What can I say? I am a very lucky girl.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Have no eny, no fear
Last year Jamie surprised me with tickets to a concert of one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Joshua Radin. Now, usually, I am the one who is tuned into the tour dates for any group of interest, but somehow Jamie pulled off this great surprise. Ever since, I have been trying to get back at her (or be like her--isn't emulation the highest form of flattery?). So, when I saw that Joshua Radin would be coming to New York (which musician doesn't come to New York?), I bought tickets and stuck them in her stocking. I believe she was genuinely surprised--I think that's what a high-pitched scream means.
Joshua Radin is part of our history. Early on in our dating days, I lent Jamie a copy of my CD. I figured that if I could give her something that she would have a hard time giving something back--like a great CD of melancholy love songs--that she would be inclined to stick around. My theory proved true, and here we are today: married and merry. If I wasn't that interested in her, I would have given her a Blind Melon CD, or maybe Michael McLean sings his hits.
Friday night we met up at Times Square and took a train down to the East Village, near NYU. Since the concert was starting a little later, we went to a hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant, Zabb City (sounds like a Star Wars metropolis). The food was delicious and had just the right amount of spice.
The concert was in one of New York's most famous meeting places, Webster Hall. Once called the "Devil's Playground", Webster Hall has a rich history from Samuel Gompers to Bono. Today it is one of New York's historical landmarks and the host of many college-targeted parties. Webster Hall was once a recording studio for Broadway plays and people like Elvis and Frank Sinatra.
Jamie and I made our way up near the stage and found a pack of short women to stand behind. As we casually listened to the opening band's banjo strums, we congratulated each other on finding the perfect spot to watch the concert. I even secretly said, "Short people DO have a reason to live!"
In our joy we failed to notice that these short women were also Asian. I like to think that it was because racism ended on Inauguration Day and races (and their often-true stereotypes) do not exist. We soon found ourselves behind a line of cameras held straight up, elbows locked. Occasionally, the camera would dive down, only to quickly resurface into our line of sight. We don't think they knew any of the songs, but they new a photo op when they saw one.
The concert was wonderful--he played a short set of some of his most melancholy tunes, and we left feeling subdued and glad to be sober (unlike some other folks around us). I think that Joshua Radin is the reincarnation of James Taylor--just with more hair, and I guess James Taylor is still alive (can you be the reincarnate of somebody who is alive?). In that case, maybe he is more like Dan Folgerburg minus the crumb-catching 70s beard.
One final thought. I grew up forced to watch the Music and the Spoken Word on Sunday mornings where Lloyd Newell would give a short sermon and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir would sing some righteous tunes. So something that Joshua Radin said during his concert sort of became my new mantra. He told the story about when Bob Dylan moved out to New York, that someone gave him the advice to "have no envy, no fear". Mr. Radin liked it so much he wrote a song about it. I think the advice that Dylan got was spot on--this city is so full of talent and ego, that you can fill stifled and little no matter how brilliant you are. Too often I see intelligent and successful friends, and I balk at my lackluster skills. I want to try to have no envy, and no fear. So have no envy, no fear.
Joshua Radin is part of our history. Early on in our dating days, I lent Jamie a copy of my CD. I figured that if I could give her something that she would have a hard time giving something back--like a great CD of melancholy love songs--that she would be inclined to stick around. My theory proved true, and here we are today: married and merry. If I wasn't that interested in her, I would have given her a Blind Melon CD, or maybe Michael McLean sings his hits.
Friday night we met up at Times Square and took a train down to the East Village, near NYU. Since the concert was starting a little later, we went to a hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant, Zabb City (sounds like a Star Wars metropolis). The food was delicious and had just the right amount of spice.
The concert was in one of New York's most famous meeting places, Webster Hall. Once called the "Devil's Playground", Webster Hall has a rich history from Samuel Gompers to Bono. Today it is one of New York's historical landmarks and the host of many college-targeted parties. Webster Hall was once a recording studio for Broadway plays and people like Elvis and Frank Sinatra.
Jamie and I made our way up near the stage and found a pack of short women to stand behind. As we casually listened to the opening band's banjo strums, we congratulated each other on finding the perfect spot to watch the concert. I even secretly said, "Short people DO have a reason to live!"
In our joy we failed to notice that these short women were also Asian. I like to think that it was because racism ended on Inauguration Day and races (and their often-true stereotypes) do not exist. We soon found ourselves behind a line of cameras held straight up, elbows locked. Occasionally, the camera would dive down, only to quickly resurface into our line of sight. We don't think they knew any of the songs, but they new a photo op when they saw one.
The concert was wonderful--he played a short set of some of his most melancholy tunes, and we left feeling subdued and glad to be sober (unlike some other folks around us). I think that Joshua Radin is the reincarnation of James Taylor--just with more hair, and I guess James Taylor is still alive (can you be the reincarnate of somebody who is alive?). In that case, maybe he is more like Dan Folgerburg minus the crumb-catching 70s beard.
One final thought. I grew up forced to watch the Music and the Spoken Word on Sunday mornings where Lloyd Newell would give a short sermon and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir would sing some righteous tunes. So something that Joshua Radin said during his concert sort of became my new mantra. He told the story about when Bob Dylan moved out to New York, that someone gave him the advice to "have no envy, no fear". Mr. Radin liked it so much he wrote a song about it. I think the advice that Dylan got was spot on--this city is so full of talent and ego, that you can fill stifled and little no matter how brilliant you are. Too often I see intelligent and successful friends, and I balk at my lackluster skills. I want to try to have no envy, and no fear. So have no envy, no fear.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I don't like taxis
The kind taxi driver exited his car, stowed my suitcase in the trunk, opened my door and then closed it once I was settled. "Where to?" he asked as he plopped in the driver's seat. "The Upper West Side," I instantly replied, and we were on our way. The first 20 minutes we zipped down Grand Central Parkway making good time as the clock inched closer to rush hour. My hopes were high as I started to think this might not be the hour and half ride that it usually takes to go 20 miles from JFK Airport to home. Once we reached the bumper-to-bumper traffic across the Triborough Bridge (recently renamed the Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Bridge), however, my hopes were shattered.
As we started the crawl across the bridge the driver's cell phone started to ring. My eyes immediately glanced at the "Taxicab Rider Bill of Rights" posted so clearly on the back of his seat. As a passenger in a taxi you are entitled to, "A driver who does not use a cell phone while driving (hand-held or hands free)." He started into his long unrecognizable foreign language conversation as my body instantly resorted to its usual taxi-riding state: nausea.
As he jabbered away on his phone I tried to distract my mind from what my body was now feeling. The TV in the back seat only added to my car sickness. Thirty minutes later I finally figured out how to turn off its flashing lights and noise. We finally emerged to the familiar streets of Manhattan and started the brutal game of Red Light, Green Light. I rested my head on the glass, trying to cool down my now trembling body as I sat anxiously in the stuffy, stale-aired cab. At every intersection the cell phone chatting driver punched the gas pedal down the crosstown street and seconds later slammed on the brakes as we neared the red light of the next intersection. Amsterdam and Broadway have never felt further away. Nearing the end of our journey, the driver finally ended his conversation.
"Which building, Miss?" he politely asked. "220," I silently muttered hoping that was the only thing to escape my lips. The car screeched to a stop. I opened the door as my legs weakly felt the ground. He grabbed my bag as I reached for my wallet. Coming from Las Vegas where the ATMs dispense $100 bills rather than $20s, I handed over Ben Franklin to cover the $55 fare. The driver pulled out a wad of money and returned my change with one ten, two fives, and twenty-five ones. At least Redken was covering the fare, and the bonus is I now have wash money.
Sidenote: We NEVER take a taxi. Instead we opt for public transportation and ride the subway everywhere we go. In our eight months of living in the city we have taken a cab twice, and both were extremely good excuses: 1) moving five pieces of heavy luggage from our temporary Queens apartment to our Manhattan apartment and 2) coming home from a red eye flight. The fare for a taxi isn't worth it, and as you can see, every time we take a taxi I get sick.
I dizzily made my way into the apartment building, lugged my suitcase up three flights of stairs (the elevator is currently out of service) and hurried to open the apartment door. I threw my bags on the floor, turned on the light and walked into a crystal-clean apartment. A welcome home note attached to beautiful bouquet of flowers sat atop the dining room table. How did Jonathan know this was exactly what I needed after six days away at the Redken Symposium (business meeting) in Las Vegas topped off with a stomach-churning cab ride home from the airport?
As we started the crawl across the bridge the driver's cell phone started to ring. My eyes immediately glanced at the "Taxicab Rider Bill of Rights" posted so clearly on the back of his seat. As a passenger in a taxi you are entitled to, "A driver who does not use a cell phone while driving (hand-held or hands free)." He started into his long unrecognizable foreign language conversation as my body instantly resorted to its usual taxi-riding state: nausea.
As he jabbered away on his phone I tried to distract my mind from what my body was now feeling. The TV in the back seat only added to my car sickness. Thirty minutes later I finally figured out how to turn off its flashing lights and noise. We finally emerged to the familiar streets of Manhattan and started the brutal game of Red Light, Green Light. I rested my head on the glass, trying to cool down my now trembling body as I sat anxiously in the stuffy, stale-aired cab. At every intersection the cell phone chatting driver punched the gas pedal down the crosstown street and seconds later slammed on the brakes as we neared the red light of the next intersection. Amsterdam and Broadway have never felt further away. Nearing the end of our journey, the driver finally ended his conversation.
"Which building, Miss?" he politely asked. "220," I silently muttered hoping that was the only thing to escape my lips. The car screeched to a stop. I opened the door as my legs weakly felt the ground. He grabbed my bag as I reached for my wallet. Coming from Las Vegas where the ATMs dispense $100 bills rather than $20s, I handed over Ben Franklin to cover the $55 fare. The driver pulled out a wad of money and returned my change with one ten, two fives, and twenty-five ones. At least Redken was covering the fare, and the bonus is I now have wash money.
Sidenote: We NEVER take a taxi. Instead we opt for public transportation and ride the subway everywhere we go. In our eight months of living in the city we have taken a cab twice, and both were extremely good excuses: 1) moving five pieces of heavy luggage from our temporary Queens apartment to our Manhattan apartment and 2) coming home from a red eye flight. The fare for a taxi isn't worth it, and as you can see, every time we take a taxi I get sick.I dizzily made my way into the apartment building, lugged my suitcase up three flights of stairs (the elevator is currently out of service) and hurried to open the apartment door. I threw my bags on the floor, turned on the light and walked into a crystal-clean apartment. A welcome home note attached to beautiful bouquet of flowers sat atop the dining room table. How did Jonathan know this was exactly what I needed after six days away at the Redken Symposium (business meeting) in Las Vegas topped off with a stomach-churning cab ride home from the airport?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Christmas in Utah
We were so spoiled to get to go home for Christmas this year! Our favorite part - spending time with family and friends. Looking through our pictures now I wish we would've taken more to capture all of the fun (especially Jonathan, Marie, Nick and Trev hula hooping on the Wii Fit, skiing and a picture with my mom and dad).
Our last night with Sam and Amy before they head off to China.
My favorite sister whom I miss terribly...already.
This is the view we wake up to every morning at my parent's house in Heber City. It's moments like this that I sometimes wonder why anyone would ever want to move away.
Furthering our contributions to the Yankee payroll.
Trevor finished two Calvin & Hobbes 500-page books within one week.
I love this. Trevor asked for a pull-up bar, and sure enough, Santa brought it!
We made sure to practice driving on Mario Kart before attempting to drive in real life.
Some say we are the same person. I like to think so.
Day before Christmas breakfast with the Curtis family!
Our last night with Sam and Amy before they head off to China.
My favorite sister whom I miss terribly...already.
This is the view we wake up to every morning at my parent's house in Heber City. It's moments like this that I sometimes wonder why anyone would ever want to move away.
Furthering our contributions to the Yankee payroll.
Trevor finished two Calvin & Hobbes 500-page books within one week.
I love this. Trevor asked for a pull-up bar, and sure enough, Santa brought it!
We made sure to practice driving on Mario Kart before attempting to drive in real life.
Some say we are the same person. I like to think so.
Day before Christmas breakfast with the Curtis family!Thursday, December 18, 2008
Too busy to blog
It has been a while since we've posted, but I don't feel like we have too much to update. Our lives are quite repetitive, but extremely busy these days...
5:15 am - Jon's up preparing for school, showering
5:55 am - I wake up to make breakfast and pack lunches
6:20 am - we're out the door - Jonathan goes to the subway, I go to the gym
8:30 am - I leave for work
7:30 pm - we usually are home by now
8:00 pm - dinner
8:30 pm - snuggle up on the couch, Jonathan finishes schoolwork (this teacher thing is an all-the-time job)
10:00pm - bedtime (long day...)
5:15 am - wake up and start all over again
We did enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving in Columbus, OH with the Curtis family. Our holiday included bowling, swimming, a visit to Kirtland, dance recitals, late night board games (we're hopeless...I should say I'm hopeless at Settler's of Catan), a good Thanksgiving dinner, a session at the Columbus Temple, volleyball, and family that we love! Pictures to come!
5:15 am - Jon's up preparing for school, showering
5:55 am - I wake up to make breakfast and pack lunches
6:20 am - we're out the door - Jonathan goes to the subway, I go to the gym
8:30 am - I leave for work
7:30 pm - we usually are home by now
8:00 pm - dinner
8:30 pm - snuggle up on the couch, Jonathan finishes schoolwork (this teacher thing is an all-the-time job)
10:00pm - bedtime (long day...)
5:15 am - wake up and start all over again
We did enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving in Columbus, OH with the Curtis family. Our holiday included bowling, swimming, a visit to Kirtland, dance recitals, late night board games (we're hopeless...I should say I'm hopeless at Settler's of Catan), a good Thanksgiving dinner, a session at the Columbus Temple, volleyball, and family that we love! Pictures to come!
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Our New Happy Valley
We've been on a quest. Finding an Indian restaurant in New York City is about as easy as finding a Yankee fan--they are everywhere. Over the past couple of months, we have hit several of them, building up our palates before each visit, only to be sincerely disappointed (and in one case, utterly disgusted (Tip: if a waiter makes any sort of bodily noise as you walk through the door, immediately turn around--most likely they will serve up minute rice with a California Medley Blend of vegetables--really--never, ever, ever eat at Bengal Cafe--they pull you in with their cheaper prices, but trust us: it is not worth it)). It seemed that each visit was worse than the one before.
Tonight, our taste buds were more giddy than a bunch of BYU students at a ward slip-and-slide.
We found the real happy valley: Indus Valley. Two weeks ago, an SUV slammed through their outdoor seating area, but they used their curry power to rebuild the corner and continue business. And business is booming, attracting some of the local notables--like us!
When you come to visit us, and if you like good Indian food, I promise we will go here. Absolutely incredible...we strongly recommend:
Tonight, our taste buds were more giddy than a bunch of BYU students at a ward slip-and-slide.
We found the real happy valley: Indus Valley. Two weeks ago, an SUV slammed through their outdoor seating area, but they used their curry power to rebuild the corner and continue business. And business is booming, attracting some of the local notables--like us!
When you come to visit us, and if you like good Indian food, I promise we will go here. Absolutely incredible...we strongly recommend:
- Kashmiri Roganjosh: "Tender pieces of Lamb cubes simmered in an exotic sauce of Green and Black Cardamoms, Kashmiri Chillies, Cloves, Cinnamon leaves, Mace, Coriander, Ginger, Garlic, Onion, Yogurt and Fennel."
- Malai Kofta: "Dumplings made with an array of vegetables and Cottage Cheese and cooked with a delicate gravy made with fresh Tomato puree, Onions, garlic, Red Chili Powder, Coriander, Ginger, Turmeric, Cloves and Cinnamon."
- Vegetable Biryani: "Biryani is an Exotic preparation of marinated meat or vegetables mixed with the Basmati Rice ans slow cooked in a closed thick bottomed utensil. This method of cooking is popularly known as “Dum” cooking by which all the flavors, nutrients and aromas are retained. Lavish use of spices, herbs & saffron makes this a very delicious Rice preparation."
- Mango Lassi: "Delicious King of the fruit-Alphonso or Kesar Mango Pulp churned with homemade Yogurt."
- Nan/Garlic Nan
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
South Street Seaport
Not last weekend, but the weekend before Jonathan and I finally went to visit a part of the city we had really been wanting to see: South Street Seaport (try saying that one 10 times fast...it's a tongue twister). The Seaport is one of New York's many historic areas featuring some of the oldest architecture on the island - mostly restored early 19th century commercial buildings that are now home to renovated original mercantile buildings, renovated sailing ships, the former Fulton Fish Market, and nice shops and restaurants (Pizzeria Uno - a Bond family favorite from when lived in California) . We both found the Seaport reminiscent of Pier 39 in San Francisco - old buildings, smell of fish, dock overlooking the water, old buildings - with a New York twist.
South Street Seaport.
Pizzeria Uno - yum...it's really too bad NYC lists the calorie content for their restaurants. Now I know exactly how many calories I consumed in just one slice of pizza.
You know you're in New York when you see a water taxi that looks like this.
What a handsome man.
Jonathan's favorite (he made me type that).
Jonathan snapped this right as we were leaving. I love the lines, angles colors and photographer. People often forget to look above eye level when capturing images through a lens. Not here.
Some of the typical buildings on Fulton Street, close to the Pier.
More bars in more places. AT&T should pay us for this one.
South Street Seaport.
Pizzeria Uno - yum...it's really too bad NYC lists the calorie content for their restaurants. Now I know exactly how many calories I consumed in just one slice of pizza.
You know you're in New York when you see a water taxi that looks like this.
Aren't we adorable?
View of the Brooklyn Bridge.
What a handsome man.
Jonathan's favorite (he made me type that).
Jonathan snapped this right as we were leaving. I love the lines, angles colors and photographer. People often forget to look above eye level when capturing images through a lens. Not here.
Some of the typical buildings on Fulton Street, close to the Pier.
More bars in more places. AT&T should pay us for this one.
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