Oh Brave World

I am looking out at you from my window above.
Ever dreaming,
Ever scheming,
Wondering what the next day will bring.

I am sitting on a tire swing at a friend's house.
Falling backwards while holding the chains,
Rust marks on my hands later transferred to my jeans,
Hand-me-downs, maybe,
Or pants I've long outgrown.

I am lost in a City I've yet to outgrow.
Asking for directions from an Irish tourist,
I find my way again,
Until my next venture, at least.

I am lost on a dirt road by a swampy marsh.
Grandpa tells me to turn off at a certain path,
A grassy knoll I never find,
My shotgun and the cattails my only companions.

I am running through a corn field with my dog.
She likes to trip me by running too closely behind,
So we walk to a creek filled with deer bones instead,
And design a fort of sticks.

(photo via This is Glamorous)

Moving Moving Must Keep Moving

I can already tell this is going to be one of those months where I end up feeling like 3 years have passed.

Last Wednesday, I got a job offer at a Dot Com (!), and the very next day friends from South Dakota arrived. Followed by a crazy weekend spent running around revisiting the sights of NYC and cleaning vomit off my boyfriend's computer desk. I have two days to get the apartment spick and span; tomorrow, I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents for the first time. And two days after my last day of work (Sept. 4), I'm flying to Wisconsin to see a Packer game. Two weeks later I'm getting flown to L.A. for training. Phew. So exciting and life altering and disorienting and insomnia inspiring because I want to savor every moment!

And to top it all off, I had to bring Sally to the Genius Bar yesterday for repairs...so no laptop for a week :_(

My 70-something friend Joe from the Syracuse Barnes and Noble clan (have I mentioned I was part of a Barnes and Noble clan?) sent me this photo as a response to the glamor shot of my mom sailing. Just when I thought this month had packed in every possible location from my past, Joe brings a little Syracuse air into the mix. Pretty stylin' there, Joe.

Sailing

Who is this at first glance?

Bet you thought it was me. Gotcha!

Actually, my uncle took this of my mom in 1980, when she was a senior in high school.

I love her natural, effortless beauty in this pose. 

Sunrise

Sometimes I wish I could jump down a rabbit hole and end up here.

Thinking about my upcoming trip to Wisconsin makes me want to frolick... and make garlands out of daisies...and take lovely photographs...

(via Bedlam Farm)

Spoil Me

Yesterday my mom came to visit for the first time since I moved to NY! I was thrilled, no doubt about it. And the weekend just so happened to coincide with her 40-something birthday (yea, my mom punted me from her womb at the ripe old age of 22). I took several photos of our day filled with overpriced excursions - followed by counter tactics such as scouting for knockoff designer purses on Canal St., then smuggling miniature Heineken kegs in named purses. After taking the photo above I went back to where RedSunRover was waiting. I said, "I took a photo of my mom's first pedicure."

RSR: "When was that?"

Me: "A few seconds ago."

I, on the other hand, have had three pedicures this year. With New York being a culture hub and all, it's easy to feel spoiled... but no worse than Suri Cruise and her designer outfits worth more than my entire closet...

1. Access to some of the best doctors and dentists in the world. My dentist is so personable, he'll follow up the next day even for a regular cleaning. I have the cell numbers for both my dermatologist and dentist on standby.

2. Getting paid $15/hour to babysit or pick up the poo of someone else's dog. (Unspoiled: accidentally wheeling your suitcase through a leaning tower of dog poo and then having to scrape it off with paper scraps).

3. Designer clothing stores within a 15-minute walk. Even better: A lovely McDonalds establishment two blocks away so I can get iced hazelnut coffee any time of the a day.

4. Free classical, bluegrass, jazz music in the subway. And impromptu dance troupes. And percussion instrument sessions involving 10-gallon buckets.

5. Speaking of the subway system, $81 a month for an unlimited subway pass. Rising gas prices don't matta so much in this town.

6. Dropping off my laundry for someone else to wash and fold. I don't mind shelling out 75% of my laundry bag's weight, not one bit.

7. Paying less than the $700/month I was paying to live in a one-bedroom apartment with two other girls. (Believe me, this is a bargain for Manhattan). Thanks, RedSunRover!

8. Easy access to my favorite spa, Spa Belles, two blocks from work. Overpriced, true. But necessary pampering for a Midwest Mommy who used to run on gravel roads without shoes as a child. (I'm sure she'd be tickled to know I'm letting the world in on this).

9. Living in a city everyone is dying to visit. What better excuse not to spend money on plane tickets to see friends & family? Like I always say, "If you can't get home, get home to come to you."

10. Feeling like a NYC expert when friends visit, even though I'm not.

Pic of the Day #2

Okay, so once again I am posting photos that have nothing to do with living in New York. But these are too funny to be ignored!
(via Confessions of a Pioneer Woman)

Have a great weekend everyone!

Pic of the Day

I never thought I'd see a cow reading William Butler Yeats. But here it is. Oh Bessie, do you ever long for your own Maude Gonne?

She's thinking:
-"Aye me, sad hours seem long."
-"Yes, Erin...Forlorn, I must travel this world alone."
-"I'm so hungry."

She's reading:
"Brown Penny"

I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.'
Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

Photo courtesy of Bedlam Farm.

The Great Sport of Life

I met a guy at a bar once.
As I was about to leave, he asked for my number.
In the spirit of fun, I gave it to him. Nobody meets people in bars anymore, or so I thought. The next time we met up, it was at my favorite Packer bar, where we watched my boys trounce the Oakland Raiders, 37-27.
Four months later, we moved in together.

Ah, such is the pace of life in NY, especially when it comes to dating. But I digress. Today is about football. Yesterday, August 11, kicked off a special time of year, a time of new beginnings. A holiday season of testosterone, if you will. From now until February, I’ll be spending my Sundays in front of televisions the size of Buicks, checking conference rankings, fantasy picks, ESPN montages, and the occasional man-to-man butt slap.

As a girl who enjoys many activities associated with men (gambling, fishing, hunting) football has a strange power over me. It transports me to a different place in time. It makes me happy in ways few other activities can. Not to mention slightly hot and bothered, depending on the team. It’s very freeing to be able to scream and swear without anyone getting upset (except that one time I shouted WHO CARES ABOUT THE GIANTS?) whoops.

Football is a lot like dating. You go into the situation full of anticipation and high hopes. Using the right combination of plays and textbook maneuvers, there may be a chance to score. Whether you’re watching or playing, there’s a lot of down time involved. There’s the adrenaline high of winning, and the crushing blows of losing.

So here’s to a great season and a great sport. May the best
manteam win.

Nostalgia. Gets me every time.

This photo beautifully captures the essence of life on Bedlam Farm, a blog written by Slate contributor Jon Katz. I check his blog constantly for daily updates on three adorable pups: Lenore (pictured here), Rose and Izzy. Katz, also a Random House author, spends a great deal of time exploring the personalities of Lenore, the Lover, Rose, the Workaholic, and Izzy, the Healer.

As I do not have A) the time B) the money or C) the space for a dog in the City, I have decided to live vicariously through Katz's blog. And dog sitting jobs. Side note: A few weeks ago, I read John Grogan's Marley and Me. You would have thought I was reading about AIDS orphans in Africa, the way I carried on like a wee baby during the sad parts. Now this may come as a shock, but I also cried while watching Air Bud a few years ago.

To read the backstory of Lenore the Lab and Brutus the Ram, click here.

Tired.

Does anyone else feel this way when 5 o'clock rolls around? Today was just one of those days. Thank goodness I wore my red feather boa so I had something to use as a floor cushion. (Okay, so that's not really me, but it works)

Photo courtesy of 20x200, great art for $20 and up.

Does This Make Me a Bad "Working Girl" ?

This is a response to "Bored On a Summer Friday," brought to you by the awesome bloggers of Working Girl. Their blog encompasses everything job newbies need to know about entering the work force, from networking to annoying people in your cube space to office hangovers. I love it!

Now the "Summer Friday" post explores a very interesting tally of websites for whiling away a sluggish workday. One such site, Gawker Stalker, is A-Okay in my book. It's a definite ego boost to know the celebs think your neighborhood is the place to be and be seen. But why is it the fashionista sites Jezebel and FabSugar just don't light my fire? Maybe it's because I'd rather be checking ESPN.com and the stock market (google+"UNG") every five minutes? Bad Working Girl I? Guilty as charged.

Exhibit A: Fabulous Working Girl - chic, sophisticated, stiletto wearing martini drinker

Exhibit B: Me - rider of sheep, ripped jeans, beer chugging awesomeness

All the Cool Kids Gamble, You Should Too

At the risk of alienating friends, I have to say I'm not a huge Jersey fan. But I LOVE Atlantic City. Among a series of "firsts" I've accomplished in the last year (first real job, first apartment, first move-in with a boy) I've actually won money via gambling. I won $120 three weeks ago playing craps. We went back last week and I lost $40 back. And I have never had so much fun losing at something!

I've been to Atlantic City five times since January. I'd be going every weekend this summer had I inherited baller funds from a rich dead aunt or something. My avid gambler boyfriend (think Bling Bling meets Kung Fu Panda) will have to suffice. Even when I think we should stay home and save money, he's always enticing me with "I'm due for a win" and other lofty lines. Leaving the City is what keeps us sane, and I have Atlantic City to thank for that. Here's just a few of the things I love...

The Beach: Even if you're not into gambling, chances are you're at least a fan of lying on the beach and sipping frosty drinks. Hungry? No prob. There's at least two full-service bikini bars on the beach. And you can't miss the scrappy beach vendors lugging large ice boxes full of $1 treats.

The Bums: I've found Boardwalk Bums to be a lot more creative in their peddling methods (i.e. guitar guys doing Johnny Cash voice-overs) than NYC bums. Using one's musical talents - or lack thereof - tends to be the rule. And then there are entertainers by default, such as the ripped runner we saw toting an oversized piece of driftwood across his shoulders. We couldn't help chuckling over how ridiculous he looked - "Gee whiz... can I get a lift? teehee"

Free Drinks at the Tables: Need I say more?

Free Trip Money: This is a big IF, but if you come out ahead at the tables, the winnings can be used to pay off the trip. We only broke even once, but let me say this prospect is enough to get me on a crappy Greyhound bus. Which, by the way, is $15 round trip per person - less than what you would spend on a taxi ride to the Upper West Side.

Great Food: Two words - Stephen Starr. We're talking top-notch food at very reasonable prices here people. My personal fav is the trendy Buddakan, a restaurant fit for a Buddhist colony. Their asian fusion theme transcends everything, from its meticulous food designs to an atmosphere of dark wood swathed in sheets of satin. And PS - their chickpea ravioli is to DIE for. If you look closely at this picture, you'll see there are lights glowing from within the table. Not bad, eh?

And if the food isn't enough to get you there, maybe this terrace view will: