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.

Update: Blog2

Because you've been following this blogging saga with baited breath...

We bloggers received this in an e-mail today. (As if someone is reading this blog. Ah the power of Bucky! Or more likely, the same thought occurred to everyone simultaneously.)

Meantime, though, I should have mentioned before, even as I did sing your praises, that we got A LOT of submissions for this job. (Thanks, Craigslist!) Though there are a lot of YOU -- more than we planned! -- we changed our plans BECAUSE we liked you each so much, and MANY people, though we appreciated every submission, did not make the cut. Just wanted to give you some warm fuzzies to last you this week.

Movie Obstacle Course

In addition to the Five Boro Bike Tour, which tied up traffic like crazy today (so I couldn't drive into the city for my interview), they were inexplicably shooting a movie at Grand Central.

So half the place was corralled off and every time I tried to get where I needed to go, some young woman with a headset would come up to me and say, "Uh, excuse me ma'am. We're shooting a movie. Can you go another way?"

I was all like, "No I can't go another way. That's the only way to get from here to the 7 train!" Apparently I was the only person trying to get anywhere in Grand Central. Everyone else was just standing there transfixed, staring at the back of some guy in a suit. I don't know who it was. It didn't seem to matter to those gawking if the person was famous. They were just awed by the big, bright lights I think.

Anyway, I finally did make it to the 7 train.


(Oh and by today, I meant Sunday. It's after midnight as I'm writing this post, so it will pop up under Monday. Don't be confused. No one is filming in Grand Central on a Monday...at least not while the trains are running.)

Happy Birthday, Pete Seeger

Today is Pete Seeger's 89th birthday. How did he spend the day? How do you expect? Protesting the war in Iraq, as he does almost every Saturday I drive to work. Today he was wearing a yellow slicker because of the rain and looking like that guy on the box of fish sticks. I should have taken his photo while I was stopped at the stoplight at the corner of Routes 9 and 9D. But of course that didn't occur to me until I had driven away.

So instead I present to you this photo from an event held here Wednesday night:



I'm telling you, Pete Seeger plays every event in this town. I could hold a barbecue and say, "Pete, do you want to come play at my barbecue for peace?" And he'd be there.

Today is also my grandfather's birthday. But he didn't make it to 89. He died of Alzheimer's when I was in college.

I suppose in hindsight, that wasn't the best way to end a post.

Update on that other blog

It appears that BreakupGirl.net just let anyone who sent them sample blogs become a blogger because now they've decided to use a "team" of us, which is fine because it means less work. But when they said team, I thought they meant three or four. There are 10 of us (thus the conclusion that anyone who has ever visited the site is now a blogger). And it is a crazy group. We had to introduce ourselves via e-mail to one another. At first everyone seemed to be New York-based, which was nice. I thought I could potentially develop some friends from the group. Most of the seemed to be in media or the arts. But the second half was from more varied locations and backgrounds - a sixteen-year-old from Buffalo, a woman that works for a Jewish cultural group in D.C., a gay female "sex worker" from San Fransisco (I don't if that's good ole fashion streetwalker or porn star or other.)

Only one of us (not me) has started blogging though, because the two people who run the blog are in transition and haven't really instructed us what to do. One is moving to Israel for six months. And I think the other one is just moving...I can't really remember what he was doing.

They want to break us up by beats - someone doing celebrity gossip, someone doing books, movies, news items, etc. I don't know if there are enough beats to go around for 10 people, though. I mean, it's not like there's cops and courts or environment or IBM to be covered. Should be interesting how it plays out.

Sunday

I have a job interview. On Sunday. Is that weird? I'm not the only one who finds that weird right?

The Sunday part, that is. Not that I'd be able to land a job interview.

Always with the noise

As you know from my previous post I was dead tired upon my return. So, of course, yesterday morning at 7:30 my upstairs neighbor's alarm went off...for four hours. He's done this before and I've talked to him about it, but I guess he doesn't care enough to remember to turn the thing off when he's spending the night elsewhere. It takes about four hours for it to finally release nobody is coming to turn it off and then it shuts itself off. In the meantime, I had to relocate to the futon because it is so loud in my bedroom, sleep - even when one is bone tired -is impossible.

Then THIS morning, I got woken up at 8:30 a.m. because they've finally started deconstruction of my balcony (next comes reconstruction). They were supposed to have done this two weeks ago, but are behind schedule. I thought for sure they would finish it while I was gone and I'd miss it. But I have no such luck. So now, for the rest of the week balcony construction. Great. It shakes the whole apartment, that work. Not to mention it's weird to have men hanging right outside the sliding glass door. I'm so glad I finally got curtains.

It is never quiet in New York. Not even here in the 'burbs.

Bucky back home...and back at work

It took me a 4:30 a.m. alarm, a two-hour plane ride, the Air Train from Newark Airport to Newark Air Link, a New Jersey transit train to Penn Station, two subway trains to Grand Central, a Metro-North train and a short walk uphill to get to work yesterday.

In the process I twisted my ankle trying to wrestle my suitcase down the stairs to the 7 train. Subway, while getting better, is not the most handicap accessible place on the planet. Thus it is also not the most roll-y bag friendly place either.

Oh well, it's not the worst haul I've ever had. And at least it was only one roll-y bag.

Washington Square construction

As I mentioned in a blog entry about a thousand years ago, NYC is redoing Washington Square Park.

When I was down there last (note the photos from the street festival a few entries ago), I snapped a few photos. I couldn't get any really good shots because of all the people, but I was surprised to see it wasn't the entire square that was torn up. Just the center part.

In case you are wondering why all the construction, from PlanNYC.org:

The New York City Department of Parks and Recreation has begun construction on the renovation of Washington Square Park. The plans include a $16 million redesign of the Greenwich Village landmark paid for with funding by the city, the Tisch family, and NYU. The fountain will be refurbished and moved so it lines up with the arch, the central plaza will be ripped up and flattened, and a new playground will go where concrete play mounds now sit, and a four-foot wrought iron fence will replace the current mishmash of lower barriers. The new park will feature an adventure play area for older kids and a refurbished bathroom house. Holley Square will be moved away from the central fountain to create freer walkways, and there'll be more benches in some areas, new tables for Scrabble, and lower walls for sitting. The central plaza and lawns will all be made to the same grade so wheelchairs can get around and the different parts of the park feel connected.

Proponents of the plan say that the park is in a state of disrepair and that the large expanses of pavement should be replaced with green-space. Opponents of the plans fear that the park will loose its unique character, and they also fear disturbing the burial ground underneath the park during construction. The alleged disenfranchisement of local community members in the planning and design process is of greatest concern to many. During 2005 and early 2006, three lawsuits were filed challenging various aspects of the Parks Department's renovation plans. All of those suits were eventually resolved in the City’s favor, which allowed construction to begin in late 2007. The first phase of the construction is scheduled to be completed in the Spring of 2009.

Happy (Real) Easter!

Or, as we say in the Greek Orthodox church, "Christos Anesti!" (Christ has risen.) To which the response is, "Alithos Anesti!" (Truly, he has risen.) There's a song that goes along with it, but I won't go overboard with the Easter here, as most of you guys already went through fake Easter and thus are already looking forward to...uh...Mother's Day? Memorial Day? Fourth of July? Summer vacation?

Well, whatever it is, Happy Easter all the same!

Funny Sign (Memphis)

Blogs is bustin' out all over

Well, it's official. I write one funny e-mail.

I have been chosen to blog for BreakupGirl.net. Though it was based on my e-mails, not on my submitted blog posts, which they felt were forced. Of course they were forced. I don't perform well under pressure. I don't test well. But luckily I write one crazy-good e-mail and that's how they want me to write for them. So now I'm a professional blogger. Please don't feel like a lesser person in my presence. Not everyone can be as great as the old Buckster. (No. Seriously. You can't all be me.)

Anyway, you can read one of my seriously lame sample posts (they were lame...I was rushing and tired from all the crazy-long work days) below:

Title: Love on a Billboard (Or, All you need to know about romance can be found in Top 40 songs)

The floor and the club are in and the bed is out, according to a Breakup Girl in depth examination of the 10 songs that top the Billboard charts this week. (And by in depth, we mean listening to that little snippet they let you hear on iTunes as a teaser.)

Apparently the best places for making love in a pop song are anywhere but the traditional, and coincidentally most comfortable location, the bed.

The poor bed can't get a break. In "Touch My Body," Mariah Carey demands the floor (though admittedly, in a throwback to old school ways, she also asks for the bed). In "Love in the Club"...well, you can guess where Usher and Young Jeezy want to do it. And we can't really tell you where Lil Wayne wants to go, because this is not an X-rated site and all his lyrics are.

But pop songs aren't just about location. According to professors Joe Kotarba and Phillip Vannini in their book "Understanding Society through Popular Music," pop music is one of the most important sources of culture in our society.

To that end, we provide you with all you need to know about our society based on the Billboard Top 10:

1) Wrestling around on the floor? Good
2) Being so in love with someone, your friends think you've lost your mind and try to intervene? Uh, good?
3) Four minutes is the maximum amount of time you can give someone who is Madonna or Justin Timberlake to explain what you want to do to them? Neither good nor bad.
4) Dressing and wearing your hair like your man? Good.
5) Making love in the club? Definitely good!
6) Taking it to the floor? Even better!
7) Trying to breath without air? Very bad.
8) Making someone fall so in love with you they don't need money or cars? Only good if they give those things to you.
9) Asking for a love song because you need one? BAD! Don't ever do it again.
10) Dressing like a pornography poster? Oh Yeah.

Things I hate #429

The term "leisure traveler". As if everyone who doesn't travel for business somehow has loads of disposable income to spent jaunting around the world, or the option not to travel.

I definitely don't have loads of money. And I have to scrimp and save to take trips. I eat A LOT of cheap pasta. I don't go to movies any more except on rare occasions. Actually I don't do much of anything by way of entertainment. All of my "disposable income," in fact, is spent on travel. Either to and fro work, visiting my boyfriend, or seeing family and friends.

Sure I could not travel. But then I would never see my family, never spend time with my friends, never have anything worth calling a life. I don't understand how business travelers suddenly became the ones burdened with the cost of travel when it's their companies paying for it. And the leisure traveler, as it were, is the one that should pay the extra money because airlines don't know how to balance their budgets.

Charging to check a second bag. I swear, soon they'll be charging us extra if we choose to wear clothes on the plane...or use the bathroom...or breathe.

We need a revolution, people. Against airlines, and — while we're at it — against crazy high gas prices. I can't even afford to be alive anymore.

April 22, 2008
Airlines to Charge for Second Bag

By MARTHA C. WHITE
The New York Times

Five of the six major airlines in the United States plan to start charging coach passengers as much as $25 next month to check a second bag, the latest move in their quest to offset high fuel prices.

But while the airlines, and even some industry specialists, say they expect the fees will primarily affect leisure travelers, business travelers beg to differ.

Street Fair Weather, at last

Today's fair, at Washington Square Park. Too bad I had just eaten a big lunch and had only $6 cash on me. I'll be better prepared for you next time, Street Fair!

Potential new stalker moving in...

...as I type. Just in time for the summer stalking season.

Stay posted for updates.

From Bucky to Romantic Superhero

Because I don't have enough to do what with my job and my new social networking duties therein, I have foolishly put my hat in to be a blogger at BreakupGirl.net. They want me to produce some sample posts by the end of the week. Crap.

Here was the post I responded to:

Web superhero seeks blogger/sidekick for fun, clips

Us: Venerable, award-winning website about love, and/or lack thereof, geared for both men and women and combining witty relationship advice with sophisticated comic-strip adventures. We are seeking a new sidekick for help with content writing and management on our new blog.

You: Ace reporter, crackerjack writer. Funny, funny, and funny. Able to spot relationship-related news stories and the clever or insightful angle therein. You should have your own distinct voice and take, but should also be willing to roll with us in terms of style and philosophy. We may also want you to help track and moderate blog comments when necessary. Swinging geeky is good; affinity for superheroes a major plus.

Pay: Alas, none. This is a VERY part-time (part-part-time?) pursuit in which you may engage from the privacy of your own home/cafe/McJob.

Payoff: Honing of your voice and your nose for news. Tons of [short] clips. Considerable cachet / street cred! The opportunity to become part of a tight, fun team who will give you glowing references. And, possibly, your very own cartoon alter ego.


Last night this seemed like a good idea. Though it doesn't pay, it sounded like a fun distraction from my real work. Plus I'd actually heard of the site and been on it before. And would give me real blogging experience (as opposed to you guys here...sorry, fake audience of four), which is what half the paying jobs now have listed as a job requirement. And since it isn't paid, it doesn't violate my current work contract.

Of course, now I'm under pressure to be funny, which is no way for funny to work.

Crap.

Newspaper or Social Networking site: You decide

Our newspaper launched it's redesign this week. Included with the new look of the paper is the addition of Pluck, a social networking site no where near as intuitive to use as MySpace, et al. This is because Gannett is cheap and buys things that don't work quite right to a few cents.

All of its properties are now all Plucked up. (Just a hint of the jokes flying around the office.) This means, in addition to my editor, columnist, and payroll duties, I now how to help manage this social networking site - because I work nights and weekends - and keep my profile page interesting and up-to-date. So I'm blogging in two sites - there and here - uploading photo galleries of whatever I can think of to photograph, leaving messages on other people's profiles and all around trying to spur people on to using our site a social gathering place.

We had to go to training for this. So of the choicest Office Space-like moments where when we were told, "People used to visit our Web sites, now we want them to live there."

You'll be glad to know that we've gone from calling our customers, "readers" - which denotes a monologue - to "audience" - which denotes a dialogue - and now to "communities" - which denotes a polylogue. You're guess is as good as mine as to what that means.

Finally we learned this little gem, a variation on the Customer Is Always Right: The Reader Is The Expert. That is Gannett's new philosophy for all its news products. Nevermind that our readers all seem to be crazy, racist, losers who live at home with their mothers. They are all experts. No need for any other sources. Just listen to the readers. They'll tell you all you need to know.

I couldn't make this stuff up, if I tried.

Aristotle to hang out in Queens

From our friends at the Queens Courier

Greek city gives Aristotle to park
BY CHRISTINA SANTUCCI

A popular Astoria park, named for a Greek city, will soon have another tie to the European country. On Saturday, April 5, a bust of Greek philosopher Aristotle will be unveiled at Athens Square Park, located at 30th Avenue and 30th Street, during a ceremony slated to begin at 1 p.m. Entertainment will begin at noon.

The Greek city of Halkidiki donated the statue, which was sculpted by George V. Tsaras, to the city of New York for placement in the Queens park.

Parks Commissioner Adrian Benepe and Vasilios Vasilakis, the Governor of the Greek city of Halkidiki, are both expected to attend the ceremony, which was organized in conjunction with Athens Square Inc., an organization dedicated to improving the park.

“They [Athens Square Inc.] have been working to design and fund the renovation,” said Parks spokesperson Trish Bertuccio.

The group raised $45,000 to pay for the maintenance of the statue, said Vice President George Delis. The Stavros Niarchos Foundation donated $25,000, Astoria Energy LLC $10,000 and a private donor provided $10,000.

The statue had been ready and waiting in Greece until Athens Square Inc. collected the money, Delis said.

“We waited 10 years for this statue,” he said, explaining that he had traveled to Greece two years ago to negotiate the work’s release.

The bronze bust of Aristotle will join depictions of fellow Greeks - mythical goddess Athena and philosopher Socrates - in the park.

A fourth space for a statue remains open, and the parks group is already planning to place a statue of playwright Sophocles in the area. However, they expect the statue and maintenance fees to reach $100,000.

“If anyone wants to give us the money, we will dedicate the statue in their name,” Delis said.

Reporter sings the blues. Literally

I'm working on an employee review right now — the part of my job I hate the most — and I Googled her name to pull up the stories she's worked on over the last six months and I discovered her YouTube site.

I knew she was a musician, but I wasn't really sure what kind of music she performed and I had never heard her. But I have to say, I think she's pretty good. Take a look:

Greek Independence Day Parade

Today was the big parade on 5th Avenue. And I actually made it this time! But in true Greek style, the 1 p.m. parade began at 1:30 p.m. and I met up with my friends, whom I was supposed to meet at 12:30 p.m., at 1 p.m.

It wasn't the most smoothly run parade, but there were some amusing points. However we were at the start of the parade and we really should have been closer to the grandstand, where they were actually telling people what all the floats and participants were.



I bought my two friends who were there little Greek flags. I was dressed in white and blue, a la my heritage. They were pretty taken aback by the anti-Turkey sentiment brazenly on displace in a parade. It's not like the IRA march in the St. Patrick's Day parade.

While it didn't rain today, it was windy and super cold. All week long the weather service said it would be sunny and a high of 60. Instead we got windy — or "Blowy" as my friend Kathianne put it — cloudy and a high of 49. This winter just will NOT let go. I wish it would warm up already.

There was no Greek food being sold nearby, which was the major downside of the parade. They should really combined the parade with a street fair. But it was okay because afterward we headed back to the West Side in Chelsea where there was a street fair. No photos from that. But here are some more from the parade.

England: Part 1, The Christening

So in case you are just joining us, I've recently (i.e. Monday) returned from England.

I was there because my friends, Sarah and James, asked me to be godmother to their daughter, the most adorable baby ever (well...if you called me out on it, you'd learn that I said the exact same thing about my cousin's daughter Penny and my friend Evy's son, Connor. So my definition of "most adorable baby ever" is very fluid) Amelie. A reminder in case you life in a bizarro cyber world that will not allow you to view any of my previous posts:


The christening went well. It was held at the village church. My friends live in a place called Wanborough in the county of Wiltshire, though I don't think they are actually called counties in England. The village has a little store that is also the post office, a park and a village hall and several inns with pubs. And that's about it. However it's only a few minutes from a bigger town that has a grocery store and a McDonald's and such.

Though I'm starting with the christening, it was actually one of the last things I did there. However, it is the primary reason I was there. The christening was pretty short and involved us all denouncing the devil and promising to pray for Amelie, etc. and there was some water and candles involved. Afterward we got little godparent certificates, which prove helpful the next time we're stopped for driving under the influence of juice boxes. Above are my friends with the vicar after the christening.

The reception was held at a nice seafood restaurant called The Crab at Chieveley.It was about 25 minutes from the church and there's not much else near it. Dear, little Amelie clearly knew the do was all for her because after waking up toward the end of the meal she really hammed it up for the cameras.

I have to say that I totally feel in love with this little baby. She and I got on quite nicely. I made her laugh and she chewed on my sunglasses. She was already asleep the night I arrived and when she woke up the next day and saw me for the first time, she acted like it was the most normally thing in the world that someone she had never seen before would be standing there in her pjs. She liked me immediately. I was heartbroken to leave her...covered in chocolate doughnut, which is what she had been eating in the car on the way to the airport. The next time I see her, she'll probably be making complete sentences (not just dada, mummum and cat) and walking. Oh, they grow up so fast!

So more photos below:

Definitely my goddaughter

Now THAT is how you enjoy pizza!

Bucky lag

Oi. I'm back, but still dragging a little. Updates and clever things to be said will appear again soon.

Bucky Across the Pond

Not that you'll even notice, but the blog will be on hiatus for about a week while I'm in England. I am to be a godmother. So while I'm gone I'll leave you with a little photo of godchild to be. A not quite full report to follow upon my return.

Happy Fake Easter

Easter always bothers me — except every four years or so when the stars align and all the Easters fall on the same date. It bothers me because I know what it must feel like not be Christian in a Christian society; and what it feels like is annoying. I'm annoyed at having to explain over and over - sometimes to the same people - thanking you for wishing me a Happy Easter, but no, it's not my Easter. Do I go around wishing random people holidays they don't celebrate? No. I do not. And if I did, they would certainly complain about it. So now it's my turn to complain.

This year the Eastern Orthodox Easter, along with the Passover it always follows, isn't until the end of April. A full month after the Western world celebrates it's Easter.

I'm annoyed by the people I encounter who keep giving me sad looks like, "Oh, poor girl, she has no one to spend the holiday with." And I want to shout at them, "It's NOT MY EASTER! Stop feeling sorry for me." And then I'm annoyed because I feel sad I have no one to spend the day with. Just me and Roland, doing laundry and repotting the cactus and finishing our state taxes (well, my taxes; he's finishing a bone I gave him last week).

I'm annoyed because I have to work tomorrow and I leave on Wednesday for England and I need to do a bunch of stuff and this is my only day off to do them and I can't because all of the stupid stores are closed for Easter. It makes me want to scream, "What about all the people who AREN'T Western Christians?! Huh? There are a lot of Jews here, a goodly number of Hindus and Muslims and Orthodox Christians too! We NEED to shop. Why aren't you open for us?!

I'm also annoyed because it's the end of March and it's still cold outside...but that's a different topic for a different day.

Crazy excuse for bad driving 3012: It wasn't me officer, it was the Oreo

SALISBURY, Conn. (AP) — Police say a man’s excuse for speeding through a small Connecticut town takes the cake — or, at least, the cookie.

A state trooper who stopped the 1993 BMW says its driver, 28-year-old Justin Vonkummer of Millerton, N.Y., blamed the driving problems on an errant Oreo.

Police say Vonkummer told the trooper that an Oreo had just slipped from his fingers as he dunked it in a cup of milk, and that he was trying to fish it out when he lost control of his car.

The alleged incident occurred last fall in Salisbury, but came to light in Bantam Superior Court this week.

That’s when prosecutors learned Vonkummer had been charged with speeding and driving under a suspended license — not driving under the influence, as a clerk had mistakenly noted in the court records.

Vonkummer’s attorney would not comment. The case is pending.

Me gusta mucho Ashley Tisdale

Everyone must go to this site immediately. It is so totally bizarre. I have no words for it.

Party Train

I don't think you really get how truly crowded the 10:51 a.m. St. Patrick's Day train to Grand Central was from this photo, but it gives you a hint. My car was standing room only and people were singing, chanting, banging on the roof of the car. At one point I thought they were going to stop the train and call the police.

At least twice the conductor came over the intercom to ask people to put out their cigarettes. (Might I remind you, you can't even smoke in bars in New York!) One guy had one of those camel packs long-distance runners wear to stay hydrated and he had filled it full of what looked like vodka and was going around giving people shots. He was falling down drunk and it wasn't even noon. Another girl had shot glasses stuck to her suspenders and was giving people shots. EVERYONE had cups or bottles filled with liquor. There were cases of beer.

I swear, it was like someone took the French Quarter at Mardi Gras and crammed it into a train. I had my iPod turned up to full volume and I couldn't hear the music. My boyfriend called and he said, "Is that the train?!" He couldn't believe I wasn't at a bar. He said he'd text message me instead and hung up.

The woman who sat next to me, sighed when she got on. "I took the latest train I could. I have to go to work. I was hoping to avoid most of this." [The parade was at 11 a.m. This train didn't get into Grand Central until about 12:10.]

It was a hilarious ride - way crazier than my New Year's Eve trip two years ago. But, it was also annoying after a while since I wasn't doing any drinking. I had a massive headache by the time we pulled into Grand Central.

My ride home last night

This happened on my train car:

Fight results in stabbing at train station

BEACON – A fight between two groups on a northbound Metro-North train late Monday night resulted in a Newburgh man being stabbed in the side.

Beacon City Police Chief Glenn Scofield said Tuesday that the fight apparently began on the train and spilled over onto the platform when it arrived in Beacon around 11:40 p.m.

The victim, a 22-year-old man who he declined to identify, sustained a minor stab wound and refused medical treatment at the scene, the chief said.

No arrests have been made and the investigation is continuing.

(Bad Luck) O' The Irish

This was my St. Patrick's Day. German and Italian beer and pizza. What is they say — if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. That pretty much sums up my life, relationship included.

I have a pretty funny train ride in story, but that's about as Irish as my day got. As soon as I arrived in NYC, I had to wait for my boyfriend to arrive, as always. I sat at Starbucks for about an hour. Then he picks me up and announces that he passed a couple of Irish-pub type places on the way in and they were packed and he's decided we weren't staying in the city. So he takes me to Staten Island. He doesn't ask me, he just takes me there. I had plans with someone later in the evening - a former reporter of mine who now works in the city. The boyfriend was working nights this week and so when he went home to sleep, I was going to hang out with my friend and get in some celebrating time.

Instead we go to Staten Island, drive around for two hours. I don't know what we're looking for. He makes about five references to going to Chili's - though he knows I wanted to do an Irish pub or at the least get a corned beef sandwich; something he had previously claimed to also want to do. Finally, I say, "Fine. Let's go to Chili's. I don't care. I'm starving." (It's now 3 p.m.) And he snaps at me, "What's with your attitude?! You don't think I'm hungry too!" And that was pretty much the end of our conversation for the day.

We wind up at this Italian restaurant/pizzaria called Villa Monte and have pizza and the beer seen above. Then he takes me back to his apartment where he packs for his week at work and then takes a nap. I nap too, because I have nothing better to do. We wake up at 7:10 p.m. and finally around 7:45 p.m. I say to him, "What are your plans for me?" And as if it's an annoyance, he says to me, "I'll drop you off at a train station in the city on the way to work." Which is what he does.

When he drops me off, he leans over to kiss me and I reflexively, without even thinking, turn my head so he winds up kissing me on the cheek. He says to call him when I get home and something about being safe, but by that time I was already out the car door and halfway to the station. I did not call him when I got home.

And that was my day.

I'll write up the brief, but funny tale of my trip in later. When I'm feeling a little more festive.

So much for parade fever

I overslept this morning and won't be making it down to the city in time for the St. Patrick's Day parade. I am so lame.

I will, however, still be heading into the city, so there will be merry making for all. More to come on that later...

Funny sign

Ah, warmth!

You may have noticed the lack of entries lately. It's because I've been in New Orleans, but I'll be catching a plane home in four hours and I'll update you on some happenings and funny stories. In the meantime I will report that it is super windy here and also warm. And if you wear a green dress, people will shout at you, "Hey Irish girl!" or sometimes "Hey Irish lady!" depending on if they're trying to be classy, I guess.

Potential entry for worst column ever written

We aren't running this, but one of our columnist submitted this as his column for the weekend. He's a Vassar College professor, who will remain nameless. I'll leave the rest for you to judge.


It’s always Easter. But at this time of year we actually talk about it, celebrate it.

Without contradicting any biblical account, I believe it’s useful to imagine the details of the first Easter morning differently than it’s usually depicted. Here’s what I mean:

As the blackness weakened in that hour before sunrise, Jesus suspected He wasn’t dead.

First, He noticed a gray halo of light slipping through the cracks between the cave in which he was entombed and the big rock blocking the entrance.

Then Jesus groaned, “My hands…. they hurt.” He also noticed His ankles ached and there was a throbbing pain in his left side.

When He was finally fully awake, He was still surprised. “Oh, the resurrection, it worked,” He thought. But Jesus was even more surprised at just how painful it was. During His lifetime it just never occurred to Him that the resurrection would hurt.

Now the practical problem: “How do I get the rock out of the way?,” He wondered. Jesus even smiled to Himself at the irony of rising from the dead only to die again of starvation if He couldn’t move that rock.

Avoiding his left side, Jesus slowly twisted Himself off the cold white marble slab, into a standing position. With swollen feet, He hobbled over to the entrance of the tomb.

He leaned against the rock, it didn’t move; He pushed, to no avail; He strained, without success.

Already sweating, He took a deep breath. As He let the air out, an angel appeared. Happy for the company and buoyed by the angel’s glistening garb, the task suddenly seemed less daunting

Working together, Jesus and the angel budged that big rock. “Good, good. That’s enough. I think I can make it through,” Jesus told the angel.

Then, standing straight and sucking in His stomach, Jesus shimmied His way out of the tomb and shuffled into a new dawn, a new civilization.

The advantage of this incarnation-laden account of Easter is how it reflects our deepest experience hope. Even if we have hope to the ultimate degree, all the way to resurrection, it’s always accompanied with struggle.

Of course this is true [here], like anywhere else in the world.

So if we’re homeless and seeking shelter with Hudson River Housing, or hungry and eating your one meal a day at the Lunchbox or depressed and seeking solace from the Mental Health Association our suffering doesn’t exclude hope, in fact, as Jesus shows us, it’s a condition for hope.

Weighing in on Spitzer

I don't think anyone is coming to Bucky's World for news of Spitzer, so instead I'll just share some inside anecdotes.

At about 1:55 p.m. the managing editor comes running (ok, really, it was more walking fast) to my desk and says, and I quote, "Sptizer. Prostitute. What's your plan?." The last line may have been "We need a plan." But I can't remember now. I look at him blankly and said, "What are you talking about? Is this a knock-knock joke?" He said, "No. It's the top update on the Web site." I look at our site, which is up on my computer and say, "I don't see it on our site. What are you talking about." Then he says in an even more frantic voice, "No. The New York TIMES Web site!" As if I was just supposed to guess that. Then for the next seven hours - including two meetings on the topic - my meager staff produced about 14 stories - four full inside pages, plus all but one slot on the cover. More than any other paper in New York State, including the New York Times. Today, the executive editor seemed to be thinking, "Okay, maybe she was right (talking about me, who, for once, was the voice of reason). This WAS a little overkill, as there was no actual resignation."

Now we, along with the rest of the state and national media, are on Spitzer resignation watch.

And this blog entry would not be complete without us giving some love to the New York Post, which once again through taste and ethics out the window when it with the following headline in today's paper (complete with the indefatigable slammer):

And to no one's surprise....

AP: Obama wins Mississippi primary

The Associated Press

JACKSON, Miss. — Barack Obama has coasted to victory in Mississippi’s Democratic presidential primary.

Tuesday’s contest was the latest in a string of racially polarized contests across the Deep South. It was also a final tune-up before next month’s high-stakes race with Hillary Rodham Clinton in Pennsylvania.

The Associated Press made its call based on surveys of voters as they left the polls.

Headline I never thought I'd see

Obama looks to Miss. for momentum

WASHINGTON - Barack Obama focused on Mississippi's primary for new momentum in his tight race with Hillary Rodham Clinton, as a consensus began to emerge about two states stripped of their delegates where do-over contests could weigh heavily in the fierce Democratic White House battle.

Obama was favored to win in Tuesday's nominating race in Mississippi, a southern state where blacks — who have carried him to wins previously — make up a majority of the Democratic voters. The first senator trounced Clinton in Saturday's Wyoming caucuses, rebounding from earlier setbacks in a win that allowed him to retain his all-important delegate lead in his quest to becoming the U.S.'s first black president.

No parade, but I am wearing green today

Well, my resolve to hit up every St. Patrick's Day parade possible didn't get me very far. I did not, as promised, go to the Staten Island parade today. There were a number of reasons this happened. 1) Boyfriend, not on the island this weekend. He's working and his job has him staying at a hotel near JFK. 2) High winds. Lots of water. 3) I was at work last night...well, technically this morning, until 12:15 a.m. Then we had to Spring Ahead, so I didn't wind up going to bed until 3 a.m. (Daylight Savings Time) and I got up at 11 a.m. Thus making it impossible to get to Staten Island for a noon parade.

Oh well, I suspect the other parades I have planned won't present me so much a problem. And I've already begun recruiting people to join me for Greek Independence Day.

Batesville, Miss.

Parade Fever

Speaking of Staten Island, its St. Patrick's Day parade is Sunday. I plan to be there, even if my boyfriend can't make it. (He is already starting in with the whole, "I may have to work" excuse — an oldie, but a favorite of his.) I also plan to attend the NYC parade, which falls on a Monday (along with the actual day).

This is a great year for parades...for me, at least. Everything is falling on the days I have off — Sunday and Monday. This includes the Greek Independence Day parade on April 6, a Sunday. I've decided that since I can't recruit any of my fiends (including the alleged boyfriend) into doing things with me, I'll just have to do them all by myself because there's too much to do to just be hanging out at home all the time.

That said, you are all welcome to come up and join me.

A good review of Staten Island (not mine)

Someone had something positive to say about the island, suggesting Manhattanites take the Staten Island ferry over and hit the restaurants on a nearby street. Sounds nice. I'll have to try them when the weather gets a little nicer. I'll have my own review come the spring.

Has the salt air made you feel a bit peckish? Is so, exit the ferry terminal and walk to Bay Avenue, Staten Island's picturesque corniche. Go three blocks left to Victory Boulevard, which is a hotbed of amazing eats.

Your choices include Trinidadian, Polish, Italian, Jamaican, and Sri Lankan, plus a half-dozen Mexican taquerias. I most recommend Island Roti Shop (65 Victory Boulevard), where you can get a mean goat or conch roti, and Taqueria El Gallo Azteca (75 Victory Boulevard), where you can scarf cemitas, the round Pueblan sandwiches. My fave is milanesa, made with a pounded and fried beef cutlet and fiery sundried chipotle peppers.

New Jersey Transit

Had my first experience with public transportation in New Jersey today. I took the train from Newark airport into the city and was surprised at how easy it was to use. The ticketing process was simple and it took no time at all to get from the airport to Penn Station (New York).

I also learned there was a Penn Station Newark. That is a little confusing. Anyone know why there are two Penn Stations in such close proximity? There was at least one guy that wasn't paying attention and got off in New Jersey when he was headed to New York. Then again, he also tried to get off at the airport where I got on, not realizing it was NOT NYC, so I think maybe he just has some serious confusion issues going on.

Actually, so far getting to Newark rates WAY higher on the ease and quickness scale than getting to JFK via public transportation. I haven't yet tried to get to LaGuardia, but I've mapped it out in case I ever have to. It involves a bus and I'm pretty leery of those as I have a fundamental inability to understand their routes. But a bus with a giant sign that says "To LaGuardia airport" pulls right up to the Harlem/125th Street Metro North stop, so I'm confident I can get TO the airport. I'm just not so confident I could get back...you know without calling up TomClancy and saying, "Come get me at the airport. I have no idea where these buses go!"

The C.A. in song

So for the last few months I've been driving around with this Spoon CD in my car (given to me by one of my two music gurus, Min), listening to it off and on and bugged by Track 9, which I could have SWORN was about a newspaper I used to work at. But then I thought, that's ridiculous, why would anyone sing about The Commercial Appeal.

But it turns out, that's exactly what they were singing about:

Spoon Lyrics
"Finer Feelings"

Memphis comes creeping down my back
Somehow this place tastes just like an attack
A hundred-yard-stare of a kiss
Lord, I know I'll never miss it

They told me stop scouting the field
They told me have a look in Commercial Appeal
And start getting that hair cut sharp

Sometimes I think that I'll find a love
One that's gonna change my heart
I'll find it in Commercial Appeal
And then this heartache'll get chased away

I was part-time at the Tasty Prawn
That and moving furniture and cutting lawns
Covered in newsprint, staying up real late
Just holding out for some fate

Sometimes I think that I'll find a love
One that's gonna change my heart
I'll find it in Commercial Appeal
And then this heartache'll get chased away
[x2]

I was dreaming in the driver's seat
When the right words just came to me
And all my finer feelings came up

Always out on some witch's hunt
For the one who never lets me want
Before you know it it's all fuss

Sometimes I think that I'll find a love
One that's gonna change my heart
I'll find it in Commercial Appeal
And then this heartache'll get chased away
[x2]

It's snowing. Again.

Sigh.

Go Cup Gold

I guess I knew that my godparents daughter (or godsister, as I like to call her) Cathy was famous - I mean I see her on TV, in cooking magazines, sometimes in the Sunday coupons for Glad or Reynolds Warp or something like that, and she has her own cookbooks - but it must not have sunk in because yesterday I was truly shocked when, looking at my boyfriend's Starbucks cup, I saw this:



Iron Chef is all nice and what not, but you know you've arrived when you score the quote on the back of a Starbucks go cup.

Snow dog

Snow, Snow

We got our first big snow of the year on Friday. I'm a little late putting these up, but here are a few scenes from my day: