When Cameron came home from her first day of school this fall she said, " I need a tutor." I had just assumed that we would enroll Cameron in the the high school that best suited her interest, but preparing for the HSSAT was just the beginning of the rigorous autumn ahead gearing up for the high school application process. Eight grade students are encouraged to go to each high school's open house to understand the schools curriculum and enrollment criteria. By the end of November she had been to enough open house to make her head spin. In short the 13 year old student is supposed to chose a path of interest that could potentially set them on a journey of early success, but just as easily head them in a direction that has nothing to do with interest that they may (and most likely will) develop as they grow more mature.
We live in one of the most sought after neighborhoods in Manhattan. The cost of our rent in a tiny pre-war, two bedroom is testament to that. One would then think that the neighborhood schools would be ideal. I'm not even sure that there is a neighborhood school, and if there is, you wouldn't want your child to go there. Manhattan high schools consist of a large number of charters schools and students test, audition, and interview to get into their choice school.
I have long given up the story of how I diligently pursued the perfect middle school for Cameron from Colorado. Now I give her attendance at the Computer School, three blocks from our house as divine intervention. Kids in New York City go through this admissions process for elementary, middle and high school. By the time they apply to college they are are old pros. Somehow we bypassed the middle school process by moving here in the middle of the summer and one student's family moved unexpectedly making one slot available. Right time, right place? I don't know, but from what I know now it had nothing to do with me.
Cameron loves musical theater and she has also had an interest in being a doctor. So put herself out there and tested for Bronx Science and Lehman College, she auditioned for High School of Performing Arts and Laguardia Arts, and she interviewed and wrote essays for Beacon and Eleanor Roosevelt. She covered all of her bases. Then the long winter wait began.
More than going to a great middle school Cameron has met wonderful friends at the school. There are six girls in Cameron's close knit group of friends and they have embraced her as if she had gone to school with the since Kindergarten. The dream was that they would all go to Laguardia Arts together, some for acting, others for singing, and others for art/design. Cam's biggest fear was that they would all get in and she would not.. Moving Cameron to NYC was a huge risk on our part because she had so many good friends back home in Evergreen, but she has really flourished socially. Of course, unless they all go to school together next year she is back in the mix as a new kid. That being said, the way the system works all freshman, for the most part, are new kids.
Yesterday was finally the day that the kids were given their acceptance letter. Worse case scenario you don't get picked up by any of your first choice schools and you begin round two with schools that still have availability, which basically means the schools that no one else wanted are still looking to fill spaces. To say the best schools are competitive is an understatement. Laguardia Arts had 14,000 student (yes, the number is correct) apply for 500 spots and Beacon had 4,000 student apply for 250. The kids were instructed by the school counselors to go directly home and to open their letters with their parents. Cameron came directly home. We opened the letter.: No Laguardia Arts. The tears started and turned into sobs. But Jeff and I were thrilled, she has been accepted into Beacon, which is a wonderful school offering a well-rounded liberal arts education, so she can get what she needs if she wants to pursue medical school and she can participate in theater arts classes if she wants to make a career on the Great White Way.
None of her friends got into LaGuardia, although they all did get one of their first round choices, but none of them are going to school together. I'm sure I will get an ear full when she gets home from school today about who is going where and stories of despairs. Last night on Facebook she posted that she got into Beacon (her disappointment over Laguardia had faded) and one girl responded "at least one of your high school choices wanted you. :( " I would not have wanted to be in that house last night.
And so the adventure continues. One more year ahead of us in NYC. Cam is still holding onto her two year escape clause just in case she "hates" Beacon.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
It's Always Darkest Befrore the Dawn, but how dark does it have to get?
The saying is "it's always darkest before the dawn", but the catch is that you may not realize that you are not quite aware of how dark, dark can be.
I'm not going to tell you what retailer I am currently employed by for two reasons. First of all, all companies have their unique cultures and who am I to second guess the workings of the successful business and second of all I honestly don't think anyone has anything against me personally. But, with that said.... I am feeling so over my head in this job and I am not stupid, so something is amiss.
I have been working for the company for three weeks. Today was payday. The "training manager" did not take my direct deposit information until the Friday of the first week of training. Hence, my pay period was delayed. So I will have worked for the company for almost five weeks by the time I receive my first "biweekly" paycheck.
This is the type of success story that is only resonates the first time you hear it, so friends that have already heard the story please indulge me one more time. When my mom was visiting a few weeks ago we had gone to a Wednesday night church service, I had misunderstood and in fact the Wednesday night services were only being held for the Advent season. After months of job searching and being turned down for yet another job I really needed a Wednesday night service to re-energize. The fact that there was no service just added insult to injury.
On our way home we were waiting at a corner for the crosswalk light to change next to a store where my mom traditionally buys me a Christmas gift certificate. Jokingly I said to my mom, "Oh, look, it's my beloved ?????. I wonder if they are hiring?" The woman standing at the crosswalk next to us said, "What did you say?" I replied, "My beloved ?????." She said , "No, the other thing." I replied, "I wonder if they are hiring?" She responded, "Yes! We are". Due to a major plumbing issue flood the district manager was at her Broadway store late that night and had stepped out to get a Starbucks. I have no idea what she saw in me, but she urged me to stop by the store the next day to pick up an application. An application and two interviews later I was hired.
I was hired as a Sales Lead. Anyone who know me knows that I can talk to anyone, so retail sales in an upscale boutique and coaching a team of sales associates actually sounds like a nice fit. Unfortunately this particular store has been missing a manager for quite some time and as soon as I was hired one of the two assistant managers gave her two weeks notice. So they needed someone to hit the floor running. To say I was, and am not currently, up to speed is an understatement. Sales analysis and forecasting are completely foreign skills to me. The current acting manager (she is currently being borrowed from a New Jersey store) is over worked and under a lot of pressure to turn the store numbers around. To say she is underwhelmed by my lack of retail knowledgee is an understatement. But at this point they need a body who can open and close the store and I"m it. After two weeks I was (am) opening and closing the Upper West Side store without so much as a "nice job" and being critzized along the way for not knwoing what I simply have never been taught. And don't say that being shown something on that damned computer one time is something that I am actually suppossed to retain. Honestly, I don't know what the hiring manager was thinking hiring me, but since she did a kind word from the management team would be nice.
Commission sales and the lack of team spirit, complex cash registers, hobby shoppers, NEVER MIND. These subjects need a seperate blog.
After seven months of job searching I've finally found a job. It's part-time with no benefits and part-time hours. That means that I still have to keep my telecommuting job and balance the new retail job with all of it's demands. It's a stop gap. I will either flourish or.... (we won't go there). But this past week I worked 60 hours between the two jobs. I feel more like a jack of all trades and master of none. So, it's always darkest before the dawn, but at some point the sun has to rise. Right?
I'm not going to tell you what retailer I am currently employed by for two reasons. First of all, all companies have their unique cultures and who am I to second guess the workings of the successful business and second of all I honestly don't think anyone has anything against me personally. But, with that said.... I am feeling so over my head in this job and I am not stupid, so something is amiss.
I have been working for the company for three weeks. Today was payday. The "training manager" did not take my direct deposit information until the Friday of the first week of training. Hence, my pay period was delayed. So I will have worked for the company for almost five weeks by the time I receive my first "biweekly" paycheck.
This is the type of success story that is only resonates the first time you hear it, so friends that have already heard the story please indulge me one more time. When my mom was visiting a few weeks ago we had gone to a Wednesday night church service, I had misunderstood and in fact the Wednesday night services were only being held for the Advent season. After months of job searching and being turned down for yet another job I really needed a Wednesday night service to re-energize. The fact that there was no service just added insult to injury.
On our way home we were waiting at a corner for the crosswalk light to change next to a store where my mom traditionally buys me a Christmas gift certificate. Jokingly I said to my mom, "Oh, look, it's my beloved ?????. I wonder if they are hiring?" The woman standing at the crosswalk next to us said, "What did you say?" I replied, "My beloved ?????." She said , "No, the other thing." I replied, "I wonder if they are hiring?" She responded, "Yes! We are". Due to a major plumbing issue flood the district manager was at her Broadway store late that night and had stepped out to get a Starbucks. I have no idea what she saw in me, but she urged me to stop by the store the next day to pick up an application. An application and two interviews later I was hired.
I was hired as a Sales Lead. Anyone who know me knows that I can talk to anyone, so retail sales in an upscale boutique and coaching a team of sales associates actually sounds like a nice fit. Unfortunately this particular store has been missing a manager for quite some time and as soon as I was hired one of the two assistant managers gave her two weeks notice. So they needed someone to hit the floor running. To say I was, and am not currently, up to speed is an understatement. Sales analysis and forecasting are completely foreign skills to me. The current acting manager (she is currently being borrowed from a New Jersey store) is over worked and under a lot of pressure to turn the store numbers around. To say she is underwhelmed by my lack of retail knowledgee is an understatement. But at this point they need a body who can open and close the store and I"m it. After two weeks I was (am) opening and closing the Upper West Side store without so much as a "nice job" and being critzized along the way for not knwoing what I simply have never been taught. And don't say that being shown something on that damned computer one time is something that I am actually suppossed to retain. Honestly, I don't know what the hiring manager was thinking hiring me, but since she did a kind word from the management team would be nice.
Commission sales and the lack of team spirit, complex cash registers, hobby shoppers, NEVER MIND. These subjects need a seperate blog.
After seven months of job searching I've finally found a job. It's part-time with no benefits and part-time hours. That means that I still have to keep my telecommuting job and balance the new retail job with all of it's demands. It's a stop gap. I will either flourish or.... (we won't go there). But this past week I worked 60 hours between the two jobs. I feel more like a jack of all trades and master of none. So, it's always darkest before the dawn, but at some point the sun has to rise. Right?
Monday, January 30, 2012
Jersey - What a trip!
After searching for a job for seven months I finally found a position that I really think I can enjoy and excel in! Only part-time in retail, but I hope to dazzle them with my mad skills and get a full time position when it becomes available. Because it is supervisory position I had to have specific training that was only available in a store in New Jersey. As the crow flies it was only 16 miles from Manhattan, but as a New Jersey transit buses go it was almost two hours EACH way.
My first day I had to be there by 8:00 a.m., which meant I needed to leave the house by 5:30 a.m. to catch the subway to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. When you go to Penn Station to catch a train there is a giant board that give destinations,, departure times, and gates, not so at the bus station. I had to wait for the ticket booth to open, (only one window opened at 6 a.m) pray that the long line went quickly to ask an agent what my gate was, and make a mad dash for it.
For the first couple of days I wondered why so many Hispanic workers were leaving the city to go to New Jersey for work. I day or so later I had an "ah, ha" moment and realized that they were workers going home after a graveyard shift. The late afternoon bus back to the city had the same people heading into the city to begin that shift.
On all the movies they show the view of Manhattan from Brooklyn Heights, but I found out that the real view is from the New Jersey side. After coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel the bus would wind it's way through Jersey City dropping off it's weary passengers on their sleepy walks through their neighborhoods revealing the wonderful view of Manhattan from the The World Trade Tower being resurrected to the south, the Chelsea Peers protruding into the Hudson, and the Trump Residential Towers marking the Upper West Side. I've heard that you can see Time Square from space and I used to wonder about that. But from the Jersey side I had a view of the West Side of Manhattan. There was a strange neon flashing coming from the core of midtown west. Because it was from a distance I wasn't sure what it was at first, but then when I realized how far I was away from the city I was stunned by the intensity of the light.
Every bus ride I would sit down behind the driver and put my bag in the seat next to me to keep anyone from sitting next to me. The bus was never full so don't think I'm a total jerk, but with two hours ahead of me the last thing I wanted was to have to make conversation with someone.
A variety of characters rode this bus. There was the snoring man who got on in Manhattan and snored his way for two hours to Westwood, the woman who boarded with her two preschool sons for a local ride to spend the entire 15 minutes on the bus telling them (loudly) that only adults were allowed to push the button to request a stop, and the Asian teenager who argued on her cell phone in Chinese with her mother only to call her friend to tell her (and everyone else on the bus) in English everything her mother had said.
After four days on the bus I was on my way back to the city on Friday afternoon. (I had Wednesday off, if you I wondering how I got four out of five day week). I wasn't really tired and riding in the seat behind the driver gives a limited view, so I decided to be bold and sit in the very front seat across from the driver. I put my purse next to me and hoped that I could enjoy the ride home enjoying the view. I don't even think we had been on the bus for 10 minutes before a young man asked if he could sit next to me. After sitting down he asked the driver "What time are we scheduled to get into Manhattan?" Ugh.. I was going to have a seatmate all the way into the city.
At first all he did was play Temple Run on his Ipod, which was irritating because he had the volume up and there was the annoying sound of chattering monkeys every time he lost (which seemed to be quite often). Out of nowhere he said "You know you look like that mom from that 1990's show "Growing Pains", Joanna Kerns." It was a strange comment, but I took it as a compliment. He then began to ask me why I was going into Manhattan. Needless to say I had to return the question. What a mistake. I had an hour and a half of him telling me about his eBay sales of limited addition tennis shoes. He also had photos on his phone of all the shoes in his inventory along with stories on how he obtained the shoes through conventions, standing in long lines for releases, and trading with private dealers. When the traffic into the Lincoln Tunnel was nothing more than a parking lot due to a stalled car in the tunnel I wanted to tell him that I'd been up since 5:30 and I just wanted to take a nap, but he would interject just enough questions to keep it a conversation instead of a monologue so I didn't have the heart to say anything.
If nothing else my hair and my face can't take the commute. The hair and make-up that looks good at 5:30 a.m. in my apartment has transformed to bed-head after falling asleep against a foggy bus window and the 9:00 a.m. face is completely different than the pre-dawn face that I made-up hours before. Thank goodness my training is over and my real commute is only three blocks away from my apartment, but I actually learned more than I ever imagined about commuting and those who are brave enough to do it.
My first day I had to be there by 8:00 a.m., which meant I needed to leave the house by 5:30 a.m. to catch the subway to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. When you go to Penn Station to catch a train there is a giant board that give destinations,, departure times, and gates, not so at the bus station. I had to wait for the ticket booth to open, (only one window opened at 6 a.m) pray that the long line went quickly to ask an agent what my gate was, and make a mad dash for it. For the first couple of days I wondered why so many Hispanic workers were leaving the city to go to New Jersey for work. I day or so later I had an "ah, ha" moment and realized that they were workers going home after a graveyard shift. The late afternoon bus back to the city had the same people heading into the city to begin that shift.
On all the movies they show the view of Manhattan from Brooklyn Heights, but I found out that the real view is from the New Jersey side. After coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel the bus would wind it's way through Jersey City dropping off it's weary passengers on their sleepy walks through their neighborhoods revealing the wonderful view of Manhattan from the The World Trade Tower being resurrected to the south, the Chelsea Peers protruding into the Hudson, and the Trump Residential Towers marking the Upper West Side. I've heard that you can see Time Square from space and I used to wonder about that. But from the Jersey side I had a view of the West Side of Manhattan. There was a strange neon flashing coming from the core of midtown west. Because it was from a distance I wasn't sure what it was at first, but then when I realized how far I was away from the city I was stunned by the intensity of the light.
Once I reached my destination in Westwood I was let off into a sleepy little downtown quietly waking up. Yellow school buses kept traffic paced, shop keepers began to open up their doors, and commuter trains whistled through intersections. I would stop at Goldberg's Bagels to grab a cup of coffee and walk the two baby sized blocks to the boutique for work. Everything there seemed normal, yet so strange after not leaving Manhattan for seven months. The two story buildings revealed the sky above without having to crane my neck, no WALK signs were needed to cross the street, and there was literally no one on the sidewalk and it was 9:00 a.m. Relaxing and a little lonely at the same time.
Every bus ride I would sit down behind the driver and put my bag in the seat next to me to keep anyone from sitting next to me. The bus was never full so don't think I'm a total jerk, but with two hours ahead of me the last thing I wanted was to have to make conversation with someone.
A variety of characters rode this bus. There was the snoring man who got on in Manhattan and snored his way for two hours to Westwood, the woman who boarded with her two preschool sons for a local ride to spend the entire 15 minutes on the bus telling them (loudly) that only adults were allowed to push the button to request a stop, and the Asian teenager who argued on her cell phone in Chinese with her mother only to call her friend to tell her (and everyone else on the bus) in English everything her mother had said. After four days on the bus I was on my way back to the city on Friday afternoon. (I had Wednesday off, if you I wondering how I got four out of five day week). I wasn't really tired and riding in the seat behind the driver gives a limited view, so I decided to be bold and sit in the very front seat across from the driver. I put my purse next to me and hoped that I could enjoy the ride home enjoying the view. I don't even think we had been on the bus for 10 minutes before a young man asked if he could sit next to me. After sitting down he asked the driver "What time are we scheduled to get into Manhattan?" Ugh.. I was going to have a seatmate all the way into the city.
At first all he did was play Temple Run on his Ipod, which was irritating because he had the volume up and there was the annoying sound of chattering monkeys every time he lost (which seemed to be quite often). Out of nowhere he said "You know you look like that mom from that 1990's show "Growing Pains", Joanna Kerns." It was a strange comment, but I took it as a compliment. He then began to ask me why I was going into Manhattan. Needless to say I had to return the question. What a mistake. I had an hour and a half of him telling me about his eBay sales of limited addition tennis shoes. He also had photos on his phone of all the shoes in his inventory along with stories on how he obtained the shoes through conventions, standing in long lines for releases, and trading with private dealers. When the traffic into the Lincoln Tunnel was nothing more than a parking lot due to a stalled car in the tunnel I wanted to tell him that I'd been up since 5:30 and I just wanted to take a nap, but he would interject just enough questions to keep it a conversation instead of a monologue so I didn't have the heart to say anything.
If nothing else my hair and my face can't take the commute. The hair and make-up that looks good at 5:30 a.m. in my apartment has transformed to bed-head after falling asleep against a foggy bus window and the 9:00 a.m. face is completely different than the pre-dawn face that I made-up hours before. Thank goodness my training is over and my real commute is only three blocks away from my apartment, but I actually learned more than I ever imagined about commuting and those who are brave enough to do it.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Paranormal and the Jedi Knights
I hope I am not naive when I suggest that the "meet-up group" is unique to New York City.
Jordan actually was the first person to join a meet-up a few months ago. She found one where people interested in practicing their Japanese language skills would meet to only speak in Japanese. She had joined their website and RSVP'ed to the meet-up date, but when she had to cancel later than the 24 hour window allowed because she got called into work they booted her out of the group. Harsh.
She also joined a meet-up for anime. If you know anything about this genre you will understand my concern for her going to this meeting. Once you have joined the meet-up group online you are able to see who has accepted the invitation for the next meeting. In this case Jordan said the members that had RSVP'ed were seven men all above the ages of 40 years old. I asked her if she really thought 40 year old men would be there to discuss Miyazaki's latest films or would they more likely be there to discuss anime commonly seen on Adult Swim. At 22 she does not have to listen to her mother, but in this case I'm glad she did.
One of the things that I had looked forward to in finding a job was making new friends. In November with no job prospects in-sight I decided to find a meet-up group where I might meet some people with a common interest. Since our adventures at the Stanley Hotel last winter I have had a renewed interest in the paranormal so I searched for a NYC Ghost Hunters Meet-Up.
My first meet-up with the group was in November. It was a lively group with everyone eager to go around the table and to introduce themselves and to share a paranormal experience. I was very excited when a self professed psychic said that when I walked into the restaurant she whispered to her husband that she saw that I had a spirit attached to me. Spooky, but all in all it was a lot of fun.
This month it was a little different if for no other reason than Jordan decided to come with me. There were not as many people so everyone had an opportunity to talk a little more.
BUT... there was this one kid (and I say "kid" because he was in his 20's and socially immature) who had to interject his own story on top of everyone else's experience. Ok, so maybe he has some disorder and I'm dismissing him as annoying, but I don't care. It was driving me crazy.
Another interesting character was the group's resident psychic named Victor, but he dismissed some people like John Edwards who I actually like, so that turned me off a bit and he started talking about UFO's which I just don't see the connection between ghost and ET. He was nice and interesting, but he is no Chip Coffee (host of Paranormal Kids).
There was a beautiful Hispanic girl named Isis who was there for the first time. She had some very interesting stories, but her voice was so soft that I thought I was listening to Janet Jackson.
The most ditrubing new face was Salvador. He is a member of the ghost hunting team, although I wasn't ever able to catch what his skills are and he did not share any experiences. When he first walked in he looked directly at me and we had an extended eye contact. I am not making that up because Jordan confirmed it to me after the meeting. I've always wondered if a psychic or an intuitive sees a negative aura around a person do they tell the stranger or do they just walk away. The fact that his eyes locked on me when he first walked in but he never spoke to me afterwards totally spooked me out.
Last month I thought the leader of the group, Dom, was kind of weird and bossy, but he seemed to have eyes for Jordan, so this time he was all smiles and light, which made him much more palatable. I admit that I can be (on occasion) bossy, so maybe I saw myself in him. But this time I quite enjoyed his tales of ghost hunting, including a large number of stories of lonely people who contact the Paranormal Society looking for someone to come to their house for a brief exchange of companionship.
To add to the absurdity of the evening, half way through our two hour meeting another meet-up group comes in. For some reason the Skylight Diner on West 34th Street is the most popular spot for a wide variety of groups. So at nine o'clock a large group begins to arrive. Dom said, "Oh, no I forgot. Tonight the Jedi Knight meet-up group is having their gathering.." When he said that I immediately visualized a troop of Star Wars nerds filling the place. It was so strangely the opposite. I think the criteria to be in the group was not only a love for Star Wars, but to be between the ages of 21 and 30, gay, and gorgeous. It was like being at an Abercrombie & Fitch staff meeting.
But this is what I love about New York. On a Monday night in January at a diner off the beaten path you can get a crazy collection of New Yorkers out to meet and to be met. Pick your interest. I'm sure there is a meet-up group for you.
Jordan actually was the first person to join a meet-up a few months ago. She found one where people interested in practicing their Japanese language skills would meet to only speak in Japanese. She had joined their website and RSVP'ed to the meet-up date, but when she had to cancel later than the 24 hour window allowed because she got called into work they booted her out of the group. Harsh.
She also joined a meet-up for anime. If you know anything about this genre you will understand my concern for her going to this meeting. Once you have joined the meet-up group online you are able to see who has accepted the invitation for the next meeting. In this case Jordan said the members that had RSVP'ed were seven men all above the ages of 40 years old. I asked her if she really thought 40 year old men would be there to discuss Miyazaki's latest films or would they more likely be there to discuss anime commonly seen on Adult Swim. At 22 she does not have to listen to her mother, but in this case I'm glad she did.
One of the things that I had looked forward to in finding a job was making new friends. In November with no job prospects in-sight I decided to find a meet-up group where I might meet some people with a common interest. Since our adventures at the Stanley Hotel last winter I have had a renewed interest in the paranormal so I searched for a NYC Ghost Hunters Meet-Up.
My first meet-up with the group was in November. It was a lively group with everyone eager to go around the table and to introduce themselves and to share a paranormal experience. I was very excited when a self professed psychic said that when I walked into the restaurant she whispered to her husband that she saw that I had a spirit attached to me. Spooky, but all in all it was a lot of fun.
This month it was a little different if for no other reason than Jordan decided to come with me. There were not as many people so everyone had an opportunity to talk a little more.
BUT... there was this one kid (and I say "kid" because he was in his 20's and socially immature) who had to interject his own story on top of everyone else's experience. Ok, so maybe he has some disorder and I'm dismissing him as annoying, but I don't care. It was driving me crazy.
Another interesting character was the group's resident psychic named Victor, but he dismissed some people like John Edwards who I actually like, so that turned me off a bit and he started talking about UFO's which I just don't see the connection between ghost and ET. He was nice and interesting, but he is no Chip Coffee (host of Paranormal Kids).
There was a beautiful Hispanic girl named Isis who was there for the first time. She had some very interesting stories, but her voice was so soft that I thought I was listening to Janet Jackson.
The most ditrubing new face was Salvador. He is a member of the ghost hunting team, although I wasn't ever able to catch what his skills are and he did not share any experiences. When he first walked in he looked directly at me and we had an extended eye contact. I am not making that up because Jordan confirmed it to me after the meeting. I've always wondered if a psychic or an intuitive sees a negative aura around a person do they tell the stranger or do they just walk away. The fact that his eyes locked on me when he first walked in but he never spoke to me afterwards totally spooked me out.
Last month I thought the leader of the group, Dom, was kind of weird and bossy, but he seemed to have eyes for Jordan, so this time he was all smiles and light, which made him much more palatable. I admit that I can be (on occasion) bossy, so maybe I saw myself in him. But this time I quite enjoyed his tales of ghost hunting, including a large number of stories of lonely people who contact the Paranormal Society looking for someone to come to their house for a brief exchange of companionship.
Please visualize that over the course of the evening I am kicking Jordan under the table whenever anyone says anything that I think is weird or I disagree with, which was almost the whole time.
To add to the absurdity of the evening, half way through our two hour meeting another meet-up group comes in. For some reason the Skylight Diner on West 34th Street is the most popular spot for a wide variety of groups. So at nine o'clock a large group begins to arrive. Dom said, "Oh, no I forgot. Tonight the Jedi Knight meet-up group is having their gathering.." When he said that I immediately visualized a troop of Star Wars nerds filling the place. It was so strangely the opposite. I think the criteria to be in the group was not only a love for Star Wars, but to be between the ages of 21 and 30, gay, and gorgeous. It was like being at an Abercrombie & Fitch staff meeting.But this is what I love about New York. On a Monday night in January at a diner off the beaten path you can get a crazy collection of New Yorkers out to meet and to be met. Pick your interest. I'm sure there is a meet-up group for you.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Tour Tips for a Tough City
We have lived in New York for seven months and we have had a variety of visitors with more scheduled on the calendar. In the past two weeks my mother has visited from Kansas and Cameron's 14 year old friend, from Evergreen, CO have visited. You would think after our revolving door of guest I would have developed a fail proof tour of New York City laid out for any type of guest. Most people only get one trip to New York in their life time. I take making their visit special very seriously.
The one thing that I know for sure is that the guest needs to go to Time Square twice. The first time so that they can have that moment when they know they are in the heart of the city. The second time so that they can shop in at least one of the mega stores (six story Forever 21, M&M's store, Toys R us with a Ferris wheel inside, etc...). Time Square is the ultimate tourist trap, but you do have to go there. There is really nothing like it anywhere else in the world. And once you've completed your second trip there you never have to go back, unless you live here and you will always go back because there will always be another visitor who needs to see it. We had some guest this fall who stayed with us while they protested with the Occupy Wall Street group, so you would think that they wouldn't have any interest in anything as commercial as Time Square, but they loved it and even went to the M&M store twice!
The next most obvious place is Rockefeller Center. There is really nothing to do there, but it is visually familiar and the gold statue at the ice-skating rink is a classic backdrop for the obligatory photo op. I will add that there is a Nintendo Store in the plaza area and my children and their friends consider this a must see. And for any early birds there is the opportunity to see the Today Show host if you want to get down there first thing in the morning. During the holidays there is also the Christmas tree, but read my blog on crowds before attempting that tourist attraction. You also have an above average chance of seeing a celeb if you get there when interview guest are arriving at the Today Show or for the Jimmy Fallon show.
I would say that Soho is a must see. But that is a tricky choice with anyone younger than 13 or with a boy. My son, Hunter, was having a fit down there at Christmas fighting the masses and he had no interest in going into the shops (except for a few chocolatiers who had samples out). When my teen aged nieces where here this summer they could have spent all of their time there shopping at trendy boutiques and street vendors, but I knew their budget so we limited them to one day. Between people watching, galleries, restaurants, and shopping you could easily kill two days there, but be prepared for crowds and a lot of walking. There are no fast food anythings so if you get tired or thirsty be prepared to pay the piper for a spot to get a refreshment.
One place that we always go with visitors is the East Village. My mom would tell me, and does, that this a huge mistake. May-be I just like to take a walk down memory lane from my early days in NYC, but I think it shows the often unseen and grungier side of the city. Again there is a lot of walking with very little reward except for peirogies at Veselkas. Between the massive number of Japanese restaurants that have moved in and the NYU dorms closing in on the neighborhood the vibe has certainly changed in the last 25 years, but I don't care what anyone says, I'm keeping it on my list.
My least favorite sight has be to the World Trade Center Memorial.. The space is strange and haunting, and the buildings being erected in place of the void that was the World Trade Center is fascinating, but there is no feel good factor. I'll put this on the list of "upon request".
Museums? If they are old enough send them on their own and if not let them chose three galleries at the MET and be done with it. Groups of more than three do not work. (I am laughing as I write that because I have only been with four or more people, so I know what I'm talking about) Everyone has a different method of viewing art, so keeping the styles limited helps in keeping things moving. I am a walk through and stop and look at what I like and Jeff is a start at the beginning and read every plaque. Even as husband and wife we differ, don't try to add Grandma to the mix. Tip: At many museums the posted price is the suggested price. Be generous if you can, but don't miss the museum because you don't think that you can afford it.
I could go on. But the real point is that there is something for everyone, although narrowing it down to your particular interest, time and budget can be challenging.
Walking, waiting, and weather are actually three factors that can foil even the best laid plans.
I can not press the walking thing enough. If you feet are not bloody nubs by the end of the day then you have not seen the city. I am not joking. One of my nieces actually sat down on the morning of her third day and said that she could not go on (she did). Although my feet no longer hurt after a day touring around, I have not forgotten the pain. Suck it up and keep going. How often are you in New York City?
Weather. Summer is hot. It is beyond hot. It is humid. Unless you are one of those women who's thighs don't rub together because you are so thin then be prepared for chaffed inner thighs, or you could wear shorts or Spanks to avoid your sweaty legs from sticking together. Fall and spring are rainy, but as long as you don't mind frizzy hair and umbrella wars on the crowded sidewalks it is actually a good time to visit. Winter is cold. The wind tunnels caused by the tall buildings is a unique phenomenon to the city and it is very real. But if you dress appropriately it can actually be a great time to see the city. "There is no bad weather, only bad clothing choices" (I stole that motto from a local high school with an extensive outdoor curriculum).
The one thing that I know for sure is that the guest needs to go to Time Square twice. The first time so that they can have that moment when they know they are in the heart of the city. The second time so that they can shop in at least one of the mega stores (six story Forever 21, M&M's store, Toys R us with a Ferris wheel inside, etc...). Time Square is the ultimate tourist trap, but you do have to go there. There is really nothing like it anywhere else in the world. And once you've completed your second trip there you never have to go back, unless you live here and you will always go back because there will always be another visitor who needs to see it. We had some guest this fall who stayed with us while they protested with the Occupy Wall Street group, so you would think that they wouldn't have any interest in anything as commercial as Time Square, but they loved it and even went to the M&M store twice!
The next most obvious place is Rockefeller Center. There is really nothing to do there, but it is visually familiar and the gold statue at the ice-skating rink is a classic backdrop for the obligatory photo op. I will add that there is a Nintendo Store in the plaza area and my children and their friends consider this a must see. And for any early birds there is the opportunity to see the Today Show host if you want to get down there first thing in the morning. During the holidays there is also the Christmas tree, but read my blog on crowds before attempting that tourist attraction. You also have an above average chance of seeing a celeb if you get there when interview guest are arriving at the Today Show or for the Jimmy Fallon show. I would say that Soho is a must see. But that is a tricky choice with anyone younger than 13 or with a boy. My son, Hunter, was having a fit down there at Christmas fighting the masses and he had no interest in going into the shops (except for a few chocolatiers who had samples out). When my teen aged nieces where here this summer they could have spent all of their time there shopping at trendy boutiques and street vendors, but I knew their budget so we limited them to one day. Between people watching, galleries, restaurants, and shopping you could easily kill two days there, but be prepared for crowds and a lot of walking. There are no fast food anythings so if you get tired or thirsty be prepared to pay the piper for a spot to get a refreshment.
One place that we always go with visitors is the East Village. My mom would tell me, and does, that this a huge mistake. May-be I just like to take a walk down memory lane from my early days in NYC, but I think it shows the often unseen and grungier side of the city. Again there is a lot of walking with very little reward except for peirogies at Veselkas. Between the massive number of Japanese restaurants that have moved in and the NYU dorms closing in on the neighborhood the vibe has certainly changed in the last 25 years, but I don't care what anyone says, I'm keeping it on my list.
My least favorite sight has be to the World Trade Center Memorial.. The space is strange and haunting, and the buildings being erected in place of the void that was the World Trade Center is fascinating, but there is no feel good factor. I'll put this on the list of "upon request".
Museums? If they are old enough send them on their own and if not let them chose three galleries at the MET and be done with it. Groups of more than three do not work. (I am laughing as I write that because I have only been with four or more people, so I know what I'm talking about) Everyone has a different method of viewing art, so keeping the styles limited helps in keeping things moving. I am a walk through and stop and look at what I like and Jeff is a start at the beginning and read every plaque. Even as husband and wife we differ, don't try to add Grandma to the mix. Tip: At many museums the posted price is the suggested price. Be generous if you can, but don't miss the museum because you don't think that you can afford it.
I could go on. But the real point is that there is something for everyone, although narrowing it down to your particular interest, time and budget can be challenging.
Walking, waiting, and weather are actually three factors that can foil even the best laid plans.
I can not press the walking thing enough. If you feet are not bloody nubs by the end of the day then you have not seen the city. I am not joking. One of my nieces actually sat down on the morning of her third day and said that she could not go on (she did). Although my feet no longer hurt after a day touring around, I have not forgotten the pain. Suck it up and keep going. How often are you in New York City?
Waiting. If you go in to a good restaurant at a regular meal hour you will wait. If you aren't waiting for a table then you might want to go somewhere else, lines are usually a good indicator in regards to the best restaurants (this does not include chain restaurants in Time Square where tourist flock because they recognize a restaurant name).
Weather. Summer is hot. It is beyond hot. It is humid. Unless you are one of those women who's thighs don't rub together because you are so thin then be prepared for chaffed inner thighs, or you could wear shorts or Spanks to avoid your sweaty legs from sticking together. Fall and spring are rainy, but as long as you don't mind frizzy hair and umbrella wars on the crowded sidewalks it is actually a good time to visit. Winter is cold. The wind tunnels caused by the tall buildings is a unique phenomenon to the city and it is very real. But if you dress appropriately it can actually be a great time to see the city. "There is no bad weather, only bad clothing choices" (I stole that motto from a local high school with an extensive outdoor curriculum).
Where to go? and what to wear? and when to come? You tell me and I'll do my best to show you the town with as little pain as possible.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
No Pants Subway Ride
Last Sunday was the annual No Pants Subway Ride (think flash mob) organized by Improv Everywhere, a prank based collective in New York City . In theory people get on the subway individually or in small groups and take off their pants leaving on their underwear (of course) and they get off and on the train at various stops until they reach Union Square where everyone converges in their skivvies.
The only reason I was aware of this "happening" was because Cameron and a few of her friends decided that this sounded like a hysterical thing to do. They went to Macy's last week to purchase matching boxers. Since the girls were buying boxers I assumed that everyone on the subway would be wearing similarly modest undies. Not so...(see photos below)
For the most part wearing boxer shorts or boy short undies is no more revealing than what you see on the subway on a summer afternoon. But some of these boys and girls were pushing the word "briefs". Anyone who has ever ridden a subway understands that a "sub"way is underground meaning that you will need to walk up stairs to reach the outside or to transfer to another platform to another train. I don't think that I need to go any further with the visual.
The best sighting I had was early on in the afternoon. The doors opened to an Express #2 train and a very beautiful woman wearing a parka, a hat, boots, and boy shorts was standing reading a magazine and next to her was a very good looking man wearing a leather jacket, boxers, black socks and dress shoes, and sunglasses. They looked like a Calvin Klein print ad. Oh, if only a fraction of the participants had been half as good looking.
Jeff and I met Cam and her merry band at the Starbucks off of Union Square. They looked a little tired and sun deprived from spending the day underground, but they were no worse for the wear. Actually, I want to send a very special shout out to the mom who chaperoned the girls and for them taking them for an afternoon of fun on the #1 and L trains. Making sure four lovely teenage girls stayed away from groping hands on those crowded trains took vigilance and a great sense of humor.
Why didn't I do it? I don't have the legs for it when they are sun kissed in the summer, a lot less when they are the color of uncooked biscuits in January.
The only reason I was aware of this "happening" was because Cameron and a few of her friends decided that this sounded like a hysterical thing to do. They went to Macy's last week to purchase matching boxers. Since the girls were buying boxers I assumed that everyone on the subway would be wearing similarly modest undies. Not so...(see photos below)
For the most part wearing boxer shorts or boy short undies is no more revealing than what you see on the subway on a summer afternoon. But some of these boys and girls were pushing the word "briefs". Anyone who has ever ridden a subway understands that a "sub"way is underground meaning that you will need to walk up stairs to reach the outside or to transfer to another platform to another train. I don't think that I need to go any further with the visual.
The best sighting I had was early on in the afternoon. The doors opened to an Express #2 train and a very beautiful woman wearing a parka, a hat, boots, and boy shorts was standing reading a magazine and next to her was a very good looking man wearing a leather jacket, boxers, black socks and dress shoes, and sunglasses. They looked like a Calvin Klein print ad. Oh, if only a fraction of the participants had been half as good looking.
Jeff and I met Cam and her merry band at the Starbucks off of Union Square. They looked a little tired and sun deprived from spending the day underground, but they were no worse for the wear. Actually, I want to send a very special shout out to the mom who chaperoned the girls and for them taking them for an afternoon of fun on the #1 and L trains. Making sure four lovely teenage girls stayed away from groping hands on those crowded trains took vigilance and a great sense of humor.
Why didn't I do it? I don't have the legs for it when they are sun kissed in the summer, a lot less when they are the color of uncooked biscuits in January.
Friday, January 6, 2012
House Proud
I make an effort to keep a tidy house to balance the small space. A pair of shoes on the livingroom floor becomes a tripping hazard and a backpack left on the table clutters the room. Imagine the space between your couch and your t.v. as the size of my living room. Our apartment has radiator heat, so the temperature tends to regulate between comfortable and a sauna. Add in four thirteen year old girls dancing for four hours to Just Dance III on the Wii... and the living room suddently became very hot and very small.
Jeff and I had gone out to buy a bottle of wine leaving Cam at home with her friends dancing and Jordan napping in one of the bedrooms. When we got back Cameron's friend Rachel and her mother were standing in the hallway making final arrangements for getting her back home later that evening. I had not realized that Rachel was coming over or I would have stayed home to meet her mom and I would have certainly had the girls move their coats and backpacks to Cam's bedroom so that the living room was not piled high with bodies and belongings. From what I gather from Cameron, Rachel's family has a lovely two story apartment in Morningside Heights (116th Street), so I would have wanted to present to Rachel's mom, "cozy comfort" in place of space. Instead it looked more like a college dorm room.
After much discussion about whether to see " Sherlock Holmes" or "Chipwrecked" the girls headed out to the movie theater three blocks away. Jordan and I opened all of the windows, lit what is left of the holiday Yankee Candles, and even opened the front door to the hallway to bring in fresh air and to unfog the windows.
We settled into a Friday night at home watching a movie On Demand when at 10:30 the girls rang the buzzer to get back onto the apartment. Again, little did I know that Cecilia's parents had met the girls at the theater and had walked them back to our apartment so that she could grab her backpack. Cecilia's mom is a doctor at Columbia and they have a luxury high rise apartment near Columbia Hospital, Now that the apartment was tidy and void of humidity I was glad that I had been able to invite at least one set of parents in without feeling like I had to exlain the chaos of the apartment.
I am still getting used to our situation. We definately have location, location, location, but... I am still coming to terms with the size of the apartment. My mom was visting us in NYC for the first time this past week and she seemed unphased by the size of the apartment, although she did stay at a hotel down the street so as to avoid the fold out couch and sharing one bathroom. The fact that Cam regularly has friends over and the kids seem to have fun dancing and raiding the refrigerator seemingly unaware of the space (or lack there of) should reassure me that when I tell the my children, "home is where the heart is" I'm telling the truth.
Jeff and I had gone out to buy a bottle of wine leaving Cam at home with her friends dancing and Jordan napping in one of the bedrooms. When we got back Cameron's friend Rachel and her mother were standing in the hallway making final arrangements for getting her back home later that evening. I had not realized that Rachel was coming over or I would have stayed home to meet her mom and I would have certainly had the girls move their coats and backpacks to Cam's bedroom so that the living room was not piled high with bodies and belongings. From what I gather from Cameron, Rachel's family has a lovely two story apartment in Morningside Heights (116th Street), so I would have wanted to present to Rachel's mom, "cozy comfort" in place of space. Instead it looked more like a college dorm room.
After much discussion about whether to see " Sherlock Holmes" or "Chipwrecked" the girls headed out to the movie theater three blocks away. Jordan and I opened all of the windows, lit what is left of the holiday Yankee Candles, and even opened the front door to the hallway to bring in fresh air and to unfog the windows.
We settled into a Friday night at home watching a movie On Demand when at 10:30 the girls rang the buzzer to get back onto the apartment. Again, little did I know that Cecilia's parents had met the girls at the theater and had walked them back to our apartment so that she could grab her backpack. Cecilia's mom is a doctor at Columbia and they have a luxury high rise apartment near Columbia Hospital, Now that the apartment was tidy and void of humidity I was glad that I had been able to invite at least one set of parents in without feeling like I had to exlain the chaos of the apartment.
I am still getting used to our situation. We definately have location, location, location, but... I am still coming to terms with the size of the apartment. My mom was visting us in NYC for the first time this past week and she seemed unphased by the size of the apartment, although she did stay at a hotel down the street so as to avoid the fold out couch and sharing one bathroom. The fact that Cam regularly has friends over and the kids seem to have fun dancing and raiding the refrigerator seemingly unaware of the space (or lack there of) should reassure me that when I tell the my children, "home is where the heart is" I'm telling the truth.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The Road Less Traveled (and for obvious reasons)
I got a call back for a job that sounded very promising. But as with all the potential jobs there are the pros and cons that have to be examined.
First of all the hours are from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. five days a week,, making it a long 50 hour work week and the job is salaried. But it was working for a corporate catering company and I liked the idea of the fast paced environment and figured that if I was working in a busy environment the time would fly. Still, getting up at 5:00 a.m. to catch a 5:20 a.m. #2 subway down to South Street Seaport was rather daunting.
When I went for my first interview my son, Hunter, was with me, so although I saw the rat traps lining the sidewalks I was able to divert my attention to my conversation with him. But when I went for my second interview I was alone. Although South Street Seaport has been built up as a major tourist attraction the area is still primarily a functioning fish market in the early morning hours. So a large amount of the area are warehouse that are closed during regular business hours. At one point I had to decide which street to walk down to reach the catering office which is literally underneath the Brooklyn Bridge at the end of South Street. I had two streets that I could take. One was brightly lit by the sun with no cars lining the streets, but there were rat traps placed at each warehouse door and the other street had the shade of buildings still on it and cars lining the street but fewer rat traps, although I did worry that rats might be hiding under the cars.
I don't know how rat traps work. They look like roach motels except large enough for a rat. I'm not sure if the rats go into the black box and die or if they go into the black box eat the poison and then leave and die. Whatever... potentially each of those boxes that lined the sidewalks could have a rat trapped inside or inside eating rat poison. What if I walked by and a rat ran out? What if I walked by and the box shook with a rat trying to escape? Hideous!
I chose the path with the sunshine on it but with more rat traps. The fear of rats hiding underneath cars on the street with more shade dictated my decision. But I still had the fear of walking by the rat traps and the rats inside the boxes responding to the sound of someone walking down the street and the boxes moving. So I literally ran down the street with my eyes diverted to the sky so as not to see the quaking rat traps. I laugh even thinking about what I must have looked like to some South Street Seaport Tourist security agent sitting in a room monitoring the early morning streets before the tourist began flooding the area.
Ok, so I got the dreaded rejection email the next day, but I have to say between the ten hour days and dodging rats this might have been for the best.
First of all the hours are from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. five days a week,, making it a long 50 hour work week and the job is salaried. But it was working for a corporate catering company and I liked the idea of the fast paced environment and figured that if I was working in a busy environment the time would fly. Still, getting up at 5:00 a.m. to catch a 5:20 a.m. #2 subway down to South Street Seaport was rather daunting.
When I went for my first interview my son, Hunter, was with me, so although I saw the rat traps lining the sidewalks I was able to divert my attention to my conversation with him. But when I went for my second interview I was alone. Although South Street Seaport has been built up as a major tourist attraction the area is still primarily a functioning fish market in the early morning hours. So a large amount of the area are warehouse that are closed during regular business hours. At one point I had to decide which street to walk down to reach the catering office which is literally underneath the Brooklyn Bridge at the end of South Street. I had two streets that I could take. One was brightly lit by the sun with no cars lining the streets, but there were rat traps placed at each warehouse door and the other street had the shade of buildings still on it and cars lining the street but fewer rat traps, although I did worry that rats might be hiding under the cars.
I don't know how rat traps work. They look like roach motels except large enough for a rat. I'm not sure if the rats go into the black box and die or if they go into the black box eat the poison and then leave and die. Whatever... potentially each of those boxes that lined the sidewalks could have a rat trapped inside or inside eating rat poison. What if I walked by and a rat ran out? What if I walked by and the box shook with a rat trying to escape? Hideous!
I chose the path with the sunshine on it but with more rat traps. The fear of rats hiding underneath cars on the street with more shade dictated my decision. But I still had the fear of walking by the rat traps and the rats inside the boxes responding to the sound of someone walking down the street and the boxes moving. So I literally ran down the street with my eyes diverted to the sky so as not to see the quaking rat traps. I laugh even thinking about what I must have looked like to some South Street Seaport Tourist security agent sitting in a room monitoring the early morning streets before the tourist began flooding the area.
Ok, so I got the dreaded rejection email the next day, but I have to say between the ten hour days and dodging rats this might have been for the best.
What Just Happened?
Journal Entry January 05. 2012
My mom is still visiting. Of course the week that she is here NYC is freezing. After I finished my telecommuting work we headed out to get something to eat. I've been feeling so blue about not being able to find a new job that I told her I wanted to stop by our church for the holiday vespers before we went to dinner. When we got there the church receptionist said that vespers had ended for the season. Really? Even church is letting me down. When we were waiting at the crosswalk for the light to change I noticed that we were standing next to "un-named retailor". My mom gives me a gift certificate to this store every Christmas. I don't know why. It's not a shop that I would ever go to, but for some reason she gives me the gift certificate and I buy the obligatory annual piece of costume jewelry from them. So, when we were standing there I said "Oh, look, Mom, it's my beloved C. I wonder if they are hiring." Suddenly the woman standing next to us said, "What did you say?" I wasn't even sure that she was speaking to me, so I hesitantly said, "My beloved C?" "No the other thing." "I wonder if they are hiring?" "Yes! I'm the district manager of the store and I know they are hiring." She handed me her card and told me to call tomorrow. What? I've never even done retail. Weird, but what the hell. May-be instead of praying for an answer the Lord had set me back on the street to find the answer.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
All They Had to Do Was Catch a Train
This morning Jordan and Hunter both had flights to Denver from Newark Airport. Jordan's flight was at 6:30 a.m. and Hunter's was at 7:15 a.m. During 2011 Jordan traveled by herself to Japan to study at Temple University Tokyo and Hunter spent seven months traveling through Europe working on organic farms. So the idea of sending them to Penn Station to catch the New Jersey Transit to Newark Airport by themselves is not beyond the scope of reason. Oh, and did I mention that they are 22 and 20 years of age?
Jordan was out with friends until 2:00 a.m. gallivanting around Greenwich Village and blew in the door saying that she could easily pack and be ready to catch the 3:52 a.m. #1 Train to Penn Station without a problem. Hunter was much more organized - he was packed and he had the instructions for the New Jersey Transit that Jeff had printed on top of his suitcase.
At 3:45 a.m. they headed out the door. They would have 35 minutes the buy tickets and get on the train for Newark Airport. Catching that #1 train was the key.
Ah, if only...
Jordan said the trouble began when they got to 34th Street/Penn Station. She told Hunter that they needed to get off of the subway. He said, "That subway sign says 'Pennsylvania' we want Penn Station!" She tried to argue that Penn and Pennsylvania were one and the same, but the doors had already closed and they were whisked away on the express train to 14th Street where he finally agreed that she had been correct and they had to wait for the uptown train to get them back to 34th Street.
Jordan called from Penn Station to say that they had arrived but that Hunter had taken off like a bat out of hell as soon as they arrived and said that he would meet her in a few minutes in front of Nathan's Hotdogs once he figured out where to buy the tickets. Jordan tired of waiting, walked over to the ticket booth and bought two tickets to Jamaica, Queens for the connection to JFK Airport, which would have been great except that she was going to Newark, "New Jersey". Needless to say I asked her what she could have been thinking and she said that she remembered the Long Island Railroad ticket booths from buying summer tickets to the beach and when the ticket agent asked her if she wanted a ticket to LaGuardia or JFK she could only remember that she was not going to LaGuardia.
Hunter ended up rejoining Jordan in front of the Nathan's Hotdog stand with the two tickets that he had purchased. He purchased tickets on Amtrak. I haven't even asked him what destination his tickets were for. Amtrak is a passenger train for long distance travel. What was he thinking? I'm dumbfounded.
Now it is 5:20 a.m. They have been at Penn Station for over an hour. They have missed the 4:30 a.m. and the 4:51 a.m. trains that would have gotten them to the airport in time for Jordan to catch her flight. They are calling us every 20 to 45 minutes to get further instructions (although, they have obviously not heard anything we have said) and to find out where the other is. Why are they not calling each other?
Mysteriously and miraculously the next time they call they are actually waiting aboard the 5:41 a.m. train bound for Newark Airport. Of course, I am now on the phone to United Airlines to see what Jordan can do since she will obviously not make her 6:30 a.m. flight.
During the chaos of the ticket buying Jeff keeps saying "You all need to find the ticket counter for the New Jersey Transit". Hunter swears that those are words that he has never hear before. In Jeff's defense, once the light of day flooded the apartment (well, daylight has never flooded this apartment, but I'm taking poetic license) we find the schedule that Jeff had printed out for Hunter left behind on the dining room table. I remember at one point during the evening Jeff was trying to give him instructions on getting to the airport while Hunter was playing video games (never a good time to talk to Hunter). After Jeff completed his detailed description he asked him if he had any questions. Hunter very flippantly asked, "Do they speak English at the train station? If so, then I will be fine." Famous last words.
So now they are at the airport. Hunter calls to find out what airline he is on. At 6:00 a.m. I climb out of the loft to retrieve his itinerary from the refrigerator door where it was taped. He calls back once he is at the correct airline kiosk. He wants the confirmation number. This is madness! How did this child make it across Europe without my help?
Jordan calls from the United Airlines line and said that she wants to know what her alternative is if she misses her flight in 20 minutes. IF she misses her flight? Again, how did she navigate Tokyo without me?
Hunter made his flight by the skin of his teeth. Jordan missed her flight, but she was able to catch a commuter flight to Boston at 8:30 a.m. and then catch a direct flight to Denver at 2:35 p.m. arriving in Denver at 5:20 p.m.. Her trip was almost 15 hours door to door. I think her flight to Tokyo was 13 hours.
This evening once the kids were both save and sound back in Denver Jeff and I were able to look at each other and laugh.
Jordan was out with friends until 2:00 a.m. gallivanting around Greenwich Village and blew in the door saying that she could easily pack and be ready to catch the 3:52 a.m. #1 Train to Penn Station without a problem. Hunter was much more organized - he was packed and he had the instructions for the New Jersey Transit that Jeff had printed on top of his suitcase.
At 3:45 a.m. they headed out the door. They would have 35 minutes the buy tickets and get on the train for Newark Airport. Catching that #1 train was the key.
Ah, if only...
Jordan said the trouble began when they got to 34th Street/Penn Station. She told Hunter that they needed to get off of the subway. He said, "That subway sign says 'Pennsylvania' we want Penn Station!" She tried to argue that Penn and Pennsylvania were one and the same, but the doors had already closed and they were whisked away on the express train to 14th Street where he finally agreed that she had been correct and they had to wait for the uptown train to get them back to 34th Street.
Jordan called from Penn Station to say that they had arrived but that Hunter had taken off like a bat out of hell as soon as they arrived and said that he would meet her in a few minutes in front of Nathan's Hotdogs once he figured out where to buy the tickets. Jordan tired of waiting, walked over to the ticket booth and bought two tickets to Jamaica, Queens for the connection to JFK Airport, which would have been great except that she was going to Newark, "New Jersey". Needless to say I asked her what she could have been thinking and she said that she remembered the Long Island Railroad ticket booths from buying summer tickets to the beach and when the ticket agent asked her if she wanted a ticket to LaGuardia or JFK she could only remember that she was not going to LaGuardia.
Hunter ended up rejoining Jordan in front of the Nathan's Hotdog stand with the two tickets that he had purchased. He purchased tickets on Amtrak. I haven't even asked him what destination his tickets were for. Amtrak is a passenger train for long distance travel. What was he thinking? I'm dumbfounded.
Now it is 5:20 a.m. They have been at Penn Station for over an hour. They have missed the 4:30 a.m. and the 4:51 a.m. trains that would have gotten them to the airport in time for Jordan to catch her flight. They are calling us every 20 to 45 minutes to get further instructions (although, they have obviously not heard anything we have said) and to find out where the other is. Why are they not calling each other?
Mysteriously and miraculously the next time they call they are actually waiting aboard the 5:41 a.m. train bound for Newark Airport. Of course, I am now on the phone to United Airlines to see what Jordan can do since she will obviously not make her 6:30 a.m. flight.
During the chaos of the ticket buying Jeff keeps saying "You all need to find the ticket counter for the New Jersey Transit". Hunter swears that those are words that he has never hear before. In Jeff's defense, once the light of day flooded the apartment (well, daylight has never flooded this apartment, but I'm taking poetic license) we find the schedule that Jeff had printed out for Hunter left behind on the dining room table. I remember at one point during the evening Jeff was trying to give him instructions on getting to the airport while Hunter was playing video games (never a good time to talk to Hunter). After Jeff completed his detailed description he asked him if he had any questions. Hunter very flippantly asked, "Do they speak English at the train station? If so, then I will be fine." Famous last words.
So now they are at the airport. Hunter calls to find out what airline he is on. At 6:00 a.m. I climb out of the loft to retrieve his itinerary from the refrigerator door where it was taped. He calls back once he is at the correct airline kiosk. He wants the confirmation number. This is madness! How did this child make it across Europe without my help?
Jordan calls from the United Airlines line and said that she wants to know what her alternative is if she misses her flight in 20 minutes. IF she misses her flight? Again, how did she navigate Tokyo without me?
Hunter made his flight by the skin of his teeth. Jordan missed her flight, but she was able to catch a commuter flight to Boston at 8:30 a.m. and then catch a direct flight to Denver at 2:35 p.m. arriving in Denver at 5:20 p.m.. Her trip was almost 15 hours door to door. I think her flight to Tokyo was 13 hours.
This evening once the kids were both save and sound back in Denver Jeff and I were able to look at each other and laugh.
Monday, December 26, 2011
The Dreaded Holiday Family Photo
I gave up on the Christmas photo a few years ago and we started sending out the New Year's holiday photo and card instead. Some might think that it's cop out, but honestly the pressure of getting the photo taken the moment Jordan walked in the door from college, so that the card could be delivered by December 25th was more than I could take in a season where there are never enough hours in the day.
One thing that I have always done is to make sure that we are all in the photo. I figure that if I keep old friends and family up to date on what I look like they will not be shocked some day if our paths should cross again and we end up face to face. So not only do I need to make sure that the kids are looking their best, but Jeff and I (more importantly) have to be presentable.
So the real issue of time began once Jordan went to college in Fort Lewis. I guess I should have made a point to get a family photo at Thanksgviving before she traveled the seven hours back to school, but I was never that organized.
Her freshman year was he worst. I guess I've blocked why everyone was so agitated, but it is the one card that I can't even look back on without feeling the anxiety of that morning. Part of the problem was that the sun was so bright that after each self-timed take Jeff would have to run back into the house for shade to see if the photo was Christmas card worthy. Inevitably someone had their eyes closed or Trooper (our beloved Golden Retriever) had his back turned on the camera. I can't remember if it was Jordan's tears or Hunter's refusal to take another photo that made us decide on the photo we ultimately used. It was probably a combination of Hunter's refusal to pose for the 10th time and Jordan's frustration at coming back from the paradise of college life into the chaios of family life that stirred the pot of discontent. All of this in the name of showing a "happy family" face to the rest of the world.
Another year we were all in high spiritis and glad that Jordan had made it back to Evergreen hours ahead of a blizzard. But the snow blowing in made for a time sensative shoot. Not to mention that for some reason Cameron decided that she wanted to wear as little as possible in sub zero degree temperatures. I think the freezing dog walker that we stopped and asked to act as our photographer was probably cussing us under his frozen breath, but our camera kept sliding off of the hood of our snow covered car foiling our self-timer efforts and we were desperate to get the picture taken so as to make the mail the next day.
Last year Hunter was in Rome for Christmas. The rest of us drove down to Durango to pick Jordan up from school. We were having lunch in the CUB, the sun was shining, and we decided to do a quick family photo on the terrace with the San Juan Mountains as our back drop. We asked a student that was walking by to take the photo. Snap! It was done. We all agreed that somehow without the fifth element (Hunter) we had never taken such a painless Christmas photo. Was it Hunter or just a lack of another person to incorporate into the photo. We will never know.
Hunter got to New York on the December 18th but it took until the night of the 26th for us all to be back in synch enough as a family to finally think that we could actually take a picture worthy of sending out as a New Year's card. Now you would think that in one of the most photographed cities in the world a backdrop would be easy to find. Tired of holiday lights and not wanting to chose the obvious tourist attractions (top of the Empire State Building, Lady Liberty, Time Square, etc...) we had to think of something that would say New York and would not require a subway or taxi ride. Of course, we just took the photo yesterday, so I can't reveal the picutre before the Grandparents get the 5x7 in the mail. But I added a picture of myself at the location as a teaser.
Of course, none of the stress of the holiday card photo compares to the pressure of Christmas night where we all learn the new game of season. This year Santa brought Cameron the Hunger Games Training Days Board Game. Instructions and wine (a lot of it) required.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Viva la Difference
Trying to compare New York City to Colorado at Christmas is like comparing apples to oranges. We are embracing Christmas in the city as a new experience. Think,... " busy sidewalk, city sidwalks, full of holiday cheer...."
One exciting aspect of the city is that New York has a very large Jewish community sharing it's tradition of Chanukah at the same time that Christians in the city are celebrating Christmas. Last night we came across a bus (think RV) sponsored by an Orthodox Jewish organization called the Mitzvah Tank. The bus loudly played Jewish holiday music from its speakers and young men from the synagogue walked along the street cheerfully asking, "Excuse me, are you Jewish?" I was with Hunter and Jordan and urged them to check-out the festivities. Technically, your mother has to be Jewish for you to be Jewish, so when the young man asked Jordan if she was Jewish and she answered, "Well, my father is half Jewish" I know he smiled to himself and invited her in more with the spirit of inclusion than anything else. Jordan and Hunter both emerged from the bus with jelly donuts and Jordan was given a new menorah to replace the one that we have in storage in Denver. Hunter said that when they were in the bus they were given literature on the history of Chanukah (choice of literature in English or Hebrew), offered a free menorah and donutes, and several of the volunteers were dancing. Just looking at the bus from afar and the happy volunteers made me smile.
Evergreen Lake is the diamond of Evergreen. All three of my children learned to ice skate on the lake and we already miss it.. Cameron's school spent their last day before Christmas break at Wolman Ice Rink in Central Park. Cameron challenged a friend to a race on the ice with a $4 hot chocolate as the prize. Jeremy is 6 feet tall to Cameron's 5'0" and she skated rings around him. If you learn to skate on natural ice with occassional giant cracks in the ice, slushy top ice, and deep gauges in the ice you suddenly become a super star skater when you get on man-made ice at a skating rink .Although we miss our beloved lake there is no denying the glory of skating in Central Park surrounded by towering skyscrapers.
Not even New York City can compare to the decorated splendor of Vail or Breckenridge over the holidays. Those cities build their identities on being magical Christmas villages. But I have certainly come across some dazzling displays on the sidewalks of the city. The other night I rode my bike over to townhouse where Cameron was spending the night to give her her contact lens solution and case and the family was outside putting on the final trimmings of a tree that they had created out of plastic lids (lids can't be recycled). I give it my vote as the most unique and inspired decoration of the season! The girls at the sleepover circled the tree and sang Christmas carols as the parents proudly watched the girls enjoying the fruits of their creativity.
And I know that New York is famous for it's holiday windows at famous retailers, but my favorite display is at a little Mom and Pop shop that does alterations. Barbie and her friends have never looked more glamourous!
We are embracing the spirit of "Viva la Difference"! Happy Holiday!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Christmas Should Not Need a Budget
I read an article today "Keeping Christ in Christmas". It touched on how some people are getting their nose out of joint when a cashier (for example) says "happy holidays" as opposed to "Merry Christmas". The writer suggested that instead of spending your time at a big box store worrying about how you are being greeted by store employees while you buy your big screen tv you should step outside of the consumerism and get back to living a more Christ like life. Easier said than done. Consumerism and the poster boy Santa have become the forefront of our American Christmas. Separating the celebration of the birth of Christ and '"Christmas" in our media driven culture is almost an effort in fatalism.
This year I have had an experience that I would not wish on anyone. When Jeff and I moved to New York we completely mis-calculated some major expenses and I have not been able to find a full time job or even a a part-time job to supplement my current telecommuting job. So we are having a hard time making ends meet and Christmas does not fit into the budget in any way. STOP. Re-read what I just wrote. I said that Christmas does not fit into the budget. How does celebrating the birth of Christ come with a price tag? I am a Christian and yet the celebration of Christ is a side note in what has become Christmas in our family. So now we are in a position where Christmas as we know it is not coming this year. I've mentioned in earlier blogs that I have had to leave stores as panic attacks rose in my chest as I watched others fill their baskets with holiday items that I used to take for granted and now I was there only able to buy essential toiletries. We have been forced to face the holiday re-evaluating how and what we are celebrating. Minimal gift warnings have been issued and now Jeff and I will see if the kids actually heard us or questioning faces will greet us in lieu of smiles on Christmas morning.
We have started attending a Methodist Church in the neighborhood. The services and the sense of community have really filled a hole in our lives that has been exasperated by our lack of a commercial Christmas this year. Two weeks ago Cameron was in their Christmas pageant and last week they had their Christmas choral program. I had a miserable cold, so I did not sing and I felt a foggy distance from everything, but Jeff was belting out the hymns. He even joined the adults and youth to carol at St. Joseph's Hospital later that afternoon. Jeff has willingly and even gladly gone to church over the years as a C&E Christian and for social events, but this is the first time that I have ever seen him actually urging the family to go to church and beyond. Could it be that in the absence of Christmas Jeff has found Christ?
To completely turn the page on my introspective attitude - I miss all of my stuff tucked away in a storage locker in Colorado. I miss having my house in the mountains where every room was filled with Christmas decorations. The porch would be decorated and the gutters sparkling with lighted icicle adorning the house. The tree would be dripping with 25 years of collected ornaments and by now the tree skirt would be covered with a growing collection of gifts. I miss not thinking about the cost of baking and buying all the goodies needed to whip up sweets for all the friends and neighbors on our list. I miss purchasing and giving gifts.Of course none of that has to do with the literal meaning of Christmas, but I won't say that having things is not nice.
We were forced to stop shopping this Christmas due to circumstance. We had no choice but to put Santa aside this year. And because of others reaching out to us we found a community where we could find the celebration of the birth of Jesus in Santa's place. Although I wish that I could say that I've seen the Light and that I would never be able to go back to a materialistic Christmas I can't. Of course, if I had the opportunity I would hope that I would balance things more. I can certainly see the hours and days that I have wasted at the mall in the past looking for junk to fill stockings with and I'd like to think that I wouldn't go back to that sort of over indulgence. I think the biggest changes I would try to make would be to live the mottos "less is more" and "giving is the greatest gift of all", but for now all that is academic. For this year I just need to get through the next five days with the lump in my throat and pray that next year we can be on the giving end again.
This year I have had an experience that I would not wish on anyone. When Jeff and I moved to New York we completely mis-calculated some major expenses and I have not been able to find a full time job or even a a part-time job to supplement my current telecommuting job. So we are having a hard time making ends meet and Christmas does not fit into the budget in any way. STOP. Re-read what I just wrote. I said that Christmas does not fit into the budget. How does celebrating the birth of Christ come with a price tag? I am a Christian and yet the celebration of Christ is a side note in what has become Christmas in our family. So now we are in a position where Christmas as we know it is not coming this year. I've mentioned in earlier blogs that I have had to leave stores as panic attacks rose in my chest as I watched others fill their baskets with holiday items that I used to take for granted and now I was there only able to buy essential toiletries. We have been forced to face the holiday re-evaluating how and what we are celebrating. Minimal gift warnings have been issued and now Jeff and I will see if the kids actually heard us or questioning faces will greet us in lieu of smiles on Christmas morning.
We have started attending a Methodist Church in the neighborhood. The services and the sense of community have really filled a hole in our lives that has been exasperated by our lack of a commercial Christmas this year. Two weeks ago Cameron was in their Christmas pageant and last week they had their Christmas choral program. I had a miserable cold, so I did not sing and I felt a foggy distance from everything, but Jeff was belting out the hymns. He even joined the adults and youth to carol at St. Joseph's Hospital later that afternoon. Jeff has willingly and even gladly gone to church over the years as a C&E Christian and for social events, but this is the first time that I have ever seen him actually urging the family to go to church and beyond. Could it be that in the absence of Christmas Jeff has found Christ?
To completely turn the page on my introspective attitude - I miss all of my stuff tucked away in a storage locker in Colorado. I miss having my house in the mountains where every room was filled with Christmas decorations. The porch would be decorated and the gutters sparkling with lighted icicle adorning the house. The tree would be dripping with 25 years of collected ornaments and by now the tree skirt would be covered with a growing collection of gifts. I miss not thinking about the cost of baking and buying all the goodies needed to whip up sweets for all the friends and neighbors on our list. I miss purchasing and giving gifts.Of course none of that has to do with the literal meaning of Christmas, but I won't say that having things is not nice.
We were forced to stop shopping this Christmas due to circumstance. We had no choice but to put Santa aside this year. And because of others reaching out to us we found a community where we could find the celebration of the birth of Jesus in Santa's place. Although I wish that I could say that I've seen the Light and that I would never be able to go back to a materialistic Christmas I can't. Of course, if I had the opportunity I would hope that I would balance things more. I can certainly see the hours and days that I have wasted at the mall in the past looking for junk to fill stockings with and I'd like to think that I wouldn't go back to that sort of over indulgence. I think the biggest changes I would try to make would be to live the mottos "less is more" and "giving is the greatest gift of all", but for now all that is academic. For this year I just need to get through the next five days with the lump in my throat and pray that next year we can be on the giving end again.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Serving h'orderves Among the Ruins
Last night I had a one night temp job catering. It was at The Cloisters which in itself was interesting (it is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art housing architectural and art pieces from Medieval Europe). I have been trying to get into a catering company since September, but I have been stonewalled by my lack of New York City catering experience and head shots ( I don't even have one to present). Supposedly, Thursday, December 15th was the busiest catering night in the city, hence the need for temporary "butlers" as the NYC catering industry calls them.
I observed a few things about the party, and I will not mention the specific name of the organization, but there were 300 curators of a particular museum there for the dinner. I was serving h'orderves and I was supposed to tell the guest what I was serving. I think of the 6 of us serving I was the only person actually approaching the guest and urging them to sample the variety of delicious treats on the platter. Hmm.. may-be I was supposed to walk around silently and they would take from the tray at will opposed to at the urging of the wait staff, but whatever. The guest were super friendly and they would ask me to come back to their tables/or corners of the dance floor with my next tray of food. In general I observed the "curators" to be lovely people who came hungry and like all of us needed a nibble or two or three or four to keep them going before the meal was served.
And like any American woman I observe fashion and wonder what it would be like to have access to the most expensive salons and the highest end boutiques. Here was my opportunity to see it up close. I was pleasantly surprised to see that all the woman seemed to wear what most reflected their personalities and were not driven by trends. There were the classic evening gowns with giant bows across their shoulders, sequined gowns that seemed heavier than the woman herself, short (I mean short) satin cocktail dresses, and the uninspired boxie holiday jacket with wide legged black pants. Hair was long or bobbed, and smooth. Make-up, being the northeast, was minimal, which is contrary to the rest of the country. Lots of smiles and holiday cheer.
Another intesting thing was that several tables had much older patrons with them, may-be the grandfather or grandmother who were well into their 80 or 90's. Their children or grandchildren made sure that they were partaking in all of the evenings events including being in the ballroom or enjoying the gourmet meal. Unlike nouveau riche who might want to give the impression of youth and opulance these old money families seemed to revere the matriarch and patriarchs of their families. WAIT - As I re-read that I guess the more skeptical might think that they are protecting their inheritance by catering to their elders. Whatever, I 'm not that skeptical, and I like to think that it was respect and not greed that I was witnessing.
At one point I walked through three intersecting giant imposing doors and I wondered if the The Cloisters were haunted. I walked by the same place and thought the same thing again later. And again I had the same thought as I was passing through that corridor. When the idea struck more for the fourth time in the same spot I stopped and laughed to myself.. I'm not sure if The Cloisters as a whole are haunted, but some energy was practically hitting me over the head to get me to notice that this intersection of ancient doors had something going on. The Christmas music streaming from the ballroom, the clinking of forks on plates, and the chattering of voices kept me from any further investigation.
After the party we had to break down the catering event to leave no trace and to restore the museum to its original somber existence. It wasn't until we had removed most of the set-up from the room that we were using as a kitchen that I noticed the glass case with a wooden statue of Mary and baby Jesus pushed in the corner, or the Last Supper tapestry hanging over the area we had used for dirty dishes. Looking at the museum in its original form it seemed like a strange place to set-up banquet tables among ancient pillar and to stage a band underneath a wooden figure of Jesus hanging from a cross. But on the other hand is there a better place to celebrate an ancient birth than among ancient ruins?
I observed a few things about the party, and I will not mention the specific name of the organization, but there were 300 curators of a particular museum there for the dinner. I was serving h'orderves and I was supposed to tell the guest what I was serving. I think of the 6 of us serving I was the only person actually approaching the guest and urging them to sample the variety of delicious treats on the platter. Hmm.. may-be I was supposed to walk around silently and they would take from the tray at will opposed to at the urging of the wait staff, but whatever. The guest were super friendly and they would ask me to come back to their tables/or corners of the dance floor with my next tray of food. In general I observed the "curators" to be lovely people who came hungry and like all of us needed a nibble or two or three or four to keep them going before the meal was served.
And like any American woman I observe fashion and wonder what it would be like to have access to the most expensive salons and the highest end boutiques. Here was my opportunity to see it up close. I was pleasantly surprised to see that all the woman seemed to wear what most reflected their personalities and were not driven by trends. There were the classic evening gowns with giant bows across their shoulders, sequined gowns that seemed heavier than the woman herself, short (I mean short) satin cocktail dresses, and the uninspired boxie holiday jacket with wide legged black pants. Hair was long or bobbed, and smooth. Make-up, being the northeast, was minimal, which is contrary to the rest of the country. Lots of smiles and holiday cheer.
Another intesting thing was that several tables had much older patrons with them, may-be the grandfather or grandmother who were well into their 80 or 90's. Their children or grandchildren made sure that they were partaking in all of the evenings events including being in the ballroom or enjoying the gourmet meal. Unlike nouveau riche who might want to give the impression of youth and opulance these old money families seemed to revere the matriarch and patriarchs of their families. WAIT - As I re-read that I guess the more skeptical might think that they are protecting their inheritance by catering to their elders. Whatever, I 'm not that skeptical, and I like to think that it was respect and not greed that I was witnessing.
At one point I walked through three intersecting giant imposing doors and I wondered if the The Cloisters were haunted. I walked by the same place and thought the same thing again later. And again I had the same thought as I was passing through that corridor. When the idea struck more for the fourth time in the same spot I stopped and laughed to myself.. I'm not sure if The Cloisters as a whole are haunted, but some energy was practically hitting me over the head to get me to notice that this intersection of ancient doors had something going on. The Christmas music streaming from the ballroom, the clinking of forks on plates, and the chattering of voices kept me from any further investigation.
After the party we had to break down the catering event to leave no trace and to restore the museum to its original somber existence. It wasn't until we had removed most of the set-up from the room that we were using as a kitchen that I noticed the glass case with a wooden statue of Mary and baby Jesus pushed in the corner, or the Last Supper tapestry hanging over the area we had used for dirty dishes. Looking at the museum in its original form it seemed like a strange place to set-up banquet tables among ancient pillar and to stage a band underneath a wooden figure of Jesus hanging from a cross. But on the other hand is there a better place to celebrate an ancient birth than among ancient ruins?
So I worked my one night of catering in New York City. It had taken me four months to get inside of the Manhattan employment ring and for now just for the one gig. I was so tired as I walked with the crew of catering workers through the park from The Cloisters to the A train at 190th Street. Earlier in the day I had had the dreaded first sneeze of an oncoming cold, but even in my early stages of a cold and my fatigue from my long day working two jobs I tried to absorb the evening's events. I was grateful for the work, grateful for the window into a world of the privileged, grateful to be going home to a warm bed of my own, and grateful to be able to see the ebb and the flow of time and space.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Puffy Elf Sticker, Sign of Things to Come
If there is a penny in the middle of the road I will dodge a taxi to pick it up. I am always looking for signs from above that good fortune is just around the corner. But I am equally superstitious about telling anyone about good things that are coming before I actually have them in my possession. But last night I had a sign that I have to acknowledge. We brought our Buddy Scooter to NYC. In Colorado you do not need a license to drive or a license plate for a 50cc scooter, but come to find out that in New York you need all those things. The cost of registering the bike, and the cost of Jeff and I obtaining motorcycle licenses would add up to about $800. We have added that expense to the list of things we will afford when I get that dream job. But for now, we obey the alternate side of street parking and wheel it across the street every night, but never actually ride it. The scooter is absolutely adorable in a sea foam green, but for now it is covered to shield it from the elements and probably to give shelter to a late night rat rendezvous. Last night it was my turn to do the evening wheeling of the bike across the street when I noticed that someone had put a puffy elf sticker on the cover of the bike. It was like a little Christmas kiss from Santa himself.
Since I have splashed my job search and lack of success all over my blog I should keep you abreast of my triumphs, no matter how small. I found yet another job that I was qualified for on Craig's List. This was an open call for catering staff. Jordan had the day off, so after searching the apartment from top to bottom for my social security card, we headed down to the interview a few blocks from Macy's. I was glad that Jordan was with me to see the surreal scene on the 4th floor. It was like a movie set with auditions for Newsies in one room, auditions for Aladdin in another, auditions for Amhal and the Night Visitors in another, and a job for catering work in the the furthest room at the end of the hallway. Shouts for auditioning leads and chorus were shouted down the hallway and melodic voices seeped under the audition doorways. I headed down the long hall to the room for the catering company. After filling out the forms and waiting for 30 minutes I was usher into a room for a group interview. The woman quickly weeded out 1/2of the room by requiring no facial hair, no visible tattoos, no men with long, hair, and candidates were required to show a valid picture ID and social security card. She gave the low down on what is expected out of candidate and we were sent on our way. I did stay behind and let the interviewer know that I was really interested in the job. After a quick stop at a White Castle Jordan and I headed home. When I got back to the apartment there was an email waiting for me asking me to work on Thursday night at an event at the Cloisters. I scrambled to sign in and accepted the date. Don't get too excited, the interviewer did accentuate that for now they are only looking for staff for this Thursday night. She hoped to have more dates on the books soon, but for now that was it.
So.... for now I have a job for one night. I hope to dazzle them and that they will put me on their permanent roster. I am hoping that the elf on the scooter was a sign of good things to come.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Six Peas in a Pod (truly Living Large in a Small Space)
Last night Cameron put the size of our apartment to the test. She had two friends sleep over. Remember our apartment is 600 sq. ft. and Jeff, Jordan, and I were home as well. Cameron actually had two friends sleep over on Wednesday night, but Jordan and I were out late at a comedy club and Jeff basically spent the evening at his desk in his office/our bedroom, so the girls had the run of the house. This was an exercise in sharing the space.
I made dinner, which in itself is a battle with the ventilation and heating in our apartment. There is no ventilation except for opening the kitchen window to let air in. Using the stove along with running water and the heat of the sputtering, hissing radiator make the apartment a steam bath. All of this in conjunction with six bodies in a confined space was a sweaty mess. Luckily the window air conditioner in the living room is still in place, so we cranked it up to try to cool and dehumidify. My baked ziti was a delicious success. I had Cam and her friends help themselves first and they took their plates to the living room to eat and resume watching Christmas specials on TV. Jeff, Jordan and I followed. I took my plate back to Cameron’s room and sat at the desk that I work at during the day, Jordan climbed on Cam’s twin bed with her plate, and Jeff followed suit. This in itself was a comical sight. Within 10 minutes the three girls were in the bedroom with us discussing what movie they were planning on going to see that evening. Please stop and visualize this. Jeff, Jordan and I are eating at Cam’s desk and on her bed and three 13 year old girls are chatting with us as if it was normal for us to be eating squeezed into a tiny bedroom. I can only chalk up the fact that they were unphased by the scene to the fact that these New York City kids have seen bigger and smaller apartments and they take it all in-stride. But after they left the room Jeff and I looked at each other and broke out laughing at the absurdity of the scene.
One thing that a New Yorker’s will argue is that you don’t’ need a large apartment because you are so rarely home. So when Cam asked if she could have her friends sleep over I told her that they could spend the night if they got out of the house for part of the evening. They did walk down to Lincoln Center and saw “Hugo” at the AMC and walked home via 16 Handles Frozen Yogurt. Seven months ago if someone would have told me that I would let Cameron out alone on a Saturday night gallivanting all over the Upper West with her friends I would never have never believed you.
Jordan and I baked cookies to add the homey feel to the apartment, but again, the humidity and heat were high when the girls got back to the apartment. Since my bedroom is a loft bed with Jeff’s office and a closet underneath, the living room is really the only place to relax. So Jordan and I easily took up the living room space watching television while Jeff was working on his music under the loft The girls bounded between Cam’s bedroom, the living room, and stealing cookie dough out of the kitchen. Let me preface this whole story by saying Carlota and Danielle are absolutely lovely. Carlotta’s family is from Spain and Danielle’s family is from China, so Cameron being from the far away land of Colorado makes for an obvious friendship, and both of them are very warm and charismatic (parents of 13 year olds will understand that that is not always the case). At one point they took pillows and blankets onto the fire escape until the winter chill sent them back inside, and although we baked chocolate chip cookies they took a midnight run around the corner to Insomniac Cookies for the oatmeal raisin variety.
The mornings are actually the tightest squeeze. We have a wonderful fold out couch, but once it is unfolded it "is" the living room. The girls took their sweet time crawling out of bed so I had to squeeze around the bed to make my way to the kitchen to make coffee. The girls turned on VH1 Top 20 and I nestled on the foot of the fold out couch to enjoy my coffee and watch TV, but poor Jeff was religated to the bedroom., while Jordan was in the kitchen making pancakes. When Jordan was serving up breakfast to the girls Jeff and I scrambled like elves to put the bed away as fast as we could so that when the girls returned to the room, it was restored to a space capable of walking through.
My twenty year old son, Hunter, gets here next weekend. I have a feeling one big 20 year old testosterone driven body is going to dwarf our two little visitors this weekend. But for now, Cam is encouraged to invite friends over as long as they have a good sense of New York City apartment space.
I made dinner, which in itself is a battle with the ventilation and heating in our apartment. There is no ventilation except for opening the kitchen window to let air in. Using the stove along with running water and the heat of the sputtering, hissing radiator make the apartment a steam bath. All of this in conjunction with six bodies in a confined space was a sweaty mess. Luckily the window air conditioner in the living room is still in place, so we cranked it up to try to cool and dehumidify. My baked ziti was a delicious success. I had Cam and her friends help themselves first and they took their plates to the living room to eat and resume watching Christmas specials on TV. Jeff, Jordan and I followed. I took my plate back to Cameron’s room and sat at the desk that I work at during the day, Jordan climbed on Cam’s twin bed with her plate, and Jeff followed suit. This in itself was a comical sight. Within 10 minutes the three girls were in the bedroom with us discussing what movie they were planning on going to see that evening. Please stop and visualize this. Jeff, Jordan and I are eating at Cam’s desk and on her bed and three 13 year old girls are chatting with us as if it was normal for us to be eating squeezed into a tiny bedroom. I can only chalk up the fact that they were unphased by the scene to the fact that these New York City kids have seen bigger and smaller apartments and they take it all in-stride. But after they left the room Jeff and I looked at each other and broke out laughing at the absurdity of the scene.
One thing that a New Yorker’s will argue is that you don’t’ need a large apartment because you are so rarely home. So when Cam asked if she could have her friends sleep over I told her that they could spend the night if they got out of the house for part of the evening. They did walk down to Lincoln Center and saw “Hugo” at the AMC and walked home via 16 Handles Frozen Yogurt. Seven months ago if someone would have told me that I would let Cameron out alone on a Saturday night gallivanting all over the Upper West with her friends I would never have never believed you.
Jordan and I baked cookies to add the homey feel to the apartment, but again, the humidity and heat were high when the girls got back to the apartment. Since my bedroom is a loft bed with Jeff’s office and a closet underneath, the living room is really the only place to relax. So Jordan and I easily took up the living room space watching television while Jeff was working on his music under the loft The girls bounded between Cam’s bedroom, the living room, and stealing cookie dough out of the kitchen. Let me preface this whole story by saying Carlota and Danielle are absolutely lovely. Carlotta’s family is from Spain and Danielle’s family is from China, so Cameron being from the far away land of Colorado makes for an obvious friendship, and both of them are very warm and charismatic (parents of 13 year olds will understand that that is not always the case). At one point they took pillows and blankets onto the fire escape until the winter chill sent them back inside, and although we baked chocolate chip cookies they took a midnight run around the corner to Insomniac Cookies for the oatmeal raisin variety.
The mornings are actually the tightest squeeze. We have a wonderful fold out couch, but once it is unfolded it "is" the living room. The girls took their sweet time crawling out of bed so I had to squeeze around the bed to make my way to the kitchen to make coffee. The girls turned on VH1 Top 20 and I nestled on the foot of the fold out couch to enjoy my coffee and watch TV, but poor Jeff was religated to the bedroom., while Jordan was in the kitchen making pancakes. When Jordan was serving up breakfast to the girls Jeff and I scrambled like elves to put the bed away as fast as we could so that when the girls returned to the room, it was restored to a space capable of walking through.
My twenty year old son, Hunter, gets here next weekend. I have a feeling one big 20 year old testosterone driven body is going to dwarf our two little visitors this weekend. But for now, Cam is encouraged to invite friends over as long as they have a good sense of New York City apartment space.
Cameron's bedroom/My office
The hallway between the kitchen, the bathroom, and Cam's bedrooom.
Late night blogging in the livingroom.
Cameron's niche.
Cooking together in a tight space. It's all about timing.
Cameron reading her Mom's blog in the livingroom. Imagine the couch unflolded. The floor space disappears.
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