 time to pick yourself up and keep going towards. It takes a lot of effort and a ton of positive thinking. My top success story so far is my friend S, who I met at a happy hour when I bumped into him and spilled both of our drinks. I bought him a round and we ended up finding out we had a ton in common. Though we went on a terrible date, our friendship budded nicely and now he is my Ikea-handyman/wingman and I'm his movie-lover/winggal. I probably tried to kindle friendships with 5-10 peeps before that and it just didn't work out. And yeah, it sucks when you put forth an effort and don't get one back. But you have to be tough to make it in NYC. And you have to keep trying.

One of the great things about New York is that you can go places by yourself without feeling uncomfortable. Really, just getting out of the apartment is step No. 1. Common tales among my friends are meeting friends at work (and then cross-pollinating with your non-work circles, if you are willing to do that); joining a religious group and making friends there; joining a book club/sports club; and/or finding a local branch of a group you were in back home. I'm by no means an expert, but I think the key is staying open to new people.

The New York Philharmonic...and fireworks!!

photo from the New York Philharmonic site

Before this week I had only ever seen one concert on the Great Lawn at Central Park. I'm embarrassed to admit it was Garth Brooks. (I don't even like Garth Brooks!) All I remember was that we were very far away, it was very hard to see the stage and we didn't bring a blanket so our asses got soaked.

This week made for quite a different experience. Every summer the New York Philharmonic gives two free concerts on the Lawn. The first one was on Tuesday. Friend M coordinated the whole thing wonderfully: she planned a potluck wine/cheese event and brought two huge blankets. To help us find her blanket she had a small bunch of purple balloons. The idea worked great -- I arrived just before the concert started and had no trouble finding my group. Of course I had to creep my way through a sea of blankets but everyone had left enough space so that the process was not terrible. I followed a guy who was saying "Which group of red balloons?? There are like 10 of them..." and another saying "Yeah, you may be waving but I have no idea where the fuck you are." Ha.

Our group was a mix of peeps I did know and peeps I didn't. Everyone got along well, especially once the wine was flowing. M had staked out a great spot. We were in the second large section of the lawn, behind the section with the speakers. So it wasn't too loud and we could be social because we weren't with the hard core music lovers. While we didn't have a great view of the stage it hardly mattered because we talked through the whole concert anyway.

The concert itself was great. The Philharmonic played the 1812 Overture, which is one of my favorite pieces ever (though I like Bond's version better) and a few Sousa marches. It was perfect summertime lite fare. As the sun set many people around us lit candles while others broke out light sticks (note to self: bring light sticks next year!). It made for the city's largest picnic. The skyline peeked over the trees as if to listen in and the whole scene was gorgeous. We could even see a few stars in the sky.

During the concert though, I couldn't help but think to myself 'Do you know what would make this even better? Fireworks.' It's summer, it's almost the 4th, and I want fireworks in the city dammit! When the concert was over, I looked south and wished for some sparks in the sky.

As if my prayers were answered, suddenly fireworks appeared! A terrific 15-20 minute show yielded awesome sparklers and I was giddy like a little kid. M and her fiance (also M) chanted ooh and aaah as needed while I attempted to take pictures.

Fireworks, baby!

Amazing. They even had a grand finale as all fireworks shows should. What a great night. Kudos to the Philharmonic for a great show, the Central Park Conservancy for an awesome event, and the NYPD for keeping the peace.

Happy Birthday, Brooklyn Bridge!

The Brooklyn Bridge turned 125 in May.

(photo from the Daily News)

Even before I lived in NYC, one of my dreams was to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. It is one of my favorite pieces of architecture. I've been under it tons of times on the 4 train, and taken it in from the Manhattan Bridge via the N, R or Q trains. But somehow walking it slipped down my priority list once I moved here until I got two separate invites to make the walk. Unfortunately the weather had other ideas.

My first walking date with friends J and A was killed by torrential downpours. I was disappointed but at least I had a backup date, or so I thought. The rain continued for weeks and my second date was also scuttled by the wet weather. Unbelievable! I whined to anyone who would listen.

For once my whining did some good. About 5 friends forwarded me announcements for the bridge's 125th anniversary party. It was an entire weekend of events starting on Thursday with fireworks. Of course all of the forwards came on Thursday so I was left scrambling for a partner in crime.

After some phone calls I rounded up a small crew and despite the rain earlier in the day we decided to head down. The skies were threatening, the ceiling was low and we were afraid there would be no fireworks. Luckily we were wrong and the fireworks went off as planned.

Once the show was over we walked across the bridge. NYC visitor's guides were handing out informational flyers about the bridge so we grabbed one and were reading the stats out loud as we walked across the bridge. Friend D sarcastically pointed out that the bridge was rated 'poor' during its last inspection. Gulp. Way to point that out when we're halfway across the span!

During the walk I kept looking up at the towers above. The bridge was lit up and Brooklyn looked gorgeous. Once across, we turned around and took in the view of Manhattan. It's views like this that make me wonder if I live in the wrong borough.

The bridge from Brooklyn.

It's such an amazing view from Brooklyn (although the two most iconic pieces are gone) seen everywhere from visit posters to the Sex and the City title screen. Once we'd had our fill, we went over to where a group had gathered around what looked like a really big submarine portal. It was the Telectroscope, which promised a view from Brooklyn to London. A guide was saying that a "long-forgotten" undersea tunnel had been discovered. Obviously for the kiddies. My friends and I snickered but I have to admit looking through the thing was pretty cool!

The Telectroscope.

At the end of the night my fondness for the bridge only grew. I heart New York a bit more each day.

Ikea strikes again

The newest addition to my wall.

Ring, ring. That's the sound of New York City slowly waking out of its winter slumber. I can tell because all of a sudden my friends want to hang out -- and I want to hang out with them. The warmer weather puts everyone in good spirits.

Then again, laziness occasionally prevails. On Sunday afternoon I was chilling out, watching some NASCAR and slowly recovering from two late nights. I had ignored my phone most of the morning, not on purpose but because I was asleep. By the time I checked my phone I had three messages -- which never happens. Of the three, the last message was the most interesting. It was S calling with an invitation to the Brooklyn Flea Market.

I returned his call and he chastised me for being too late. I was pretty bummed because I do want to hit the Flea but it will have to be another weekend. He was on his way back and offered to drop by and say hello.

And that's where I got him! (Insert evil laugh here.) After offering him some water, I looked longingly at my poor Ikea Premiär poster propped up in the corner. It was supposed to be on my wall by now. What is that, S asked. I explained the situation to him. He shuddered when I said Ikea. I'm still recovering from last time I helped you with Ikea, he said.

But he's a nice guy so he agreed to help me out. The first part was pretty easy -- we assembled an aluminum frame. Then we had to stretch the canvas by wrapping it around the frame and pressing plastic dowels into place to hold...not as easy. Again, Ikea had only one picture to show how easy the step should be but in practice not so much. There was a piece included to push the plastic pieces in, but it hurt our hands after awhile.

"Get me...an ovenmitt!" S demanded. I did, and what a brilliant idea it was. The process was much smoother after that. With the canvas stretched, S observed that it kind of smelled. And it did. Like freshly printed canvas. It was making us a bit high off the fumes.

After some air we were ready to hang the canvas. We attached the hangers to my wall, but they weren't really in there tightly. No studs. So the first couple of times we tried to hang the canvas, we failed. But on the third try we got it. I backed away from the wall with a smile.

It looks pretty good, S said. I had to agree. The canvas is ridiculously huge and it really takes advantage of the high ceilings. I wonder if it's a little too much NYC inside my apartment but I'm hoping to get away with it.

Plus, I'm not gonna lie, every time I look at the Flatiron Building I think 'Daily Bugle.' My canvas might soon have a little Spider-Man addendum to it.

Make way for the Pedestrians

These feet were made for walking.

I swear the New York Times and I are on the same wavelength lately. My friends J and G were in town from Denver so last night we met up for dinner at Bobo. I arrived on time but they got caught up in traffic and we almost lost our reservation. Luckily the host was quite understanding. My friends were quite frustrated on arrival.

It would have been quicker to walk here, J observed as we pondered our wine choices. I sympathized -- I can remember a couple of mornings where I was late for work and so I hailed a cab thinking it would be quicker. 40 minutes later I was often still in the cab stuck in midtown traffic. I told my friends that with the warmer weather I'd started walking home from work. It took about an hour to make it all 50+ blocks but it was well worth it. Taking a different path everyday had revealed some new city secrets that I wanted to photograph and some places I wanted to try out.

Initially I'd tried walking to work, but the foot traffic in midtown was impossible. Whether it was Park, Madison, 5th or even 3rd Ave, it was always the same story: crowded. I like to walk fast and the suits were holding me up. The sidewalks are not nearly wide enough to handle all the traffic.

We started talking about Colorado's many pedestrian malls. With the warmer weather it's more conducive to outdoor space -- from the 16th Street Mall to Pearl Street to Flatiron's Outdoor Plaza area. But New York City isn't always cold! Why not incorporate some of that here? I was at Worldwide Plaza earlier in the week to visit a client and they have a lovely walking area. Better yet, why not close off some streets to cars entirely? Where I live, it seems like not every street needs car access. So cut off the cars. Take out the pavement and being back some cobble stone ways...or better yet, some greenways.

Enter the New York Times. Today their city section has an article about similar ideas to increase pedestrian space in the city. It's a great time to try this. The green movement is becoming ever more popular.

Really, the pedestrian movement comes down to three things:

1. Reducing the amount of traffic in Manhattan. We're hopefully already moving in that direction with the congestion pricing proposal.
2. Giving children more safe places to play. Children need less structured playtime that Astroturf provides. Imagine neighborhood baseball games in the street. Block parties. Block-long strips of lawn and gardens.
3. Providing safe areas for bicycles, joggers, dog-walking, etc. Bike lanes around the city are mostly a joke. I've seen so many near-misses. The only options are to make barriers between the car-bike areas or to make bike-only streets. I'm all for the latter.

One of my favorite ideas mentioned in the NYT article was closing 42nd St to cars and making it pedestrian-only (mentioned on page 2 of the article). The article also suggested building a light-rail there so that commuters arriving in Grand Central could still get around. I think it this brilliant for a few reasons. Since Park Ave rises and splits to go around the Helmsley building there there would be less impact to traffic patterns. And the area is already populated with a good mix of residential buildings and shops -- the perfect test area for a Pedestrian Mall. Building a light rail encourages the movement.

Of course, the city's infrastructure would need to support this urban acupuncture. First, a deeper mass transit system would be needed...increased frequency of subway trains, shorter buslines with more buses running them, a more developed local-to-express balance, and increased service to the boroughs. The police force would need to be expanded to support extra foot, bike and horse patrols. And the city's parks department would require additional staffing to care for the new green areas.

The investment is completely worth it though. Air quality would increase and people would be healthier. We'd be further encouraging an active, healthy lifestyle. And it would increase the community aspect. All too often my friends and I discuss how hard it is to meet new people here. I don't know modern technology has made it harder or easier for mine than previous generations, but I do feel that there's a social aspect of New York City that is missing. Perhaps it is naïve. I would love to find out.

First Friday

The crowd at First Friday @ the Guggenheim.

When my original plans for this weekend got scrapped, I thought I was in for a lazy time. Not even close. New friend M invited me to attend First Friday at the Guggenheim. The museum opens after-hours with a DJ or two, a bar and free rein to explore the exhibits. When I found out Stretch Armstrong was one of the DJs this time around I was sold.

M called at 9 to say he was heading over with his friends but I waited more than an hour to meet them. The week had exhausted me and I needed to recoup a bit. When I finally made it over at 10:30, the line was around the corner onto 89th St and drifting back towards Madison Ave. A bit defeated, I texted M to say it would be awhile before I got in. Luckily, he told me has was at the front of the line and if I hurried I could make it in with them!

After a minute of confusion I found M and friends K and A just about to get into the door. They were all ready to leave, having waited almost 2 hours to get to that point. No way, I said! You're so close. And I'm glad they agreed to wait the last two minutes, because WOW.

The museum was quite crowded. It was $25 cash-only to get in, but then you had to buy tickets for alcohol (lame). It took us awhile to find the bar. But it was the exhibits that really drew me in. I didn't think I was a fan of modern art but the more I've seen the more I've liked. Right now the Guggenheim is featuring several installations by Cai Guo-Qiang. I knew him for his firework art -- literally setting off carefully choreographed explosions by large canvases. But the main dome area featured several cars with light fixture arms extending out. It represented a car bomb exploding. It was at once disturbing, chaotic and beautiful, and whether intentional or not it was the perfect backdrop for the music and scene.

Cai Guo-Qiang's Inopportune: Stage One
installation at the Guggenheim.

Drinks were only allowed on the bottom level so we downed a glass of wine each and headed up the rotunda. There were several more of Guo-Quang's exhibits and all were pretty amazing. The third level featured 90+ wolves running from floor to ceiling and the front of the pack crashing into a glass wall. The next level up featured New York's Rent Collection Courtyard, many life-sized clay figurines modeled after a similar collection from China. The clay figurines had not been kilned so they were cracked and yet so lifelike at the same time. Many of the figurines were still in construction and so we got to see the wood frames underneath. I was pretty much in awe.

We headed to the top where we got a killer view of the party from above. One of the cars was so close we could nearly touch it, and K tried reaching out for it. We stopped after a nasty look from a security guard. But that was another thing -- I was amazed at how close the staff let us get to everything. Had we wanted to touch one of the clay figurines, we could have. Everyone was relatively well-behaved.

Almost close enough to touch.

I was pleased with the crowd...mostly young professionals like us. Despite the great music there wasn't much dancing going on. It was too crowded. That was disappointing. Also disappointing was the lack of mingling. We didn't really meet anyone new. But overall it was a very cool event. M and his harem, myself included, made it fun. Word is that it's less crowded depending on the DJ. I think I'll give this event another shot.

Adventures on 57th St

Sunday takes my blues away. Is there anything better than waking up in the morning knowing you have a whole day of weekend left? Sundays for me usually mean either NFL, MLB or NASCAR but now is the space between where Sunday stands for shopping.

It was down to the Time Warner Center for me. It was a gorgeous day so I took the N to 57th and 7th and then walked down along Central Park South. I took some photos of the horse carriages with my cell phone that unfortunately evidence the 2 megapixel limit of the camera. My Canon's batteries died and I haven't replaced them yet.

Inside the shopping center, I browsed through Benetton, Esprit and JCrew before meeting up with BFF M for lunch. We walked by Carnegie Hall and east on 57th to the Brooklyn Diner, a well-known NYC eatery that features endless name plaques on the wall with the names of the celebrities that have eaten at each table. The tables next to us had been graced by the likes of Bruce Paltrow and soiled by Britney Spears...I was too distracted by the mural of Ebbets Field to pay much attention though. NYMag named the Brooklyn Diner's burger the best in 2007 and I have to agree. It was beyond yummy and so big I had to take more than half home.

After munching M and I stopped by Universal News. It's the place to go for international magazines in the city. She was looking for an Italian magazine; I flipped through French Vogue while waiting. We admired the smaller magazines from Europe that would fit into our purses more easily than the large American tabloids. We oohed and aahed at the stars featured on foreign covers for a bit before moving on.

Our next stop on west 57th was Lee's Art Shop. M was looking for a photo album and some decorative paper and I had been dying to buy some pastels. It's quite a place! We had to check our bags but we hardly gave it a second thought. The first floor had marvels ranging from crystal-encrusted photo frames to the cutest scrap booking stickers I have ever seen. There were gift bags that would put Papyrus to shame -- I snapped a quick photo with my cell phone.

The gift bags were intricately detailed.

We browsed around the art supplies for awhile and I happily picked up my pastels and a sketch pad. There were at least 3 more floors but we didn't have time to explore them.

Back outside, it was time for me to head over to the east side to meet up with friend J. The weather had turned slightly cold and I pondered whether a taxi would take me from Lee's to 61st and 1st. M said they would, but I decided to walk it.

Fifty-seventh is a hard street to just walk down. On my way east I passed Bergdorf, Burberry's, Chanel, Nike Town, Prada, Tiffany's...sigh. I dream of disposable income. Twenty minutes later I'd made it to the movie theater with my wallet intact but my hands were frozen stiff. My ears weren't doing so great either. We saw "Juno" (very cute) and then walked around Bed Bath and Beyond.

Back outside, it was suddenly snowing. It had gone from almost 60 degrees out to the low 30s with flurries. I almost thought I was back in Colorado. But I didn't quite make it home, because Z called and asked me to meet him at the Levi's store...on 57th St.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty

In case I haven't said it enough...I love my job. Sure my boss sometimes makes my blood vessels pop from stress and I'm sprouting a few gray hairs, but for the most part my job is quite enjoyable. In contrast to jobs that have been so bad they've made me angry, depressed or frustrated with life, this job makes me happy 90% of the time. And that's pretty good.

One of my favorite things is the lack of a dress code. I can't tell you how underrated this is! After college I worked on a newspaper sports desk where I could wear jeans and jerseys to work. It was hog heaven. At my last corporate job I had to wear business casual clothing and it was a mess. Slacks make me itch. Dress shirts make me sweat. Heels kill my tootsies. I like to dress up every now and then for work, but not any more than that. I often watch "What Not to Wear" and identify with the fashion victims that don't want to do business casual. Unless you can afford the highest quality clothes, work outfits are uncomfortable. It's not like I'm a slob; I have decent fashion sense. But dressing up all the time gets old.

Besides, it wasn't like I saw clients face to face and I never understood what the big deal was at my old job. It was just another way they controlled their employees! Now my work uniform consists of jeans and a stylish top and I couldn't be happier. Like a pig in shit. A well-dressed pig though. And yes, when clients come in I dress to the nines. But normally I am dressed for comfort. It's the opposite of most -- stylish on the weekends and borderline drab during the week. I dress up to shop, and that's about it on the weekdays. I love my jeans, dammit!

Still, every once in a while I feel the need to clean up real nice. We had our company holiday party last night and I seized the opportunity. A few weeks ago a coworker and I were talking about our work outfits and how it would be fun to go overboard for the party. Initially we wanted to break out old prom dresses and wear those. That idea evolved to evening gowns and then we realized that was probably a bit silly. We finally settled on wearing dresses that hadn't seen the light of day (or the ambiance of night) in awhile and invite the rest of the women in the company along for the ride.

Come yesterday I was hyper with excitement. We share our floor with an upscale salon and last week our Office Manager K went there for a blow out. (Shampoo and blow dry styling. Sounds like something from Texas but it's very popular in NYC with our crazy weather and the havoc it wreaks on your hair.) Her hair came out amazingly gorgeous and I wanted to try yesterday. But I didn't want to go by myself, and no one else seemed interested. I gave up on the idea and ran to H&M to get some cute hair clips instead.

I was on a conference call when K stuck a sticky note on my monitor that said "Appt @ 4:45." I thought that meant she'd made an appointment for our boss, but come 4:45 she grabbed me and said time to get our hair did! Sweetness. Another coworker joined us.

My hair turned out amazing. Sleek, stylish, hot. I love how the salon used the same basic tools as me - a natural roundbrush and a hair dryer but made my hair look 1000 times better than normal. They even gave us a building discount. Well, they actually forgot to give it to me, but I've gotten free stuff there before so I figure it all works out.

After that I was ready to go. I wore a cute strapless holiday dress that I bought last year and then never used, with a matching necklace and big drop earrings. Tights and heels completed the outfit. My co-conspirator A looked amazing in a brown bridesmaid dress, and the rest of the ladies played along. Our company is known for employing hot women and it was never more obvious than last night. One of the company's gentlemen said "Ladies, you always look great, but tonight you look amazing." Damn straight.

We pre-partied at the office before heading to Dip. Though the place is less than a block away from my fave sports bar Tonic East, I'd never noticed it before. We had the entire balcony to ourselves. Open bar...even the shots were paid for. Yummy finger foods. Four entrees to choose from. Dancing...seating...it was great. We work so hard and it was nice to get rewarded for it.

It was also my unofficial one-year anniversary. Last year I was hired in December but didn't start until January. I was invited to the holiday party though so of course I made it down for a bit. I'm kinda glad I had a conflict last year though and had to leave early, because this year I learned about the tradition of making the newest company hire give a speech! That would have been me last year.

This morning, bleary-eyed but content, I'm trying to keep my hair as sleek as possible. Nothing wrong with looking pretty two days in a row.

Laundry time

I had put off doing laundry for too long, so it was back up to Connecticut over the weekend. Usually I stuff my largest suitcase full of my dirty clothes and take a taxi to Grand Central. But this time around I had so much crap that I ended up booking another Mini Cooper through Zipcar.

OK, actually I just wanted to drive the Mini again. Can you blame me?

Unfortunately I needed a 24-hour rental and the two closest to me were booked. I had to go down to Central Park South to pick a different one up on Saturday. The garage was right near the Time Warner Center and I was very tempted to shop. Another time. I got there a bit early so I admired the horse carriages on CPS and missed my horses. It might not be a sight to see for much longer; NYC is considering a ban on the carriages. Finally, it was 1 PM and time to pick up my car. It had been a bit of a haul to get down there and the wait was killing me.

The trek was completely worth it though. First of all, it was a kick driving through Midtown. I felt a bit cool cruising in my little urbanite car as the pedestrians strolled the holiday-themed streets. On 3rd Ave I cruised from right to left lanes while making my way uptown.

When I got back to my apartment to load up, there was no parking. I had to park illegally in front of a hydrant and run back and forth. The stress led me to miss a few items that needed to be laundered. But who cared? I was eager to be in a car; where I could sing as loud as I want, drive as fast as traffic would allow and enjoy a quiet, serene, solitary travel experience.

Once I hit the road, the FDR sucked as usual but I was able to weave effortlessly between lanes. After I cleared the Triborough Bridge it was smooth sailing. It was amazing to me as I sped along that cars were still passing me as though I were standing still. I-95 is crazy like that. I hit the predictable traffic in Greenwich, Stamford and just before my exit in Norwalk.

Since I had a car, I brought "Guitar Hero III" for 360 with me. This made me my old roommate's hero. We watched movies, played some games, and generally chilled. I laughed that our house seemed so huge to me now that I live in a tiny apartment. And it's true -- my friend's studio on the UWS once seemed so small to me and now it also seems big by comparison. Having a whole house to explore was like being in a mansion.

Saturday night I cleaned Kohl's out of tights but forgot to get new sunglasses. I lost mine somewhere in the Brooklyn Target a couple of weeks ago. I cruised around every suburban store as my one-stop. I was loading up while I had a car at my disposal.

Early Sunday morning, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the dreaded sound of a car alarm. Living in the city you'd think I'd be used to the sound but I jerked awake, worried someone was breaking into my rental. It turned out to be a car down the street but the alarm went off all friggin' night. Sometimes I'd fall asleep only to have the alarm wake me up again. It was pretty miserable and I barely slept. I missed my room and was a bit tempted to kick the current roommate out -- I'm the guest, you may sleep on the futon.

On the way back to the city two weird things happened with the car. First, I couldn't get the gas card to work. That was annoying. Secondly, my EZ-Pass which had worked fine on the way to Connecticut didn't work at the toll entering Manhattan. It's illegal to back up in the toll lane, so I had to wait until the attendant came over.

"Where's your pass?" The attendant asked me. I pointed to it, right below my rearview mirror. "Yes, thank you, it's the white thing on your windshield. Gimme it," he snarled. So I did, all the while thinking that was pretty rude of him. Sometimes New Yorkers are jerks. He held the pass up to a sensor and it worked fine. He gave it back to me and told me to move along. I resisted the urge to retort in kind.

I made it back to the city in time for NFL. I was meeting up with friends at Ship of Fools to watch the Packers game. I cheered excitedly as Greg Jennings and Ryan Grant ran up the points for my fantasy team and was happy when the Pack won. (I am the worst 49ers fan ever.) We ended up staying for the Pats-Steelers rout, and afterwards I stumbled home drunk and tired.

After a quick nap, I started unpacking my laundry. I like to use good-smelling detergent and in my drunken state I was all about the smell of my clean laundry. In fact I was so all about the smell that I dumped my suitcase out on my bed and laid down in it. The things you do when you're drunk. I drifted to sleep dreaming about Colorado...

...but woke up a few hours later feeling not so great. The combination of wings, beer and Mountain Spring Tide made my stomach uneasy. Ever wake up with that pukey feeling? I struggled to make it out of my bed, desperate not to throw up on my nice clean laundry. Now when I smell my laundry, I feel a bit pukey. It's that not so fresh feeling.

I get by with a little help from my friends

I hate to keep harping on the fact that I'm sick, but well, I am. Sick that is. Also harping. I have had this flu now for 3 weeks and it shows no sign of evacuating my body. Germ fiefdom, or something. I psych myself up for work but then by Friday I'm pretty much wiped out. My friends J and P say the same thing happened to them during their first cold season in NYC -- it's like the germs preyed on me for being fresh meat.

It's been more than a little annoying because I've missed out on the last few fun weekends (although I did go to a party, which was probably ill-advised). On Saturday a bunch of my friends went to Wollman Rink and had brunch at Brasserie. I stayed home to sleep. We have plans for a walking tour this weekend -- no way I am missing out.

Despite being left out of the fun, my friends have not forgotten me. Saturday evening I was lamenting my severe lack of groceries or anything edible in my apartment. Not that I've really been hungry but when appetite does strike I've been surviving on peanut butter sandwiches and plain bagels. Then came the knock at my door...okay, a buzz of my buzzer. I pretty much flew off the couch, but recovered to open the door.

Waiting for me on the other side was a delivery man from Fresh Direct, with two bags for me. I was very excited. There was a note from some of my friends: "We knew you wanted to try them anyway, and we know you probably don't want to cook. Feel better chica!" I love New York City at times like this. Fresh restaurant meals delivered to my door. Awesome.

I eagerly took the bags inside and unpacked them. There were a couple of 4-minute meals and almost a week's worth of nuke-and-eat yummy looking dinners. There was also one large meal -- a prepped but uncooked rotisserie chicken with fixings. Way too much for me to eat in one sitting. I stowed in my fridge but then felt too tired to make anything. I decided to take a nap and then give it a try.

My nap was rudely interrupted a short time later by another buzz at the door. This time it was two of my galpals. "We're here to cook you dinner!" they said. Amazing, said I.

We chatted for a few minutes but I was still pretty tired, so I excused myself to bed to sleep some more. It didn't last though, because the next buzz at my door came from the boys. When I opened the door to let them in, they were all wearing surgical masks and gloves. Ha!

P was hiding something behind his back - I peered around and saw a box. The other three all had Xbox 360 controllers with them. I groaned and rolled my eyes. "You came over to have a Halo 3 tournament on my internets?" I teased. "Yes," replied P, "and to play Guitar Hero III!" He unhid the box to reveal the game.

My sleep plans were suddenly abandoned. I helped the girls finish prepping the food while the boys groaned about Shotty Snipers on Live. Once the food was cooking, all 7 of us took turns doing battle in guitar hero. P had bought two guitars (one came with the game). We universally sucked for the first couple of songs, except for M and W who are both pretty much pro gamers.

After a couple of rounds, we started improving. Soon we were showing off, using the whammy bar and doing hammer-ons. A quick break for food, then back to the game. We kept at it until pretty late, by which time I was exhausted all over again.

I sat on the couch and started falling asleep. P asked me if I was having fun. "I'd rather be out shopping," I replied groggily.

"Yep, she's feeling better," M joked and we all laughed. I poked him in retort. I dozed off not too much later, and the only way I knew it wasn't all a dream the next morning was that Guitar Hero III was still sitting by my TV the next morning. That's how I spent my Sunday indoors. Not too bad of a weekend. Still, I'm looking forward to getting out and enjoying fall in New York.

Anyone know any good flu kickers?

Coffee talk

"OMG, we need coffee talk," my friend A emailed to me, G and F. "Girl chatter. Please. I need estrogen!"

A is a scientist working at a chemistry lab uptown. It's her and six guys and she goes crazy at least once a month.

Serendipity 3

We met up at Serendipity 3, which has been in the news because it created the world's most expensive dessert. The group decided to go for something a bit less expensive but tasty nonetheless. I got a hot chocolate to warm up -- fall has finally come to Manhattan. After a few sips and bites, we immediately started chatting. And didn't stop for hours. I love girl's night out. We caught up on boyfriends, work, anything and everything.

F was particularly livid about an article that the gals at her work had passed around. A speed dating study at Columbia University had found that men did not want to go out on dates with women who were smarter or more ambitious than them.

"That's pretty much every woman in New York City," she snarked. "What the hell is the big deal?" She wondered why men wouldn't like a smart woman.

"They don't want to be threatened," A, who is married, responded. "It's OK to have a little healthy competition but most men want to be the breadwinner."

"The worst are the women who pretend to be dumber than they are," F said. "It's completely wreaking havoc on the system."

The girls continued to debate for a little while. Finally F cocked an eyebrow in my general direction. "You're awfully quiet," she said. I smiled weakly. Finally, I admitted that I had played dumb to get dates with cute boys before.

The girls groaned. The general sentiment was 'How can you do that?' I shrugged. I told them that it's not a pissing match and any boy can find out later how smart and ambitious I am. I don't want them to feel overmatched. Lull them in, I said, and then reveal.

"It's not like it's worked out well for me anyway," I half-joked with a smirk. More groans.

We moved on to a debate about why so many male scientists do studies to disprove the intelligence of women, or to try to qualify lame actions like cheating through biological factors. The subject later completely changed to Thanksgiving plans, and then holiday plans.

Hours later, we'd had our fill of tasty treats and yummy drinks, and it was time to go home. We gathered our coats and said goodbye. As I stood up and started to put mine on, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I wheeled around and was shocked to see my ex-boyfriend D smiling at me.

"Hi!" I said, more astonished than anything to see him. We'd dated for a few months last year casually. We'd broken up because my last job made me miserable to be around. He greeted me with a warm hug and asked how I was. We chit chatted for a couple of minutes. He was leaving too and offered to walk me out.

The girls waited off to the side as D and I caught up. Finally, he said, "I overheard you ladies talking about playing dumb for men." I blushed but confirmed. "So...did you do that with me?" He asked. Oh lord. How could I answer? I tried to think of a response, but had to be honest.

"A little, yeah," I replied. "It's just part of the game. Like you literally bumping into me at the bar as an excuse to buy me a drink." D laughed. "I suppose," he murmured, giving me the once over. "You shouldn't do that."

We just kind of stood there for a minute in that awkward do we want to hang out or not moment? Luckily my gals swung in to rescue me. As they pulled me away, I shouted goodbye to D and once around the corner we sank into a fit of giggles.

"Ugh, I know like five guys in this city and one just happened to be sitting behind us listening to me admit my game," I cried. "Or lack therof," A said. More giggles.

I swear, my life is a sitcom and I'm the only one who can't hear the laugh track.

Finally, good karma comes my way

If there is a silver lining in being miserably sick, it's that people feel sorry for you. Normally I am loathe to appear weak but in my weakened state I am glad to have people take pity on me. My uncontrollable coughing fits get looks of sympathy (and contempt) on the subway. On the walk to work from the train I've had people thrice ask me if I need help or if I'm OK. It's touching how sweet New Yorkers can be.

Yesterday after work I had to go see the doctor again. He'd asked to see me because he wanted to make sure my lungs were clear. Since I've missed a bit of work I wanted to work late and make up some time. As a result, I had to get from work into Harlem in about 35 minutes. Not a rush but cutting it pretty close.

My plan was to take the 6, hop onto an express at Grand Central, and then change back at 86th St. But I ended up waiting almost 10 minutes for a train at 23rd St, which threw a monkey wrench into my plan. I lucked out that I was right in front of the door when the train stopped, so I was able to squeeze on. Plan B was to take the 6 all the way. Unfortunately since this was the first train in a while, we got stuck at every station as commuters tried to maneuver in.

It took us 25 minutes to get to 59th St, and I knew I was screwed. I was the last doctor's appt of the day and I didn't want to be late. At 86th St I made the decision to jump out of the subway and take a taxi the rest of the way. I ran out of the tunnel and frantically hailed a cab. I told him the address -- 110st and 3rd. I had almost no cash with me, but now that taxis have those GPS thingies they take credit cards.

Except the cab I'd been picked up by didn't have the GPS. "Oh no," I said. "You don't take credit cards?" The cab driver shook his head no. "Let me see how much cash I have..." I looked in my wallet and found six mangled singles.

"I have six dollars. Will that get me to 110 st?" I asked. "We'll see how far that gets you," the driver replied. I leaned back as my leg shook with anxiety. There was nothing I could do but wait and see. And cough. Cough cough cough. (pause) COUGH cough cough cough. The running made my already sick lungs more out of breath.

I watched as the meter passed $4, then $5. We were only in the 90s, struggling through heavy traffic on 3rd Ave. We hit $6 at 101st St. I expected the driver to pull over and throw me out. Instead, he asked me "You only got $6, right?" Yes, I replied.

He shut off the meter and drove me the rest of the way. He shut off the meter! He dropped me off at my desired location, where I thanked him profusely and apologized for not being able to tip him. He told me to feel better. What a sweet driver! Nice things do happen sometimes.

I ended up having to wait at the clinic, but I didn't care. The doctor checked me out and declared me still sick, but with OK lungs.

Act 2 of good karma actually came at the end of last week. My apartment is finally (pretty much) done. Since moving in on August 18th, I had only used my stovetop/oven twice, and I'd stopped using my microwave in September when they put it on my stool because it was too tipsy. So I hadn't cooked in my apartment for 10 of the 11 weeks I've lived here.

On October 20th, one of the workers from the contractor's company came and put up my microwave. They did it wrong because no one was monitoring -- the microwave has a fan and light on the bottom and instead of mounting it on brackets above my stove they mounted it on a shelf -- making my fan and light useless, but at least it's up. I could finally cook!

That also meant it was time to pay rent. My non-Super had told me back in September to hold onto my rent until everything was done. Even though it wasn't perfect, I considered the apartment done enough. I called the non-Super four times over the next four days and never got a call back. All this rent money has been sitting in my bank account. If I had known it would have taken this long, I would have invested it in a short-term high-yield interest savings account.

Instead, my bank account balance has been deceptively high with rent money. I could have paid off my credit cards. I could have bought all the furniture I want. I could have bought the TV and speaker system and Xbox 360 I want. Or clothing. Or something else materialistic. But I've been good.

Home sick last Tuesday, I ran into my non-Super outside of my building. She asked when I could pay the rent and I told her to swing by on Nov. 1. I wanted to talk to her about a discount given everything I'd gone through but that was not the time. I was kind of dreading the conversation. I did not want to have a bad relationship with the non-Super, but I felt that I was on firm ground. I was afraid it would become an argument. Come the 1st, I tried calling her to arrange a pickup time but her voicemail was full. Argh. And yet I wasn't really surprised. My anxiety was prolonged.

On Friday she came by to collect the rent. I was incredibly nervous as I planned out how to ask for a discount. I showed her the microwave (she was upset about the shelf instead of brackets) and we discussed some other remaining issues, like the last tenant's name still being on the buzzer. Finally it was time to talk rent. I politely explained that I felt like since I couldn't use my kitchen since I'd moved in, I deserved a break on the rent.

I expected her to fight back, but instead she nodded and asked what I felt was fair. I proposed a half-month discount. She said that was fair. I probably could have asked for more given her response, but that's OK. I was just excited that I didn't have to fight about it. I wrote her a check for the rent owed minus the discount and all was good. Sometimes good things happen.

Perfect strangers

The mystery friend

You know that person from elementary school, whose name you can't remember and really in fact you don't remember knowing them at all, but you seem to run into them every now and again?

Today I ran into that person. This has been going on since 7th grade. I see this girl and she totally remembers me and I guess we used to be really good friends in like 1st grade. She identifies all my correct likes from when we were 5, remembers my parents' and siblings' names but for the life of me I do not have even the faintest idea who she is. I saw her again as a freshman in high school. I'd since moved into another school system but we saw each other at the hometown drug store. Again she asks me about everything; tells me what she's up to; again no clue who she is except that she ran into me in 7th grade.

I feel kind of bad that I have no clue. Someone who seemed to be so close to me and not even one memory. And I'm usually really good at remembering these things! I can remember my 3 best friends from nursery school, my teachers from all 12 years of grade school, but I can't figure out who this chick is. It's like "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" or something. The last time I saw her, which was about 2 years ago, I made myself promise to remember her name.

I spoke to my parents last weekend, and they had run into this girl. And now I know I'm losing it because they remember her, and told me the update -- she's married, still lives in our town, works as a graphic designer, blah blah blah. They had also given her my number. She was coming into the city and when she found out I lived here wanted to see if I wanted to hang out. Oh man. The pressure.

I figured she wouldn't call me because people don't follow through on vague promises like that, but sure enough when I got home from work there was a message from this girl, E. And much to my own shock, I called her back. I certainly don't want to be rude. We chatted for a couple minutes about our lives, then made plans to meet for lunch on Thursday. I'm kinda excited about it. It'll be like meeting a friend all over again.

The kindness of strangers

New Yorkers have a reputation as being rude, heartless and cold. And some of it is well-deserved, I suppose. But I think New Yorkers are sweethearts when it really counts. Look at what happened during the 2003 blackout. Or after September 11th. Yeah, we're tough cookies here, but we have hearts of gold.

Yesterday I met up with an old work colleague for lunch. We chowed at Bread Bar and then decided to walk around Flatiron a bit to catch up. There was chilling in Madison Square Park. There was wandering up and down 6th Ave. After an hour W had to head back to work, so I walked him to the subway station. As we said our goodbyes, he reached for his wallet to grab his MetroCard.

Only it wasn't there. His wallet was gone. Initially we figured he left it at Tabla. But we went back and they did not have it. The maitre d' gave W a card, but when he went to put it into his pocket it fell right through. That's when we realized someone had slashed his back pocket. It wasn't totally obvious -- they'd slashed just the bottom and not a very big hole.

"Didn't you feel it when they grabbed your wallet?" I asked him. "Not at all," W replied, face in hands. Not only were his license and credit cards gone, but he'd just taken $500 cash out of the bank to put down a deposit on a guitar. I asked if maybe his jeans just had a hole but they were pretty new so he doubted it. We had bumped into a few people walking but nothing out of the ordinary. So many streets had been crossed. We retraced some of our steps but there was no sign of his wallet. Not that we really expected to just find it laying on the sidewalk. But in New York you never know.

W put on the brave face, but I was seething. Suddenly that cold-heartless reputation seemed to fit. I bought him a $20 MetroCard and lent him some cash to buy groceries. Back at work, he cancelled his credit cards and called his bank to let them know what happened. W kept things in perspective -- it was mostly the cash that was bothering him.

Then today, he got a call at work. It was the police. Someone had turned in his wallet the day before. He called me from the station. They made him identify his wallet (I asked if there was a lineup and he joked yes, he couldn't decide between 2 and 5) and once he was able to he got it back. He quickly checked inside and was flooded with relief as he found that all of his cash was still in there.

The police told him that another guy caught the crook slashing his pocket. The almost-victim grabbed the thief and started yelling at him, but he managed to wriggle free and escape...directly into the clutches of two NYPD officers who witnessed the scuffle. Ha! The guy had something like five wallets on him. W offered some of the cash back to the police, but they wouldn't accept and the almost-victim hadn't left his name.

"All of which proves my theory that New Yorkers are the best people in the world!" Native W said to me.
"Except for the guy who slashed and stole," I said.
"Nah, he was obviously a transplant."