Thursday, February 19, 2009
Sisters
I was looking through some old photos a couple days ago and came across one of my all time favorites. Every time I pass this one by I can't help but smile. It's not the flower patterned spandex shorts, San Francisco sweatshirts or the Keds that get me. It's knowing and seeing that we have always been the best of friends...and that we always will be. I love you, Marie!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Valentine's Day
Friends have mentioned the silliness of the celebration; that there shouldn't be just one day devoted to celebrating love. Rather, they claim this holiday's spirit should be felt on a more regular basis. "Why devote one day to celebrating the person (and people) you love most?" they say. I say why not? I had a good discussion with the lovely ladies I work with in Young Women's at Church, and they made a very good point: we devote one day in the year to celebrate Thanksgiving, but we really should be showing thanks all the time. The same argument can be made for Christmas. So why not Valentine's?
Our Valentine's Day was absolutely lovely. Time together is something Jonathan and I seem to never get enough of these days, so it we made the very most of our holiday:
Main Course: Braised Lamb Shanks with White Cannelini Beans, Green Apple and Walnut Spinach Salad
Dessert: Panna Cotta (YUM)
Our Valentine's Day was absolutely lovely. Time together is something Jonathan and I seem to never get enough of these days, so it we made the very most of our holiday:
- Cleaning and organizing closets
- Brunch at Kitchenette
- A long walk around the neighborhood
- Dressing up and staying in for dinner and dessert
Main Course: Braised Lamb Shanks with White Cannelini Beans, Green Apple and Walnut Spinach Salad
Dessert: Panna Cotta (YUM)
Friday, February 13, 2009
Walk the block
With Jamie away at her brother's baptism, and unusually pleasant, late winter weather, I decided to take an evening stroll around the neighborhood with the camera. I am continually amazed at the varying textures of the city from one street to the next as you can see below.
My first stop was at the neighborhood bagel shop, "Absolute Bagels" where for $1.25 you can get the best "everything" bagel you've ever tasted...and for $2.50 more you can get a two-inch slab of your favorite cream cheese. With bagel smear in hand, I walked past "Garden of Eden," a beautiful grocery store which sometimes feels more like a food boutique (they have a fine selection of caviar and Mother of Pool spoons). We usually don't shop here unless we are too lazy to go three blocks up Broadway to "West Side Market," but I love its outdoor fruite displays that brave all sorts of weather.
This is our cross street: Broadway and 107th. Of all the streets I have been down, I like this one the most. I highly recommend going to Google Maps and taking the street view tour of our street. It is lined with big trees, beautiful buildings, and has an old Catholic church directly across the street.
This is our building--our little haven in the chaos. For several months I thought our building was completely white. I guess sometimes in New York you forget to look up, but when you do, you find all sorts of interesting things: gargoyles, turrets, friezes, bronze sculptures, even trees on top of buildings.
Just around the corner and up Amsterdam you find one of the treasures of the Upper West Side: The Cathedral of St. John the Divine--one of the largest Episcopalian churches in the world. This picture is of a chapel that is on the same block as the cathedral. It was in the cathedral that we saw the procession of the ghouls for Halloween. It seems a little out of place with the rest of the neighborhood, but is a beautiful landmark, nevertheless.
This sculpture is one of the more intriguing artifacts in our neighborhood. It is called the "Fountain of Peace." The sculpture depicts the struggle of good and evil, as well as a battle between the Archangel Michael and Satan. The sculpture also contains the Sun, the Moon, and several animals. I though that the inscription was VERY unique, especially coming from a science background, check it out:
Sometimes you don't realize how historic the places you are until you stop to admire a bronze plaque. I knew that Washington fought battles in the hills west of Harlem (Harlem Heights), but I didn't realize that I had been walking all over the battle sight. Oddly enough, the cathedral that I mentioned earlier has a large sculpture of General Washington right below Christ on its facade.
This is a view down 120th. The first complex on the left is Union Theological Seminary, and the next complex down is Teachers College (Columbia's Graduate School of Education). I think that these are some of the prettiest buildings around, and they sort of remind me of Hogwarts.
Grant's tomb. Yes, President (General) Ulysses S. Grant is buried here (along with his wife). It is a beautiful building both on the inside and out. I have decided that during my life I must help mend the USA as a heroic military figure if I am to have a mausoleum like this. Either that or be married to one. Jamie is wonderful, but I don't think that she is the military type.
I now started my walk back towards home down Riverside park--a picturesque strip of lawns, trees, and playgrounds that lines the Hudson.
This is the route I took--I was gone about 40 minutes and saw everything from Revolutionary War battle sights to the best bagels in Manhattan. It is exciting to be surrounded by history, but I don't like walking these streets all by myself. It is so nice to have Jamie back home.
My first stop was at the neighborhood bagel shop, "Absolute Bagels" where for $1.25 you can get the best "everything" bagel you've ever tasted...and for $2.50 more you can get a two-inch slab of your favorite cream cheese. With bagel smear in hand, I walked past "Garden of Eden," a beautiful grocery store which sometimes feels more like a food boutique (they have a fine selection of caviar and Mother of Pool spoons). We usually don't shop here unless we are too lazy to go three blocks up Broadway to "West Side Market," but I love its outdoor fruite displays that brave all sorts of weather.
This is our cross street: Broadway and 107th. Of all the streets I have been down, I like this one the most. I highly recommend going to Google Maps and taking the street view tour of our street. It is lined with big trees, beautiful buildings, and has an old Catholic church directly across the street.
This is our building--our little haven in the chaos. For several months I thought our building was completely white. I guess sometimes in New York you forget to look up, but when you do, you find all sorts of interesting things: gargoyles, turrets, friezes, bronze sculptures, even trees on top of buildings.
Just around the corner and up Amsterdam you find one of the treasures of the Upper West Side: The Cathedral of St. John the Divine--one of the largest Episcopalian churches in the world. This picture is of a chapel that is on the same block as the cathedral. It was in the cathedral that we saw the procession of the ghouls for Halloween. It seems a little out of place with the rest of the neighborhood, but is a beautiful landmark, nevertheless.
This sculpture is one of the more intriguing artifacts in our neighborhood. It is called the "Fountain of Peace." The sculpture depicts the struggle of good and evil, as well as a battle between the Archangel Michael and Satan. The sculpture also contains the Sun, the Moon, and several animals. I though that the inscription was VERY unique, especially coming from a science background, check it out:Peace Fountain celebrates the triumph of Good over Evil, and sets before us the world's opposing forces—violence and harmony, light and darkness, life and death—which God reconciles in his peace.
When the fountain operates, four courses of water cascade down the freedom pedestal into a maelstrom evoking the primordial chaos of Earth. Foursquare around the base, flames of freedom rise in witness to the future. Ascending from the pool, the freedom pedestal is shaped like the double helix of DNA, the key molecule of life. Atop the pedestal a giant crab reminds us of life's origins in sea and struggle. Facing West, a somnolent Moon reflects tranquility from a joyous Sun smiling to the East. The swirls encircling the heavenly bodies bespeak the larger movements of the cosmos with which earthly life is continuous.
Nine giraffes—among the most peaceable of animals—nestle and prance about the center. One rests its head on the bosom of the winged Archangel Michael, described in the bible as the leader of the heavenly host against the forces of Evil. St. Michael's sword is vanquishing his chief opponent, Satan, whose decapitated figure plunges into the depths, his head dangling beneath the crab's claw. Tucked away next to the Sun, a lion and lamb relax together in the peace of God's kingdom, as foretold by the prophet Isaiah.
So, if you are in the neighborhood, be sure to check out this smattering of concepts wielded in graphic bronze.
I walked up to 115th street and across the green at Columbia University. Although Columbia feels like a gated community (complete with gates and all), it has a real scholarly feel to the place--it ALMOST makes me want to grab a science text book and learn the Krebs cycle for the 13th time.
Sometimes you don't realize how historic the places you are until you stop to admire a bronze plaque. I knew that Washington fought battles in the hills west of Harlem (Harlem Heights), but I didn't realize that I had been walking all over the battle sight. Oddly enough, the cathedral that I mentioned earlier has a large sculpture of General Washington right below Christ on its facade.
This is a view down 120th. The first complex on the left is Union Theological Seminary, and the next complex down is Teachers College (Columbia's Graduate School of Education). I think that these are some of the prettiest buildings around, and they sort of remind me of Hogwarts.
Grant's tomb. Yes, President (General) Ulysses S. Grant is buried here (along with his wife). It is a beautiful building both on the inside and out. I have decided that during my life I must help mend the USA as a heroic military figure if I am to have a mausoleum like this. Either that or be married to one. Jamie is wonderful, but I don't think that she is the military type.
I now started my walk back towards home down Riverside park--a picturesque strip of lawns, trees, and playgrounds that lines the Hudson.
This is the route I took--I was gone about 40 minutes and saw everything from Revolutionary War battle sights to the best bagels in Manhattan. It is exciting to be surrounded by history, but I don't like walking these streets all by myself. It is so nice to have Jamie back home.
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!
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