So it was a nice little weekend. I had dinner Friday night with my girl Friday and her family. Then we sat at Lincoln center, by the fountain. We watched the stars as we waited for one our friends to pick her up. We were convinced that one of the stars was moving in circles. No it was not a plane and it was not wine induced…we think! We went and got Starbucks and then our friend arrived.
I got up early on Sat and rushed down to Port Authority bus terminal. Terminal is an appropriate term for this station. Dismal would also be accepted. I got on a bus and headed to Bethlehem PA to help put together a surprise birthday for a good friend. 40 balloons later, well 38, 36 (a couple revolted and flew away) the party was ready to go and his sister/my adopted sis and I were proud of the décor we accomplished with just a few balloons and happy birthday sign. The beautiful pool, and finely manicured lawn and gardens helped. He was surprised. He was really surprised that all of his friends came from all over to spend his birthday weekend with him. Little did he know none of us would have wanted to spend our Memorial Day weekend any other way. 16 attendants, 36 balloons, 168 beers, one grill, one pool….Priceless. I did notice one thing. The older we get the more we revert back to infancy. Although I am not sure this crew ever left.
We had a big brunch at a Scottish tea room. I had scones with Devonshire Cream and Lemon curd! YUM. And then I left to visit family. I got lost, surprise, surprise and arrived to a homemade apple pie. Could a girl get any luckier? My best friends parents/my adopted family and I had a wonderful dinner. I slept like a baby. Memorial Day, American Flags were hung high outside the wood frames of the beautiful farm house owned by two former teachers. I realized the reason why I most likely had “God Bless America” ringing through my head the day before. We grilled, had martinis and sat on the patio while old war movies echoed in the back ground. They are normally there (a war movie fanatic is one of the residents), but this time it seemed to make sense. Cary Grant was hot even in black and white. The uniform doesn’t hurt! I thought. There was a little shopping too. If the New Yorkers I rolled with only knew…that my fashions came straight from the runways….well the aisles of Pennsylvania. They would be shocked. I saw a few dresses in the store that were designed by a friend of mine. To me it was like spotting a celebrity across the room (if I cared or noticed celebrities). I was thrilled that someone “I” knew helped create this beautiful item. It was the greatest finding I have had in a while what a surprise.
I stayed Monday night and took a 5:30am bus back to New York. It amazes me that in under 2 hours one can leave farm land, unlit roads, and strangers who say hello and look one another in the eye and arrive to a city of millions of strangers who are somehow related within the chaos and beauty bordered by steel buildings and streets that never dim. I got home, dropped off my bags, slipped on one of my new dresses, and headed back downtown. I was the first one to arrive in the office. I made my coffee and started my day.
This Memorial Day was both surprising, simple and oh so sweet.
Happy Memorial Day.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The Daze of the Week
Wednesday night. Just a Wednesday. So I got up. Picked a black dress, red and white polka dot shirt, and beige and red shoes. Made breakfast (whole grain English muffin). Went to work. Got coffee. Went back to work. Emailed friends. Got a nice phone call from a friend. Organized the office. Learned some new programs. Filled a prescription at the drug store. Went to the park. Had a sandwich and soda. Came back to work. Suppose to meet a friend for dinner. They cancelled. Decided to go to a movie after work. Saw a French/American film playing in the lower east side. Left the office. Got a butterfinger tasty de-lit. Walked downtown. It was cool, sunny and breezy. Perfect day in the city. Got on the subway. Found my way to the theater. Took off my sunglasses. Sat in the middle of the theater. Watched a movie that made me cry at times. Because my life has been more beautiful than even the carefully calculated stories and images set in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Remembered with whom I spent my last days in Paris. Remembered the smell. Remembered the love. Left the movie. Tossed my hair. Decided between French onion soup at Bathazaar or Tapas at a place called “Oliva” down the street. Chose “Oliva” because I liked the name. My girl Friday called. She was at Balthazaar with her parents. No surprise we think the same. I asked if she had the onion soup. She didn’t. She met me. I could hardly hear her over the sound of the live band. We drank house wine and I ate tapas for dinner. We got on the subway. We went uptown to the launch party of Hampton Magazine's new season. We got to The Pink Elephant. We were on the list, they couldn’t find us, it didn’t matter, it never seems to matter, they smiled and opened the velvet ropes and we walked in. Friday was wearing red. We gave money to an African Water project they were raising money for in the hall. We felt good (due to wine or charity I am not sure). We got black wrist bands with white writing on it. We walked into the crowd of designer dresses worn my 20somethings, trust fund children with no smiles. They always look annoyed or angry. Why not be happy with everything you have? We walked onto the dance floor. I tripped and fell onto a model wannabe. Ooops. I laughed. There was a step down that was hidden, had nothing to do with the wine, I think. I ordered two glasses of Champagne that turned out to be Dom Perignon. It tasted sweet, crisp, easy. We danced some more. Sipped our champagne. Looked around the room. Made fun of models and then went home. “Only us” I thought. Took a little nap on the subway. Woke up on my block. Went to bed. Woke up. Picked out a black shirt, pair of capri’s, and Friday’s tan belt that I stole months ago. Put on my tan and blue heels (a present from a friend) my friend called as I was putting them on. Made breakfast and thought “Not bad for a Wednesday”. I shook my best friend. “Friday time to get up”. "It’s Thursday".
Your girl,
Lucky
Your girl,
Lucky
Movin on Up
I just read in the most horrible book, which will remain unnamed…,a quote. This is the solitary passage of writing that is worth taking the effort/time to read of the entire work. I will paraphrase. It asks:
“Why do people move? The answer is simple as well as universal. They move in search of a better life”.
I recently moved. Not from my home (surprising since I packed up my belongings and moved 6 times with in the past two years). I have lived in my mothers house, resided in an old farm house, lived in a renovated loft, a friends apartment, my fathers apartment, with 2 ½ crazy roommates and currently reside in a beautiful Harlem studio. But that is a whole other story.
I recently moved offices. I went from a larger, stuffy, mahogany and forest green colored office spotted with ecru colored cubicles. Even the color “ecru” does not hide the retched nature of people boxes. I think who ever invented cubicles should in a very “Twilight Zone” like manner be forces to live the remainder of his days (it was a man…we all know it was) in a city of cubicles. Back to the office, it was 3 floors, had a garage and was located in the mall capital of a New York City Suburb. Donald Trump had moved in while my sanity moved out. Everything that is wrong with America can be found in this town. Image Image Image surrounded by a demographic of both Walmart shoppers and Neiman Marcus hounds. And yes I did myself give into Walmart more than I would care to admit but I was always aware of the impact and influence of it’s presence.
I became the center of this somewhat dysfunctional large family of lawyers, HR personal (I don’t think the word person should even be used remotely relating to HR), cleaning folks and a president. I found the people I was drawn to (few and far between but ranged from the interns to the president).
So where did I go?
I moved to an office in midtown Manhattan. My commute changed from 1 hour to 20 minutes. I now work for a company of 15 people in an office with no cubicles. Systems are different. I get in, in the morning. I make a jumbo cup of coffee. Talk to the people in the office. Do a circle around the loft and smile.
First Day. Shocker! Only way to put it. I was scared. I was use to the metro north, to taking the train and sitting with lots of space around me and the company of one of my best friends. Then bam I was taking the very loud, very crowded subway standing up. I tried to figure out how to get the wires of my new ipod not tangled in the handles of my purse or in the way of my Starbucks. All this occurred while speeding underneath the concrete city. I got out of the subway 20 minutes later and there I was. “Toto I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore”. No Suburbia only city. Concrete blocks lining my way like soldiers on either end of my path to my office. I had walked these streets hundreds of times, I knew the area well, why did it feel different? It was during the day and this was my new home.
Was I dressed ok? I am a pretty confident gal. I feel comfortable at pubs and the opera as much as eating alone in a restaurant or sitting in a park. But there was a different air. Daylight….not a weekend…..daylight in New York.
I walked into my office. Wood floors (trouble with my heels) walls being knocked down. People were just laying about, talking having coffee. Work Hard Play Hard oozed through the pipelines and tin ceilings of my new home.
I was scared. I might have found a girl even more obsessed with herself than I. I sat down at my new desk and the computer played a montage of model posses of the previous face of the company. At least I make sure I have friends in my pictures so it doesn’t look like I am as narcissistic as I truly am. She just put it out there. Also no instructions, no friends, starting at square one…it was scary.
My new boss is amazing. He is able to stay positive, energetic, personable and organized. He can fix everything from account management issues to broken chairs. He rocks.
Dogs roam free around my new office. I get 25 phone calls oppose to 425. I still am in the center. I still like finding out what is going on in all aspects. I still am me just in new locale.
Lucky Girl. I am a lucky girl. I left a place where I adored quite a few spectacular people and moved to a city with the potential to house a few more.
I don’t really miss anything from my old life of one week ago. I am settling in with my new self. My New York Casu-gal self. OK the Casual doesn’t really agree with me but I make it work.
The new family is as dysfunctional as the old one. But I wouldn’t feel at home if they weren’t.
People take a plunge, jump and try new things in hopes of a better life. My life has been pretty good thus far. We’ll see where it goes from here. Either way I am “Moving on up” or in this case down..town.
Your Girl,
Lucky
“Why do people move? The answer is simple as well as universal. They move in search of a better life”.
I recently moved. Not from my home (surprising since I packed up my belongings and moved 6 times with in the past two years). I have lived in my mothers house, resided in an old farm house, lived in a renovated loft, a friends apartment, my fathers apartment, with 2 ½ crazy roommates and currently reside in a beautiful Harlem studio. But that is a whole other story.
I recently moved offices. I went from a larger, stuffy, mahogany and forest green colored office spotted with ecru colored cubicles. Even the color “ecru” does not hide the retched nature of people boxes. I think who ever invented cubicles should in a very “Twilight Zone” like manner be forces to live the remainder of his days (it was a man…we all know it was) in a city of cubicles. Back to the office, it was 3 floors, had a garage and was located in the mall capital of a New York City Suburb. Donald Trump had moved in while my sanity moved out. Everything that is wrong with America can be found in this town. Image Image Image surrounded by a demographic of both Walmart shoppers and Neiman Marcus hounds. And yes I did myself give into Walmart more than I would care to admit but I was always aware of the impact and influence of it’s presence.
I became the center of this somewhat dysfunctional large family of lawyers, HR personal (I don’t think the word person should even be used remotely relating to HR), cleaning folks and a president. I found the people I was drawn to (few and far between but ranged from the interns to the president).
So where did I go?
I moved to an office in midtown Manhattan. My commute changed from 1 hour to 20 minutes. I now work for a company of 15 people in an office with no cubicles. Systems are different. I get in, in the morning. I make a jumbo cup of coffee. Talk to the people in the office. Do a circle around the loft and smile.
First Day. Shocker! Only way to put it. I was scared. I was use to the metro north, to taking the train and sitting with lots of space around me and the company of one of my best friends. Then bam I was taking the very loud, very crowded subway standing up. I tried to figure out how to get the wires of my new ipod not tangled in the handles of my purse or in the way of my Starbucks. All this occurred while speeding underneath the concrete city. I got out of the subway 20 minutes later and there I was. “Toto I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore”. No Suburbia only city. Concrete blocks lining my way like soldiers on either end of my path to my office. I had walked these streets hundreds of times, I knew the area well, why did it feel different? It was during the day and this was my new home.
Was I dressed ok? I am a pretty confident gal. I feel comfortable at pubs and the opera as much as eating alone in a restaurant or sitting in a park. But there was a different air. Daylight….not a weekend…..daylight in New York.
I walked into my office. Wood floors (trouble with my heels) walls being knocked down. People were just laying about, talking having coffee. Work Hard Play Hard oozed through the pipelines and tin ceilings of my new home.
I was scared. I might have found a girl even more obsessed with herself than I. I sat down at my new desk and the computer played a montage of model posses of the previous face of the company. At least I make sure I have friends in my pictures so it doesn’t look like I am as narcissistic as I truly am. She just put it out there. Also no instructions, no friends, starting at square one…it was scary.
My new boss is amazing. He is able to stay positive, energetic, personable and organized. He can fix everything from account management issues to broken chairs. He rocks.
Dogs roam free around my new office. I get 25 phone calls oppose to 425. I still am in the center. I still like finding out what is going on in all aspects. I still am me just in new locale.
Lucky Girl. I am a lucky girl. I left a place where I adored quite a few spectacular people and moved to a city with the potential to house a few more.
I don’t really miss anything from my old life of one week ago. I am settling in with my new self. My New York Casu-gal self. OK the Casual doesn’t really agree with me but I make it work.
The new family is as dysfunctional as the old one. But I wouldn’t feel at home if they weren’t.
People take a plunge, jump and try new things in hopes of a better life. My life has been pretty good thus far. We’ll see where it goes from here. Either way I am “Moving on up” or in this case down..town.
Your Girl,
Lucky
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Why I heart NY!
Well New York is the city of my birth. New York is all I have ever known. When you are from New York you are truly lucky but in some ways at a disadvantage. What????? How is that possible???? New York is one of the greatest cities in the world. Ah ha, that is just it. When you are born inside, outside, or around New York it is all you know. It is par, the norm, and average. New Yorkers are always looking for another New York. Chicago, it’s like a cleaner friendlier New York. Boston is like a smaller colder New York with a horrible baseball team. LA, it’s the anti-New York. Paris, is New York with more history, old stuff and funny accents. New York is always the starting point and everything is just related back. It maybe be wrong, it may be jaded but that is New York.
Another reason I love New York is Carlisle. What’s Carlisle? Hmmm how do I answer this question? I am convinced Carlisle is the center of the universe. I have proof of this. One time in Amsterdam, while traveling with Dean, CNN International did a news report live from Carlisle, PA. The presented the report with a map depicting the world, with a red dot, an arrow and a bubble that said Carlisle, PA. Whether or not you know it you are only 2 degrees away from someone who knows or is somehow related to this small town, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.
I moved to Carlisle from outside New York when I was thirteen. I had no idea that people lived this way. I didn’t understand why strangers talked to each other and said hello (totally uncivilized). Don’t they know they aren’t supposed to look anyone in the eye…let alone wave???? I didn’t understand that the next town was literally the next town over (meaning 10 miles south, north, east or west) and not the town directly next to you. I didn’t understand why we were the only somewhat mixed breed in the town and why I couldn’t get a good bagel anywhere. I learned to love this area. I loved knowing everyone in town (most of the time). I made amazing friends and I learned to appreciate saying Thank you and hello to strangers (poor strangers haven’t had a chance to get away since). It also made me appreciate everything New York has to offer. Everything from Independent movies, to museums, to incredible restaurants influenced from every corner of the world. I craved that life again, so I moved back.
Another reason I love this city is simply, my girl Friday. Friday is my best friend here in New York. She is the “heart” of “I heart New York”. Either wise it would just be me and New York. Friday is the coolest girl you would ever meet. She is game for anything. The reason New York is the best is because Friday and I take it by storm. She has been here since I moved back to the city that never sleeps, almost two years ago. In that time, the two of us have been: to almost every kind of sporting event possible, jazz concerts, Irish pubs, rugby games, cigar bars, the ballet, plays, diners, 5 star restaurants, random hotel rooms, and the secret rooms in the hottest clubs in the city. By secret rooms, I mean any area that had a velvet like curtain to it…..including the dish room…which was VIP because it was a secret. That is me…not Friday…she is way cooler than that and just laughed. We have drunk more combinations of mix drinks than should be legal and have quite possibly done some things that were, in fact, not legal. But we have done them all together. I have a ridiculous life. I know that. But the only reason I am able to do the incredible things here and take advantage of every inch of this small island is because I have someone who takes advantage of it with me. And for that I am truly lucky.
You can see Friday and I at any of our usually haunts, meaning everywhere from Harlem to the Hudson Hotel. I have always said that a city is who you see it with. Paris wouldn’t have been Paris the first time around with my 20something guy friends attempting to speak French and only getting out “Je suis la jeune fille” meaning I am a little girl. It wouldn’t have been Paris the second time had Levi not had to rip my pants so I could go to the bathroom in our first class train car. Spain wouldn’t have been as flavorful had we not stayed with friends from there who took us to the best paella place in town. New York would be nothing with out my gal Friday. I highly suggest you find a partner in crime and take on whatever town you in. Watch out Batman and Robin you got some HOT competition in this small town we call Gotham.
Your girl,
Lucky
Another reason I love New York is Carlisle. What’s Carlisle? Hmmm how do I answer this question? I am convinced Carlisle is the center of the universe. I have proof of this. One time in Amsterdam, while traveling with Dean, CNN International did a news report live from Carlisle, PA. The presented the report with a map depicting the world, with a red dot, an arrow and a bubble that said Carlisle, PA. Whether or not you know it you are only 2 degrees away from someone who knows or is somehow related to this small town, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.
I moved to Carlisle from outside New York when I was thirteen. I had no idea that people lived this way. I didn’t understand why strangers talked to each other and said hello (totally uncivilized). Don’t they know they aren’t supposed to look anyone in the eye…let alone wave???? I didn’t understand that the next town was literally the next town over (meaning 10 miles south, north, east or west) and not the town directly next to you. I didn’t understand why we were the only somewhat mixed breed in the town and why I couldn’t get a good bagel anywhere. I learned to love this area. I loved knowing everyone in town (most of the time). I made amazing friends and I learned to appreciate saying Thank you and hello to strangers (poor strangers haven’t had a chance to get away since). It also made me appreciate everything New York has to offer. Everything from Independent movies, to museums, to incredible restaurants influenced from every corner of the world. I craved that life again, so I moved back.
Another reason I love this city is simply, my girl Friday. Friday is my best friend here in New York. She is the “heart” of “I heart New York”. Either wise it would just be me and New York. Friday is the coolest girl you would ever meet. She is game for anything. The reason New York is the best is because Friday and I take it by storm. She has been here since I moved back to the city that never sleeps, almost two years ago. In that time, the two of us have been: to almost every kind of sporting event possible, jazz concerts, Irish pubs, rugby games, cigar bars, the ballet, plays, diners, 5 star restaurants, random hotel rooms, and the secret rooms in the hottest clubs in the city. By secret rooms, I mean any area that had a velvet like curtain to it…..including the dish room…which was VIP because it was a secret. That is me…not Friday…she is way cooler than that and just laughed. We have drunk more combinations of mix drinks than should be legal and have quite possibly done some things that were, in fact, not legal. But we have done them all together. I have a ridiculous life. I know that. But the only reason I am able to do the incredible things here and take advantage of every inch of this small island is because I have someone who takes advantage of it with me. And for that I am truly lucky.
You can see Friday and I at any of our usually haunts, meaning everywhere from Harlem to the Hudson Hotel. I have always said that a city is who you see it with. Paris wouldn’t have been Paris the first time around with my 20something guy friends attempting to speak French and only getting out “Je suis la jeune fille” meaning I am a little girl. It wouldn’t have been Paris the second time had Levi not had to rip my pants so I could go to the bathroom in our first class train car. Spain wouldn’t have been as flavorful had we not stayed with friends from there who took us to the best paella place in town. New York would be nothing with out my gal Friday. I highly suggest you find a partner in crime and take on whatever town you in. Watch out Batman and Robin you got some HOT competition in this small town we call Gotham.
Your girl,
Lucky
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