Happy Thanksgiving!

Until Tuesday, I had no idea what I was doing for Thanksgiving. I had bought a frozen turkey dinner, just in case. I was contemplating going to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade the way I did my first year in the city. The thing is, the weather reports were predicting a miserable day. I was also considering volunteering to help a charity serve Thanksgiving dinner. Then Tom called me and invited me to have dinner with his family. I agreed.

The thing was, I'd kind of gotten pschyed up about volunteering. Then I found my opportunity. I got of work Wednesday, made a batch of fudge to take to dinner, then went to "the theological seminary" to help prepare meals that would be served the next day. I was a particularly valuable member of the crew because cutting onions doesn't make me cry. I also learned a fabulous method for doing so. Too bad I don't really like onions. Everyone there was just so cheerful and warm. Clearly if I had decided to spend Thanksgiving with those folks, it still would have been a good one.

The next day, I went to Tom's parents' house. His parents, his brothers and his dad's parents all live there. They're this hilarious Italian family: warm and loud and arguing, but mostly happy. They proceded to feed me until I thought I might explode. At 1:30 there was a huge antipasto course of meats, cheeses and fried artichokes which, it turns out, I like. They were shocked that I'd never had it before.

His grandmother asked if I like Italian food. I replied that I did. "But you're not Italian?" I admitted I wasn't and she sighed sadly, then shrugged. "Well, at least you like Italian food."

People watched football for a while. Dinner was served at 3:30 and was enourmous, leaving all of us stuffed for hours to come. Then we watched The DaVinci Code (I fell asleep). Then, in lieu of the evening meal we had the dessert course. Chocolate pudding pie, apple pie, pinoli cookies, rainbow cookies, my fudge, nuts and ice cream. There was also port, which is perhaps the most delicious alcoholic beverage I've ever tasted.

The next day Tom and I went to Prospect Park. Before we left, I told him I needed a snack, but we both forgot. Halfway through the park, my bloodsugar crashed, and he had to half-drag me to a snackbar. I didn't like that. I'm very independent, and it makes me feel so silly. I'm a strong woman, yet if I forget a snack I'm suddenly so light-headed and weak that I'm in need of rescue. On the other hand, it's probably good for me. I have trouble letting myself depend on others. After we got home, Tom make me some amazing Italian dish that involved noodles and clams and garlic and fresh parsley. Yum! I love men who cook.

Saturday Tom and I went to a birthday party for Tom's friend, Pablo. Pablo is from Barcelona. His wife, Janey, is six months pregnant. She's American, but was born in Korea. They're a fun couple. We had lunch at Heartland Brewery, then went to see Volver, the new Almodovar film. The movie was great except for two notably fake elements: Penelope Cruz's curves and her singing voice. Yep, that is definitely a padded booty (I found confirmation online), and I'm pretty sure her bra was padded, too. And the voice? Beautiful. Very Spanish. Just not very Penelope Cruz.

After that we went to Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station, where we met up with more of Pablo and Janey's friends. I was afraid the smell would nauseate me, but luckily it didn't. We had so much fun. Then I went back to my place since I wanted to get up in time for church this morning. When I opened the door to the building, I could already hear the music. I knew it was coming from my apartment. I opened the door, and fourty people looked at me. I walked around. Rick was nowhere in sight. I decided to ignore it and go to bed. I even managed to fall asleep. Then, at two a.m., the guy with the speakers arrived. I woke up. People kept trying to come into my room (thank goodness I locked the door...but how many people were in my bedroom before I got home and locked it?) I went out again, in my pajamas. Now there were easily fifty people, spilling out of the apartment into the stairwells, both up one flight and down one flight.

I found Rick and informed him it was too loud. He replied that he didn't know I was home and said he'd keep it down and get them to leave "earlier than I'd planned." But it didn't get quieter. The music was so loud, it was creating waves in the glass of water on my bedside table. I went out again and found Rick. I asked him what leaving "earlier" meant. He replied that it meant 3 or 4 a.m. (Oh, and in the past he's told me Dominicans are very "flexible about time", so 3 or 4 means at earliest 4 or 5.) I told him I had somewhere to be in the morning and would have to leave by 9 a.m. I asked him why he didn't call me to let me know he was having a party. He said, "Well, I would have invited you, but I knew you wouldn't come. I mean, I thought about calling you, but I didn't think you were coming home, so I didn't."

I finally just made him give me money for a cab (It cost $45!) and at 2:30 a.m. I left to get a cab to aTom's apartment in Brooklyn. As I was leaving, I heard a guy on the stairs say, shaking his head in disgust, "How you not gonna tell your own roommate?" Hee. Even the partygoers were on my side. I did not wake up in time for church choir practice. I am, even now, mad at Rick.

But that aside, it was a wonderful Thanksgiving that reminded me of how lucking I am to have my friends, my family, my boyfriend, and all my opportunities. I know that I have something to offer, ways to make this world a better place. I'm doing my best to find them and use them to the best of my ability. Happy Thanksgiving.

Hi, Mom!

My mom hadn't spoken to me in a while, and she said it'd been a while since I posted (6 days). So since my internet connection is actually working for once, I better update while I can. Thursday night I had Parent Teacher Conferences. It went fine; I'm great with parents. Then Friday I installed an overhead light (a quite affordable paper lantern) in my bedroom. Yay! It's no longer all shadowy in there. Now I can read well or put on makeup with accuracy. Then I made fudge for Fake Thanksgiving.

Saturday, Tom and I went to Fake Thanksgiving at his friends' house. It had all the trappings of normal Thanksgiving, only cooler. The football game was on TV, but muted with great music playing. Dinner was so delicious. Everyone loved my fudge ("You made this? Seriously?") After dinner we all played Trivial Pursuit, which we all feared might be boring. Actually, I've rarely laughed so hard in my life. We got together at 1 p.m. and didn't go home until midnight. Then Sunday Tom and I hung out again, watching movies and eating Chinese food.

Today was work: I found out that I'm supposed to do nothing but test preparation from now until the statewide exam in January. Yep. That won't be at all boring for the students. They definitely won't get bored and act out as a result. Nope, not at all. Grr. Two more days until vacation. I haven't decided how to spend Thanksgiving yet. I'm trying to decide between going to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade or volunteering serving dinner to the needy. I'm leaning toward the shelter idea. If I don't talk to you before turkey day, dear family and friends, know that I love you. I am so greatful to have your love and support in my life.

Tsampa, Solas, Carne and Otto's Shrunken Head

Those are just a few of the places I've been spending time. It's been so long since I posted! It's partly been because I've been busy, and partly because of a faulty internet connection. Anyway, two Saturdays ago was Tom's birthday party. It was in Brooklyn, and hard to get to due to train repairs. It's a continual problem for citizens of Brooklyn. That's when I realized: Tom and I have a long distance relationship! It took me more than an hour to get to his place. More than an hour is a long distance relationship.

I was hanging out with all of his friends, and they were a lot of fun. I got to see Lex, too, which was nice. Tom liked his present: The Encyclopedia of Heavy Metal. On the inside cover, I inscribed it, "If we had an inside joke, this is where it would go." That made him laugh.

Then there was a week of work --the less said about that, the better-- and then it was the weekend again. Yay! (The most interesting thing about that week is I read a new book, Bee Season, which started out charming with an intoxicating take on language. It ended up all weird and sad and disorienting. Anyway, back to the story...)

Friday night the girls and I went to dinner as usual, but Tom ended up joining us. You see, Laura made it seem like all the guys were coming. Laura was wrong.Tom didn't mind, though. We had delectable Tibetan food at Tsampa. I devoured every scrap of my food, then scavenged leftovers from Laura and Riza. "Wow, Erin," Laura exclaimed. "I've never seen you eat like this."

Then we had drinks at Solas before going to Otto's Shrunken Head. Who By Fire (Laura's boyfriend Ryan's band) had a gig there. Yes, that's the name of the band, and they stand by it. The band's pretty good. The lead singer sounds like he's channeling Jim Morrison, though, and Tom correctly surmised that it would help if they played some of their songs in different keys to make them more distinctive.

The next day, Tom and I got together for brunch. Actually, instead of going for brunch, we decided to make it. The bacon frying set off the fire alarm. Oops! Also, I'd never made pancakes and he hadn't made them in years. They were rubbery, not fluffy. Any suggestions? After that we went for a walk in Morningside park. It's a decent little neighborhood park, the most distinctive attribute of which is a gorgeous waterfall. We walked by the cathedral of St. John the Divine and its nearby trippy Peace Fountain, which includes a giant crab, giraffes and the Archangel Michael fighting satan. Nestled in the base of thefountain was a live albino peacock just wandering around. (Seriously. No, seriously.) For supper we went to a restaurant named Carne (Meat? Who names their restaurant Meat?) where we got some scrumptious hamburgers.

Then we tried to go see Stranger Than Fiction at Lincoln Center. It was sold out, though, so we just sat on the edge of that pretty, lit fountain in front of the Metropolitan Opera and talked (see photo at left I downloaded from a talented photographer's blog, Livinginny. I didn't take the photo, nor am I in it, but it's a perfect shot).

Sunday I went to church and sang my heart out. Monday it was back to work and today was Parent Teacher Conferences. Now it's just tomorrow, Thursday (with the second half of Parent Teacher Conferences making my work day last from before 8 a.m. to after 7 p.m.) and Friday until it's the weekend again. It's probably not a good sign when you're counting down to the weekend on a Tuesday night, but oh, well.

Happy Halloween!

Last night, Tom and I went to see the Village Halloween Parade. It was a crazy crush of people, and a mad show of color and light. I had my digital camera, which is challenging to adjust in the dark. Also, many of the pictured were taken one-handed with the camera held over my head. The result is a bunch of blurs, but it really captures the craziness of the event, so...cool.

This was a freaky ghost-baby-butterfly puppet that swooped over us.




This is Kiss.









These are crazy lit-up pumpkin-man-puppets. There were guys wearing crazy suits that controlled the pumpkin man puppets around and above them.




I have no idea what this float is, but the swirling color is exemplary of the parade, which included a few floats, some marching bands, people on stilts, and random costumed individuals. You see, anyone who wants to be in the parade can be! They just have to show up at the staging site.

We eventually managed to squeeze our way out of the crowd and went for a peaceful dinner before making our way home to catch a bit of sleep before work in the morning. So much fun!

I'm so popular this week!

Yes, I've been SO popular this week! In my last post, I mentioned my Saturday date with Tom to Laura's party. Well, soon more and more things were piling up. Chris, husband of Madrid, called me to invite me to his birthday party on Friday. Jay and Dea, my aunt and uncle, called to see if I wanted to sight-see. Tom called, mid-week to see if I wanted to go to dinner and a movie on Thursday. Yes, everone, yes! I want to do all those things and go to church on Sunday. Then on Friday Tom texted me to ask if I wanted to go to a costume party after Chris's birthday party. Yes, again, some more!

Wednesday I couldn't sleep, and on Thursday I was exhausted but I didn't care because I was excited about my date. Tom and I went to L'Annam for yummy Vietnamese food. Then we went to see The Prestige, a movie about magic which was way trippy and surprising. That's all I can really say without giving things away.

Friday I rushed home from work, showered, did my makeup and figured out an outfit that could use the skirt from my costume. I printed and framed a cute photo I took of Madrid and Chris and ran out the door. I was late to meet everyone at Red Bamboo, but they were all forgiving and Chris liked his present.

Then I hopped on the train to Brooklyn to meet up with Tom. His apartment is amazing! So spacious it tempts me to move to an outer borough...well, tempts me for about 90 seconds. He had jazz on the stereo when I came in, which was a relief. You see, he is a heavy metal afficionado, and its nice to know he listens to other things, too. The party was great. I was an evil Girl Scout from Troop 666 (I sewed demerit badges onto a sash-- see photo above) and Tom was Rowdy Roddy Piper (a pro wrestler when we were kids).

Tom's friends are hilarious. Following the wrestling theme, someone else was The Ultimate Warrior. They had a half-hearted match in which Tom hit him over the head with a chair. One group of ladies were dressed as the Golden Girls, which they played with great commitment. Hee!

The next day, I slept in and had just enough time to shower and throw on clothes before going to meet Jay and Dea.

We had lunch at their hotel, The Marriott Marquis Time Square. Then Dea and I chatted while Jay had a meeting. After that, they wanted to go to Serendipity III for frozen hot chocolate. I suspected they would need a reservation, but didn't think to mention it. When we got there, there was an hour-long wait and they weren't in the mood so I took them down the block for a frozen hot chocolate at Dylan's Candy Bar. Then we proceeded to Central Park where we walked around admiring the scenery and snapping photos. Jay seemed to be having a great time. I then took them to the subway station, dropped them off at the right platform and rushed home.

Due to a train delay, it took forever to get home, but I did, threw my costume (for Madrid to borrow) and Laura's present into my bag, changed my clothes and hit the road. I called Tom to warn him I'd be late. It was his first time meeting my friends, so I apologized profusely and told him to look for Laura, "the girl with the shiny, shiny black hair." He did, and according to Laura he was great.

After I arrived, it came time to order. Tom was aghast that I didn't know what gnocci was. He explained, and my friend told me not to order it, Madrid or Laura (I don't remember which) saying, "You'd eat three bites and be full." Hee. I love that my friends know me so well. Laura and her man Ryan, Madrid and Chris, Riza and Pete, and Carolina had all beat me there. I felt bad that Carolina was on her own. Laura had sworn she wouldn't be a singleton, but all the other singles baled. D'oh!

Laura loved her present, which included a pair of earrings and an oil pastel portrait I drew of Laura as a fairy. She loves fairies.

After dinner, we went to No Malice Palace, aka GothHop Bar (known for its Hip-Hop music and goth decor, as well as its lack of a sign out front). There was a sad girl sitting by herself on one of the couches. We all discussed her loneliness. Carolina, in particular, expressed concern.

I told her she would be the perfect one to go talk to the depressed fairy. She could use excuse of being the only singleton. But no. She and Tom decided that I, as the nice one, should be the one. So I went over and chatted with Emily, whose friends were late. I kept her laughing until they arrived. Meanwhile, Tom got to know my friends.

Laura, who is usually more sensible about such things, had a bit too much to drink and began saying silly things, like, "Erin, I felt your drawing. I felt because I didn't know for sure if you did it because I didn't know you could draw. I didn't know you could draw. You didn't tell me you could draw like that and all this time you could draw, but I didn't know you could draw." Hee! I replied that she should be careful feeling the drawing because oil pastels can smear. "I know!" she replied, very seriously, holding up a discolored fingertip. Heeeee!

When I left it was impossible to get a train home, and the cabs were playing hard to get, too. The wind was so strong, I was almost blown off my feel. Literally. Eventually I made it home, and thanks in part to the changing of the clocks, I actually made it out of bed and off to church in time to sing in the choir. It was so much fun. After that Then I had to run errands (almost blowing away again on the way home) and prepare my food for the week. I was invited to a party where Ryan's band was playing, but I managed to turn it down so I could fall into bed where I basically passed out. Sleep, precious sleep, for more than six consecutive hours. Hooray!

Marathon Date

Last week, Tom and I scheduled a date for Saturday afternoon just in case. You see, Tom is a Mets fan, and was hoping they would win the pennant and continue on their attempt to conquer the world. Or something.

Anyway, that didn't happen. They lost on Thursday. Friday night I went out with my best pals and he with his. Then, as planned, I called him to iron out the details. I was hoping we'd switch to a Saturday night date, thinking that would be a better sign.

"No, why don't we go ahead and get together for brunch?" he asked.

I was a bit disappointed, but agreed, suggesting we meet up at Itzocan Bistro, which I adore. The next day, there we were, enjoying a scrumptious breakfast. I had the three chile Eggs Benedict. He had crepes with walnuts and caramel sauce, the only non-egg food on the menu. He doesn't like eggs. I know! He says he's tried to like them, but it's never worked, though he likes just about every other food. I kind of like the anti-eggs thing. It makes him more understanding about the foods I don't like. Wow. With obsessive minutiae like this, it's no wonder I have such a large, riveted readership.

Anyway, after brunch we planned to go to the museum-- perhaps Museo del Bario or Museum of the City of New York. But it was such a gorgeous day we walked around the park for the next three hours, zig-zagging all over. We explored the Conservatory Gardens, circled Harlem Meer, hiked through some rocks, found a few waterfalls and chatted. We somehow ended up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That's where we spent the next few hours. I'd never seen the moon viewing room which was beautiful. Then, we were hungry because it was supper time.

We went to Vol de Nuit, a Belgian Beer Bar where we had mussels and pommes frites and I had a lovely framboise (raspberry flavored) beer. The Bishop girls introduced me to it years ago, and it's the only beer I've ever liked. We talked about a lot of things, including the fact that I had to get home so I could get up early for choir practice and church. He was a bit surprised by it: "It's just...no one I know goes to church, so it's a bit out of left field." He was pretty cool with the idea (and not all guys I've met here have been, believe me).

Anyway, the marathon date was great. Next weekend I'm taking Tom to Laura's birthday party, which coincidentally falls on his birthday. He's having his own birthday party the following Saturday, to which I am invited. Now I've got to pick out a birthday present for a guy I've only had two dates with! If you have to have a problem, that's a pretty good problem to have.



P.S. My job is terrible, but I've decided to just try my best and not dwell.

First Date with Tom 2.0

After Lex's birthday party, I told you all about the smart, funny guy who asked for my number. Unfortunately, he happened to be a math teacher named Tom. I decided not to let that strange coincidence get in the way and gave him my digits.

Then, on Tuesday, Tom 2.0 (the newer, better Tom) called to ask me out for dinner and a haunted house. I said yes. I was excited and nervous. It had been so long since I'd been on a first date...almost a year, in fact.

Friday night, I rushed around to be ready for our date. He's said he would aim to pick me up at 6:30, but with traffic might not make it until 7. At 7:10, I hadn't even heard from him. I was pacing around my aparment, steaming mad. I thought he'd stood me up. Then the phone rang. He apologized for being late and told me he was stuck in traffic. At 8, he finally picked me up. I was a bit crabby until I saw how upset he looked. He'd been on the road since 4:30. It turns out, a major route from Brooklyn was recently closed (and will remain closed for the rest of the year). Now all the other bridges between Manhattan and Brooklyn are packed.

Anyway, we went straight to the Haunted House. The actors were amazing. They managed to play every scene straight, tears and all. After the show ended, we went to a quirky French restaurant. The food was great and we talked and laughed. Then we lingered at the table. Tom 2.0 said, "I don't want to go home yet... I've got an idea. There's someplace I want you to see. Let's go."

He took me to the Brooklyn Promenade (see photo above, which I downloaded from Petite Pomme). The view was gorgeous. "See, this is why I love New York," I said, and sighed. It's also kind of surreal because it looks so serene, a path with pretty plants and benches and that view, but the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway is humming away under your feet. After a while, Tom drove me home and called the next day to talk. So far, so good!

Nesting

It's Columbus Day (a.k.a. Our People Conquered Your People Day), and no school, so YAY! I had daydreamed about having a fun NYC day. I thought about sight-seeing or hanging out in the park. The thing is, I've started feeling sick again...or still? I don't know. So I spent the first half of the day lying in bed in my room and the other half at the doctor. I had to wait for hours, but I've got medicine now, so hopefully I'll get better.

Speaking of my room, yesterday I did a little bit of nesting, decorating my room (see photos above). I love my quilt. My bed doesn't have a headboard, so I decided to put up curtains. The red curtains aren't that shiny in real life. Another cool thing is, now that I've got the curtain rods in place, it would be easy to change and put up whatever curtains I want. I need to pick some art for the wall on the right. I might use a portrait Val created. Anyway, I'm loving my new room!

Happy Birthday, Lex!

Last night I stayed out until after three and had a great time. I didn't feel tired even though I'd only had four hours sleep the night before. What magical gathering kept me going into the madrugada? Lex's 25th birthday party!

I went to dinner with Carolina and Laura and Mills Korean (which is not just a few blocks from my apartment--Yay!) and had gorgeous fried dumplings and a beef dish fried up in a hot stone pot. After that culinary exstacy, Carolina drove us downtown to the party. On the way we stopped at Bearded Papa's, a reknowned cream puff store. I didn't have one, but I got one to give Lex, along with her pop-up surfing birthday card and a few drinks. Then we looked for a parking space FOREVER. Okay, it wasn't forever, but with the stop-and-go traffic steadily increasing my nausea, it felt like it. Then, when we got out of the car and started walking the many blocks to our destination, Mama's, I began to miss the car.

You see, I was wearing a beautiful dress, thinking, "This will be the last time it will be warm enough to wear this dress this year." Turn out, I was wrong. Last time I wore it was the last time it was warm enough. Brr. We got there early and waited at a bar across the street which had no name, but looked gothic and played hip-hop music. I nicknamed it "The Goth-Hop Bar." I snapped a lovely picture of Laura and a silly one of Carolina.

When we went to Mama's, I saw a group of people that I instantly assumed were Lex's crew. Lex laughed that I could look at a bar full of people and instantly know which ones were her friends (later they were easier to spot, as a friend gave us all "What Would Lex Drink?" shirts). Suddenly, we realized we'd left the cream puff behind. "A pastry?" Lex asked. "You better run and get it, woman!" We did, and rescued it before anyone at Goth-Hop even realized it was there.

Lex flipped for the card (see downloaded picture at left) and enjoyed the cream puff (although her girlfriend, Jen, loved it even more and demanded to know where it had come from. It looks like Bearded Papa's has a new devotee to join its fanatical customer base).

I was surprised to see Drew there, because Lex and I thought he'd bail when he found out I was coming. It was a little awkward at first, but he made it a point to come and talk to me. I congratulated him on his career (Dark Horse is in talks to make an ArchEnemies movie). He told me about his new rooomie. I told him about my move. He made me laugh until my stomach hurt, just like old times.

I had such an amazing time hanging out with Lex and her friends. I’ve been missing Lex a lot, and we keep giving each other the whole “Let’s get together soon. No, seriously” treatment. Her friends were entertaining. I also met a smart, funny guy who asked for my number.

There's just one problem: he's a math teacher named Tom. What are the odds? Lex told me, "I think he likes you." I replied, “Well, he’s great. He’s adorable. But he’s A MATH TEACHER NAMED TOM! I just got out of a relationship with a math teacher named Tom.”

“Okay, that is a little weird, but if you’re going to make an exception, make it for Tom. I never advocate for my friends in romantic situations, but in this case, I will. You should give Tom a chance." We'll see.

Happy birthday, Lex! Congratulations on 25 years of life. Thank you for welcoming me to the city, for giving me love and support (even when you were put in the uncomfortable position of being the go-between) and for all the good times. Knowing you is an adventure, and I love it.

This week I've learned:

Being lonely can be tough.

So can having someone. An independent friend of mine is having relationship problem because she’s become too dependent on her mate. She doesn’t know how to be independent with someone. And from experience I can tell you, if you’re too independent in a relationship, the result is just as bad. On one side of the spectrum, your partner feels smothered. On the other side, your partner feels unnecessary. It’s a tough problem to solve, and I don’t envy her that.

My phone is not meant to be a music player. My MP3 player is gone. It was either stolen at school, lost in the move, or lost or stolen somewhere/sometime else that same week. One way or the other, it was very sad. It was a present from Mom and Dad, and I loved it.

Instead of paying a lot of money on a new Shuffle that might get lost or stolen, I decided to just spend a little cash to use my phone’s music capabilities. My Verizon store sold me the wrong kit. I went back and got the right one, then went home, used it and found there was room for exactly three songs on my phone. I made several calls and discovered I needed an external memory card. Nice of them to tell me after the fact. The guy at Circuit City sold me the wrong one (“You’re sure this is the right one?” “Yes, I am sure.” “Really?” “Of course! It’s my job.” Ha.). I went back and got the right one, but for some reason it’s still not working. AAAaaaargh!!!!!!!! Sometimes I hate technology. [I have since gotten it to work, and it was cheaper than buying a new MP3 player, but it was such a hassle!]

The people at my church are cool! Apple picking and the church picnic at lovely Rockland State Park were so much fun. I was afraid it was going to be me and a bunch of married people and their small children, but I was wrong. There were tons of young adults around, many of whom are members of a group that has brunch every Sunday after church. Pastor Bill calls it “The Brunch Bunch.” I rode up in a van with them, and two girls and I sat in the very back discussing linguistic stuff. At one point we realized the people in the front were listening and discussing our conversation. “We were just marveling at your conversation, that’s all,” said Pastor Sara. Then Mike piped in, “I thought the cool kids sat in the back of the bus. “Well,” I replied, “that’s the sad part: we are the coolest kids on the bus.” “Oooh!” everyone exclaimed, before complimenting my quick thinking and advanced skills in mocking.

We picked a few apples, but mostly just enjoyed the fall air and the scenery at the orchard. Everyone engaged in an almost constant stream of witty banter, which made me feel very at home. The more a conversation sounds like dialogue from an old screwball comedy, the happier I am.

Then we went to Rockland State Park for the picnic. For quite some time we watched ducks and swans, as well as one enormous caterpillar. Then we played with a Frisbee for quite a while.

At one point, the minister dropped trou, which shocked us until we realized he was merely stripping down to tennis shorts in the hopes of getting someone to pick up a racket and play. Then we all ate and ate and ate. We went home tired and full just before it started to rain.

Singing with the choir on Sunday was great, and some of my old singing skills are coming back. Afterward, I joined The Brunch Bunch. They’re supportive, dedicated to community service and Christ-centered, yet surprisingly and pleasingly sarcastic. I hope to spend more time with them in the future.

Apartment good. Health bad.

I'm enjoying my new apartment. I'm getting into the swing of things. There's a better range of grocery stores than my old neighborhood: there's one bourgeois grocery store, one organic grocery store, one ghetto grocery store (aka a bodega), and one grocery store that's in-between the others. I haven't found a good laundromat (the one I used was really expensive and I ended up hand-washing a bunch of it because it didn't even come clean. Grr.) but I'm on the lookout for a better one.

I love being so near the parks, and I've found a bus that magically has a bendy route that starts a block from my apartment and drops me a block from my church. This weekend in the church choir we sang some glorious Handel. Love, love, love. Work is going fine.

On the negative side, I'm sick! I didn't quite feel right last week. Wednesday night I was dizzy and short of breath, but I thought it was just an asthma/allergies thing. Friday night, my ear hurt so much I kept grabbing it. Saturday night the hearing in my left ear kept getting all muffled. Monday on the way to work I had an asthma attack and my hearing was cutting out again. I also had a headache, though I hadn't really noticed it until the doctor asked during my appointment on Monday. But it turns out, the headache was the crucial point in the diagnosis.

Apparently, I have an upper respiratory infection which spread to the middle ear. The doctor says if I'm not really careful about recovering, I could have hearing loss. Great. So now I'm being a good girl, lying in bed and drinking lots of fluids while waiting for my fever to break. Must go nap now. Love you all!

Here are some photos from my summer vacation!

When I was home, the whole family was spending time together at the farm: Mom, Dad, Sandy, J.B., Erika, the girls and me. I got my camera out and snapped a few pictures. While visiting J.B. and Erika in Waverly, I snapped a few more. Here they are for your viewing pleasure. (I'm sorry they're arranged so strangely, but Blogger is being a pain.)

Belated blogging

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. The internet at the new apartment is on the fritz. (I'm currently using a computer at my hated alma mater, Fordham, the university that doesn't seem to care about anything but getting the most cash possible out of my pockets, and to heck with customer service--see Fordham photo at left.)

I'm not sure how much time I would have had to blog, anyway, as I simultaneously moved and started the new school year. (The mover was unbelievable. He had this method of strapping six medium sized boxes onto his back, and them walking them down the five flights of stairs. It was unreal. I'm still in shock.) I'm really enjoying the apartment. Well, I have a few complaints (He said we had cable, but we really only get 8 channels total. I don't have a key to the mail box, and he's always out of town so it takes several days to get my mail. The e-mail is on the fritz. Where is the neighborhood grocery store? There has to be one, right?) But on the whole, I really like the place, and Rick is kind of fun. He loves to sing along to Beyonce. Hee. Gotta love a guy who's not afraid of singing falsetto.

School is great so far (knock on wood!) I finally got a top-ranked class, and they're such good little students. I don't have a homeroom, so no more gathering them up at the end of the day or at lunch to take them downstairs (my least favorite thing about teaching). Also, my classes are smaller, which rocks! Well, it's also kind of scary, because sometimes the district will see a school with small classes and another school with a few big classes and shift some kids. The other school sends the kids they want to get rid of, so not only are they coming in late, unaware of the existing rules and procedures, but they often have behavioral or learning difficulties. So nobody tell about my small classes, okay? It's sort of a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

All in all this year, teaching is more fun. It's not perfect. I still have one class full of pains-in-the-neck because they failed the seventh grade, yet magically got to test into eighth grade. As such, they believe they don't have to do my work to go to high school. We'll see about that. But by and large, I'm just having more fun with the kids. Here's hoping it continues!

I won't be homeless!

To all of you who have been supportive during this challenging time, thank you! After hours and hours and hours online (searching Craig's List and e-mailing potential roomies), about a dozen apartment viewings, a lot of stress and some tears, I have finally found an apartment.

I'll be moving to the other side of Central Park. My new apartment is at 112 and 8th (Also know as Central Park West...also known as Frederick Douglas Boulevard.Yeah, New York can be a confusing place).

Now I had been hoping to move in with someone young and cool...someone I would have a lot in common with. That's not what's happened. My new roomie is a Dominican flight attendant named Rick. He's tidy. He's always away working, visiting the Dominican Republic or hanging out with his mom. In other words, he's the male version of my current roomie, Clara. He even has similar taste in decorating. It's not ideal, but I can definitely deal with it.

The Negatives:

Location- I would have preferred the East Side, as I know it better. I know where all the restaurants and stores are. It's closer to my church, bank, doctor and dentist. Also, Morningside/Harlem seems to be more single adults and fewer families than Spanish Harlem (or as Lex calls it, "SpaHa"). I like the warmth of Spanish Harlem, and I think I'll miss it. I'll also miss the murals in the neighborhood and the garden behind my building.

The apartment- I think the room I'm moving into is smaller than the one I have now, but I don't think it will feel like it because of the closet space and lack of giant, ugly armoire. I'm also going to get bed risers so I can store things under my bed. The worst thing is that my room only has one small window and it looks out on an airshaft. It provides no view and very little light. Also, Rick is only a moderately better decorator than Clara.

The Positives:

Location- I'm one block from Morning Side Park and two blocks from Central Park (both of which I love!) I'm about 4 blocks from one of my favorite restaurants in the city, Mills Korean. I'm two blocks from a cross-town bus, making it simple for me to get to the East Side whenever I need to. I had feared I would have to move out of Manhattan. I'm so glad I don't have to now. I'm close to the 2 subway train, which shortens my commute to work! Also the Morning Side area of Harlem is really hot, and improving all the time.

The apartment- It's on the second floor, as opposed to the fifth floor. I won't have to climb as much (though I won't burn as many calories). My room comes with a big closet (which is rare in Manhattan), an air conditioning unit and a huge chest of drawers. It also comes with a full bed (luxurous after the twin I've been using for two years). It's so pretty and fresh-looking. It'll be really nice once I decorate it.

The bathroom is big for a NYC bathroom. All utilities are included in the rent, even wireless internet and cable. There's no divider between the kitchen and the living room, so I can cook while I watch TV. Rick says I can use his treadmill. I'll often have the place to myself.

In Conclusion:

It's not perfect, but I'm sure it'll be fine. To be honest, I wasn't sure about this place when I moved in, and now I'm sad to leave it. I'm sure it will be the same with this new apartment.

How searching for an NYC apartment is like online dating

In NYC, if you don't have a ton of extra cash to get a broker, you probably have to use Craig's List. Craig's List is a free website. People post ads for their apartments. Then you e-mail them with information about yourself. If they like your e-mail, they contact you about an interview or open house. Then if you meet them and they still like you they will give you a call to come talk some more or to offer you the apartment. My friend Jenny has been dating using Match.com, and I've started seeing similarities between our experiences.

How looking for an apartment online is like internet dating:
1- You read listings in which people post flattering pictures. People write descriptions that make them (or their apartment) sound good, but not so good that you'll be disappointed when you meet them (or the apartment).

2- You write back using a catchy subject line (my current favorite is "Making me your roomie would be great! Leaving me homeless would be sad.") Your e-mail should make you sound good, but reveal enough of yourself to hopefully make a good match. For example, if you couldn't clean to save your life, you'd be pretty miserable if you misrepresented yourself and ended up living with a neat freak. The same is true of if you hated sports, pretended to love them and ended up with a sports nut.

3- When you have an open house, you have to pick out an outfit and do your hair and makeup so that you look nice, but not like you're trying too hard.

4- You need to tell stories and be interesting so you'll stand out amongst the 50 other people they're seeing, but you can't seem desperate.

5- Everyone wants someone "laid back" with "no drama." (Half of the people who want a "laid back" roomie are the same people who write "MUST BE CLEAN. Seriously. NO MESSES. NO DOGS. NO CATS. NO COUPLES." Heh. Yep. You're laid back. I can tell.)

6- Sometimes people say they'll call but they don't. They're just not that into you.

The Differences
1- If you take a little time to think about an apartment, someone else will probably snap it up and sign the lease. If you take a few days to think about dating a guy and call him up, he probably won't have gotten married in the mean time. (Although Jenny warns he might have secretly been married to start with.)

2- You don't have to find a man. It's nice to find a good one, but it's not a matter of survival. There is no deadline (unless you count the biological clock). You do have to find an apartment.

I have sent out more e-mails applying for and apartment than I have sent out college applications and job applications in my entire life. Yep. So far, I've found one I liked but they were supposed to call me today and didn't, one I liked but she doesn't like the idea of me having friends over, and one that is PERFECT, but they're not going to decide until the end of the week. It would be a gamble to wait on them, because in the end they might pick someone else! Oh, well.

Clara's agreed to let me stay as long as I need to to find a good place. That's removed a little of the stress. Today also helped because I went to see three apartments, and each time I walked through the park. After a week mostly stuck in my apartment packing, reading Craig's List and sending out apartment-seeking e-mails, it was so great to be out in the fresh air and green.

Blog stuff

1- I have been busted by Val. You see, there is a setting on the blog that lets me post-date entries. For example, when I was in Iowa you may have noticed no new postings. Then, all of a sudden there were 5, and according to the dates, I wrote them every few days. Yeah, I cheated.

2- Why do I fib about the dates? Because if I put five entries worth of stuff into one mega entry, no one would want to read the whole thing. It would be too long. It also helps establish a timeline. It makes it easier to find entries in the archives, too.

3- Blogger (the site that hosts my blog) is all cranky. It has some bug and thus won't let me post pictures. Grr.

4- My internet connection is cranky, too. It quit when I was trying to post comments. Grr again.

Fashion Atrocities (a rant)

Okay, I was gone from New York for 30 days, and in that time there was a fashion revolution. Oh, I'm sure it's actually a constant thing that you barely notice if you live here, but this...it was like when you see a young relative only once or twice a year. They look so different every time you see them.

When I left, some people were rocking the ugly, baggy boho look. A few sad souls were emulating Madonna's most recent look with '70s disco-exercise attire. Sundresses and peasant skirts with long tops abounded. The hot new fashion accessory for that outfit was to cinch your waist with a wide, '50s-style belt. Culottes were improbably popular (ugh). Most girls, myself included, were wearing A-line skirts with fitted t-shirts.

Then I came back, and now tons of girls are wearing sundresses over jeans, miniskirts over leggings and the skinny jean. Now I'm not a fashion expert, by any means, but I suddenly find myself very opinionated on the subject, so I'm going to get it out of my system.

I am willing to support leggings under a skirt or dress. I used to rock the leggings look back in the mid-90s, and it can be cute as a button. What's more, this will allow women to rock minis they'd previously been unable to wear due to shyness, being too lazy to shave, veins, pallor or cellulite. All I ask is that no one go back to wearing them under baggy shirts, sweatshirts and sweaters. It made everyone look like they were shaped like a fudgesicle-- a chubby oval on top and a skinny little stick on the bottom.

The sundresses over jeans look...well, it's just strange. It only looks good on...no, I can't think of anyone it looks good on. The jeans make the skirt of the dress bunch up. I think the outfit is intended to look free and artsy. Instead it just looks like the girl got distracted while changing her clothes, or ran out of clean shirts.

The skinny jean. Oh, the skinny jean. Here's the deal. Clinton and Stacy on TLC's "What Not to Wear" have valiantly spent several years trying to convince the public that tapered pants are evil. They also did a tremendous public service by educating the fashion-challenged on the horror of pleat-front pants. On a recent episode, they warned a woman they were helping (I'm paraphrasing because I'm too lazy to look up a transcript), "For some reason, tapered pants are going to be really 'in' this year, but you should ignore that. Tapered pants only look good on the skinniest models...and they don't really look that good on them."

The skinny jean makes you look like a ham hock if you have a butt or thighs. If you're petite and very skinny, they will make you look like you have short little toothpick legs. If you're tall and skinny (like a model)...well, chances are you have big feet. Tall usually means big feet...it's a physics thing. Big feet are okay. I have big feet, and I don't mind them... but it's not a feature I try to highlight. Well, the skinny jean is like a giant neon arrow pointing at your feet. You might as well strap on clown shoes.

You know, sometimes I wish Iowans were more stylish. I sigh when I look at a room full of Iowans all dressed the same, reguardless of age-- all of them wearing jeans or jeans shorts with a baggy t-shirt...it's depressing. But, at least Iowans have the good sense to resist most idiotic fashion trends. I think the worlds of New York and Midwestern fashion have a lot to learn from each other. New York teaches us that fashion can be fun, and we can all find a specific look that expresses who we are. Iowa teaches us that we don't have to jump on the fashion bandwagon. Stay strong, people. Resist the skinny jean tyranny.

Back in New York

Monday, it was really tough to leave Iowa and my parents. It was so great to spend time with them, and they thanked me for wanting to. Also, I as stressed about coming back to the stressful things waiting here, especially my job and my apartment hunt. I spend pretty much all day every day looking at apartment listings.

Tuesday, I met up with Jenny. I had butterflies in my stomach, like when you have a date with a person you like. I realized, suddenly, that I was excited to see New York. New York is my boyfriend. He's high maintenance, but he's worth it...I think. Wednesday, I met up with New York Jenny, Laura and Riza (which is how I should have been spelling Reesa all this time) for Pub Night. It was so good to see them again.

I'm starting to get really frustrated with my apartment search. It's making me all emotional. I called Jenny, Madrid, Laura and Paul to vent about it. They're being very sweet and patient about it. Wish me luck...because cardboard boxes are drafty.

Family and the Iowa State Fair

Monday I spent the night at Unkie and Helen's. It was Karen and Lynn's anniversary, and I told their kids stories about the wedding and what they were like when they were little. Then Hannah, Connor and I went swimming in their pool. We had rootbeer floats, then I read to Hannah before bed. It was great to spend time with all of them. They're so close to my heart.

Friday I drove up to JB and Erika's in Waverly to visit them and my adorable, carrot-topped nieces. They were so cute. Courtney is getting less fussy, so she'll let me hold her and smile at me. Brooke is hilarious, talking and having conversations with her dolls (Amy, Baby and Other Baby). She loves to run, pumping her arms. Her former-track-star father is already working on her technique. J.B. and Erika talked to me about life and their jobs, which was nice.

I got to read to Brooke, sing to her, change her diaper and play with her. She is so adorable, it's not even funny. She loves to call me "April" (her other Aunt), but I don't take offense, because she loves calling J.B. "Mommy." She also loves to be tickled and tipped upside-down. "Again," she exclaims, "again!" The next morning J.B. made us great pancakes and French toast. He's such a good cook! It was hard to leave with Brooke waving out the window.

I drove straight to the Iowa State Fairgrounds where I met up with Mom and Dad. We wandered the barns and the flea market. We went to the Agriculture building where we saw the Butter Cow and Butter Superman. Yes, life-sized sculptures made entirely of butter. Now this is not tactful, but everyone was commenting on it. You see, Butter Superman was on a pedestal, which put his...tights at eye level. Man of steel, indeed. Mom made a funny comment, but I don't think she'd want me to print it here.

Then Dad spent quite a while bartering with implement dealers. We ate lots of good food (hand-made lemonade, great lamb and amazing beef dishes) and went home tired and happy.

The next day, I went to the fair again, this time with my college friends: Jennifer, Jessica and Kelly. We've done so for the last three or four years, with free tickets from their company. We toured the Avenue of Breeds, which has everything from bunnies to sheep to emus to elk. Jessy bought the deep-fat fried Oreos, which tasted like Oreos that had been swallowed by fresh doughnuts. Positively decadent.

Then we went to a concert. Train was performing (Meet Virginia, Drops of Jupiter, etc.), and we were in the third row. The concert was fun, and the lead singer was hilarious. He doesn't seem to take himself seriously, which is great. He's also very skinny, and I think he was wearing womens' jeans (see photo below). They looked fabulous.

As the concert ended, it started to rain. Everyone poured into the Varied Industries building, which was packed. Then we dashed for the agriculture building so the girls could get their first glimpse of the Butter Cow and Superman.

Then Kelly was off to the pork tent, and the twins went for lamb. We climbed up to the Arts and Cultural Center to see the doll houses, wood carving, photographs, sculpture and paintings. Then it was time to go. I grabbed a corn dog, then bought some salt water taffy and a last-minute lemonade. I adore the fair!

Then I went home for some last-minute bonding with my parents, knowing how hard it would be to leave them the next day.

The first loss

Sunday we went to Wayne Skardtvedt's birthday party. He has sheep and is a good friends of Dad's. I grew up showing sheep with his kids. We had a good time and great food, but met a rude awakening at home. You see, while watching the news we discovered that a friend, Tiffany Becher had died in a car crash. Her SUV rolled at 4 a.m., and she was ejected into the road. "Oh, Tiffany," Dad said to himself, "what were you doing out at that hour?"

"It happens, Dad. I've been out tons at that hour."

"Tons?"

"Well, not tons. But enough to know...it happens." Although, when I think about it, I don't think I've ever been driving at that hour. In a cab or on a subway, yes, but not driving. Maybe she shouldn't have been driving. Maybe she was just too tired, which is dangerous. But as my dad said, "It doesn't really matter." What matters is that a kind, beautiful girl is gone. Girl. I keep thinking girl, but she was 30...a woman by any standards. I think she is the first person I've ever lost who was about my age...someone I grew up with. Her smile used to light up rooms.

The day before the service, I went to Nadine's house in Storm Lake(see photo below of the intersection where I had to wait for a flock of geese to waddle by). Nadine was one of my professors in college. She helped my with my poetry, and we discussed my educational and career options. It was helpful. She also cooked me amazing food (she's a gourmet). I spent the night at Nadine's, and the next day we visited Nadine's 97-year-old mother, Miss Sarah. Miss Sarah tells the best stories about growing up as a moonshiner's daughter in the South.

Then I left for the viewing in Fort Dodge. There was a knot in my stomach as I stood in the long line waiting to get in. I didn't know if my parents were inside. I didn't want to break down sobbing...I didn't feel I had the right.

It's sort of a theater thing. I was once in a scene where several people had to cry. One rehearsal, I started crying too hard, and my director reminded me that the person most directly effected by the tragedy should be the focus and react most strongly. I know emotions can't always follow logical rules like that, but I didn't want people stricken by tragedy to feel like they had to take care of me.

I managed to hold it together, though I got teary while talking to Tiff's dad. He held my hand, talking and smiling. He's usually the strong, silent type. He said more words to me then than he had in all the years I'd known him. And when Tiffany's brother, Travis, saw me, he was so surprised that he started laughing and gave me a big hug. I was glad I could make him happy, if only for a moment. That's about the most one can hope for at a time like that. Then my parents arrived and walked through the line. I was so glad they were there. Now whenever I get in the car, Mom tells me to drive carefully. There's a new nervous inflection, and I don't brush it off like I used to. I tell her, as sincerely as I can, that I will be careful.