NYC Revisited: Day Two

The morning after the wedding we slept in until a whopping 8:30. (Full disclosure I woke up at 5:45 and remembered I could keep sleeping, again at 7 and figured why not see what happened, and then at 8:30 knew that this was the latest my body could possibly understand how to stay asleep).

After a cute breakfast enjoying outdoor seating and people-watching we lazily set up our plan for the day. It revolved around eating, and particularly tracking down a portobello mushroom sandwich with mozzarella and tomato and zucchini that had once made me briefly consider being a vegetarian. We've thought about this appetizer for years and were so excited to see that even though restaurants like Orbit and Creole and One Fish Two Fish are no longer in existence, Ricardo's still was.

J-Man and I soon set off to walk from 80th and Broadway across the park and uptown to 110th and 2nd. We stopped to take some photos, though J-Man reminded me that we didn't need many. After all, we once lived here, and we can come back whenever. Still, I wanted to capture some cuteness.

By the time we'd crossed the park my legs were already laughing at me and my suburb-driving self that doesn't exercise. My hips were like "you know we could've taken a cab right? or a bus or train or uber or horse carriage..." I grabbed a Snapple from a street vendor and told those legs to shove it. I'm still as city fit as I was at 22. In my mind.

Crossing back uptown was a fun adventure. The shift in color and culture of the people on the street came a little farther north than it used to, and people were actually brunching outside above 96th street. But soon enough we were back in our neighborhood. We blended in again, the Spanish chatter started to pick up, and the city transformed into what somehow once was home. Sure enough, as we turned the final corner, there was Ricardo's just as we'd remembered it.

Actually, it was busier than we remembered. And there was a DJ playing poppy hip-hop music. We waited for a table and looked over the brunch menu only to find... what?! No portobello?!?!? How had we not considered once that the menu could have changed in the eight years since we'd last visited? We had to laugh and roll our eyes at ourselves. Of course New York was changing without us. Luckily, the menu was still delicious, and while I'm not a food-picture-taker in general, I did snap this little beauty. Maybe it'll still be around in eight more years?

We walked another six blocks north to see if Mojitos was still around too. That place was our staple once upon a time. Work happy hours, late night tacos, flaming cucarachas. Not only was it going strong, but 116th had some sort of street fair happening. It reminded me of the week after I moved in and the Puerto Rican festival just popped up outside my window. I know when Papa H dropped me off in Harlem the day after my ivy-covered college graduation we were all a little nervous about the neighborhood, but I felt nothing but happy memories standing on the corner.

And J-Man had nothing but good memories standing on his own old stoop too, just a block away from mine.

In case you're wondering, my legs insisted that we cab it back and relax for a few hours next. We watched Spotlight and dozed before starting up friend time. Highly recommended by the way.

Our next food focal point was Tony's Di Napoli. I know there's tons of great Italian food in this city so not everyone will agree, but this one is our favorite. It was always a reliable meal I could take my parents to without exotic cuisine fusions dominating the menu. V joined us - providing stories that could prove to our other college friends that she does still exist and work and isn't on a top secret government assignment - and so did Miss F.  We ordered our favorite zucchini chips and ziti and J-Man's only acceptable chicken marsala. Conversation floated from stealing babies to AMNH exhibits to new job opportunities and of course, the boys we missed so dearly. Also, because V is quite elusive - I took some proof of life.

Back on the west side we finally got to see EK and her husband and thank them for letting us treat their apartment as our personal hotel for the weekend. EK, Miss F and I ate sweets and caught up on life while the boys chatted and discussed the Olympic gymnast's compound fracture.

It was all quite lovely. A perfect little trip. And exhausted we all headed to bed happy.

Oh, and because I like snapchat still, here's my story :)

Signs I'm Getting Old(er)

1. I put in my leave request this week for my upcoming tenth college reunion. Tenth!

2. My impulse buy at the grocery store was brie and water crackers.

3. I celebrated my thirty-second birthday.

4. I didn't care much about eating cake on my birthday. Although I still did.

5. My back hurts enough these days for me to request a massage as a present.

6. I fell asleep around 8pm on my birthday and felt no shame whatsoever. I was tired.

7. The early morning and late evening commute radio stations play throwback jams that now match my middle and high school years. Not my older siblings'. Not my parents'. The nineties are nothing but serious nostalgia now.

8. I spent the Saturday between Mother's Day and my birthday home alone, avoiding Chuck E. Cheese with its bright lights and terrible pizza and overwhelming noise like the plague.

9. While avoiding the big C.E.C. reward adventure (30 bedtime stickers for PDG!!), I instead took pleasure in catching up on laundry. Pleasure!

10. Did I mention already falling asleep at 8pm? Or is this early memory loss? And am I talking to myself now? Eek, this aging thing is scary!

...

But in reality, I know I'm young. I have another year full of many great memories in the bank, and plenty of reason to look forward to all that being 32 entails. Bring it on!

Deep, Deep Thoughts

Yesterday J-Man showed me a video that he thought I would like. It was a fair assumption. The video was deep thoughts with Anna Kendrick, so what's not to like? Perhaps you've already seen it and really liked it and laughed out loud. I'm not really sure why I didn't.

I love Anna Kendrick. I love her movies. I laughed til I snorted at Pitch Perfect and even went to the theaters for Into the Woods. Don't even get me started on how I ugly cried my way through The Last Five Years at 6am while my family slept soundly one Saturday morning. It was just after a big fight J-Man and I had (which I refuse to detail here because a) you probably don't care, b) it's been resolved, and c) it's not really your business even though you hopefully know that we are human and have been married seven ((seven?!)) years and therefore occasionally find ways to drive each other beyond insane before forgiving one another and making up and remembering all the reasons we love each other) ... where was I?

Oh, right, AK's deep thoughts. Man, I got off track...

I think I didn't get all giggly because when you say the words "deep thoughts," only one image comes to mind: a college classmate's Jack Handey AIM away messages circa 2003.

I told J-Man this and he did a half smile, but I got temporarily transported back in time. I mean, I used to spend hours upon hours in front of my super heavy Thinkpad "studying" and "writing papers" while obsessively staring at people's away messages. Remember these?

I used to try to write clever ones. Sometimes a profound quote from something I was reading for class. Sometimes a deep pondering of my own. Often something weird and semi-salacious like "showering with KB" because I was nineteen and still awkwardly trying to learn how to be flirtatious. Anything was better than the generic message above. Seeing that exact font sends shivers of anxiety through my fingers. Short-lived crushes began and ended over AIM, and an away message managed to say more than the hundreds of status updates I scroll past on facebook these days.

When my friend started doing Jack Handey quotes, I actually thought he was brilliant, a comedic genius. Call me naive. I'd watched SNL less times than fingers on my hand. I didn't know Deep Thoughts were a thing. I figured he was more intelligent than I'd given him credit for as a football player and continued my spiral of everyone-here-is-so-much-freaking-smarter-than-me-and-prettier-and-funnier-and-I-hate-them-all. At nineteen that spiral was mad deep like a cyclone.

How relieved was I to find out that he was just like the rest of us, stealing ideas to keep people interested. Borrowing from others to start conversations. Hoping someone had something to say about the tiny bat signals of loneliness those AIM messages really could be.

My mind wandered down those paths while I listened to this new set of Thoughts. I considered what a kid I used to be. I considered how insecure I felt, waiting for messages, watching names shift from black, to idle gray, to black again, wondering if certain screen names would write, or if I should write first, or if anyone watched niloha05 as closely as I watched them.

Sometimes I wish I were a college kid still: young, free, inventive, with endless life potential. And then, sometimes, I'm really glad to be in my thirties, settled and routinized yet brave in surprising new ways, not giving nearly as much of a flying fig what the cool kids think.

Spring Break West Coast Part 1

First - some housekeeping notes

1 - I know, I've only done 7 posts each, and not my resolved 8 minimum, for the past two months.  But I haven't disappeared and this month just could be my comeback.  Or I'm a failure.  One of the two.

2 - If we're facebook friends, you'll already have seen most of these pictures for the next post or two.  Since I have no way of predicting how the internet will continue to explode in years to come, I plan on storing PDG digitally everywhere, so that one day he will have no choice but to relive his life through the eyes of his mama.  Kidding.  Kind of.

3- There's no #3, but a two-item list always looks poorly planned to me.

So for Spring Break 2013 we packed our bags (which takes considerably longer with a child) and headed to the west coast.  Sunny San Francisco, to be followed by Seattle/Tacoma - next post.

 Quick aside - look what pregnancy did for my hair!  Isn't it crazy how long it got?  I just can't bring myself to cut it.

Usually J-Man is as anti-tourist as possible.  He's like, "let's go find the ghetto and walk around and be gangstas" while I'm like "ooh, take my picture here.  and here.  and now with PDG."

We arrived late Friday night, and after giving PDG an extra dose of Benadryl, we all conked out in a Best Western and slept til 7am PST.  (Yes, PST.  How is that possible?) We woke up totally refreshed and magically already adjusted to the time change.  

First stop was the Castro.  Kinda random, one might think, but J-Man has a good friend there we'll call TJ.  He's a friend from the frat who, when we last saw him, had just come out and had decided the best place for a newly comfortable gay guy to move would be SF.  No one argued, and three years later he is happy as a lark.  We had some good sushi, and walked to Dolores Park.  No, no one offered us drugs. Yes, the kids section there is fantastic.

PDG loved the swings but hated the sandbox.  He wouldn't move an inch.  His distrust of the shifty ground made him sit perfectly still and frown until I got tired of other mamas and their kiddos looking at me like why isn't your kid actually playing...

The afternoon was a walking tour with my friend ELE.  We started at Ghirardelli, hiked up Hyde to the top of Lombard, took the photo above, and then strolled gradually downhill to the Marina, where she lives. Note the Seahawks gear.  J-Man insisted that the logo be visible at all times during our stay, which was made possible with his hat, jersey, and jacket in constant rotation.

Sadly I only had the phone camera for most of SF, since we were sweaty and tired walking everywhere pushing the stroller. 

The next day we met up with a friend from Princeton and we saw even more sites.  This time the bottom of Lombard

We kept with our free streak visiting the sea lions.  

Where we took a lot of photos

Because sea lions are cool and make funny noises.  That are even funnier when J-Man imitates

We walked to the Ferry house, where of course J-Man had oysters, but managed to avoid the jerky, before trekking back to our hotel.  The Intercontinental.   

Monday night we couldn't sleep, but that just gave us plenty of time to get up and ready for a morning walk downtown to Google to see ELE again, her awesome office, and eat all the free food they get.  Fresh waffles and omelettes? Pre-sliced fruit?  I felt as spoiled as an undergrad.  And like in undergrad, I understood that free food is never really free.  ELE is paying somewhere along the line.  But for us, not a penny spent, and even a high chair.  Score.

With a few more meals, a trip to Berkeley (which, honestly, wasn't pretty enough for me to take pictures of - no offense any Berkeley-lovers.  I'm sure you're hipster enough to believe I just don't see its inner beauty or whatever), and even a family nap, we headed out Tuesday midday to go north to Tac-town.

Let the travel log continue next post....

Beach Bums

Since we missed beach time for Memorial Day, and since we "went back" to my alma mater last year, we decided to take advantage of some sun and set out for a day on the water this past weekend.

As my news feed fills up with orange and black, we decided to look forward while dressed for the past.  Through some clever convincing, I was able to close J-Man into agreeing to tag along with KB and her family to Colonial Beach

There we set up massive camp.  J-Man and I had nothing to do with this, as neither of us are beach kids.  In fact, despite my parents' best attempts, I fulfill the stereotypes about black women and water.  I suppose my hair isn't a huge inconvenience, but it's a great excuse for a general discomfort in deep water and exhaustion when treading.  Even so, we have hopes that PDG will be a fearless water baby.

When you put his feet in the water, he gives a look to say "Ok, I might be alright with this, but not enough to splash or smile... this time."  Even though the water was ice cold, he snuggled his toes into the sand, bore weight on his ever-strengthening legs, and let me hold him there until my own legs tired of squatting.

Success!

Then, a lot of relaxing in the shade, watching his buddy 4.0 (that's his buddy's name, and his buddy is full of excitement as he's now crawling!), and eventually a good long nap on the car ride home.

Mommy-Daddy Time

This weekend J-Man and I braved an activity many new parents wait months or years to attempt.  As such, someone out there is probably judging me really hard right now.  Oh well.

We left PDG alone for about 30 hours as we headed north to NYC.

It wasn't an emergency.  We weren't laden with guilt.  We could have found a way to only be separated for 3 hours instead of the full 30.

But this was mommy-daddy time.  This was a continuation of Nicole's Birthday Month.

Weekend one - Apple Blossom (which deserves its own post or two)
Weekend two - Fun and Food in the Park (so much food!!)
Weekend three - NYC for Newsies and lunch at Tony's
Weekend four - Vegas

Yep, we went back to our old stomping grounds.  Mama and Papa H came to Arlington and settled in where PDG would be most comfortable.  After repeating our routines (no schedule yet, just routines) and carefully reviewing how to heat the frozen milk reserves that I'd worked so hard to store, J-Man scooted me out the door and promised me that my parents had raised me, they could raise my son for a day and a half as well.

We stayed near my school in New Jersey for nostalgia reasons, but when we arrived at eight something I was already yawning and it was clear no trip to Nassau St was in the works.  Instead just some snacks in the hotel and lights out at nine thirty.

I slept nearly twelve hours.  Never in my life has sleep felt so amazing.  Never.

The day was full of old memories.  New Jersey Transit.  Penn Station.  Slow tourists between 34th and 42nd.  Delicious Italian cuisine.  That moment when the house lights dim and the orchestra starts to play and your heart beats faster as you enter a make-believe world of music and dance and wonder.

Let me just say that Newsies might be the best dancing I've seen on Broadway.  I already want to see it again and watch those guys spin on newspapers and point their toes.

Even so, on the train ride back to our car, I started to realize just how much I missed my little man.  I pulled out my fanciphone and started to flip through every photo I have of him (there are a lot). We got in the car and sped down the turnpikes, through the tolls, to our waiting family.

What a wonderful trip.  And what a perfect ending, pulling up late that night to PDG, so ready for his mama that he'd decided not to take his last bottle, not to close his eyes, knowing she must be about to arrive.

Holding him in my arms I knew two things.  One, I loved him more than ever.  Two, I'm ok letting him go at times, as long as I always get him back.

Reunionizing

Five Years.

That's how long it's been since I first walked out the center gates onto Nassau street and picked up my degree, written in Latin no less, to signify that I had made it.  Four years of ups and downs and regrets and rejoices.  Four years making some of the best friends of my life.

Here they are

I won't tell you who's who in case they like their anonymity.  Just call them Awesome 1, Awesome 2, etc.

This year we watched the fireworks together.  (It's amazing how champagne makes a campus harder to navigate, but no endless bottle service this go-round).  So no one got lost, or peed in bushes, or misplaced their wallet, or was sought out in Terrace or any of the ridiculous antics that led to a private sharing of photos that will never go public on facebook.  And no, those were not all just one person.

There was still plenty of sleeping on the floor in cramped quarters.  There was a lot of overheating and remembering the mugginess of Jersey.  There was cheering in the P-rade for classes 1925-2011.  There were plenty of dance moves, including "The Bernie" and attempted moonwalking for the MJ tribute band.  It was a hands-down, all-around blast.

Except.

Are we getting old?  Because 1am felt a lot later than it used to.  And I found myself pointing to places that used to be open space and saying "what is that building?"  Or being disgusted by dance floor grinding and hard core making out.  Or hiding in the shade for the 70s, and 80s, and 90s.

I realized there are these people that I love, in their own special way, and yet I rarely ever see them.  It made me want to go back every year.  If they will go back every year.  It made me want to take a million photos just to have plenty to scroll through on a slow work day.  It made me sad for the future when we'll stop having weddings to link us up between returns to campus.

I'm pretty good at being preemptively sad these days.  So while reunions still goes down as one of the best weekends in life, it's also one of those so-great-because-it's-so-scarce.

I know I'm not making sense, and I know that some other life stuff has my heart in pieces and my mind all scattered and my faith a little broken.  I guess I'll just suffice it to say that it was wonderful.  And I would relive it again.  And again.  And again.

Hip, Hip
Rah Rah Rah
Sis Sis Sis
Boom Boom Boom
Bah
'06, '06, '06

On Prince Charmings

If you're worried this will be a sappy love post about J-Man, rest assured, it's not.  He's in trouble right now.  This morning I woke up with a sore throat.  And more than one sneeze per hour.  And this tickle in the back of my head that I can't resolve with sniffling or swallowing or scrunching up my face and making that clicking sound by my tonsils.  The things we deal with when we decide to spend our lives with another human being that is equally capable of hosting germs.

This, my friends, is about Prince Charming. You know the one.  Kind.  Rich.  Handsome.  Chaste.

Over the weekend I had a lovely time.  I had friends and burgers and a pink tiara.  Justin Bieber even came to my party!

Ok, not really.  But we had a lot of fun pretending.  And I loved taking pictures of the whole shebang.  And that M got to where a sweatshirt with M on it.

Anyway, it was a perfect end to a rollercoaster up and down week.  Honestly, I don't remember the last time I had such an emotional week.  Not that it was all bad, just all over the place.

So Saturday was happy.  Me and friends and food.  At the end of the day it had dwindled down into a mini-princeton reunion.  And as you'd expect, we were having very serious conversations on topics like, you guessed it, Disney movies.

The best part was when we realized that each of us still sings, with odd regularity, that song from Mulan.  The one that starts "Let's get down to business.  To defeat.  The huns...."  You know the one.  You're singing along right now.  Even J-Man has been known to join in with me now and again.  (I can tell on him since he's in trouble for this sinus mess).

KB sings it when it's time to do cleaning.

Just this morning I was thinking of it when gathering all my purse necessities to start another work week.  Right after I turned off the Today Show and before I grabbed an extra pudding for a morning snack.

It was a different friend who mentioned a website of sexy disney princes.  Go on, click on it.  You know you're curious.  There were some I couldn't place, perhaps I was too old already when they came out?  Old enough to not have a crush on a cartoon. Not like when I would dream of being Ariel, blowing my bangs out of my face, talking to seagulls and singing with handsome men on the beach.

This link might've shattered my innocence, even at the ripe old age of 25, that I turned, again, last week.

A few of my thoughts, however:

Eric's tattoo. Classic.

Peter Pan and his never-grown-up boyishness borderline on creepy/inappropriate
Is it just me or does Dr. Sweet play into some stereotypes?  Is that why there's yet to be a legit black prince?  Because they'd draw him so... full-figured?
Why is Gaston soo hairy?  Is that what eating all those raw eggs does to a man?
And how did a real-life Orlando Bloom get classified as a cartoon character?  Aren't there real pics out there of him all Caribbeanified?

What do you all think?  As dashing and charming as you remember?

Oh, and if you're wondering, I'll probably skip writing about mother's day this year.  But this blog I follow, despite never having met her, says just about everything I need to say.  Including taking a flower (or a chocolate) from a deacon, and not thinking twice.

Unbirthdays

This morning on my walk from the metro I passed a beautiful blossoming tree.  I should've taken a picture, I know, but work had us trade in our AT&T fanciphones for Verizon droids.  What kind of cutesy name can you give a droid? And how do you use this thing?  It just keeps saying "Drooooid" in its creepy voice and I don't even know how or why.  I keep forgetting to take home the manual so I can read it.  All I've learned to do is install facebook, which I guess tells you more than you need to know about me.

Had I known how to operate the camera feature without looking like a typical spring-break tourist I would've snapped one.  They were so lovely and reminded me why spring is wonderful.  The blossoms make me think of apple blossoms which make me think of birthdays which then made me think of a different spring treat this year.

J-Man and I went to an unbirthday party.

If you're wondering what that is, we totally were too.  We had been told there would be games and that it would be very, but not too, Swarthmore.

Saturday, as J-Man determined he had passed his maladies and hallucinations and could rejoin the healthy human race again, we hit the road for Bmore.  J-Man hoped we'd drive through Hamsterdam (you know, from the best [crime] drama ever) and I just hoped traffic wouldn't be bad

If you were on the East coast Saturday you know it was crazy end-of-the-world storms, which are happening way too often.  The rain was so tough we could barely see.  Even though I was nervous the whole time with J-Man driving, I think I've listed enough bad karma with driving to demonstrate why I didn't take the wheel.

J-Man got us there, and we realized we didn't have a gift for the gift exchange.  Not knowing the party would be overflowing with deliciousness we got danishes.  Everyone likes danishes right?  I guess.  Unless you're diabetic.  Or vegan.  Or not a morning person.  I mentioned it was raining though, right? And our options were limited?

After a few hours of drug-pushing by trading colored jelly beans and avoiding being caught by policemen yelling "Freeze, garbagehead, freeze," playing a modified whiffle ball where the ball was attached to a light fixture's on/off cord, making pirate ships out of paper and wax paper strong enough to hold pennies, Old Bay, and Grey Poupon, and a hallway three-legged two-handed starfish race that left one of the hosts banged up, we had a good sense of an unbirthday party.  There was a lot of laughter, a lot of meeting new people, and even some coloring.  A room full of 20somethings were transformed into competitive goofballs.

That's not the best part though.  During the gift exchange, we kinda lucked out.  I ended up with a bright orange scarf that will be perfect for another late spring slice of sunshine - Reunions.  I'm certain there will be much more on that topic in late May

So happy spring, happy blossoms, happy (un)birthday!