In Memoriam

I was all gung-ho about completely catching up last week, but the week had other plans. Last Tuesday, November 7, 2006, my grandfather Max Arthur Abston passed away and I quickly flew to Spokane for the funeral. All my life us grandkids always called our grandfather "Papa." The night before the funeral, all eleven grandkids got together to plan the eulogy and make a list of our favorite memories. Even though most of my readers were at the funeral, I would like to share for those of you who did not know Papa.

Papa had a woodshop in his garage and he made all sorts of fun things for kids. He made trucks, trains, slides, play kitchens, Barbie houses--complete with furniture, and the world's largest deck. The deck was huge! Large enough for a handful of little tykes to have Big Wheel races around the perimeter. We often played CHiPs on that deck. (Yes, I am a child of the eighties.)

When I was on my church mission, and when I lived in France, Papa was my most faithful writer. Mostly he wrote about the temperature, mowing lawns, and beans. Beans were his favorite food. But I appreciated every letter; they were always filled with his love. He always showered his grandkids with lots of love. He would always say, "Hello sweet sweet" or "How's my favorite Meredith." (or insert the name of another grandkid.)

It was harder to say good-bye than I thought. He will be missed. The funeral was lovely, and I was very glad to see all my family (except for one brother-in-law, niece, and nephew who were dearly missed). I don't remember when we were last all together. We all got to take turns holding the new babies, we ate lots (which is normal for our gatherings), and remembered our dear Papa. So despite the very sad event, I was glad to be with my family. I didn't take a lot of pictures but I will be posting the ones that I have (or that have been forwarded by relatives) shortly.

The New York Marathon.
My knees cry just thinking about marathons. And my heart cries because it wants to run in one. Heck, at this point, I'd like to run down the street without knee pain.

I didn't see Lance, but I sure was hoping I would. Now I have tied the image to the cycling update.

The Votes Are In!

Actually only two people voted, and I am very proud of one of the votes. Sorry to say Kiki, it wasn't yours...but I am very happy you voted, and you will be rewarded.

The other vote was from the blog "Trust but Verify" (TBV) that writes about the Floyd Landis case. As you can probably imagine, I have it bookmarked and I read it everyday. Since I listed Floyd on my ballot of blog topics, TBV came upon it and voted for Floyd! I feel kind of proud, but also a little embarrassed in case he saw the cycling blog entry when I forgot Pat McQuaid's name and called him Dennis.

Trust But Verify is a great source of Floyd info because he scours all news stories, blogs, and whatnot about Floyd. He will publish the good and the bad, but like me this blog is very pro-Floyd. Look it up! Soon you will know that Floyd is innocent!

I wonder if Floyd scans the blogs and has found mine. In that case I am very embarrassed about my faux pas.

And now for the cycling update. Floyd and his defense team has released their defense to the public. I have read through a portion of the documents, and I firmly believe something fishy is going on at the infamous testing facility. The lab made grave errors, but I don't think they did it because a French cyclist didn't win (again). The French did better this year actually, I thought, though Thomas Voeckler is still not at the form he was in for Lance's 6th win. I think the whole mess is because of the McCarthy-esque witch hunt that the UCI and WADA are obsessed with.

The Italian sports authority (and I am not referring to the sporting goods chain) has decided that there is not enough evidence to convict Ivan Basso, so they have dropped charges (unless the Spanish authorities dig up real evidence). I was very happy. But then a few days later Team CSC and Ivan parted company. Now this is a bit of a conundrum, because CSC was my favorite team because of Ivan. I'll still like the team because of Dave Zabriskie, but I am about to pledge allegience to the team that picks up Ivan. There have been no team announcements yet because the UCI has not yet cleared Ivan. That organization has so conveniently forgotten all of his clean tests. If the anti-doping tests actually work...

Thanks TBV for the vote! Next up, Halloween!

The Garfleck Manse near the church


The Cougars are ready to score


Alicia and yours truly at the football game

I've just been scolded

I have been very lazy in writing about my New York adventures. Well, maybe "lazy" is not the best word. I think "too busy" works a bit better. On Monday I made a point to stay home at night, do laundry and catch up, and I even wrote about a trip to Boston. Somehow while writing I lost my wireless connection and I lost the entire post! So much for my good intentions. Now I get to try again and catch up.

So, where to begin? Maybe I'll just make a list of things and you guys can vote on what you want to read more about. I like this idea. Here's the list:
I went to Boston
I had my first guests to show around
I saw a Broadway play
More delicious restaurants
Halloween
I broke up with dessert
Floyd Landis/Cycling updates

I'll get everything started with my quickie trip to Boston. In September (yes, that long ago) I headed to Beantown. I found out that my cousin Alicia was going to be there to visit friends and go to the BYU/Boston College football game. Now, football is not one of my favorite sports, but I thought it would be fun to see my cousin. When I decided to go, I thought it would be great fun to take a train. Thanks to my time in France I have grown a great love for rail travel, and it is pretty popular here in the East Coast as well. However, it is not cheap. It would have cost about $200 for a trip to Boston which, by the way, is no great distance. Instead, I took the advice of my roommate and took the bus.

There are several bus lines in New York to help the car-less get to places like, Philly, DC, Montreal, and Boston. Buses are a lot less glamorous than the train but it was only $30 round trip--a definite bargain. Let us keep in mind, however, that you get what you pay for. For example, I got four and a half hours with my knees jammed into the seat in front of me.

The most famous of the bus lines are the ones based in Chinatown. In fact, the phrase "Chinatown Bus" describes any of the lines commencing in that neighborhod of NYC. The two lines that go to Boston are the Fung Hua and the Lucky Star. (Yes, I think of the early eighties Madonna song when I mention the Lucky Star.) Both bus lines offer the same features: low price, seats that don't have a lot of leg room, and a brief stop at a Chinese buffet in Connecticut. I decided to go with the Lucky Star, and it was not because wanted to hum Madonna during the trip. The week before my trip one of the Fung Hua buses overturned on the way back from Boston. That helped the decision process. You may be wondering how I enjoyed my meal at the Chinese buffet. Well, truth be told, I didn't eat at the buffet. I generally don't eat at Chinese restaurants that have tator tots next to the fried rice.

My time in Boston was pretty short because most of my trip was spent at the football game or at church. The game was good, as far as football games go. In the end BYU lost, but they lost in double overtime; so it was exciting to the end. To be honest, by the time the second overtime came around I didn't care who won. I should have kept that little secret quiet because a few people questioned my loyalty to my alma mater.

Saturday night after the game Alicia, her friends, and I had dinner in cajun/mexican restaurant in Harvard Yard (Square? I really wasn't there long enough to remember.) I was ready for dinner because we didn't have much to eat throughout the day, and if you know me you will also know that I need to be well-fed in order to avoid a low-blood sugar disaster. Normally when the blood sugar levels dips I start crying. On rare occasions I turn into the spawn of Satan. And that is what reared its ugly head at the restaurant. The restaurant was crowded, and we were lucky to get a table for nine, even though we had a wait a while to get it. Finally it was our turn, and we had to elbow our way through the throng to get to our table. The restaurant has a policy that it will not seat a party until everyone was present. We were all there, but only some of us were better at pushing through the hordes of hungry people. When only four of us made it through, the host asked if we were all there. I said, yes, the rest will be there soon. Then he told us the house rule that everyone had to be there. And then I snapped. Out of nowhere Angry Meredith came out and yelled at him, and said that we were all there but they were having troubles getting through the crowd. Doesn't seem that mean, right? On paper, no, but I must have been vicious because the restaurant manager ended up seating us. I also managed to have the blow-up in front of a group of servers, including the one assigned to our table. He jokingly asked if I was going to yell at him too, and from that point on I was worried that someone was going to spit in my food. I don't know if anyone actually did, and my pulled beef enchilada was delicious. I did apologize to the host on our way out.

Thoae were the memorable highlights of my trip to Boston. Like I said, I didn't have time to see the historic locations in Boston. But I did see Ben Affleck's/Jennifer Garner's house. I'll see the more important stuff on my next trip to Boston.

So now that you have read this, please write a comment and vote for the next entry. Will it be my first broadway play or my feelings about a tough break-up? Did I go trick-or-treating? You vote, I'll write.

Union Square Market

I have come to the conclusion that New Yorkers have stronger forearms than everyone else in the nation. We don’t have the luxury of car trunks to stash our groceries; we usually have to carry them from the store, down the block, up the stairs, and finally into our kitchens. Granted, if we purchase too much we can either hail a cab or have our wares delivered, but people on a budget generally buy as much food as they can carry in a small grocery basket, and haul it home by foot (or subway and foot). After a particularly heavy basket, my forearms tend to feel the burn on the way home.

I have a couple of grocery stores within walking distance from my little apartment. C-Town is the closest, but I only go there if there is some kind of food emergency. It doesn’t have a lot to choose from, but the worst part about it is the smell. It smells like rotting food. Once I bought ice cream—a pint of Ben & Jerry’s even—and it tasted like that C-Town smell. I feel o.k. buying canned goods from the store, but absolutely refuse to buy produce or meat. So I generally walk up seven + blocks and go to Gristede’s. Still not Whole Foods (which I go to for soy milk and whenever I am feeling the need for luxury), but leaps and bounds better than C-Town. It smells tons better.

I went there yesterday, in fact, to get ingredients for some vegetable soup. I am so glad it is fall, and I can spend my weekends making yummy, hot soup. Since I knew my groceries were going to be heavy I grabbed a denim grocery bag that my mom made for me. A couple of years ago, I asked my mom to make me re-usable grocery bags for Christmas. I wanted to do my part for the environment. Funny thing though, I rarely remembered to bring them with me when I made my weekly trip to the store. (Sorry mom.) Even in NYC I tend to leave them at home, but that is mostly because I go to the store rather spontaneously. Good thing I heeded the promptings within that told me to bring a denim bag to the grocery store.

My grocery basket included, fresh green beans, tomatoes, apples, wheat crackers, celery, pasta, Glad ® freezer bags, two cans of tuna, a large can of tomato sauce, and five cans of beef broth. It was my heaviest basket ever, and I was not really looking forward to carrying it home. Then I remembered my denim bag, and felt a little bit more optimistic. You see, mom made it with longer handles, so I could carry it over my shoulder.

I stood in a very slow checkout line, and finally it was my time to pay. I am sure the cashier is a fine person, and perhaps he gets decent grades in school, but the kid really wasn’t too bright. As he packed up my groceries he put ALL of the heavy canned goods in one bag instead of dispersing them throughout. What was even funnier was that he informed me that he was going to do that for me. I remarked rather sarcastically, “Right, because that will make it easier to carry.” HE ACTUALLY BELIEVED IT WAS BETTER THAT WAY. My poor little forearms! But “A-HA!” I remembered my mom’s bag, and I stuck the canned goods in there. It was a heavy load, but I was at least able to carry it over my shoulder.

So, thank you mom for the best Christmas present ever. My arms thank you. Maybe, though, if I stay here long enough I will turn into one of those older ladies who use a wheeled basket for their trips to the market. Of course I will have to make sure that that certain checkout boy doesn’t do something do something lame again and place the heavy food on top of the bread and eggs.

Body Sculpting

When I moved to New York I stopped going to the gym. I kept my membership at Bally's for a while until I decided that I could not carry everything I owned from the gym to my place of employment (7 big blocks), and plus the Bally's I went to was dark, dank, and didn't have any good classes in the morning or after work. So instead I joined a Crunch gym that was not even finished. I spent an entire summer without working out. I didn't even gain weight. Granted, I am walking around a lot more, but I am not eating as healthy as I used to. I don't get it.

But I am back at the gym now. Crunch finally opened its doors, and I now have the task of making workouts part of my schedule. It is hard, I am having a hard time getting out of bed or being motivated after work. Skinny jeans helps the motivation process. You may wonder why I chose Crunch over Bally's when I decided that working out is a necessary part of my life again. Well, Crunch is only 4 short blocks from work and they will soon be renting out lockers, thus I will eliminate that whole carrying everything I own back and forth. They also have hair dryers, towels, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion, so I actually have less to carry anyway. All they need to do now is put an Aveda, Sephora, and Saks in the locker room, and then I'll only have to bring my undies and a wallet. Crunch also is famous for its innovative classes, like stilleto aerobics, BOSU(R) Bootcamp, Buff Yoga, and Pole Dancing. (I am seriously contemplating the pole dancing class. It could come in handy one day.) These classes have been part of what gets me to the gym.

I took Buff Yoga on Thursday. It is basically a yoga class that uses weights and other strength moves. And as I write on a Saturday afternoon, my bottom still hurts. Good class. Last night I went to the Funk class--aerobics using funk dance moves. I thought it would be more fun than a treadmill. By the end of the class, however, I decided that tread mills were more fun. The class was filled with tiny girls who really got into it. I suspect they took the class to either prepare for that evening's club escapades or they hoped to be a dancer on some hip hop superstar's next video with rump shaking chicks. Then there was me: the tall gangly one. Sometimes I don't remember that I am tall. But seeing myself in a mirror surrounded by tiny Pussycat Doll wannabees harshly reminded me that I am a giant. A giant that has a hard time with rapid footwork.

The class started out fine. I can shake my rump like the best of them, but after we warmed up, the instructor led us into a routine. This is a normal occurrence in aerobics classes, and I can do a grapevine in my sleep, but I could not do the funk footwork. There were a lot of obstacles in my way. First of all the music was really loud, and I could barely hear the instructor. Second, she didn't teach the steps slowly. I imagine she thought we all could dance, and lastly I was never good at routines. I am not an inhibited dancer, but routines and line dances befuddle me. I am so much better at freestyle.

We went through the routine several times, but I actually got worse as the class went on. One particularly good dancer angered me. She was showing off, flipping her hair around because she could do the dance moves (probably imagining herself in the next Ludcris video.) She reminded me of the Very Flexible Girl at Bally's who would flip her long hair around after she would drop into the splits into the middle of the gym. I have nothing against the Hair Flip--I do it rather well--I just dislike the blatant showing off. I only wish I didn't look like one of those tall girls who cannot control the way their bodies move. (Watch the 6 feet tall twins on America's next top model and you will know what I mean.)

Halfway through the class I saw people enter the Indoor Cycling class. I've done that class before and I love it. After tripping over my feet for the umpteenth time, I really wanted to be in there. Cycling is easy; all I have to do is pedal. Cycling is also fun because I usually imagine that I am racing with Lance, Floyd, Ivan, and Dave Zabriskie. (Congrats to Dave for winning the silver medal at the World Time Trial Championships!!) So the verdict on the Funk Class: I'll leave that to the Solid Gold dancers, and instead join the ranks of elite cyclist hopefuls. But I may try out that pole dancing class. It really may be useful one day!

On Thursday afternoon I did not have any concrete Friday night plans. This is not new. But this particular Thursday I did have two options: I could attempt to get tickets to see Snow Patrol's show or RSVP to the above event. My co-worker Shennell was invited, through a friend, to the Duckie Brown fashion show and after-party. I was immediately jealous--a fashion show during fashion week--well it is the ultimate New York activity, even if he designer is for men's wear. Shennell, in all his good-naturedness, forwarded me the invite and said I should try to rsvp and go. So I did. I didn't get immediately rejected, so I decided to go.

Oh, I vascilated. For one thing I didn't think I would have anything fashionable enough to wear. Plus, Snow Patrol's CD is really good. (I've already written about it.) Even though I recruited Alejandro to join me, I thought perhaps Snow Patrol would be more fun. In the end, I chose the Fashion Show. So I bought a new shirt and bag (with skull lining) and prettied myself up for the fashion show.

So it turned out to be just the after-party, not a fashion show, but I am not complaining. First of all, at the very beginning I proved my chops as a PR person. I sent my RSVP, but my name didn't show up on the guest list--I looked; it wasn't there. I explained that I may have sent a little to late, but since I hadn't heard anything I was sure I was on the list. The bouncer let me and Alejandro in! When I recounted the story to Shennell, he was impressed.

Since it was a party at a club, Alejandro and I weren't too sure if we would stay too long. After all, we wouldn't be drinking...and everyone else would be. We sat down at a booth and the British kid already sitting there asked me to watch his backpack. Now, my mom freaked out when I told her this. Just so you know it is a really small percentage of people who carry pipe bombs in their backpacks. This kid was like the many millions of New Yorkers who carry their personal belongings in a backpack. And he had shampoo in his bag, and although the airport security folk would have you believe that I should run for cover, rest assured I was completely safe. He took his time getting back to the booth, and he even joked that we must have thought he was a terrorist, and then he said that it was just shampoo. I immediately thought he must have been the hairdresser for the show. But before I asked, he explained it was the free stuff in the swag bags they always give out during fashion week. I aksed if he went to the show. Then he said that he was one of the models. Right away my curiousity was piqued. The recorded show was being projected on a screen, and I asked which outfit he wore. He explained that he wasn't in the show--he was the print model, i.e. the one on the invite. As you can tell, all there is up there is a mouth. He struck the pose, and voila! there was the mouth. I was going to ask him more questions, like what's your name, but Kanye West's "GoldDigger" came on and Alejandro wanted to dance. That was the end of a lovely conversation with a male model. Thanks Alejandro. He obviously does not get that I have a few requirements in a crush. Good-looking was one, and British accent is the other. Mystery Print Model had both.

You may wonder why I didn't let him dance by himself. Well, it was for his safety. The party was in Chelsea--a neighborhood with a lot of gay men, and there would most likely be a lot of gay men at a menswear fashion show, so I promised I would keep him from getting hit on. That requires me to leave a potentially good conversation with Mystery Print Model.

I hadn't danced in a while, so it was fun. But it was fun to see all the pretty boys too. Actually that was slightly depressing. All the boys were prettier than me, including the Hugo Boss model that graced us all with his presence. (Check him out - www.hugboss.com) I was also glad that despite the club location, no one danced like it was a club. Well, one couple enjoyed eachother's company a little too much, but no stranger came too close! Thank goodness. or darn it. I can't really decide.

Shennell asked me if I was disappointed that the invite was only for the after-party. Sure, I would love to have some free stuff, and see a show live but this is just my first Fashion Week in New York. I'll be at a real show soon enough.

Just Another Day at the Beach

A couple of weeks ago I agreed to head to Long Beach with some friends. When I moved to NYC I was pretty surprised to hear that people went to the beach around here. I didn't realize that there were beaches to visit. I should not have been so surprised, after all Long Island is an island. Maybe I thought the beaches were like the ones in Seattle: fun for bonfires, not so fun for swimming or laying out. I had to go through a huge paradigm shift when I went to Coney Island, but you can see the picture and read the post to know why that wasn't a good time. Nonetheless, in order to strengthen new friendships, I donned my suit and went to Long Beach.

In order to get to the beach, we had to take a train and buy a ticket to enter the beach. I guess the prices keep the riffraff out (note to Coney Island...). The train was lots of fun, since my days in Europe I have fallen in love with train travel. The un-fun thing about train travel in New York is Penn Station. That place is HUGE. I actually got lost for a bit when I hung out in the New Jersey transit area while looking for my friends. They were at the Long Island Rail Road area, obviously. Fortunately I actually had cell phone coverage or I would have never ever found them. I am not going to blame myself entirely because I see the ticket counter as a meeting place, not Cinnabon.

The train trip took about an hour--we didn't take an express. We read Vogue and InStyle, Holly had her hair braided, and we discussed Project Runway. Then the train stopped an a quarter of Manhatten got off the train and headed to the beach. We made a detour to the grocery store--a real live actual grocery store. We don't have big grocery stores in New York, and I mean more than three isles. This one had probably twenty isles and a parking lot. They also had grapes for 99 cents a pound. I bought some along with other munchies and water.

We found a spot at the beach, applied sunscreen, ate, and then finally hit the waves. The water was not too cold and it was fun to play in the crashing waves even though I inhaled salt water a couple of times. Needless to say, my sinuses were completely clear by the end of the day. But the water did have a lot of white jellyfish. And a lot means that they were constantly brushing up against me in the water. The Lifeguards assured us that the white ones didn't sting, but still--ICK! And they were all over the shore too. Holly wanted to poke them with a stick, fortunately for them she didn't find any sticks.

My biggest dillemma with the beach was what one does when not in the water. Pretty much you sit and read under the scorching sun. However, it was pretty windy, and hard to read the InStyle or Vogue when Nature decides which article to read. So I sat in the sun. Then Richard decided that he wanted to be buried in the sand, and then Ann wanted to be buried. See the above pictures. When Richard was buried Alejandro and Ann made a sand evening gown, and when Ann was buried we turned her into a beer-bellied truck driver.

I got a sunburn. I reapplied my sunscreen, but I still burned my arms. I was even covered up. So I think the only way for me to leave the beach completely sunscreen free is if I wear a bhurka. It's really the only way. Or I will invest in beach gear: floppy hat, umbrella, prescription sunblock, a house on the beach...

I'm going to make it after all

I know I haven't written in a while, and I do need to update you on the restaurants I've been to and what not--I promise to do that--I just wanted to quickly write and say that it is official: I work in public relations!!!

I know I haven't written about what I've done this summer during the nine to six (Okay sometimes 9-7), but that is because I'm sure that it is not OK to blog about my job. Many people have been fired for divulging too much info via blogs, and I didn't want it to happen to me.

On June 1st I started my internship at Zeno Group, a boutique firm owned by the Daniel J. Edelman Corp. (That's a big deal in the PR world.) Even though the New York branch is primarily a healthcare-focused firm, I convinced the recruiter to let me intern in their consumer division. It was a wise choice because I was busy all summer long. I worked late, juggled multiple projects, gave assignments to the other interns, and basically proved my P.R. abilities. And my superiors even liked my writing!! Which is good; that's why I went into to p.r.--to write more. So last week Zeno offered me a job. I gladly took it. I work with great people, and for the most part I like our clients. I'm not sure how my responsibilities will change now that I am no longer an intern. It is possible that they will not change since, according to my V.P., I worked as an account exective all summer. Two of the times he said this, he had had a couple of martinis, so I will continue to work hard.

If I had a hat I would toss it into the air, spin around, and catch it - a la Mary Tyler Moore. Actually my catching skills aren't stellar. I would probably end up picking the hat up off the ground.

Miss Esther, there's a mouse in the house!

Thursday morning I woke up at 5:40 because I needed to get into work early to do a bit of media monitoring. Surprisingly, I wasn't very groggy. Lately I have been questioning if I really am a morning person because even with 7 hours, I wake up in a zombie-like fog. (Many may recall, that in Seattle I averaged 5.5-6.0 hours per night, and still had lots of energy.) This morning I was very glad to have more spring in my step because I needed it!

After waking I headed to the bathroom to shower and beautify myself. As I was...in the bathroom I saw the shower curtain twitch. I ignored it thinking it was just a wierd gravitational pull, but it did it again. Then I was worried. I recalled last March when I was visiting my friend Krista in NYC and there was a HUGE cockroach in the bathtub. So big that I refused to kill it myself. It was something that I did not want to see in my bathtub at any time. With much trepidation I opened the shower curtain; fortunately I did not see a slimy six-legged mutant. Instead, I saw a wriggly little worm that turned out to be a mouse tail.

This little grey mouse was frantically trying to climb out of the bathtub, but he couldn't quite make it and kept slipping to the bottom of the tub. Since I do not have an aversion towards mice, I actually felt sorry for the little guy. I quickly put some clothes on, grabbed a dishtowel, and tried to pick him up. The dish towel was for my hands. I may not have an aversion to him, but I do have one to the vermin he may have been carrying. Plus he probably bites.

My first attempt to pick him up failed. He's a quick bugger. But I was successful of the second try. I then had to find a flashlight because I remembered that the hallway light wasn't turned on the night before, and I didn't want to trip down the stairs while holding a mouse. Finally we made it outside. I crouched down to let him loose, and boy was he ready to escape. After I opened the towel he made a bee-line to the "curb" for our handrail to climb over the side and on to freedom. Too bad he did not realize that on the other side of that "curb" thing was a 1 story drop. So he fell, but amazingly he did not die. I guess he had so much adrenaline pulsing through his tiny body that the fall did not phase him. As soon as he hit ground he was off like a bolt of lightening. I'm sure he set some kind of mouse record for speed. I imagine, that he probably has a few broken bones or something...or he's just another one of those indestructible New York vermin.

Anyway, for all those who have reconsidered visiting me, we have plugged up all the holes in our apartment with steel wool, and we should no longer have any problems. I think that night he was stuck in our tub was his first night with us, because there weren't any of those tell-tale signs. We will also sweep more.

In the subways you will find people selling all sorts of things. In the L stations there are people who sell bootlegged copies of current films. For kicks, my roommate bought a copy of the Lake House. Angie liked the film on the big screen, so why not watch a film that was filmed at the movie theater! Actually she probably didn't think that as she plopped down five bucks, she just hoped that the copy wasn't too horrible. We watched it this afternoon.

Well to start out, the movie wasn't exactly clear. It was as grainy as watching an old movie on non-HDTV...or any newer TV set. It was pretty much UHF. Actually, it reminded me of Mystery Science Theater 3000. For those of you who don't know what that is, let me explain. It was a show on the Comedy Channel about a guy who was sent to a space ship to watch bad movies as punishment. To endure the drudgery he made robot sidekicks who would make funny commentary throughout the show. Essentially, the viewer would watch people watch movies. So today, The Lake House was MST 3000 without commentary from robots. It was still cheesy enough for me to make my observations.

The videographer had a steady hand, for the most part. There was one part where he must have fallen of his seat because all of a sudden the images on screen went sideways and then black. Then there was the time when the blanket that covered the camera covered the right half of the screen. After a while the left side was covered.

Since it was in the theater, there were a lot of random coughs and at we could see people getting up and going to get more popcorn.

Even though the movie was not that great, I must say that watching it bootlegged made it more entertaining.

In the subways you will find people selling all sorts of things. In the L stations there are people who sell bootlegged copies of current films. For kicks, my roommate bought a copy of the Lake House. Angie liked the film on the big screen, so why not watch a film that was filmed at the movie theater! Actually she probably didn't think that as she plopped down five bucks, she just hoped that the copy wasn't too horrible. We watched it this afternoon.

Well to start out, the movie wasn't exactly clear. It was as grainy as watching an old movie on non-HDTV...or any newer TV set. It was pretty much UHF. Actually, it reminded me of Mystery Science Theater 3000. For those of you who don't know what that is, let me explain. It was a show on the Comedy Channel about a guy who was sent to a space ship to watch bad movies as punishment. To endure the drudgery he made robot sidekicks who would make funny commentary throughout the show. Essentially, the viewer would watch people watch movies. So today, The Lake House was MST 3000 without commentary from robots. It was still cheesy enough for me to make my observations.

The videographer had a steady hand, for the most part. There was one part where he must have fallen of his seat because all of a sudden the images on screen went sideways and then black. Then there was the time when the blanket that covered the camera covered the right half of the screen. After a while the left side was covered.

Since it was in the theater, there were a lot of random coughs and at we could see people getting up and going to get more popcorn.

Even though the movie was not that great, I must say that watching it bootlegged made it more entertaining.

Tonight as I was cooking some dinner, I heard a couple of explosions. No, it wasn't my cooking...even though I do cook on a gas stove. I decided to into my room to see if I could get an idea where that noise came from. It came from a building behind mine that was, at the time, on fire.
After a few more exlosions, the flames got even stronger and they roared out of the window. It seemed like it took forever for the fire department to come and put the fire out. Finally they came.
The first firefighter (sorry for the bad picture) broke all the glass out of the remaining windows on the floor. I thought it was rather odd, but as soon as the hoses turned on, I realized why. The force of the water would have broken the windows anyway, and at least glass was no longer flying with it.

It was creepy to watch, and I am just so glad that no one was in the place...that I saw. I hope everyone was safe.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you put four New Yorkers in a car and sent them to New Jersey? OK, maybe that isn't exactly something you lay awake at night thinking about, but just in case you are let me tell you what happens: confusion. I am not going to blame it on us poor New Yorkers who don't drive anymore; I think New Jersey signage is the biggest culprit.

Today my friends Holly, Richard, and Alejandro borrowed a car and went to IKEA, Costco, and Target. Holly didn't want to drive, and quite frankly I didn't want to either. NYC has way too many one way streets and it can be very confusing. It is not as confusing as the New Jersey Turnpike. Our first stop was IKEA, and it took us three tries to get there. Alejandro drove, and Richard navigated, but it wasn't too successful. I was pretty much not paying attention to where we were or how it was that we got lost. I think the issue was that we were looking for an exit that wasn't well-marked. We always saw it as we passed it. But getting to it would also require driving over medians. Since we weren't in an SUV, we opted against it. We drove by the same mosque about three times, made several U-Turns (some of those being in the same place), and then finally we made it to IKEA.

It was Holly's first time ever at the Swedish haven of cheap furniture. This particular store was enormous--two stories. We started our voyage through the store at the cafe. This is place that requires sustenance for sure, and we all endulged in some swedish meatballs. Then we hit the showroom. I am in the market for furniture because I currently just have mattresses and a mantle that doubles as a vanity. My underwear is in a suitcase next to my closet. So I looked at dressers and shelves. I didn't buy anything though. I am going to wait until I am no longer an intern. Alejandro is in the same boat. We both looked around and bought just a few kitchen things.

So when we finally got done with IKEA (about three hours) we headed over to Costco. In Seattle it is not a good idea to go to Costco on Saturday because it is completely impossible to find a place to park. This is not the case at the Hackensack, NJ Costco. But we had other issues. For example there was four of us and only one Costco card--and this card didn't belong to either of us. Using my powers of stealth, I was able to get in by tagging along with a random shopper, and then met up with the gang. We got a few things, and headed to the checkout. This is where we met up with an issue. Since neither of us was the cardholder, we were not allowed to purchase anything. Dejected, we walked back to our car and headed to Target. That's a good store. No membership cards, we found it easily, and it has pretty much everything one needs. Even vitamins. I actually forgot to buy those...so luckily I discovered this before we left the parking lot.

Amazingly, the trip back to NYC was uneventful. But for those of you who want to drive into New Jersey, be careful of signs and turnpikes and Costco.

For everyone who knows about my love of professional cycling...well all readers should know after my first-day-of-the-Tour post...perhaps you are wondering about my thoughts on the Floyd Landis situation. Well, I will tell you. I firmly believe that he is innocent. You all may think that I am terribly naive, especially after the results of the tests, but I am sticking to my guns. Something is terribly fishy, but yet the press wants to make a villian of him.

True, he hasn't really represented himself like smooth, suave Lance Armstrong. Lance has had seven years of defending himself in the public eye so he is very well-versed in what the media should hear, and I imagine he has a stellar PR team. Floyd, on the other hand, probably didn't think he would need any PR training, so now he is shooting himself in the foot everytime he opens his mouth. If I were his publicist I would tell him to say less, and I would tell his expert friends to quit giving excuses because the press is having a field day making fun of every new idea.

So why do I think he is innocent? He only had one positive test. Sure, it happened to fall at a very important day, but if he wanted to guarantee victory by was of artificial enhancements he would have doped up for the time trial as well. That was the day that sealed his victory. No one dopes just once. He is a hard worker. He proved that early in the season with three wins--and zero positive drug tests.

So now all you CSI fans are shouting, "But what about the tests?" Well that is a question for the UCI, cycling's governing body, and the World Anti-Doping Association. Their tests are flawed! The first flaw is that the UCI uses a testing facility that is notorious for leaking information to the press. (ie Lance Armstrong) They are not supposed to know anything about the athletes they test, but still they manage to be able to tell L'Equipe the nationality of the testee. If the results are supposed to be valid, the facility cannot know anything that could bias their results. Floyd's name should have never (according to the UCI's OWN rules) been out in the public until after the B-sample was tested. But, as the UCI stated, they had to make the announcement before the testing facility told the press. I see red flags here!

Second flaw: Operacion Puerto (OP) has already proved that science does not always work. Several athletes, ie Ivan and Jan, are in trouble for somehow being involved in a doping scandal, yet when they were recently tested after their wins, the tests found nothing. This either means that A) They are totally innocent or B) THEY DON'T WORK. I think Ivan is innocent, however.

Lastly, this whole doping thing has become nothing more than a McCarthy-esque witch hunt. Dennis McQuaid of the UCI spends most of his time bad-mouthing suspected cyclists and won't even help them claim their innocence. For example, I read in Velo News that Spanish authorities have asked the UCI for Jan's blood samples to see if they match the frozen ones from OP. The UCI refused, saying they needed to have them for their research. Wouldn't be horrible if Jan lost everything because the UCI won't help him? McQuaid has even said that if the Italain Olympic committee finds Ivan innocent, the UCI will still sanction him--and they have NO right to do that according to their own laws. Which we have seen they can't even follow in the first place.

Many people blame the drugged up cyclists for ruining the sport. I say that it is the UCI who is ruining it by dragging innocent people through the mud. GO FLOYD!!!

PS Greg LeMond needs to shut the #*$&% up. If the testing procedure was as crazy then as it is now, chances are he would have tested positive for something besides being a major naughty word that my grandmother taught me.

As I am sure most of you heard on the news, New York had a bit of a heat wave last week. You know, I think it is funny that weather makes the news...and more than just the daily forecast. I always look to the news to find out about things that I don't already know. I can pretty much go outside and tell that it is sweltering. Of course the news does tell us how to deal with the heat, which I guess is important. Actually, last week's heat crisis turned scorching temperatures into a near state of emergency.
As I've mentioned in a previous entry, the old buildings we live in are not equipped with central air. (I invite you to read back to my entry on installing air conditioners...it is quite funny.) But since these units are not always cheap, not everyone has one. For example I don't. My apartment has one in the living room, and my two roommates have them in their bedrooms, but I am not quite ready to shell out a hundred or so bucks for one. I have a small fan that I got for free, and at the beginning of summer I thought that was plenty. I figured that it couldn't get hotter or muggier than Ecuador, so I can handle the heat. I am pretty much the most retarded person on the planet. It is hot, and I should go out and get an a/c, but now I tell myself that it is pretty pointless to get one with one month left of summer. Although they will go on sale soon, and maybe I'll get one then.

I am not the only one in this city without an a/c precariously perched on my windowsill. I imagine there are many low-income families in the 'hood that are relying on fans and popsicles to stay cool. (Popsicles are still one step up from me, however. Due to the sugar content, I'm trying to do without.) So when the 100+ days came, and the popsicle/fan combo failed, the residents did the only thing they could do--they bust open the fire hydrants. This is an illegal activity, as they tell us on the news, but it happens on every street. While walking home, I do enjoy the light spray of the hydrant; it is refreshing. I have yet, however, to stand in front of the hydrant. Those things are pretty powerful, and like I said, it is against the law. But when I see the hydrants I often think about running through the sprinklers, which was a favorite childhood activity. I guess fire hydrants are the inner-city sprinkler system.

Fortunately during the day, I am in an air-conditioned office. In fact there are days when it is so cold that I have to turn on the space heater. This week, we were not allowed to keep our a/c as cold, however. You may recall a few years ago when several cities back east blacked out. This is a common occurrence in the summertime because a/c units tend to use up a lot of power. (My roommates told me that energy bills are much higher in the summer than in the winter--that's something that may come as a shock to Seattleites.) In order to conserve energy, ConEd asks everyone to dim lights, lower the a/c temperatures, and turn off any unnecessary electrical appliance. Apparently elevators are one of those unnecessary appliances. I disagree. I work on the 16th floor. As much as I like the stairs, I do not like 16 flights of stairs. That's why I took the freight elevator when our main lifts were grounded on Thursday. The freight elevators have to work for deliveries and the handicapped, or people with stilettos. (Although one girl in my office climbed the 16 floors in 4 inch heels.) That Thursday was a fun day. We had to work with our lights off, and everything seemed really laid back and casual. We ordered in lunch under the excuse that due to the elevators we couldn't leave. I had a really tasty BLT. But the next day, I dressed ready to climb up the stairs, but the elevators were turned on. I'm not sad about that, by the way.

Another fun part of summer are roofop parties. Having a good roof is quite the commodity. Since our apartments are so small, it is hard to have a large party. So resourceful New Yorkers looked to the roof for their smashing parties. In fact there are a few bars/clubs on roofs. I haven't been to any, I've just heard. There are two great reasons to go to a rooftop party: 1. the view. Last week I went to a roof with a great view of the George Washington Bridge. Reason #2. the cool breeze. Add some chips, and you've got a party. The only dilemmas with these parties is electric power. There aren't any outlets up there. So to have lights, music, and the occasional bubble machine, party hosts usually dangle extension cords into their window and plug in that way. This is ideal for those that live on the top floor, but it is very comical when the host lives on the bottom floor. Luckily we aren't dealing with a high rise building. I think those have outlets--they are more modern. They even have central air. No, the party in question had maybe five or six floors, but still the thankfully long cord was lowered all the way to the bottom, with a girl hanging out her window yelling "A little more to the right" at 10:00 p.m.

You are probably wondering when I am going to throw my rooftop party. Well, our roof isn't very accessible. Most good roofs have a stairway leading up to it. We have a ladder. Somehow I don't see myself carrying two litre bottles while climbing up a ladder.

George Washington Slept at the Morris-Jumel Mansion

I may have mentioned once or twice that there is a mansion in my neighborhood. But this is not just any mansion; this is the oldest house in Manhattan, and was George Washington's NY headquarters during the Revolutionary War. A couple of Sundays ago some friends and I went to the museum, and I saw George's actual bedroom. In a way, it was very awe inspiring to think that a Founding Father lived and slept in that actual house--a house that is a stone's throw from mine. Other famous residents include Aaron Burr (the guy who shot Alexander Hamilton in a duel).

While at the house my friends Adam and Steve (a picture of Steve is found in this blog, but FYI he is just a friend with a girlfriend in Utah) saw a sign advertising a jazz festival at the mansion in August. Adam and Steve are huge jazz fans, and were talking about how cool the jazz fest would be when the museum concierge overheard them. She informed them that the lady who puts on the event lives across the street (on the other side of the mansion--not my street) and every Sunday afternoon she invites her jazz musician friends to her house to jam. And this event is open to the public. My two friends were giddy with excitment and I knew we would be heading there after our tour of the museum.

So on we went. I posted the picture of the event above. I tried to get it right here, but I am still figuring this thing out.

Anyway, I like jazz, but not nearly as much as Adam and Steve who have visited many a jazz club this summer, nonetheless this mini-jazz concert was probably the coolest thing I have done in New York thus far. It was the quintessential New York activity. This lady's apartment was by no means lavish (it is in Washington Heights), she had very little artwork on her walls--mostly just newspaper clippings about various jazz artists in the area. Fans were blowing to keep the audience cool. There was quite an audience, too. The little flat had folding chairs and benches packed into every nook and cranny so that everyone could have a seat; good thing too, as every seat was full. The audience was a rather diverse crowd of all ages, races, and salary level. It looked like there were even a couple of tourists. Our hostess was friendly, and made certain everyone had a good time.

That particular Sunday she invited a bass player, trumpter, and flute/saxaphone player. She accompanied them on the piano. They started out with some gospel stand-by's like Amazing Grace and This Little Light of Mine, and then they switched to jazz standards that I had never heard before, but my friends sure had. They were enjoying themselves immensely, and I was extremely glad that we found out about this place. To all my readers who eventually come out to see me, I intend to take you to this place, whether you like jazz music or not. It is just something that you have to do.

Last week I was able to hear a new British band. As many of you know this is my favorite genre. A guy in my ward, Richard, told me about a band called The Feeling. Their sound is classified as 70's soft rock with an edge. I checked out their MySpace site, and heard a few songs before Richard and I went to see them. Their songs were a little on the cheesy side, but totally catchy. I knew I had to see them to know that they were a good band. For me, if a band is not good live, then they are not a good band. So a week ago Wednesday, Richard and I went down to the Mercury Lounge to see them. This lounge was probably the tiniest venue I have ever been to (besides the jazz lady's flat), and I think there were only 50 other people at the show. For all those who didn't make it, they totally missed out. What a fun band. First of all, they were dressed nice. They came out wearing nice trousers, button downs, and the lead singer even wore two-toned wing tip shoes. They were great live. Everyone played/sang on key and their energy was contagious. Their songs seemed more edgy live than the 70's soft rock sound on the disc. Check them out!

Good news folks. I get to see Keane in September. My boss Ian told me about the show, and said he would buy my tickets if I got two more editors to come to our event last Tuesday. I completed my task, and I get to see the band. You can imagine that I am super-ecstatic about the show. They are actually going to play two nights, so I may try to see them both nights. You may think that it is overkill, but I don't...it's Keane! It could be taken as a sign that I have been working with Ian too long. He saw every Madonna performance in NYC (about five + shows), Philly, and Vegas. He also plans to see her in England. Now that is obsessed. I'm just borderline obsessed. Ha! Get the joke? Madonna has a song called Borderline.

Across the street from my place.
My building.
My side of the street.

I thought I would add some more pictures to my blog. I know most of you probably equate Washington Heights with the ghetto, and honestly there are places around here definitely apply. For example I have some guy friends that live on 160th between Broadway and Amsterdam. The Broadway side is very ghetto-esque. The music is loud, there is garbage and graffiti everywhere, and young kids travel around in packs. I don't know what the crime scene is, but my friends have complained of fights outside their window at 5:00 a.m. The Amsterdam side is different. Sure it is not like Central Park West (super ritzy), but even with the graffiti and garbage it is a lot nicer. Somehow it just feels better. (My guy friends agree.) There are a couple of churches on Amsterdam, and I get the impression that there are a lot of families around.

And then there is my street in the Morris-Jumel historical district. It is a quiet street with trees. (a rare sight around here). No graffiti, and no garbage. I hope the pictures give you and idea of my street.

PICTURES! The first is one that I forgot to add to my Coney Island pics. (L-R: Hillary, Steven, JT, and yours truly.) Picture #2 is my living room. Last, is my bedroom...sideways. I'm still learning about this picture thing. Soon I will be more technologically advanced. If you have any tips for me, please send them with your comments.

Happy Fourth of July! I hope that you all had nice barbecues and watched some fireworks. Today I went to Coney Island with some people in my ward. The trip to Coney Island was supposed to be some kind of church activity, but I did not see too many church people, but I saw HORDES of other people, most of whom did not speak any English. Coney Island is kind of a dirty, kitschy place. It has all the obligatory carnival rides, food, litter, and even a freak show.

My two friends, Hillary and Steve, and I arrived at Coney Island in time to catch the end of the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Championship. Perhaps you caught it on ESPN. Anyway we see saw the last minute or so, and in case you are wondering, yes the Japanese kid won again. This time he broke a record: 53 3/4 hot dogs. Well, we couldn't let those guys be the only ones to enjoy hot dogs, so we stood in a very long line to get our own Nathan's Hot Dog. P.S. they are pretty tasty.

While we digested we headed to the beach. I brought my bathing suit, but to be honest I really didn't want to have to put it on. I was in so much luck. First of all the beaches were jam packed full of people. I am not lying. There was no place to sunbathe or swim. And if you closed your eyes for a brief moment, when you open them it would be like you were in another country. The other reason I didn't put the suit on was because the lines for the bathrooms were horrendously long. (Seriously, I paid money at a karate studio to not stand in line. The added bonus was that the restroom was also clean. Best $1 I spent.) We continued to walk around and enjoyed the occasional breeze and finally met up with JT, one of Steve's friends.

The main draw for the activity was a ride on the Cyclone--an old, wooden roller coaster. It has been awhile since I've been on a roller coaster, and I must say it was fun. I rode in the same car as TJ who asked me not too laugh if he screamed like a girl. Lucky for him, he did not scream like a girl. I did. It was a quick ride, and lucky for me it was free. Otherwise I would have had to pay $6.00. I don't think it was worth $6.00. But it was an essential activity for a Coney Island nonetheless.

The weather was unbearably hot. I am not sure of the exact temperature, but it was also muggy. Compound that with the amount of bodies in that small area...and you get one hot outing to Coney Island. I think I lost three pounds of sweat. I was glad that I got to go to Coney Island, but I will not be sad if I don't go back. It is kind of an icky place. Fortunately, I got to do the important stuff: the Nathan's hot dog and the Cyclone. Now I don't have to go back. And the first thing I did when I got home was shower and wash it all off of me.

I don't think I adequately conveyed how icky Coney Island is. It used to be the place that everyone went visited, but it is not that way now. Most people say that you have to get a hot dog and ride the Cyclone--which I did--and then there is no reason to go back. Obviously it is still a draw for some people because the beach was packed. But I think it is just the people who can only afford to go to Coney Island. The subway fare is $2, which is normal subway fare.

If I am lucky, my next trip to Long Island will take me to the Hamptons, by way of the Long Island Rail Road.

I am pleased to announce that I am an aunt...again. My baby brother's wife just had their second child on June 30th. If you want to see pictures of little Wyatt Carter Clifford, check out their blog: www.cliffordgoestothecountry.blogspot.com. He is adorable, and so is my other nephew Ezra.

When you get done reading their blog, come back to mine.

New york is famous for its fine dining options...or so they say. There are tons of restaurants, and I do not even plan to eat at all of them. Since I have a limited cash flow, I try not to eat out often. I will usually allow myself one night a week. When I do eat out, I try to find an inexpensive place that isn't fast food. On busy evenings I usually pick up a sandwich at a grocery store, but that can sometimes run a little pricey. But of all the cheapest places I've eaten, here are my favorites:

You may have heard of Grey's Papaya on a few different pro-New York films like Fools Rush In or You've Got Mail. Grey's Papaya is basically a hot dog restaurant. There isn't a place to sit down, but there is a shelter with doors. I guess that is what differentiates them from a cart hot dog. Hot dogs are very typical New York, and these are not bad tasting. (I hear the cart hot dogs are also very tasty. I have yet to try one.) The best thing about Grey's is that is it SUPER cheap. For $2.75 you can get a full meal. This meal is called the Recession Special and it is basically two dogs and a good sized cup of juice. I get papaya juice. It is good, filling, and to reiterate: CHEAP. It is close to the temple so I stop by there to grab a quick dinner before going to the temple.

A few weeks ago my roommates and I decided to go out on a Saturday night, and we headed to the Shake Shack at Madison Square Park. This little establishment is a hamburger/hot dog stand that also makes yummy shakes with frozen custard. I ate a Chicago-style hot dog (dog with a "salad" on top), the best crinkle-cut fries known to man, a diet Coke, and a shake with a vanilla custard base and mixed with peanut butter and chocolate truffle cookie dough. I know...YUM-O!

Last night my roommate Angie and I ate at Peanut Butter & Co. This is kind of a cute idea for a restaurant because the main dishes are all peanut butter sandwiches. They have classics like PB&J or PB and marshmallow cream. They also have a few odd ones like "The Pregnant Lady" - PB and pickles. Yeah I know, ew. I had the Elvis: pb, bananas, honey, and cinnamon. It was very delicious and sticky. Angie had the Jerry Seinfeld: pb with honey and cinnamon on a bagel. Both sandwiches were served with potato chips and carrot sticks, and we both opted to wash down our meal with a glass of milk.

One of these days I will make enough money to eat at One if By Land, Two if By Sea (a spendy and haunted restaurant). But my next dining adventure will mostl likely be street food. Hot dogs, soft pretzels, kabobs, ice cream, and maalox. Sounds good!

TOURmoil. That is what I am feeling right now. Today is the start of my absloute favorite sporting event - The Tour de France. I know some of you are totally immersed in World Cup Fever; I think real football is fabulous, but I love the Tour. However that being said, I am in TOURmoil. This year was predicted to be exciting due to Lance Armstrong's retirement, but I don't think anyone would have predicted the fallout of the past couple of days. Last May Spanish authorities found instruments, blood, steroids, and information about many top riders who may be involved. For the most part the information implicated mostly Spanih riders, so I didn't follow it too much. My favorite was Ivan Basso, and I planned to put all my support behind the talented Italian. He came in 2nd at last year's Tour, and third the previous year. This year he continued to be in good form and even won the Giro d'Italia (a major stage race) as a promise to his mother. Yesterday horror struck when he was sent home from the Tour under suspicion of doping. He was not the only one; two other top riders were sent home for suspicion of being involved in the Spanish doping scandal--including Jan Ullrich a BIG name in cycling.

Cycling has had a terrible history with doping problems because it is an incredible feat of strength and endurance to ride a bike for twenty one days, and some of those days over some of the most challenging mountains. Every year there is shock when another cyclist tests positive for some type of drug. Worse than the cheating soon everyone who wins is automatically suspected of doping. Take Lance Armstrong. During his reign of the Tour he was tested more than any other cyclist, and even though he never tested positive people want to accuse him of cheating. When big names test positive they automatically fight to save their innocence and often blame faulty testing. It is easy for cycling fans and media to become jaded by the whole sport.

I read some letters to the editor at Velo News, and I was pretty disappointed by the reaction. Practically everyone wanted to burn Ivan, Jan, and all the others at the stake even though none of the cyclists have ever tested positive. Citing guilt by association, fans want to make sure these men never see a bike again. Maybe I am naive, but I want to believe these guys are innocent until there is hard evidence that performance enhancing drugs are racing through their bloodstream. Lance was associated with a doctor infamous for giving his clients illegal cycling aids, and although this led to large amounts of suspicion and random tests, Lance did not test positive. He also severed ties with the doctor once he was convicted. So with that little bit of logic that is my opinion of the cyclists who have just fallen from grace.

Despite Ivan's departure, I will still be glued to the tv and internet absorbing all I can about my favorite sport. I woke up early this morning to watch the pre-show and the prologue on OLN. I do have other cycling favorites: Floyd Landis of Phonak and Dave Zabriskie of CSC (Ivan's teammeate). I think Floyd will win. So far this year he has won the Tour of California, the Paris-Nice, and the Tour of Georgia. He is in excellent form this year, and I am hopeful that he will win. A good portion of the US cycling world feels the same way (even when Jan and Ivan were in the picture). The only people who need to be convinced is OLN. This cable channel has the only coverage for the Tour and even though Armstrong has retired, the network still acts like the Only Lance Network. To cut them some slack, OLN is a part sponsor of the Discovery Channel team, so they are going to spend most of their time promoting the them. Granted, George Hincapie could pull a surprise and win the whole thing--he did come in 2nd place at today's time trial--but I wish OLN would stop focusing so much on the Discovery Team, and mentioning Lance every five seconds. It is time to crown a new cycling king, but they need to realize that it is quite possible that the crown could go to a cyclist from T-Mobile.

That's why this tour is going to be exciting. The last few years the winner was going to be Lance. Even though my allegiance shifted to Ivan last year, I knew that Lance was going to win. This year it is anyone's game, and I cannot wait to see how it develops. You will probably see some postings about the Tour because I don't have any Tour friends here. My friends in Seattle would either indulge my constant Tour updates or at least let me discuss my opinions, but I don't really have that now. Yesterday was tough because I wanted to talk about my opinions with someone - anyone. I am glad that my roommate Angie was willing to listen, but I need a fellow fan.

Most of you know that I am a music fan. Last year I went to a few concerts, and I happen to kinda like a band named Keane. So today I thought I'd update you on some music goings on. Earlier I told you that I went to watch Snow Patrol on Good Morning America. I really like Snow Patrol, and their latest CD, Eyes Open, has been my favorite this year. But my true music love is Keane. On Tuesday their new CD, Under the Iron Sea, was finally released in the US. I have waited a very long time for this. I have also been a little apprehensive. The sophmore CD is a tough one--especially after a stellar debut album. This new one is different from Hopes and Fears, and there is something in their sound that will take some getting used to. But I like it, and I look forward to loving it.

Since Keane arrived in the US, I have seen them in concert 3 times, and I was determined to see them here in New York. In fact, when tickets went on sale for the June 23rd show (yes, tonight) I was online trying to purchase. To my grave disappointment the show sold out in TWO MINUTES. However, I was determined to try Craigslist later on. But I had a bit of a moral dilemma. I am pretty much poor. My intern salary is only $10/hour, so I really didn't think I should spend my hard earned dollars on a concert when rent is so expensive. I definitely vascilated.

The other day I did check out Craigslist because I decided that I could afford a $35.00 ticket to my Favorite Band for Life. To my horror most of the posts (and by most I mean 98%) were for people wanting to buy tickets and they were willing to spend $300 for them. I could not compete with that. My two coworkers, Ian and Tricia tried to talk me into going down to the Bowery Ballroom anyway and getting a ticket from someone desperate to get rid of one. Honestly, if I was desperate to sell, I would still hold out for someone more desperate than me. I came close to going, but I had to go home after work, and I chickened out.

I am seriously the wierdest girl. How is it that I am brave enough to quit my job and move across the country, but I cannot attempt to meet or see my favorite musicians? (Most of you may recall my poor decision last year in Austin that kept me from meeting Keane. And my Snow Patrol half-effort) I am soo lame!!! I just hope Keane comes back to New York soon, and I will try again. People familiar with the new album should chuckle. Try Again is the name of one of the songs...a really pretty one, too.

I did attend a concert on Sunday. Now, don't think that I am a heathen; I actually saw Gladys Knight and the Saints United Voices choir...not the Pips. This choir is Sister Gladys Knight's missionary tool, and I must admit that she does a fabulous job. The largest focus of the concert was to share her testimony with those not of our faith. The music was not at all what one would hear at a regular church service or EFY fireside. It was more reminiscent of a revival meeting. We were even encouraged to clap our hands. For those readers that are not Mormon, I should let you know that we do not clap in church. But we were allowed to do so on Sunday, and it was fun. Gladys Knight has done a great job with her choir, and she is fun to watch as a chorister--she dances around. I wonder if Mac Wilberg or Craig Jessop of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir will ever start dancing. Probably not. Gladys Knight sang one of our classic hymns, I Am a Child of God. This hymn is important for our church and has been translated in practically every language. On Sunday I heard it in a new language--gospel. It was pretty cool. I have to admit that gospel/religious non-hymn is NOT my favorite music genre. I usually classify it with country or Backstreet Boys (unlistenable), but I appreciate the goal and efforts of the choir.

I really wanted her to sing "A Midnight Train to Georgia" but I guess that doesn't really classify as a church song.

We are having really great weather today. The sun is bright, but the breeze keeps the temperature down. When it is nice like this I am sad that I have to spend so much time underground in the subway system. I don't think there is a day that I have not gotten on the subway since I have been here. Generally, I don't really hang out in my 'hood. When I am not at home I hop the C train, connect to the A and explore Soho, Chelsea, and wherever. And of course, on Monday through Friday, I go to work. In the four weeks that I have been using the subways, I haven't had too many mishaps or experiences. I got lost a little bit my first day and I saw my first rat(s) in a subway, but that was it--until last Friday.

On Friday I should have stayed late at work to get more done on a project. I didn't have too, but since I was meeting friends for dinner, I wanted to go home, freshen up, and drop off the milk I wanted to purchase on my way home. None of that agenda (except for meeting friends) was all that important, but I did it just the same. On my way back downtown I did my usual C to A train switch, and sat back for what should have been a quick trip downtown. Shortly before we got the 125th Street station, the train stopped. This is not unusual by any means, so I waited for the train to move while patting myself on the back for leaving my house an hour before I had to meet Erika and Sara. Soon the conductor's voice came on the loudspeaker to explain why we weren't going anywhere. I heard him say something to effect that the train just ahead of us in the station had broken down and there was an investigation. He assured us that we would be moving soon. After a few minutes the train did inch foward, but we had not travelled too far before we stopped again.

I glanced around at the annoyed faces around me, and I am certain that my eyes echoed the sentiments. Then the conductor came on again, and told us that if we wanted to leave the train, we had to move up to the first car. The cars were not overly full, so the cattle drive to the front was almost pleasant. Teen-age boys held the doors open, and passengers exchanged comments about the goings on in the subway system. I say it was almost pleasant, because an unfortunate man was not feeling too well and started to vomit. So we all had to dodge the splatter on the way to the next car. I felt sorry for him. If we hadn't had to stall, he could have purged in a less public place. As he retched, a few people giggled, but I think most people felt sorry for him. I assume so because New Yorkers don't have a problem voicing their opinions.

The herd stopped and waited. Soon the train shut down completely; both the air conditioner and lights went off. The emergency lights were illuminated so weren't totally in the dark. For a while no one moved, and no one knew what was going on. After five minutes or so I saw the people in front moving again, and we all headed towards the front. But not only did we have to go through the whole A train, we also had to go through the D that was stuck at the platform. As I emerged from the train a group of subway workers and a couple of detectives ushered us away from the platform. I wasn't sure what to do at this point. We were led away from the downtown platform, but I knew that other downtown trains stop at that station, so why couldn't I just get on one of those. I caught up with a lady that I exchanged a few crisis pleasantries with to get an idea of the situation. She informed me that the D train was not stalled because it broke down; it stalled because someone either jumped or was pushed in front of the moving train. She prayed that he was still alive. Oh. I was no longer annoyed about being late to meet my friends.

Obviously this is not the kind of story that you all want to read, I am sure. But sadly, this happens on the subway. A lot happens on the subways. People read, sleep, daydream, meet old friends, flirt with new ones, kiss, scold children, cry, laugh, sing, sell,beg, start their days, and sadly some end their days. When people are tense from the work week, tempers are short, and the accidental push can cause a near brawl. But there is always compassion. On that Friday before we stalled, I one-armed man walked through our train playing a few notes on a harmonica. He held on to the instrument with his limbless shoulder, and in the other he held a cup to collect change. He couldn't play very well--only three notes--but I think he collected more change than anyone else I've seen.

Saturday's lesson in compassion taught me a lot about judging others. On my way home from Chelsea Markets I decided to take the local C train. the ride is longer than the express A, but it takes me directly to my stop. After we left the station, I kind of regretted my car choice. There were a group of young ladies with strollers laughing and carrying on a little irreverently. One girl was particularly loud. She swore, laughed loudly, and was generally obnoxious. If a young guy sat down, she would sit next to him--closely--and would loudly flirt with the guy. A lot of times these boys would leave the train at the next station. I rolled my eyes, contemplated the welfare of their kids and futures. As did a few others on my side of the train car.

A few stops later a girl entered our car, and asked if anyone had anything to drink. She was thirsty, but also looked a little upset. I didn't have anything, and a few others pretended not to hear. The obnoxious girl did hear, and offered her a bottle of apple juice that had not been open. She wasn't loud when she offered the beverage. Her loud, bawdy tone and demeaner shifted as she graciously gave that girl that drink she needed. My opinion of that loud girl changed. She helped when no one else could or would.

The thirsty girl was indeed upset. She wiped away tears as she stood and drank her juice. But she didn't stay with us long; she decided to go to another car. On her way to the other car, that once-obnoxious girl also gave her a Kleenex to wipe her eyes. After that one girl left, the one who was loud continued to laugh, swear, and flirt with the young male passengers, but after seeing her kind gestures, I was more amused than annoyed.

Even though the subway smells bad, is crowded in the a.m., and has it's disturbing moments, I appreciate the subway. Not only because it costs less than gas. I also appreciate the glimpses of good human nature in this very dog eat dog world.

My friend Carrie from BYU has made some lists of seven on her blog, and asked me to do the same. A very fun idea. Here it goes:

7 Places Where I Would Like to Live
1. NYC, oh yeah, I'm here.
2. London, England, UK, The World
3. In that tiny little town across the hill from Nice.
4. Vancouver, B.C.
5. Barcelona, Spain.
6. Austin, TX except when it's hot.
7. Seattle, WA - of course I'd go back

7 Possible Names for my Future Kids-I don't intend to have that many...but you need to be prepared for any possible spousal veto.
1. Magnus
2. Megan
3. Deacon
4. Lydia
5. Wesley
6. Elaine
7. Caleb

7 Foods That Will Always be Found in My Pantry or Fridge
1. semi-sweet chocolate
2. cheese
3. nuts
4. popcorn
5. yogurt
6. avacados or guacamole
7. fruit (the variety depends on the season)

The 7 Most Played songs on my iTunes. I was surprised by the results (Don't worry, Keane will catch up):
1. How Will He Find Me, Deb Talan
2. Set the Fire to the 3rd Bar, Snow Patrol
3. What You Wish For, Guster
4. Either Way, Guster
5. I Spy, Guster
6. Two Points for Honesty, Guster
7. Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

The 7 Things I Would Like to Have in a Future Spouse:
1. Intelligence
2. Motivated
3. Integrity (I include all Church worthiness in the category)
4. Hard Worker
5. Someone who can make me blush like a school girl
6. Looks great in a t-shirt (you know, nice shoulders)
7. I've always been weak in the knees for sparkly blue eyes.

7 Reasons Why I Would Be a Good Spouse
1. I know that I am not always right
2. I can cook. Interpret that as you will ;)
3. I may be poised, but there's never a dull moment
4. I know how to save money and still have fun
5. I can whisper sweet nothings in three languages
6. I don't always go see the chick movies...I like the Great Escape!
7. I've had no complaints in the kissing department...

7 Things I Would Like to Do Before I Die
1. Visit all continents except for Antarctica (too cold).
2. Do a geneological tour of Ireland, England, and Denmark.
3. Watch a Tour de France mountain stage.
4. Be married and enjoy "conjugal bliss"
5. Read all the books my high school didn't have me read, like Grapes of Wrath.
6. Help an organization that brings real solutions to developing nations, especially if that involves going to a developing nation.
7. Write a book.

That was fun. What are your seven 7 lists?

I had my very first celebrity sighting on Thursday afternoon. I was walking along third avenue in the East Village/Flatiron area when I saw John Leguizamo. He played Toulouse Lautrec in Moulin Rouge. I know, he's not some huge, hyper-famous celebrity, but I am sure he is still a person that likes to be left alone. So I did not chase after him begging for an autograph. I should probably keep a journal of all the celebrities I see, because in a place like New York I am bound to see a lot. Especially since this area has tons of TV shows where actors, writers, and musicians come to promote their projects.

One band that I like a lot is Snow Patrol. (Ha! You thought I was going to say Keane.) Snow Patrol is an Irish band I saw last year on my birthday. I have recently bought their latest album, and it is FABULOUS. I encourage you all to buy it. One song from this particular cd was recently featured on the ABC show Gray's Anatomy. Maybe there was buzz for this song, because ABC invited Snow Patrol to perform that song on Good Morning America.

I found out about the performance through an email I got from the band. (OK not the band per se, but it was from the Snow Patrol organization. But I would not complain if Gary Lightbody, the lead singer, did send me an email). The email announced that the performance would be on Memorial Day. I decided right then and there that I was going to go down to Times Square to see the performance.

To get inside the studio for the performance I had to email ABC to request "tickets." They don't actually issue tickets, but they will email would-be guests and inform them that they are on the reservation list. Since I requested a spot on Saturday I thought my chances were pretty slim for getting in the studio. Nonetheless, I could stand outside and watch the performance from there. I did check my email Sunday night, and I received no notice that I would be in the studio.

So yes, I woke up at 5:30 to stand outside of the Good Morning America studio to catch a glance of Snow Patrol. Luckily I was not the only fan of the band to wait around to see them. And fortunately Tyler Florence of Food Network fame was outside barbecuing for a segment on the show. I knew the band would be on last, but that didn't matter. It was pretty cool to watch a TV show being taped.

I was perched outside the window with a pretty good view of the band. I was closer to them there than I would be if I could afford to go to their concert this Friday (I really want to see that concert. I am SO devastated). It is possible that the camera may have gotten a glimpse of me as it panned the audience inside. I stayed there for two hours as I waited for the end of the show.

With about thirty minutes left in the show, the tv crew prepared that area for the last two segments: Tyler Florence and Snow Patrol. There must have been a glare because they crew lowered a black curtain over the windows. The curtain was somewhat clear; I could still see inside, but barely. I stuck it out that long, and even though I was upset by the curtain, I was bound to stick it out to the end.

Finally the band played the song "Chasing Cars," a beautiful soft song that perhaps I will play at my wedding reception. The performance sounded good, and I was happy to be able to see the band through the curtain. My heighth helped.

When Good Morning America was over I decided to wait around to see Snow Patrol leave the studio. My original plan was to take my cd and and a Sharpie to get an autograph, but when one wakes up at 5:30 on a holiday things are forgotten. I was not only person waiting for the band, but thankfully this group stayed under ten people. Finally the band walked out of the side door and headed to the curb to talk with managers and drivers, etc. Just as soon as they were out a group of girls in short skirts went up to talk to them. They took pictures and chatted, and I stood there and watched. I had no camera for pictures, and I didn't really want to appear like another giggly groupie in a short skirt trying to get the attentions of the good looking Irish boys. I was not wearing a short skirt; I was in pants. My insecurity got the better of me. Even if I had a profound way of telling them how much I felt about the cd, why would they want to talk to me? (I generally feel this way whenever I attempt to talk to a boy.) I froze on my spot on the pavement, and watched them talk with the other girls, and then eventually walk away.

I would for sure love to meet members of my favorite bands, but I would like it to happen more organically than running after them to get a picture and an autograph. Maybe that way I wouldn't feel so self-conscious. I think it would be way more interesting to meet-- say--Tom Chaplin of Keane at Whole Foods as we both reach for the same Odwalla fruit smoothie. (I hear he likes them.) That way I could have a lot more to say than gushing about their latest album or performance. Maybe they'd have something to say to me as well.

But that is the beauty of living in New York. It is quite likely that I could bump into some celebrity at Magnolia Bakery or Bliss Spa and have an absolutely normal conversation. And to improve my chances I have been thinking about joining Crunch Gyms. It is a good gym, and I hear that Matt Damon and Calvin Klein work out there...

* I did make it on tv. You can actually see my silhouette during the music performance. I'm not sure if you can see me any other time. My roommate taped it for me to watch, and there I was was. My grandma also taped it. And because of that show I have now also seen Charlie Gibson and Tyler Florence, along with Snow Patrol.