Snow Days

Though it's pretty much all melted away in today's bizarrely warm weather, here are some pictures of the recent snow storm(s) we had. I'm not sure of the final inch count, but I'd guess we got 8-10 inches, easy.

Christmas blues (and silver)

In New York, it's an unspoken rule that Jewish employees work the Christian holidays, and then Christians work the Jewish holidays, so everyone gets to celebrate without too many problems. Except where I work. Where I work, our senior editors, who are mostly Jewish, take off all the holidays. In fact my direct supervisor (who is also middle management) jokes that next year they're going to start taking the Eid's off.

I bring this up because I'm at work on a Christmas Eve night. Two other middle management editors were here with me earlier in the evening. We are all Christians. Meanwhile, upper management, as always, took the day off. And the rest of the week. While it is Hanukkah week, they did not take the first part of the week off. Instead, they took the part of the week off that the Christian holiday falls on.

I'm a little annoyed by it, but more so I feel sorry for my boss who wanted off to spend the holiday with his family upstate. Instead he had to work today and then drive up after work. Then he has to be back at work Friday morning. Merry Christmas, eh?

In other news...

The New York Times has a column today about hooking up written by a dude named Charles M. Blow. I kid you not. Something tells me that was lost on the editors there.

Amusing Bumper Sticker of the Day

I saw it on a mini-van on my way to work:

"I'm straight, but I'm not narrow."

I assume as in "minded."

Winter, my new mortal enemy

Learning to navigate snow and to dress warmly (but not too warmly so I sweat and then get sick from being wet AND cold) have been quite the adventure since I moved north two and a half years ago. Now in my third winter, I'm doing OK with the first two, but what I haven't mastered - indeed what has gotten worse - is the dry air.

In the past winters this has resulted in cracked hands (very painful) and constantly chapped lips (there isn't enough lip balm in the world) and a pair of really nasty looking feet bottoms. I live in an apartment, so I do not have a humidifier hooked up to my heating unit. I've considered buying a freestanding one, but haven't gotten around to it yet. I'd probably not clean it out properly and then mold would grow in it and I'd have a whole new set of problems.

Anyway, this winter something new presented itself. Itchy, itchy skin. The kind of itchy where I can't sleep at night and when I do I have fitful dreams about scratching my legs, and in fact am probably scratching my legs in my sleep. I haven't itched like this since I had the chicken pox as a child. And yet, it's not a pox or poison ivy because there's no rash or bumps. At least not initially, now with all the scratching my legs are pretty gross. It's mostly my legs (upper and lower), though now my upper arms are itchy too (though nothing like my legs). I tried putting lotion on them - including Vaseline intensive rescue clinical therapy, which is supposed to be prescription strength, and Gold Bond Ultimate Healing lotion, which has worked wonders on my hands. But nothing has helped. Today I'm going back to the store for something to help with the itching, which hopefully won't make matters worse by drying out my skin even more.

Any suggestions or tips?

Not dead yet

I survived both the repairs to my heater and the blood letting (a.k.a. layoffs) my company had today.

In other news, my downstairs neighbor/stalker moved away. I now have zero stalkers. Hurray!

Uh...shouldn't you shut the gas off first?

So a couple of guys are at my apartment trying to fix my heat (radiator around the baseboards). And I hear one guy say to the other guy, "OK, we only get one shot at this."

If you don't hear from me again it's because they've blown up this apartment. Again.

Your morning cup o' ketchup

I like to talk to you a minute about breakfast. In particular the two egg and cheese on a roll. My favorite is actually two egg and cheese on an English Muffin, but that isn't really offered at delis around the region and so I go with roll or, preferably, bagel when it's available.

However it's not the bread I want to discuss, but what they ask me every time I order this combo. "Ketchup, salt and pepper?"

That's right, ketchup.

I'll admit that I'm naturally prejudiced against ketchup. I don't like it even on fries, so obviously I wouldn't like it on eggs and cheese, but at least I understand it on fries. But on eggs? Seriously?

I think, maybe, I've seen little kids put ketchup on scrambled eggs before, but little kids will put ketchup on anything. Some children use food as an excuse just to eat ketchup.

I have learned not to make a fast of disgust when they ask me, but when I answer with "no just salt and pepper" they look at me as if I'm a freak; as if I had ordered a monkey and seal meat sandwich. But I'm pretty sure that I am not the freak in this one. That New Yorkers are the freaks. All I'm saying is there's a reason McDonald's doesn't put ketchup on the Egg McMuffin. And if anyone loves ketchup, it's McDonald's.

Tired

I am both tired of campaigns and tired of doing employee reviews. I'm also tired of waiting to hear about layoffs.

We're losing 19 to 20 people as of the first week in December. It's like I work in a funeral home these days. People are walking around trying not to get noticed and also spending all their time NOT working and instead guessing who will get laid off. I've suggested we start a layoff pool where we all stick a dollar in for our guesses.

Our company's stock fell by half in the third quarter from last year to this. So our corporate overlords won't have to cut back on the number of yachts they own, they're jacking up the employee portion of healthcare costs (resulting in many employees dropping their healthcare all together - something I'm debating on doing if I'm even around) and, of course, dropping the employees altogether.

I'll see you all in the rice lines.

Rochester by the Sea/Great Lake

I still refuse to believe that the Great Lakes are actually lakes. Lakes are what people back home go fishing on. You can see to the other side. There are seas smaller than Lake Ontario. And don't talk to me about salt versus fresh water. I refuse to hear it.

Autum

This year the foliage has been beautiful. I drove up to Rochester this past weekend and it was like driving through a painting. I would have stopped to take photos along the way, but I was late both coming and going and didn't have time. I'm particularly sad that I didn't capture all those little villages nestled between hills surrounded by red, orange and gold trees and also the Erie Canal, with which I've had an odd fascination from childhood...but I'll save that story for another time. But I will share some photos of the upstate leaves that I do have.

A brief interlude for a word on Mississippi politics

Mississippi made the New York Times today. And while they managed to drag racism in a little bit with the flag issue – as they always do whenever mentioning Mississippi - I found it last obvious than usual; almost non-existent in the story. A good sign maybe?

Maybe they finally realized that Staten Island is WAY more racist than Mississippi has ever been in my lifetime. And that’s their own backyard. In fact, in the two and half years I’ve lived here I’ve more racist comments against any number of minorities than I ever did in the south. Until now I’d say that Greenville, Miss., was the most racist place I was ever forced to live. But I’ve never lived anywhere (until now) where complete strangers would drop racial slurs into casual conversation. I’ve never heard so many white people use the N word.

However, as to the politics in this story, I don’t trust Musgrove as far as I can throw him. I had very limited experience with Roger Wicker when I covered politics in Mississippi, so I can’t say much about him as a person, but Musgove is one of the most fake people to ever grace Mississippi politics. He kind of weasely. I like the comment in the story from the voter who said, “Both of them are crooks,” Mr. Covington said, chuckling. “One of them’s just a little bit less.”

Monday. Your bad news roundup.

So I get to work today and park. This normally would be unremarkable.

Except:

A) It's Monday and I'm normally not at work.
B) It was 9 a.m. and I'm normally in bed.
C) The car in front of me not only has a McCain/Palin bumper sticker,
it also has a "Go Gators/Florida" license plate holder. - If it
weren't for the reporter standing next to me, I would have poured my
coffee all over the car.

Friggin' Mondays.

Also:

LOCAL NADER STAFF TO HOLD PRESS CONFERENCE TO ANNOUNCE LAUNCHING OF NEW OFFICE
Launches New York Office and 21 Others Nation-Wide
WHO:      Ralph Nader for President
WHAT:    Press Conference
WHEN:    Tuesday, October 14 at 11 a.m.
WHERE:    2617 South Salina St, Syracuse

With three weeks to go until the ballots are counted, Presidential candidate Ralph Nader will open a campaign office in Syracuse, New York Tuesday, October 14 where the local campaign staffers will be inviting press for an 11 a.m. conference. As part of its get-out-the-vote effort, the Nader/Gonzalez Campaign is adding 22 offices and nearly 50 field-staff staff to its base of thousands of volunteers this week, aiming at securing votes in 49 states. A map of all office locations is available at www.votenader.org.

Recent polls indicate that a growing number of independent voters are moving away from the two parties in the wake of last week's Wall Street bailout. The Wall Street Journal and CNN put Nader's support at 5 and 6 percent in this third presidential campaign, despite having been excluded from the presidential debates so far. Offices are opening in swing states such as Colorado and Pennsylvania as well Florida, where Obama is polling at 52 percent and McCain at 45, and where an October 1 poll by CNN found Nader pulling votes from the Republicans.

About the Nader/Gonzalez Campaign
The Nader/Gonzalez independent presidential candidacy is on the ballot in 45 states, polling at 5-6 percent nationally. A recent Time/CNN poll has Nader polling 8 percent in New Mexico, 7 percent in Colorado, 7 percent in Pennsylvania, and 6 percent in Nevada - all battleground states.

Friggin' Nader

Ladies First

I was reading with amusement a story in the New York Times today about gender in regards to service at restaurants. In my experience as a woman, I think it's still fairly common for the waiter/ess to give the bill to the man. It's less common, but definitely not UNcommon for the waiter/ess to take my order before a man's. And I still find, though it's fairly rare, that a waiter (not ever a waitress, though) will pull out the chair for me to sit in. I don't often dine at upscale restaurants, but on the few occasions when I have, I've also had the waiter (and sometimes waitress) put the napkin in my lap.

As a waitress, it has never even occurred to me to do any of those things. I stick the bill between the people at the table and I usually hand them both the menu at the same time.

Part of what peaked my interested in this story, though, was that I went to dinner at Spice (my favorite Thai restaurant in Manhattan - definitely not upscale, but good food and fun) Monday night with TomClancy and the waiter tried to take his order first. TomClancy looked at me and sort of motioned with his head and said (to me), "Go ahead." This amused me.

I don't personally care if the guy orders first. I don't mind if they give the check to the guy, though I am often paying the tab. I feel awkward when people pull my chair back for me, but I also feel awkward when it comes to valet parking and bellboys - all of which I lump into the same category.

TomClancy and I both grew up in the South where manors are very much alive and well and so, though I consider myself a feminist I also kind of like it when a guy holds a door open for me. I'm not like my aunt who sits in the car until her husband comes around and opens the door, but I also don't mind if when we are going into a building a guy opens the door and waits for me to go through.

Anyway, enough about me, back to the article, because what REALLY caught my eye was the following passage:

Certain musty rites — chivalrous from one perspective, chauvinistic from another — have faded or disappeared. It’s a rare restaurant that gives menus without prices to women dining with men. And most restaurants no longer steer the “ladies” toward the banquette, assuming they want to face out toward the room.

THEY USED TO GIVE MENUS TO WOMEN WITHOUT THE PRICES?!!! What the...? That took me completely by surprise. I'd never heard of such thing. Can you even imagine it in modern day? Can you fathom going to a restaurant and there being two different menus? One for women and one for men? Wow. I mean, WOW.

Spain: Part 1 billionith (billion is the new million) - Valencia

Editors note: Bucky gets paid per punctuation mark she gets into the headlines. Ignore the seeming lack of knowledge of all rules of English grammar.

So I know I'm telling you all about my trip to Spain in a very random order, not at all approaching the way I actually experienced and also now more than a month after my return. I THOUGHT I would be telling you all about my new iPhone, which was supposed to be a birthday gift, which is now also almost a month overdue. But alas no. I got stood up again. And so I revert back to Spain. This time Valencia.

We didn't really spend that much time in the home of paella, but what time we did spend there was definitely filled with the rice-y goodness. Much more of it than we should really and truly have eaten. But what can you do. It's like an entire country of my mom shoving food down our mouths. I would show you some pictures of the food, but somehow I decided not to take any pictures while I was there (the first time).

I also rate the beaches of Valencia higher than those of Barcelona and the water was still warm and swimable in late August.

Most importantly, and something you probably did not know (and this I did take pictures of), Valencia is the home of:


That's right. The Holy Grail. People are all the time looking for it and there it is in the land of good beaches and good paella. Here's a closer, though fuzzier look (my camera doesn't have a great zoom on it, it was dark and you couldn't get too close to it):


Since you can't really see it (even in person): The Cup is made of agate stone - a popular material for drink vessels in those times. It is a homogenous piece cut out entirely from a lare chunk of agate, 9 cm in diameter. Naturally, decorations of gold and pearls were added to the supporting structure over the centuries. (Valenciavalencia.com)

Naturally.

Single? How to marry a millionaire

Oh, Cosmo! Is there anything you can't teach us?!

Single? Don't move to any of these places

So according to Sperling's BestPlaces the Top Ten Least Single Cities are:

1 McAllen, Texas
2 Lake County, IL
3 Nassau, NY
4 Edison, NJ
5 Poughkeepsie, NY
6 Bakersfield, CA
7 El Paso, Texas
8 Allentown, PA-NJ
9 Salt Lake City, Utah
10 Oxnard, CA

Sigh. This is sad news indeed.

El High School Musical

Our hotel in Madrid (I'm reverting back for lack of anything recent to blog about) was near what, I guess, is the Broadway of Spain - as on this stretch of road there were about 14,000 musicals, including:



I, myself, have never seen "High School Musical" and cannot speak to whether this is the best, possible product America could have chosen to export to our Spanish-speaking friends in Europe. I also have never gone to high school in Spain. However, I have seen movies set in Spanish high schools AND I am familiar with the standard mythology/plot development of American movies set in high schools. And so what I wonder is this: how to Spaniards understand what the hell is going on in this musical?

I mean, seriously, how do they get whatever there is to get about it? While "Beauty & the Beast" (playing just across the street from this) deals with the all-cultural, timeless story of true love being more than skin deep, this...THIS deals with, what? Singing and dancing about gym class? Do they have cheerleaders in Spain? What about "chemistry teams"? (We didn't even have that one in MY high school.)

Can you imagine the daunting task of translating "High School Musical" into Spanish? Does any even know the Spanish word for "math nerd", because we haven't gotten to that unit in my text book yet.

Garlic Galore

Every last weekend in September in Saugerties, N.Y. the crazy Kiwanis Club there holds a garlic festival. At this garlic festival is every imaginable form of garlic creation there is (including just garlic). You can buy garlic infused olive oil, garlic dips, garlic mustard and garlic cheese. If this was all there was, you might shrug and say, so, sounds like a garlic festival. Why should we care. But no. There's more.


You also have your choice of the little-known sweet side of garlic, which includes: garlic cannoli, garlic fudge, chocolate dipped garlic cloves and the ever popular, garlic ice cream. And to wash it all down, there's garlic coffee.

People are crazy for the garlic fest. Thousands of people attend the two-day event. The entry fee is $7 or $5 in advance and pretty much all there is to do is shop and eat garlic-laced stuff. Though there is some live music, no one ever seems to be paying any attention to the music.

Speaking of Spanish...

Here's a badly translated sign I photographed in Barcelona:



Please note that this general goods/grocery store in the train station in Barcelona did not, in fact, have a library in it. As anyone who has studied a romance language knows that word that looks like library is actually "bookstore". It's a false cognate. The word for library in Spanish, for those of you keeping up at home, is actually biblioteca" (and it's feminine).

Spain is lousy with badly translated signs, menus, guides, etc. They are in desperate need of some translators. And I know just the person for the job....just as soon as I finish community college :-)

Three hour class the greatest idea since the three hour tour

This semester my Spanish class (301) is one night a week (Thursdays) for THREE hours. This is the dumbest invention in modern collegic education. Period.

I sit in that class and feel myself getting dumber each week. People — and most of my class is native speakers — have given up all semblance of trying to speak Spanish. Even the teacher spends half the time speaking English. By the time we get to the second half of class everyone is drained, not only because we've been in class for an hour but because most of us have either had a full day of work or a full day of classes. We are mentally AND physically exhausted. No single class should be three hours long, but most especially, night classes should not be three hours long.

The class make up is about two-thirds native speakers. Several were born and raised in their Spanish-speaking country of origin. The rest are children of immigrants who grew up speaking Spanish at home. One woman works as a Spanish-language notary public at a bank. It's extremely daunting to try and participate in the discussions when they are in Spanish because the teacher finishes our sentences for us if she feels we are taking too long and the native speakers often cut those of us who aren't off to voice their opinions in rapid-fire Spanish, leaving us sort of helpless to respond as we didn't understand half of what they said.

The non-native speakers are made up of a French elementary school teacher who took Spanish in high school but is back in school trying to be certified to teach it as well. (More money) Three professors at the university who are taking the class to learn Spanish (one is auditing). And two freshmen girls who have been taking Spanish since elementary school but seemed as lost as I do. And then there is me.

We got our first test back today and I made an 87. I now have two 87s in the class because it's the same grade she gave me on my first composition. I was fairly happy with that because I didn't study as hard as I should have, owing to the fact that I was, in fact, in Spain for the beginning of the semester, then my parents were here visiting for the week leading up to the test. I felt even better about the 87 when she said to us how disappointed she was in our grades overall because she had expected us to make As and Bs and instead we made Bs and Cs and even Ds and Fs. Two of the native speakers didn't even bother to read the directions and thus did an entire section of the test wrong (they put all the verbs in present tense instead of the past tenses) and so what did the professor do? She gave the tests BACK to them in class today and told them to redo it and hand it back in. What is that?! If anyone should have known what was going on, it should have been them. I wanted to be like, "Oye! give me my test back and let me redo mine too, so I can ALSO get a higher grade!"

Anyway, this is all to say, Spanish class sucks. And I hate the subjunctive tense.

Single? Then celebrate!

I heard on the radio, driving home this morning, that it's National Singles Week. There was no explanation, so I'm not sure if it's a celebration of the single-player tennis match or, in fact, of myself and others like me. I choose to believe it is the latter. So happy us, guys!

Bucky's Back! (Redux)

I know you've been checking this site religiously, wondering exactly how much vacation time I must have if I'm still in Spain and when, oh when, would I return.

Well I'm back. Actually I've been back. But then my boss went on vacation, my parents came for a visit, and I had a stupid Spanish test. So really, I'm only just now getting around to bumming around on my couch again, avoiding everything I should be doing to advance my life/career and thus having plenty of time to blog.

And for my first blog back I'm actually going to point you to another site because I just discovered it tonight and this particular entry caught my eye in that it so perfectly defines what I mean when I use all nine of these words, especially "fine" and "loud sigh".

I will also leave you with this picture of Barcelona:

Bucky's Back!

Some of you may be wondering what happened to me.

Well, you know that episode in Sex & the City where Carrie's hard drive dies in the middle of writing her column? Well, that's what happened to me. Only it's not as easy as it is on TV to have you MacBook fixed. Believe you me!

But I'm back online now...just in time for me to go on vacation for 10 days. So you probably won't be hearing from me again until September. (I know, you've all been hanging on for dear life waiting for my return and now THIS!) But at least I'll have lots of fun pictures from Espana to share.

Nothing new from New York

I was supposed to see the Dark Knight yesterday, but didn't. Thus I have nothing to post this week. Pretty much my weekend was a bust and I spent it by the pool and cooking Key Lime Pie, which I have now mastered. Although I don't actually like it myself. I should have take a picture of the most perfect meringue which I'll probably ever make and post it here, but I forgot and now my staff at work has eaten the whole thing. Oh well. Instead I'll post this flower. Peace and stuff.

79th Street Boat Basin

Have the steak sandwich. It's pricey, but tasty. And it goes great with a bucket of beer. All in all, this bar & grill at the boat basin is a perfect place to go on a casual, lazy-day sort of date.

Soldiers and Sailors Monument

Commemorates Union Army soldiers and sailors who served in the American Civil War. It was dedicated on Memorial Day in 1902 and, apparently, for years was the terminus of New York City’s annual Memorial Day parade.

It is located at 89th Street and Riverside Drive in Riverside Park on the Upper West Side. Nice place to read, especially when the weather was perfect as it was on Monday.

Beacon Riverfront

Boats on the Hudson River.

Green stuff on the Hudson River.

Latin America Festival, Beacon

Today was the perfect day for an outdoor festival - sunny, but cooling wind. There was good food, good music, friendly people. I could have stayed all day, but it was just me and my dog (as it almost always is, in these stories) and I hadn't brought a book. Though I did have an offer to go for a ride on someone's motorcycle (actual motorcycle, not a euphemism) and I probably could have found plenty of dance partners, but I didn't really want to leave the dog tied to a tree or anything.

It was at the Riverfront Park, which is right next to the Metro-North train station. Very convenient and from conversations I over heard many people had come to the festival via train from other parts of the region.

Lemon Creek Park

So, it only took me a week to get around to writing this post. (Very lazy, I am.)

On Tuesday past Roland and I were in Staten Island. I was looking for a place to eat my breakfast where I could walk him around before beginning the hike back home. Also, I was looking to wait out the morning rush hour. So we happened upon Lemon Creek Park, which is located at the end of Seguine Avenue in the Prince's Bay part of the island.

The park was pretty interesting. In addition to stumbling upon the afore mentioned horseshoe crabs, we learned that park is known for its large and pristine salt marshes, which is part of the reason the crabs like to mate there. It also attracts the Diamondback Terrapin (mascot of the University of Maryland; go terrapins!) and fiddler and blue crabs, as well as the ducks, et. al. you'd expect wherever there is water.

The park also is home to a purple martin colony, the only one in New York City, according to the city's parks department. I found it pretty interesting that the purple martin is the only bird that does not nest in the wild. They are totally dependent on human-supplied housing. Thus the odd assortment of bird houses on polls — like a retirement community for birds. I expected to see a purple martin come out on the porch of one of the bird houses in a mumu waving a cane at me. But alas, nothing that amusing happened to us while we were there.

And in case you are wondering about the park's name, according to the park's Web site:

Lemon Creek, which empties into Prince’s Bay and, ultimately, Raritan Bay, has been known by several names over the last few hundred years. In 1830 the freshwater stream was known as Seguine’s Creek, and later, as the Little North River in 1885. Shortly thereafter, the name of Lemon Creek began to appear on maps, although the origin of this unusual name is not known.

Brooklyn Crabs

I'm not the only one feeling the crab love these days. I'm just ahead of the curve.

New York Times has video of it.

Got crabs? Not like these!

I am of the South and also Greece. This means on my beaches I am used to dead things like shells, jellyfish, fish heads, the occasional car tire. I am not used to this:



This is the shell formally known as horseshoe crab. Something that until Tuesday I had never seen in real life. Not in an aquarium, not in a zoo, not in passing on the highway (I'm talking to you 'gator!) and certainly not on a stroll with my dog along the bay waters of a major waterway.

Now I'm an expert on horseshoe crabs. In fact I've spent the last two days telling everyone everything I've learned about horseshoe crabs and they all think I'm absolutely insane. But look at it! Look at it! How can you not be totally transfixed by such a thing?

On Tuesday morning Roland and I were at Lemon Creek Park on Staten Island (more on that later). The park overlooks Prince's (or Princess, depending on who you ask around there) Bay. So we were walking along the beach. He was trying to catch gulls, I was enjoying the salt air. When I heard the seaweed drying. Actually heard it drying in the sun. That's when I looked down and realized the beach was littered with the shells of horseshoe crabs. Thus my obsession began.

It turns out every May and June, horseshoe crabs emerge from the bay onto the beaches in Lemon Creek Park to reproduce. These guys were the ones that didn't survive the process, I guess. The females emerge from the water with their male counterparts literally in tow. Males grasp onto the back of the female’s shell using their hooked legs, sometimes as many as four males onto one female. The female horseshoe crabs dig a hole in the sand and lay up to 20,000 tiny olive-green eggs inside.

The crab had been around since before the dinosaurs, about 1.2 billion years. Though it is called a crab, it is actually more closely related to the spider and scorpion.

But I was really shocked to find out is that, among other things, the horseshoe crab is used to make contact lenses. That's right people! You are putting horseshoe crabs in YOUR EYE every friggin' day!

I'm supposed to be writing my column, but instead of life as a 30-something all I can think about are horseshoe crabs. And that's probably NOT a column anyone wants to read.

On the News tonight

Ch. 9 (My Nine) has covered the following in the first eight minutes of it's newscast:

Shooting
Stabbing
Stabbing
Car Jacking
Plane Crash

Oh. My. God. The world must be ending. Seriously, you'd think all hell had broken loose if all you did was watch the news.

The Pool

Something strange happened today. I went to the pool at my apartment complex. On my way there I passed a group of Asian families (women and children) leaving. A few seconds later I passed a Hispanic family, also leaving. I get to the pool and the lifeguard, a nice, blond girl, is under an umbrella with some man looking at the chlorine tester. There are about 10 people at the pool, all white and I think all shade of blond. The reason I mention their race is because the lifeguard says to me, looking very uncomfortable, "The pool is closed."

I said, "Ok. Can I just lay out by the pool and read, then?" as I looked at the other people doing just that.

"Uhhhh...." says the lifeguard.

"No," says the white man with the tester. "When we close the pool, everyone has to leave the area."

Meanwhile the 10 people have not moved and appear not to be doing so anytime soon.

"Does the pool close every day at noon?" I ask the lifeguard.

She looks increasingly uncomfortable with my questions.

"No," answers the man. "We're having some trouble with the chlorinator, so we're shutting down the pool until we can work it out."

"In the past when there's been trouble with chlorine levels we've just been told not to go in the water," say I. (Who chrorinates during the middle of the day, anyway. Isn't that something you should do before the pool opens or after it closes?)

"You have to leave," responds the man.

I ask about the people already there and get no answer, only again that the pool is closed.

I know I'm white, but people never think I am because of my olive complexion and my name. So the entire experience wound up feeling like something out of movie set in the 1960s south.

Haunted House

I was talking with one of my downstairs neighbors yesterday evening - it was one of those nice, cool days and the dogs were playing and we were having a cold drink - when out of the blue she tells me years ago, just before she moved in, there was an explosion in my apartment.

It was so big that it blew crap from the apartment out into the woods behind it, damaged all the other apartments in the building. Whoever was living in the apartment at the time was apparently on oxygen AND smoking and fell asleep with the cigarette still lit. The person, quite obviously, died in the apartment.

This is the first place I've lived in where I KNOW one of the previous occupants died. It's definitely not the oldest place I've lived in — my last apartment was on the national register of historic places (and it's the only time in my life I've seen, what I guess was, a ghost). I assume people have died in apartments before, but never so horrendously. Blown up? Who gets blown up in their own apartment?

So now I'm all paranoid my apartment will turn out to be haunted. At least that would explain why my door keeps getting unlocked and windows opened. I always thought it was an apartment complex employee checking on something. But they usually leave notes when they were here.

Anyone else have dead people in their apartments?

South Street Seaport

You know what I like about this place? It's chintzy. It's cheesy. It looks like it should be in Pensacola or somewhere else on the Gulf.

They have really bad musicians playing for tips and they serve beer and drinks in ridiculously large souvenir plastic contraptions out of little wooden shacks. You can buy all the overpriced T-shirts and knick knacks you could want. Even the "mall" part of it is woefully reminiscent of places where we vacationed in my childhood. In short it's not as sleek and shiny as the rest of Manhattan.

Right across the street, however, is a nice, upscale lifestyle-center-type shopping area with cobblestone streets, et al. Shouldn't that be enough to fill your credit cards with happiness?

Apparently not.

(AP) A new plan to redevelop Manhattan's South Street Seaport calls for a 42-story apartment and hotel tower and additional open space.

The developer, General Growth Properties, said Wednesday that its plan would evoke the Seaport's maritime heritage while providing needed amenities to continue to attract tourists and benefit the community.

The centerpiece of the new plan would be the 42-story hotel and residential tower at the foot of Pier 17. The plan also calls for replacing the three-level shopping mall that now covers most of the East River pier with a pedestrian walk, and two smaller hotels and a cluster of two-story retail buildings.

The plan must be reviewed by the city's Landmarks Preservation Commission.

I Saw Your Nanny (for real!)

Y'all! SERIOUSLY!!!! Only in New York would this site exist. Seriously. I warn you. It's like crack. You will NOT be able to stop reading it once you start. So don't click on the link unless you have plenty of time on your hands!

Sexism without sexism

There's an article in the New York Times today about the media's (allegedly) sexist approach to covering Hillary Clinton's campaign. It was pretty evident from the beginning I think. Though I also agree with the person in the article that says, she ran a fundamentally flawed campaign. I think her campaign was bad and people just don't like her - though that is true of every woman in a powerful position, like Nancy Pelosi in the House or Zoe Cruz at Morgan Stanley or even Anna Wintour at Vogue.

However, regardless of whether you agree or disagree that the media coverage was sexist, you have to agree that this statement is ridiculous:

Keith Olbermann, the host of “Countdown” on MSNBC, said that while there were “individual, sexist, mistakes,” there was no overall sexism.

What? You can't have it both ways, Keith. There can't be sexism and NOT sexism. Just because the act of denigrating women is so fundamentally ingrained in the human psyche that we don't realize we're being sexist, doesn't mean there isn't a persistent and deep-seeded problem.

If you were to ask my executive editor if he was sexist, if he treated his female employees as lesser beings, if he felt their place was in the home (or maybe in features) would he say yes? No, he would not. But if you asked his female employees the same question, do you know what their answer would be? An unequivocal YES. Yes from the fact that the number of women in the newsroom has dwindled dramatically since his arrival. Yes from the fact he treats us with disdain, if he treats us at all. Yes from the fact we are paid far less than our male counterparts. Yes from the comments on women's appearance in the newsroom.

People need to realize that sexism isn't dead. It's just resting its eyes.

East Sider

This ridiculous burger is called the East Sider and in addition to 7oz of beef also has ham AND bacon on it, as well as mushrooms, cheese, fried onions and is impossible to put into your mouth as served. This my brother discovered the hard way.

It is one of the many burgers served at Jackson Hole diner, which has eight locations around NYC, including one conveniently located near LaGuardia and thus is good for taking friends and family who arrive in on late night flights because you work till 10 p.m. and can't get off work early to go pick them up.

I've also eaten at one of their other locations on the east side (I did not at that time have the East Sider. I actually had a turkey burger.) It was an odd location, in the basement of a building on what looked like a residential stretch of street. Looking in, it seems all there is a counter, but around the corner there's a think hallway-like room that is crammed with tables. That locations seems to do a big business in to go orders. As opposed to the LaGuardia location, which does a lot of city bus traffic.

Anyway, on the afore mentioned visit with my brother I had the much more modest Western Burger...


...with cheese, BBQ sauce, bacon and fried onions, and which unfortunately came out raw in the center. They recooked it. But I wound up taking it home. Once nuked in my microwave, I felt pretty safe about eating it.

Brooklyn Bridge in summer

Beacon Art (Live)

A few weekends ago, Beacon, which has become a weekend destination for art lovers from the city, held a live art-making event called Electric Windows. Twenty-four street artist descended on the city in May to create live artwork outside for passer-bys to see. The work was then hung on the exterior - where the windows once were - of an old electric blanket factory at the foot of Mount Beacon.

I was, of course, working during the event and thus missed it. But the art is still up and I got by the other day to look at it.

A few closer-ups follow:

Mississippi Picnic in Central Park

Saturday was the 29th annual Mississippi Picnic in Central Park, which I've spent years reading about, but this was my first actual foray to the event.

The giant event brings ex-pats from Mississippi together in Central Park for a giant reunion of sorts that usually attended by the governor of Mississippi and other dignitaries. Live blues music serves as the entertainment - along with the watermelon seed spitting contest. No. I'm serious. And they serve up catfish from Yazoo City. (They require a "donation" of $10 for the food, which makes me laugh. I've notice in New York the idea of a required donation is rampant. My brother suggested it must be a way around the tax laws. I say if it's required then it's a fee or the ticket price - what it most certainly is not, is a donation.)

It was fairly disappointing. Though, I have to admit we were late getting there. It started at noon and was supposed to last till 6 p.m., but when we got there around 2 p.m., they were already out of catfish and people were drifting away. We did enjoy sitting outside in the Mississippi-eque heat of 98 degrees (though it WAS cooler in the shade) and drinking iced tea from McAlister's, though.

Ironically, Saturday was also the date of the LSU alumni associations Crawfish Boil. That event, however, cost $60 - though you did get all you can eat crawfish and Abita beer. Still, it was a little too rich for my blood. Maybe next year I'll be able to save up enough to go.

Bannerman Castle

In the middle of the Hudson River, somewhere between Cold Spring and Beacon, there is a castle on an island.

This may sound incredible, but it's true.

It's not a very old castle, as far as castles go. And this one was built to house munitions. Around 1920, what you might imagine happening where one stores munitions, happens. Explosion.

On this very same island, the owner of the arsenal had a home. It did not explode. But if you see the house now, you would think that something similar took place. They say, the Bannerman family used it until the 1940s, but to look at it, you'd think it'd been abandoned a LOT longer than that. I mean, there are castles in Scotland (the homeland of Mr. Bannerman) which are much older and in much better shape.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be writing a travel story about my recent tour there. Instead, I'm writing this blog entry about it.

For someone who claims to love writing, I sure hate doing it!

Top headlines in New York today

"At Least One Killed by Crane Collapse in Manhattan"

"The Girls Are Back in Town" (re: Sex & the City)

Ah, New York. So dysfunctional.

Do I feel stimulated? Oh Yeah.

Today I am officially the last person on earth to receive their economic stimulus check from the government (some orphans in Peru got theirs before I did, or so I hear). And in honor of this day, I give you howispentmystimulus.com, which was started by some guy in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and is a hilarious and true account of how Americans are spending their money.

One of my favorites features a table full of whiskey bottles and the following entry from Andrew in St. Louis:

"After the economic stimulus package was signed into law, I pledged to spend my stimulus money on one of the few well made American products left - Kentucky whiskey."

But my all time favorite was one from Sybann in Raleigh, who sent in a picture of a super, turbo-charged vacuum and this description:

“This is the George W. Bush Memorial Dyson. I wanted to buy something that will suck as hard and for as long as this administration.”

As for how I will spend my stimulus? Hellooooo, Spain!


Who's with me?

The Garden of Wedding Dresses

So on Sunday I went wedding dress shopping.

I wasn't buying; one of my reporters who is getting married in August was, so don't panic that you've missed some major announcement in my life. You most definitely have not.

We went to this appointment only place called The Bridal Garden, wherein rich people have donated their old dresses and they are resold. The profit (it's a non-profit bridal dress shop) goes to support New York City school children. Or at least that is what is claimed.

I thought the address sounded familiar (and the doorman looked familiar, actually). But it wasn't until I got off the elevator and saw the paint job in the hallway that I realized that a few floors down was where my friend Steven has his offices. That was a little disconcerting.

But not nearly as disconcerting as the mad house INSIDE the Bridal Garden. They had way overbooked the day and let someone in who did not have an appointment. So my friend had to start changing behind a screen in the main room that did not really cover her. Also the window were behind her and there were no blinds on the. Granted, we were on the ninth floor, but still, there were lots of buildings around us with nine floors as well. I'll cut to the chase and tell you that my friend tried on seven or eight dresses, but didn't find anything she really liked. More disappointing to her was the complete lack of attention paid to her by the staff. She was looking forward to some advice from someone who knows what they're doing, as opposed to me going, "The waist on that dress looks a little funny."

While all of this was going on, the drama playing out beside me was as follows:

Bride-to-be #1: Looked like a little doll. She had a dress that looked like she should be on top of a cake. However, she had come with her fiance, who the shop made wait outside in the hallway. Every time she wanted his opinion, they would have to go get him. She wound up buying the dress.

Bride-to-be #2: Came out with them most stunning dresses I had ever seen. The first one she tried on, I fell in love with and after she put it back on the rack, I seriously considered buying it, even though I have no wedding planned in the near future and no hope of one. Each subsequent dress (except for one - a halter top that fit weird) was more amazing than the last. She had her mother with her, who was very southern and I had a weird flashback to the process when a high school friend got married. She did not buy a dress.

Bride-to-be #3: Getting married in six weeks. Bought the most hideous dress I could imagine. It looked like someone's grandmother's "good" tablecloth, but sparkle-y. She was loud (didn't have an appointment), tried on 30 dresses (NO LIE), called everyone she knew to tell them about the dress. Took pictures with her camera phone and sent it to everyone. Discussed ad nauseam how, "I think I love this dress!" Told us several times in a normal speaking voice - because she had lowered her voice from loud to normal as if imparting a secret - "and it only costs $600!" She was there with her mother, who looked exhausted and disinterested. Became a really bad stereotype when she started saying something about her rabbi. I lied to her and told her it was a great dress. But it wasn't a great dress. It was hideous.

We're doing this again in June. I hope she finds a dress soon. I don't know how many of these other brides I can put up with.

Spring, my a**

We're mid way through May and the heat is still on at my apartment complex.

How is that even right? When is the warm weather ever going to get here?!

Again with the friggin' movies

So AGAIN this Sunday what do I encounter as I try to navigate my way around Grand Central? A movie crew. This time they were blocking my exit and taking up the street corner where I was supposed to be meeting my ride.

I wrongly assumed it was the same movie as the weekend before. (Damn, I thought, this movie must be almost entire set at Grand Central for these guys to be here again. Either that, or they are WAY behind their shooting schedule.)

Instead:
On Sunday, May 11, filming of the remake of The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3 will result in street closures in and around Grand Central Terminal throughout the day, particularly along East 42nd St between Madison Ave and Lexington Ave.

This movie stars Denzel Washington and John Travolta and is set for a 2009 release date.

Sadly no photos on the Internet for this one.

This time I saw no one's back. But I was extremely annoyed by the stupid flacks who kept trying to "move us along" the sidewalk. They kept telling people to move along. I did not move along as I was waiting for my ride. And actually no one said anything to me, which I guess was weird and too bad. I was all prepared to do battle and tell the chickie with headsets who thought she owned the streets and sidewalks of all of New York that the only way I would move is if she had one of the nice gentlemen in blue with the guns come over and ask me to move.

Oh well. There went my chance of being arrested on the set of a Denzel Washington movie.

Gas Gone Wild

When I went to work yesterday, regular unleaded gas was priced at $3.81 a gallon.

When I came home from work, it was $3.89.

WTF?!

More on me

So the Sunday interview lasted all of 40 minutes. I wasn't sure how I did at first, but later in the day as I reflected back it felt like they were trying to impress me.

Today I got an e-mail asking if I could come back on Monday at noon for a tryout. Now I have to re-teach myself QuarkXPress in a week. How do I get myself into these situations? Well, at least I don't have any major projects going on at work.

More on Clive Owen

I didn't take these pictures and this wasn't even the scene I saw (back of scene I saw). They were in a totally different part of Grand Central when I happened upon them.

But as we covered already I didn't even know what was going on, so I definitely didn't take any pictures. I just stole these off someone else's blog; someone who DID stop and take photos. Smart girl.