Dear Ya'll,
Well, it's finally time to pack it up and move along. I wish I could say it was with mixed feelings but honestly, I'm so very ready to be a member of "real America" once again. No longer will my husband and I have to don disguises and drive our "other car" to New Jersey to secretly dine at chain restaurants in order to feel more connected to the rest of the country. We can now go out loud and proud to any Olive Garden we choose. The veil of shame will be lifted. And, to God be the glory, we are headed SOUTH to North Carolina where I will once again be amongst "my people", mosquitos, humidity, and FLIP FLOPS! (Can I get a what what on that last one?). I'm looking forward to once again communing with people who have a smile in their voice, Jesus in their hearts, a working knowledge of traffic laws, and well, manners. Granted, these are the same people most likely to be featured on www.peopleofwalmart.com, I love 'em. What's not to love? I can taste the fried okra and hear the flipping of the flops now. Lets take a moment to just let that sink in. *pause* Ahhhh....zen.
While most of my experience here in Brooklyn was, well, "an experience", there will be things I will miss about it. I have received what one local friend describes as a "Brooklyn Education". This is not a part of my educational background that I plan to divulge on a resume (unless I am trying to get a job with the Dept. of Corrections or the local looney bin). It will take months, possibly even years to work through all the anger management issues and paranoia associated with horn honking so that I can go back to being my former & better self. Obviously I will miss the pletheora of opportunities to be snarky. (Although, "my people" usually provide plenty of those opportunities as well....see www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com for examples) Here are a few more things I will *miss* about living in Brooklyn:
1. Paneantico Bakery. This bakery exists only to add inches to thighs, but it is truly a place blessed by the bakery gods. I hereby declare it to serve The. Best. Cheesecake. EVERRRRRR. Really. It's just impossible to imagine anyone coming close to creating that heavenly goodness anywhere else. I spent many (too many) a night indulging in an illicit affair with their raspberry chocolate cheesecake. Farewell, Paneantico. While I cannot pronounce your name, I will forever be reminded of our scandalous relationship every summer when I see myself in a bathing suit. But it was soooooo worth it.
2. Lulu's Cuts and Toys. This children's hair salon is nothing short of genius. Nowhere else can my son get a $30 haircut for $200. You see, at this dreamy little salon, children enter a world surrounded by wonderful toys. Sure, I am more than willing to pay $30 for a child's haircut (three times what my husband pays for his adult haircut) so that my child can sit peacefully in a firetruck, watch a movie, and have bubbles blown in his face all while being expertly coiffed. This is where he finally agreed to wear the cape and sit still instead of leaving a hairy, tear-stained monster. R learned to enjoy haircuts here, quite possibly because it also happens to be a toy store. Haircut: $30. Toys (because it's pretty impossible to leave without one or three): $50 Tip: $5 Parking Ticket: $115. Hey, it comes with the territory in this neighborhood. But my kid looks so adorable when we leave!
3. Fatty 'Cues: Dag nab it. We only found this place a few weeks ago but Holy BBQ. Hang onto your brikset baby. This place is awesome with a twist of wow. BBQ with an asian flare. Yes, it's as good as it sounds.
4. Receiving emails from people named Rocco Muffoletto. I mean, who has a name like that? (He works at the car dealership & reminds me to get my oil changed via email). I love asking for "Junior" when we drop off the dry cleaning. My kid goes to school with children named Pasquale, Antoinetta,Ace, Salvatore & Luca (for the record, R is probably one of two blue eyed children in all of Brooklyn. The second being my other son, E). It's like the next generation of the Corleones all grouped together at the lunch table. Great names.
5. Unprecedented access to the mafia world. See previous blogs about the bust across the street and also Gymboree. (Yes, Gymboree). I cannot watch Goodfellas without yelling "That's SOOO Bay Ridge!" every 10 seconds. I swear the ice cream trucks play the Godfather theme song if you listen long enough.
6. Watching the container ships come in late at night while I rock my baby and feed him his midnight meal. Every container ship that comes into the NY harbor passes by our house. It's pretty cool. (What's NOT cool is "fog horn season").
7. Manhattan. I love Manhattan. It would have been nice if I could have spent more time there. The access to theater, great food, parks and general awesomeness is unparalleled. Brooklyn is like the dirty little step-sister to Manhattan. Unfortunately this is where I spent 99% of my time and hence the reason I should probably be in therapy pronto. I will visit Manhattan many times throughout my life....Brooklyn, not so much. For the record, Times Square should be part of Brooklyn. Go there once, see it, and then never return.
8. Craft. This is Tom Colicchio's restaurant (as in Top Chef host). I stalk him much in the way I stalk Brian Williams. Sean and I splurged on several rediculously fabulous meals while we were here (hence my rediculous posterior size at the moment) and out of all the legendary places we've dined, Craft is by far the absolute best.
9. Brian Williams as in THE Brian Williams of NBC Nightly News. 'nuff said. I came, I stalked, I inappropriately accosted him at a silent auction/dinner and demanded a photo. We made eye contact and did the side hug. But for him, I would have given a full on hug. If you've read my previous blogs about personal space, you know that a full on hug is a Really. BIG. Deal.
10. Friends. We have some great friends here, old & new. The E family, who has treated us like family for many years...it was nice to finally get to live close enough to behave like family with them! So many wonderful Italian meals at their table....those will be missed. And others. I mean, where else can Swagger Wagon Mom hang out at a children's museum with a professional bartender sporting pin-up girl tattoos? Or catch the New York City Ballet's production of Nutcracker with two Naval Nuclear Power officers? Or attend a dinner party with Jermaine Jackson's former assistant? And I consider Brian Williams my friend. I mean, we definitely had some platonic chemistry during that whole silent auction incident. Or maybe that was just his fear I was feeling, but that's neither here nor there. He had feelings for me...of one kind or another.
11. Fairway Market. There has never been, nor will there ever be a grocery store as wonderful and over-the-top as you. I hesitate to even call you a grocery store because I feel like that cheapens you. You are a mecca for food lovers, gourmet chefs, wanna-be gourmet chefs, and people like me who just like to walk around, mouth agape, and inhale the smells of cheese, oils, meats....I think I might actually cry if I keep thinking about never going to Fairway again. Where else can I discuss the culinary attributes of saffron with a pair of gay leather-clad bikers from "The PA" (as they referred to Pennsylvania)? Where else can I find smoked Hungarian paprika or Madagascar vanilla beans with such ease? Where else can I walk in fear of collapsing the 15 varieties of apples stacked into high pyramids of color? Fairway, you helped me become a better cook, you helped me try new things, and you allowed me to understand why kosher meats cannot be stored with regular people meats (although apparently the Bible also contains this answer, but if I'm truly honest, God saw it necessary for me to learn this lesson while inadvertantly offending a Jewish person).
12. My oldest son's "Brooklyn Education" and overall experience as a resident of NYC. I did my best to shelter my child from public urination, fornication, and public intoxication, but there are things I'm proud the kid picked up on. I love that he knows that Daddy takes the R train to work. I like that he knows the difference between Brooklyn and Manhattan. It's pretty cool that we can go into the city and he says "I love this place". I was honored to take him to see his first Broadway Show (Mary Poppins) and even more touched that he is still talking about it...and still singing "Spoon Full of Sugar". It's funny that he knows that pigeons are acceptable birds to torture whereas the robins and finches in our yard are not. I love that he knows the difference between the Verazzano Bridge ("our bridge") and the Brooklyn Bridge. It's funny that he will ask to ride the Staten Island Ferry and it's sweet that he always looks for the Statue of Liberty when we're driving on the Belt Parkway. He's only 3 years old and, while somehow managing to develop a strange combination of a southern/midwestern accent while living here, he knows the proper way to eat a giant slice of Brooklyn pizza (folded in half). He met his very first best friend here and they developed a friendship that most adults would admire. He started preschool here and met other friends that helped shape how he interacts with people.
13. My second son's birth experience. We knew we would probably have baby #2 while stationed here, but the idea of giving birth in Brooklyn was probably the second most terrifying thought I could ever imagine next to waking up and finding out that they've outlawed the magical combination of peanut butter and chocolate (that would almost end my will to live). We did a lot of research and seriously considered just holding off on having another baby until we returned to "real America". But we went ahead & took the plunge and I have to say that I really had a pretty decent go of it in the obstetrics/birth dept, even if my OB did look like a cast-member on Jersey Shore. Admittedly, I chose a Staten Island based OB and a Staten Island Hospital, but I can't leave NY and not feel a little sentimental that this is where our littlest one was born. I also can't believe that I actually have a child with a City of New York birth certificate. It seems a little strange and I hope his personality does not one day reflect the stereotype. So far, so good on that.
14. Spring time. I'm usually more of an autumn girl, but while living up here, spring has become the highlight of my year because it signifies the end of the god-awful winters, slush/mud, and the wearing of socks. Spring is elusive and my personal jury is still out on whether or not 2011 has had a spring season yet. But on that first really nice day when all the planets align, the sun is out, and the need for a coat is diminished, people walk around in a happy, disoriented daze, as if we all just emerged from our caves and were experiencing sunlight for the first time in months. There's something especially wonderful about spring time in NY.
I have had my moments with this place. Pretty much on a daily basis. But I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish here and I'm proud to say I did them all and accomplished some things I swore I'd never do....like drive in Manhattan. 50% of my goals involved eating and food related things, but I also went to the Today Show & hugged Bon Jovi & Ann Curry, I saw an Opera at the Met, watched the New York City Ballet, learned the subway system without having to use a cheat sheet, and stalked & cornered Brian Williams and conned him into a hug & a photo without getting arrested. All in all, this experience was successful in terms of goals, but as Frankie said, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. Unfortunately, I never became much more than a fish out of water here. NYC kicked my southern behind. But the truth is that although NYC did beat me, I'm totally okay with that because living here has taught me about who I really am, what I really believe in, and what is most important to me in life. There once was a time that I only wanted to move to the big city and see what would become of me. Now I have those answers and I can safely say that whatever becomes of me, it's best done down in warmer weather where the pace is slower & the crowds are sweeter.
And now I must sign off, close out this blog, and begin a new chapter. My first move being googling "big city detox programs" quickly followed by ridding my wardrobe of socks and closed-toed shoes.
Cheers ya'll, it's been a trip!
Double hugs, double kiss, no looking back,
L.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
An Open Letter to Door to Door Sales People in NY
Dear Door to Door Sales People in NY,
Do you know that in the rest of the country, one would never go to the dentist, be IN the dental chair, mouth agape, and staring into the blinding white light only to have a random person off the street walk in and try to sell the dentist and patient jewelry? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, a woman would not have to stand at the receptionist counter in the pediatrician's office holding the world's heaviest baby in the world's heaviest baby carrier and wait while an Al Pacino look alike badgers the nursing and receptionist staff into buying a $10 pair of scrubs? And then have to wait an additional 5 minutes while he alternates between trying to make change for those purchasing and insulting those who are not? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, a man and his wife can enjoy a lovely, romantic meal in a pretty nice restaurant and not have some random Chinese guy from off the street come in and try to sell pirated DVD's to them at their table? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, a woman could get a pedicure at a day spa and not be interrupted by another random Chinese guy selling more pirated DVD's and have to wait while the nail technician stopped to peruse the inventory? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Did you know that in the rest of the country, a woman could peacefully shop in the diaper aisle at Target and not be approached by a sketchy dude who looks like the love child of Ray Charles and Bob Marley (if that were possible) trying to sell her knock-off Gucci purses from a garbage bag? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
That is all.
L.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, one would never go to the dentist, be IN the dental chair, mouth agape, and staring into the blinding white light only to have a random person off the street walk in and try to sell the dentist and patient jewelry? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, a woman would not have to stand at the receptionist counter in the pediatrician's office holding the world's heaviest baby in the world's heaviest baby carrier and wait while an Al Pacino look alike badgers the nursing and receptionist staff into buying a $10 pair of scrubs? And then have to wait an additional 5 minutes while he alternates between trying to make change for those purchasing and insulting those who are not? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, a man and his wife can enjoy a lovely, romantic meal in a pretty nice restaurant and not have some random Chinese guy from off the street come in and try to sell pirated DVD's to them at their table? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Do you know that in the rest of the country, a woman could get a pedicure at a day spa and not be interrupted by another random Chinese guy selling more pirated DVD's and have to wait while the nail technician stopped to peruse the inventory? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
Did you know that in the rest of the country, a woman could peacefully shop in the diaper aisle at Target and not be approached by a sketchy dude who looks like the love child of Ray Charles and Bob Marley (if that were possible) trying to sell her knock-off Gucci purses from a garbage bag? That would NEVER. HAPPEN.
That is all.
L.
An Open Letter to New York City Crime Families
Dear NYC Crime Families,
Just as I was beginning to think that I'd been in Brooklyn too long to notice the daily oddities that make it the freak show that it is, you guys come and surprise me. I woke up this morning living in a Gangsta's Paradise. (yes, I just quoted Coolio. Get over it). I try to maintain a low profile, carrying on in the stereotypical "stay-at-home mom" fashion. I drive a minivan (gag). I stand outside my son's school shamelessly holding a tiny space ship umbrella on rainy days. I tend to smell like baby puke most days, but I wear a lot of dark colors so you can't see it after I rub it into my clothes. My fire alarm goes off anytime I cook anything above 400 degrees in my oven. My life is so plain it makes a box of bran flakes look delicious. So how come I have a front row seat to the largest mafia roundup in history? What, pray tell, does a boring mom like me, one who gets excited about making a new stir fry for dinner, have in common with a mafioso besides dining at Lai Yuen Chinese Restaurant (Bay Ridgers know what I'm talking about) and the sharing the same zip code? Well, right now we're both living on the same street.
Last night I thought God was just looking out for me when I got to the gym and it was closed. Three cheers for a pain free night! Then I noticed that the gym parking lot was roped off and filled with very important looking government mobile command post vehicles with fancy antennas and satellite dishes and guys wearing the snazzy yet cliche FBI jackets hanging out all around. I figured it was just an antiterrorism exercise, which would be a logical explanation for anything out of the ordinary where I live. Then a huge US Marshal's mobile command post pulls in and sets up shop. Hmmmmm. Interesting. (In case you're wondering, I live across the street from the gym....it's God's daily reminder that I'm not getting any skinnier!). This morning I wake up and the place is swarming with feds. (I've always wanted to use the phrase "swarming with feds" to describe my current location. I can check that off the bucket list!). There is heavy activity in the gym and it's not by people going to the 6:30am spin class. I know this because I usually laugh at those people. A while later, my friend sends me a Facebook post stating "100 of your neighbors got arrested in a mob sting". I laugh and suggest that this would be the reason for all the activity across the street. So I turn on CNN to hear about my fellow New Yorkers making the city proud when I realize quickly that yes, indeed this IS the reason the feds have set up shop across the street. Holy Cow! I take another peek out the window and there is the "prison bus" pulling up and unloading Italy's finest. Briefly I imagine that the bus is playing the theme song to The Godfather....like a little ice cream truck full of murderers pulling into jail. There they are, the good, bad & ugly of America's top crime families. It's like a hair gel convention for old, sleazy gangsters. Suddenly I have the urge to watch all the Godfather movies consecutively and eat cannoli. Unfortunately the gym is closed and therefore I cannot eat cannoli because I am unable to burn off those calories in a heated environment. I am beside myself with excitement.
So, Crime Families, I understand you're not having the best day. Stuff you've been getting away with from as far back as 1981 (according to the unreliable CNN), has finally caught up with you. If it's any consolation, I appreciate the fact that it caught up with you in my front yard. Watching a live version of Law and Order go down steps away from my front door has added a little spice to my otherwise droll day of rubbing baby puke into my clothes, learning about ear wax from our pediatrician, and determining discipline strategies for our unruly three year old. Perhaps explaining to our three year old the "situation" going down in the gym parking lot might actually assist in making my point that the little man needs to mind his mama or suffer consequences. It might be a gesture of community service if you could throw a threatening glance his way to drive the point home?
Admittedly I will never quite understand how someone so "un-NY" like me could find herself in so many stereotypical New York situations, but today's scenario was quite funny in my book. So thanks Crime Families. I hope they're good to you in prison.
Triple kisses, because that's how ya'll do it in the movies,
L.
Just as I was beginning to think that I'd been in Brooklyn too long to notice the daily oddities that make it the freak show that it is, you guys come and surprise me. I woke up this morning living in a Gangsta's Paradise. (yes, I just quoted Coolio. Get over it). I try to maintain a low profile, carrying on in the stereotypical "stay-at-home mom" fashion. I drive a minivan (gag). I stand outside my son's school shamelessly holding a tiny space ship umbrella on rainy days. I tend to smell like baby puke most days, but I wear a lot of dark colors so you can't see it after I rub it into my clothes. My fire alarm goes off anytime I cook anything above 400 degrees in my oven. My life is so plain it makes a box of bran flakes look delicious. So how come I have a front row seat to the largest mafia roundup in history? What, pray tell, does a boring mom like me, one who gets excited about making a new stir fry for dinner, have in common with a mafioso besides dining at Lai Yuen Chinese Restaurant (Bay Ridgers know what I'm talking about) and the sharing the same zip code? Well, right now we're both living on the same street.
Last night I thought God was just looking out for me when I got to the gym and it was closed. Three cheers for a pain free night! Then I noticed that the gym parking lot was roped off and filled with very important looking government mobile command post vehicles with fancy antennas and satellite dishes and guys wearing the snazzy yet cliche FBI jackets hanging out all around. I figured it was just an antiterrorism exercise, which would be a logical explanation for anything out of the ordinary where I live. Then a huge US Marshal's mobile command post pulls in and sets up shop. Hmmmmm. Interesting. (In case you're wondering, I live across the street from the gym....it's God's daily reminder that I'm not getting any skinnier!). This morning I wake up and the place is swarming with feds. (I've always wanted to use the phrase "swarming with feds" to describe my current location. I can check that off the bucket list!). There is heavy activity in the gym and it's not by people going to the 6:30am spin class. I know this because I usually laugh at those people. A while later, my friend sends me a Facebook post stating "100 of your neighbors got arrested in a mob sting". I laugh and suggest that this would be the reason for all the activity across the street. So I turn on CNN to hear about my fellow New Yorkers making the city proud when I realize quickly that yes, indeed this IS the reason the feds have set up shop across the street. Holy Cow! I take another peek out the window and there is the "prison bus" pulling up and unloading Italy's finest. Briefly I imagine that the bus is playing the theme song to The Godfather....like a little ice cream truck full of murderers pulling into jail. There they are, the good, bad & ugly of America's top crime families. It's like a hair gel convention for old, sleazy gangsters. Suddenly I have the urge to watch all the Godfather movies consecutively and eat cannoli. Unfortunately the gym is closed and therefore I cannot eat cannoli because I am unable to burn off those calories in a heated environment. I am beside myself with excitement.
So, Crime Families, I understand you're not having the best day. Stuff you've been getting away with from as far back as 1981 (according to the unreliable CNN), has finally caught up with you. If it's any consolation, I appreciate the fact that it caught up with you in my front yard. Watching a live version of Law and Order go down steps away from my front door has added a little spice to my otherwise droll day of rubbing baby puke into my clothes, learning about ear wax from our pediatrician, and determining discipline strategies for our unruly three year old. Perhaps explaining to our three year old the "situation" going down in the gym parking lot might actually assist in making my point that the little man needs to mind his mama or suffer consequences. It might be a gesture of community service if you could throw a threatening glance his way to drive the point home?
Admittedly I will never quite understand how someone so "un-NY" like me could find herself in so many stereotypical New York situations, but today's scenario was quite funny in my book. So thanks Crime Families. I hope they're good to you in prison.
Triple kisses, because that's how ya'll do it in the movies,
L.
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