Tuesday, June 26, 2007

When the moon hits your eye...

Ciao! (That means hello and goodbye, much like Aloha and Shalom. Basically it means that Italians, Hawaiians and Israelis are too cool to bother with a distinction. Heck, Shalom is even used as a person's name! That would be weird, wouldn't it? Every time you see them, you'd basically be like, "Hello Hello!" And every time someone new comes in the room, and people greet them, Shalom is sitting there like "What???! WHAT?!!")

Boy, am I long-winded or what?

Anyhow. I say "ciao!" to you because we started off our week by being completely irresponsible and going to Little Italy after work Monday night. We didn't mean to, really, we just meant to go out for dessert and sort of came upon Little Italy by chance. No, really, we did. We figured as much when we started seeing the red, white and green lights everywhere and noticed the overwhelming scent of marinara in the air.

Little Italy is BEAUTIFUL. And I'm not just talking about the pasta. It's full of restaurants with people dining al fresco and drinking and slurping gobs of ravioli and marsala sauce. Adam and I had already "ate" of course (we each had one of those head-sized artichokes we bought at the market), but after walking down three or four blocks of delicious smells we gave in and went into a place to share a single-size pizza. And...and well a bottle of Chianti. Why not?

The pizza was so decadent that I felt obscene eating it in public. It was a pizza bianca (white), and the melty ponds of ricotta cheese could make a person need a cigarette after eating it. Oh. My. Gosh.

By the time we got home it was (gasp) almost midnight. And on a MONDAY to boot!

Today, while Adam stayed home and did wonderful man-wifely things like clean and cook (God bless him), I had a wonderful day at Bloomsbury. The darling executive editor who I adore had me working on an image research project for a book she's doing, and I did so well with it that at the end of the day she said, "Oh my god, you just made my life. I love you!" I blushed accordingly and professed my own love for her as well. She is a goddess. On top of that, when I started talking to her about my job search, she told me that she was confident that she could help me not only get a job in Children's Editorial somewhere, but that she didn't even think I'd necessarily have to start as an Editorial Assistant. "With your skills and talents," she said, "You could easily start off as an Assistant Editor."

Now this may not seem like a big difference to you, but it is. It's huge. My heart all but leaped out of my chest. This was a good day!

Check the photo site for MORE FUN! Ciao!

Sunday, June 24, 2007

The Return of the Husband

What a weekend. I just napped, so I think I'm finally up for reliving everything we have done since Thursday night, after Adam's triumphant return. Here it goes...

Thursday
After another good day working at DK, I impatiently dialed Adam over and over, as he was supposed to meet me in Manhattan after work. When he didn't pick up after the fourth dial, I naturally assumed he had been hit by shrapnel or eaten by a crocodile. Running outside, I scanned the street and lo, there he was, rounding the corner, looking proud of himself for making the moment so dramatic. So we embraced and kissed, la dee da, and were just so happy. We were so happy that it made us feel utterly starved so we went in search of sushi. We found Yummy Village Sushi just in time to get out of the rain that had begun to fall. We dined on some delicious rolls, miso soup, and plenty of sake. We walked up to Washington Square Park after that, and Adam played a valiant game of chess with a surly Russian man. I made a couple inane suggestions, which were kindly scoffed at. Pretty soon we decided it was time to get back to the subway, and it was at just about that moment when the rain--which had temporarily stopped--decided to return with a fury. We ran pell-mell for the nearest station while the thunder raged above us...quite a different experience being out on the street, let me tell you. A man selling umbrellas yelled at us as we ran by:

"Buy an umbrella! You'll get wet, but she won't!"

Finally, we made it back, completely soaked, and headed home. A lovely and soggy end to the evening.

Friday
Since Friday's are half days at DK, I was out at about noon, and headed home for lunch. After that we decided to go shopping, and after repeated failures at Filene's Basement (clothes for old people) and Anthropologie (clothes for rich hippies) and Banana Republic (clothes for sinfully rich people), we figured that luck was not with us. So we went and ate some diner food. After that, we made our way to Central Park to attend a free Comedy Central stand-up comedy show, hosted by Dave Atell. We managed to sit right in the front row, so we might be on TV when they air it! We'll keep you posted. Our favorite was Ted Alexandro, who kinda sorta reminded us of Jamie. You can see a great clip of him here!

Saturday
Oy, Saturday. Such a good day, but such a LONG DAY. After our previous shopping bungle, we were determined to succeed. We headed to H&M on 34th Street, and hallelujah, there was clothes. Lots of wonderful, wearable, fashionable, affordable clothes. And it was good.

We stayed there for a couple of hours, feeling all saavy and stylin', and then headed to have a slice of pizza and walk around. We came upon a comic book convention by chance, and headed inside to have a peek. It was a bit of a madhouse inside, with comic book vendors, artists, and assorted geeks wandering about, speaking their strange language and being generally dorky. Adam was quite enamored with it all, and got to see a copy of the very first Spider-Man comic and some original Spider-Man drawings. After some more wandering around, the weird got weirder. As we entered another part of the level, we saw all these things, in turn.

1. Two or three WCW wrestlers.
2. An ex-(very ex-) Playboy Bunny
3. Sundry Jedi
and finally, 4. Bud Bundy

Yeah, I really mean Bud Bundy, from Married, With Children. The real guy. He was just chillin' there with his friend, who was for some reason wearing some kind of flak suit and black eye-liner. Oh, Bud. Where did you go astray?

Finally, we went to Macy's for shoes. If you've never been in Macy's in Manhattan before, you should know that it's the largest department store in the world. Yes, you heard me right. The entire world. The universe, possibly. Because really, only humans are absurd enough to pack that much hedonistic merchandise into one single location. Adam got a couple of highly swanky dress shoes, which he was quite pleased with. While there, we asked a man what floor women's shoes were on. This was his response:

"Four and five."
I goggled at him. "Four and five?"
"Yep. Women get everything in Macy's. Men just get a little section."
I turned my head to look at the yawning chasm that was the Men's shoe section, roughly the size of a blue whale and said, "This is small?"
He smirked. "Go upstairs. You'll see."

So we did. Oh my. The entire floor (all women's shoes) was crowded with flocks of women observing themselves in all types of gold, jewel-encrusted, 5-inch high, straps every-which-way shoes, while Macy's employees fluttered to and fro with teetering piles of shoeboxes in their arms. Discounted shoes were scattered helter-skelter all over the place, as if rooted through by a pack of rabid wolves. All I wanted was a nice black heel. Is that too much to ask?

I eventually found a nice, affordable pair, and tried them on.
"How do they look?" I asked.
"Great! That is, aside from the leprosy."

Let me explain. Last weekend, while out with Vicki drinking at a lovely outdoor patio in Cobble Hill, I was eaten alive by mosquitoes. The result of which was a profusion of disgusting red welts all over my legs. Adam and I decided that I looked positively diseased, and figured that calling it leprosy was as good as anything.

So, aside from the leprosy, the shoes were great, and we went home victorious. We had a little fashion show, and that was that. That night we watched Little Shop of Horrors, which Adam had never seen before. He loved it. He just spontaneously started singing "Suddenly Seymour" as I typed that sentence.

Sunday
Today was slightly less chaotic, but still quite busy. We headed to the Tompkins Square Farmer's Market to pick up some produce, which you can see if you go to our Photo Website! After that we had some insanely cheap Indian food, and then went to Park Slope to check out a gourmet food market. On the way we unexpectedly ran into a street festival going on in Cobble Hill. There was Spanish food everywhere, jewelry, hand-woven baskets, bands playing and people doing the Salsa. It was just so random and vibrant; it's one of the things that make New York City so great. There was even a little girl and her mother, selling lemonade for 50 cents.

It had gotten very hot at this point in the day, and we were doing a great deal of walking. By the time we got to Union Market, all we wanted to do was go to sleep. But we managed to pick out some fresh ravioli, goddess salad dressing and a couple other things before heading back home. While waiting for the subway back, this little scene occurred:

Tall, Pretty Blonde: Does this shuttle go to Park Place?
Me: Let me check...yeah, it does.
Tall, Pretty Blonde: Oh great, thanks! (She walks a few feet away)
*Pause*
Adam: Do you want to go to Park Place?
Me: We just came from there.
Adam: But she's going to Park Place.
Me: Adam, why would I want to go to Park Place?
Adam: She's going to Park Place... (points at Tall, Pretty Blonde)
Me: (Looks at Blonde. Pause. Looks back at Adam and glares.)

He loves to do this to me because I fall for it every time. When we finally got home, I fell asleep on Adam while he played Star Wars Battlefront. The perfect marriage.

That's it for our weekend, check the photo site for a couple new images!

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Breezewood and Bowling


This is Adam reporting, live from New York City! I've officially moved in to our apartment and my first official post now that I'm officially a New Yorker will officially have nothing to do with New York.

Last weekend was one of the most memorable weekends I've ever had. Saturday I woke up early, enjoyed a delicious brunch with Michelle's parents, then drove off to Breezewood to meet my Mom. It's always great to go visit my folks and since I see them so infrequently, I enjoy the times that we do get to spend together all the more. So on the way there, I get a call from my sister who claims she is bored and could use some chat-time with her bro until she has to go to work. At the end of our conversation, she says "Tell Mom I said hi", to which I laugh since she sees Mom everyday and my sending her Lorraine's salutations hardly seems necessary. Moments later I learn how truly unnecessary it is, as I discover Lorraine joined Mom on her trip to Breezewood. Now my day has just gotten brighter.

For those of you who don't know, Breezewood is a small town solely made up of restaurants, gas stations and toll booths. As far as anyone knows, "Breezewood" is actually a 300 foot long piece of highway that connects the Pennsylvania Turnpike to Route 70. It's roughly halfway between Baltimore and Pittsburgh, so it's been a common meeting place for my parents and I ever since I moved to Maryland for college, some eight years ago. And in those eight years, never have I, nor anyone else, had so much of an iota of curiosity in what lay beyond those 300 feet of highway.

Today, Mom was curious.

Where shall we eat my dearest children?
How about Bob Evans, Mom. It's right here!
Oh, well let's see whats over there.
There's nothing over there Mom, but Bob Evans is right here.
Oh, well you're not THAT hungry, are you?
I guess that doesn't really matter anymore, does it Mom? Seeing as how we just passed Bob Evans.
Tell you what (her favorite phrase)... let's just drive right over there and if we don't see anything, we'll turn around.
Seems like it would save time if we just turned around now and eat at Bob Evans.
Oh, don't be silly.

We then spent the next three days looking for any signs of civilization. For those of you wondering what DOES lay beyond the perfectly adequate 300 feet of highway, allow me to illuminate it for you.

Nothing.

Seriously, no people, no building, no light or air. No feelings of love or hope. Just a vast, bleak field of emptiness that eats away at your very soul. Oh and no U-turns either. We drove like, 76 miles before we could turn around and drive 93 miles back (that's right, it's 17 miles longer going back) just so we could eat at Bob Evans. My slight hunger had turned to a desperate starvation as I began eating the seatbelts. Lorraine had actually died, turned to ash, was reborn and grew to roughly the same age she was before. Yeah, I know. I didn't realize she was a phoenix either.

Anyway, lunch was fantastic. Not just the food, which although I can't remember what I ordered, I'm sure it was mostly butter, but our conversations were just as wonderful. And less fattening. We tried to plan a time that my folks, Lorraine and husband Joe and Meech and I could all meet up for a short vacation. Here's hoping Sue and Marty are free this summer!

Ok, so fast-foward to Saturday afternoon where I helped Michelle's folks babysit my nieces, Amelia, Tali and Sophie. I was so tired (both from driving and babysitting) that I took a two-hour nap. We then shared another FANTASTIC meal, watched some TV then went to bed.

Sunday was Father's Day and I think I spent it buying cards and gifts for my friends that I'd be leaving at work. That night however, was awesome. I met Chris around 8 to go bowling, which was a favorite pastime of ours. We asked for a lane and the guy said "One game or two?". We looked at each other thinking, "How dare he limit our bowling experience to only TWO games!? We demand an unlimited amount of gametime. How much trash talking could we fit into just TWO games? We did not meet after months apart to say our goodbyes just so Adam could kick Chris' ass TWICE!" Ok, that last part, maybe I was only thinking.

So we sadly accept the two games and begin playing. Around 9, we finish up and fueled on by the fact that we had each won one game, we returned to the Man Behind the Counter and his pitiful teenage hatchling and asked for more games.
"You want more games?"
"Um, yeah"
"But you said you only wanted two!"
"Um, you didn't give us many options there"
"Sigh... ok. Let me see what I can do" (as if the deserted bowling alley was chuck full of bowlers)
"Ok, how about this," he says. "You two can bowl for the next two hours, until close, as many times as you want, for nine dollars."

That's right. We scored unlimited bowling for two hours for NINE DOLLARS. Not nine bucks each. NINE DOLLARS. I'm not sure what crazy financial epiphany this man had that limited us to only two games at 8:00 and then UNLIMITED GAMES at 9:00, but who am I to judge?

For those of you wondering what two hours of unlimited bowling means, allow me to illustrate.
Pros - Serious levels of trash talking, as well as several repetitions of phrases like "I'm just getting warmed up", "One more for the turkey" and "Now I got my mojo back".
Cons - By around 10:30, we bowled like Scotsmen hurling cabers in the Highland Games. Also, three hours of bowling will leave your entire right side numb. Also, there's a risk of losing your thumb completely.

Anyway, the night was great and Chris surprised me, as he always does, with his brief moments of sincerity and kindness. He once again encouraged me to continue my webcomic, though probably only so his own caricature will continue to exist. And he proudly gave me an Oriole's hat to wear in NY so as to never forget who taught me everything I know about sports. Thank you Chris.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, we played 7 games total and I beat him 6 out of 7 times.

That was my awesome weekend and stay tuned cause Meech will be posting about THIS weekend real soon!
Toodles,
Adam

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Here, There and Everywhere

Sometimes, all it takes is a familiar face to make what is strange and new seem like home. It has been a whirlwind couple days, and I believe my back is feeling the brunt of it. My posture is decidedly horrendous...so I'm vowing to really do that Yoga DVD that my editor gave me, tomorrow. You can hold me to it.

Friday began at work, but ended abruptly at 11:30 when one of the editors gave me her blessing to leave for the day. I did my work, and it was a half day anyway, so I was thankful and left. I headed to the bank on 5th Avenue to deposit some checks, as well as pick up a quick sandwich (eggplant and prosciutto on pita, yum) before going on a romp through the city. I took to the train up to 53rd and Madison, and walked the extra few blocks to reach the bottom edge of Central Park.

For those of you who have not yet had the privilege of visiting Central Park, it is an experience unparalleled. One moment, you are amongst the hustle and bustle of the city, skyscrapers reflecting the harsh sunlight into your eyes, and the next moment you are sheltered under a thick canopy of green, looking out on a pond filled with ducks and yellow-orange fish the length of your arm. Even just at the edge where I was--it's over two miles long--the noise of the city is hushed, and the only reminder of where you are are the tops of the skyscrapers, peeking weirdly over the trees. It is an odd sensation.

I nestled myself on top of one of the arches of a stone bridge to read. It was unendingly pleasant, but lonely, too. Beautiful things are sometimes sad when you have no one to share them with.

After about half an hour, I started back to find the subway home. I needed to reach Staten Island to visit my cousins Toby and Bret by 5:30, and I knew the trip was pretty involved. I got home around 3 PM, and had to rush about in order to catch the 3:53 shuttle to Bowling Green, so I could pick up the 4:40 ferry to Staten Island.

The best thing about the Staten Island Ferry is that it's free. I highly recommend it. You get a lovely view of the Manhattan skyline, and a lovelier one of the Statue of Liberty. It couldn't have been a more perfect day for it, really, the sky was clear, the water glittering, the air cool. I got to Toby's in pretty good time, considering. We talked for hours, and I ate a morbid amount of Chinese food. It was fantastic.

At some point during the night, I could hear their baby boy Logan crying in his crib, and Toby walking past my door to retrieve him. I had the strangest recollection, suddenly, of being a child myself, and crying in the dark to beckon my Mom to come retrieve me. I would lie there in bed, cry a little, and then listen. I was listening for the distinctive creak that the one stair in their bedroom made that signaled to me that she was coming. If I didn't hear it, I would cry again, a little louder that time. She would always come. I don't really remember why I did this. I think perhaps it was mostly just to know that she was there. I always slept afterwards.

Toby and I talked a lot about old times, maybe that's why these memories surfaced. On the way back home, I stood on the balcony of the ferry and looked down at the water rushing past. A small boat was pulling a barge, and I remembered being with my Dad in my Aunt Sheila's pool. I would hold onto his shoulders, and he would dive underwater and swim across the pool. I loved this. I distinctly remember whining a great deal when he wasn't in the water with me.

I thought to myself then that I would never, ever not be a child. As a professional, and now a wife, I have responsibilities, and I love them dearly. I consider myself fairly mature and reasonable, mostly. But aside from those adult decisions, those considerations of age, I am in my deepest thoughts and heart that same child who wants to know that someone will come to pat me at night and be strong enough to pull me through the deep end and up to the surface again. I am lucky enough to have many people who do this for me. Maybe the only difference from me then and now is that I can begin to do that same thing for others. One day I will answer that nightly call, it will someone's arms around my neck, holding on, trusting me to carry them through.

It has been a long day, and I'm tired and thoughtful. Too much time alone does that to a person. I'm looking forward to having Adam back this Thursday, and to the upcoming visits from friends and family, too! We would love to have you here, with us, in this great city of dreams.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

A Virtual Tour

Well, I believe we've put it off long enough...so here is the long awaited virtual tour of our new place! Woot! Go to our new Flickr page by clicking here!

You can also now access our photos by clicking on the new link on the right side of our blog, under The M Train! (Even though it's both of us.)

Enjoy!

Rats, Sharks and Mangoes, Oh My!

Another day, another salad. I have been eating a salad for dinner every single day since I've been here. Go me. Of course, the abundance of fresh boston lettuce, vine ripe tomatoes and Persian cucumbers make it easy. Mmm, exotic produce...

Anyway, today was fun. Instead of researching sharks like I have been lately-- yes, I know how to spell ovoviviparous now, by heart-- today I worked on editing the files for a Yoga for Teens card set thingy, which was cool. The people there totally love the project tracking spreadsheet I created for the cookbook we're doing (kudos to Kazumi for making me do it exactly right) so that's good, too. Plus, two of the editors other than the ones I know already actually spent time talking to me, just because they were interested! I was pleased as punch.

The way home was quite interesting indeed. I stopped at the fruit stand near the subway to pick up a sweet Haitian mango (I've craved one ever since I mentioned it the other day), which was expensive ($1.75) but lovely. I shall devour it later. This very fruit stand was the scene of an amusing exchange I witnessed yesterday:

Young Pretty Girl: Do you know the way to Woods street?
Me: Um...
Wacky Looking Guy: Hey! What do you want to know?
Young Pretty Girl: Um...
Wacky Looking Guy: Ask me! I'm the mayor of New York!
Young Pretty Girl: Oh.

Pretty awesome. So, I got my mango, and the train took an eternity to arrive. As I waited, I was fortunate enough to spy a genuine New York subway rat on the tracks. I watched it as it scuttled around; I thought it was cute. But I figured most other people would yell or spit on it or something. Instead, a young white guy in dreds saw it, and started making kissy noises in its general direction. I *heart* that guy.

Once the train finally came, they announced halfway through the ride that it was now miraculously an express train and not a local train, and since my stop was local, I had to get off again and wait for another. In waiting, I was sitting next to a black guy who was sitting and minding his own business. An old asian guy sat next to him, and immediately said hello to both of us. I and the black guy said hello and smiled. Suddenly the asian guy reached out and grasped the dogtag that was around the black guy's neck, curiously.

"Were you in the military?" he asked.
Amazingly, the black guy just smiled and said, "Yeah, I was in the Navy, but that tag is just decoration."
"Oh!" The asian guy said, delighted. "The Navy!"

I was thunderstruck. They were so friendly! The guy didn't even mind that this stranger just reached out and inspected his neck accouterments! What a town.

Once I got on the next train, I sat next to a middle-aged white guy editing papers. We were kinda all sliding around because the train was jerky, and the guy eventually looked at me and said, "Boy, are we sliding around or what?" He then went on to tell me about this 70-some year old lady who had just the other day flown halfway across the subway car when it took off because she wasn't holding on.

"She just flew!" he said. "And then got right back up. She needed help, of course, but she said she was more embarrassed than anything. All dressed up for a matinée! She was a trouper!"

And coming up the stairs I was fortunate enough to run into our TAN (Totally Adorable Neighbor) who said she would come visit me when she wasn't rushing about. How lovely.

So hooray for friendly New Yorkers. I was getting pretty tired of talking to the cats!

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Sanity! Gone in a New York Minute

...And today I wonder if I have gone mad. I mean, realistically, it was bound to happen. And I like to think of myself as a particularly realistic person. Or, as Adam would probably say, annoyingly and steadfastly cynical. I don't know.

Nothing bad happened today. It was business as usual, riding the subway to Bloomsbury, doing some fun stuff (image research for an elections book), feeling intimidated by the smart, pretty and well-dressed ladies around me, and then riding the subway home. I did make a stop at the Garden of Eden (AKA the insanely gorgeous and overpriced foodstuffs emporium) for a couple things, but that was pretty much it. Perhaps the only detriments to the evening have been the unnecessary fire alarm (using the oven does it every time...gah) and the loud bass beats emitting from the apartment below. Mayhaps it has stopped now.

Regardless, I'm feeling freaked. I'm by myself here for the next 8 days, and maybe that's just it. It's a bad time to be alone. I'm not worried about safety or any such thing, it's merely that little doubting voice that peeps up every once in a while that says, "Are you really up for this? Are you really that type of person?"

Because honestly, I'm half swashbuckler and half milquetoast. It pretty much depends on the day as to which half rules. And no matter how much I love the word 'milquetoast,' (a very timid, unassertive, spineless person, esp. one who is easily dominated or intimidated), I would not like to be one. I prefer piracy.

Confidence ebbs and flows...but it's always there. Generally a little coo-cooing and a kick in the pants helps. So, let's move on to something infinitely more interesting...

Observations of a New-New Yorker
  • Not all subway cars were created equal. Some are white and blue and clean as a whistle. Others smell like slow, sweaty death. If you try to always seek out the clean cars, you will fail, inevitably. They are a mystery not to be conquered.
  • The kids at the end of the block never stop playing basketball. Ever. They are playing when I leave in the morning at 8 AM, and they are playing when I return at 6 PM. I assume they eat and sleep at some point, but one never knows.
  • There is only one thing that New Yorkers love more than cursing and honking, and that is fruit. Fruit is everywhere. If you do not have fruit, and would like to procure some, simply walk 10 steps forward or backward, and you're sure to bump into some Haitian mangoes or a Bing cherry.
  • There are an inordinate number of crazy people in New York. I suppose this is obvious to most, but it is really quite astounding to see. They are generally not scary crazy people; most of them simply talk to themselves a lot. It makes me question our definition of "crazy," and want to know what happened to these people to make them so. Par example, Adam and I were waiting for a train last weekend and a very thin black guy was sitting there on the ground waiting for the train, too. He talked to himself quite energetically, all while rolling up his trouser legs to inspect his knees. But it was the gold wedding band on his finger that really caught my eye. This man had a wife somewhere. What happened to him? To her? New York is so full of stories. It is a real shame that his is so locked up behind those intense conversations with no one.
So, those are my thoughts for the day. I look forward to hearing yours.

Friday, June 8, 2007

Weekend Update

Well, now it's my turn and since I'm back in New York, I actually have something to write about. As my dearest Michelle has mentioned, these past few weeks have been utterly crazy. But only by hearing the FULL story can you hope to completely appreciate the scope of this craziness. And so I present to you... my story.

Last Saturday was Moving Day, (or as I lovingly refer to it, "Vomitstravaganza") but the Big Guy didn't seem to think that was enough stress for me. And so the day before Vomitstravaganza, He said, "Let there be stress" and I became sick. And it was good. Any amount of sleep was merely a fantasy thought for me, yet by Saturday morning, I was wired. As Meech mentioned, we were incredibly worried about everything fitting in the truck, but by some miracle, it did. The car ride was wonderful and as the cats slept and the AC blasted, I regained my strength and slowly began to feel my health returning. My sickness, of course, immediately returned with a vengeance the minute I began helping Frankie and Carlos unpack.

The rest of the weekend slid by without many notable events. After a horrible ordeal with returning the Uhaul truck, I felt worse and by Sunday night I had a minor fever. That night, however, rewarded me with my first decent night's sleep in a few days. Monday I drove to Silver Spring and was welcomed by Michelle's wonderful parents. They took care of me and fed me exceedingly well. Although I spent the week concerned about Meech enjoying her internships, all the while feeling completely overwhelmed with the work I had to do myself at school, Mania and Rick were truly lifesavers, helping me feel very comfortable and well taken care of.

Tuesday was work, then a large dinner. Wednesday was work, (which included a surprise Thank You party from my 4th Grade Band students and a surprisingly warm greeting from my co-worker and demon from Hell, Karen) followed by another large dinner. I then left Thursday right after work and took the bus back to Brooklyn. Thursday's dinner was significantly smaller.

And now after a glorious day spent with my wife, I am ready for bed! We had lunch, we shopped, we cleaned and we drank wine. We are, both of us, finally so very happy. Now if only I didn't have to go back to Maryland for the next two weeks...

Till then. - Adam

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Books, Books, Books, Yum, Yum, Yum.

NOTE: I've just updated the previous post with more stuff, so scroll down to read!

There is so much to say about my first two days of interning, that I am pretty much too exhausted to try and say it all. Bottom line -- it's awesome. But I think the levity of the work and concentration necessary to do with all of this what I aim to do, it's just too tiring to think about right now. I think I'll be better after this weekend, when we get to unpack the rest of everything and just let it all sink in a bit.

So, here's the basics. DK (a division of Penguin, so you won't be confused) is posh. Poshy-posh-posh-posh. I mean, they're this enormous corporation so it makes sense, but I'm just not used to it. It's not as if the people themselves are posh; the ones I've met are pretty nice and down to earth, actually. The building is what's crazy posh. You have to use a passcard to get through every door, a keycode to get into the bathroom, and you even need to press a little green button to get OUT of the office. I found this out when I arrived on the wrong floor, realized it, and found myself LOCKED IN THE OFFICE until someone walked in and introduced me to the little button.

Since it's a whole internship program, there were lots of other interns to meet. Most of them made me feel old, which I didn't like. But most were nice, so that was good. As far as the work goes, I spent most of the day going on tours, setting stuff up, and reshelving books. I started to delve into the "slush pile" (unsolicited manuscripts), and that was fun. Not to be a jerk, but people's ability to make themselves believe that the barely legible, grammatically slaughtered prose they have sent in is--as their cover letter cites--"a bestseller" or "universally appealing," is amazing. Hope springs eternal.

Bloomsbury today was wholly and completely a delight. The editor who I met at Hollins in 2004, and who helped me get the gig, greeted me warmly and gave me a grand tour, and the executive editor, whom I interviewed with, gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek when she saw me. I *heart* her dearly. I got to sit through their production meeting and their editorial meeting, which was endlessly fascinating...the publisher talked about her time spent with Julianne Moore, who had written a book we were publishing...and about how Hallmark had called them asking if they had any ideas for a TV spinoff...meanwhile, I sat there and silently cried tears of joy and triumph thinking, holy crap I did it and I'm here. They even swore a few times. Bless them.

Anyway, now I'm home and throughly tired. There's a ms in my bag that I'm supposed to read by next week and give the editor my opinions on, and I think it would taste lovely with some Irish Cream on the rocks. Thursday I get to see Adam again, huzzah!

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Moved In, At Last

Though my mind feels like this weekend passed in a flash, my feet tell me it didn't. They are like two blocks of wood at the end of my ankles, and the black patches on their bottoms tell me that I need to start Swiffering the hardwood floors. Stat.

It's Sunday evening, and we are fully moved into our new apartment. Although we still are picking out footpaths around the piles of boxes, at least half of our stuff is already unpacked. As soon as we finish, I'll post photos. But let's start at the beginning...Friday night, our last day in Maryland.

Friday Night
After spending the entire day finishing up the packing, wrapping furniture and picking up the truck from UHaul, I spent the majority of the evening worrying about if all our crap would fit into a 17' truck. I was seriously doubtful. Adam was completely confident, as per usual. My folks even came by to scope out the vehicle, too. My Dad was seriously doubtful. My Mom was completely confident, as per usual. We ate dinner at Nora's, and spent the night sleeping* on our already wrapped up mattress.

*Meaning not sleeping, at all.

Saturday
Were we prepared for the onslaught of crazy that came on that Saturday morn? No. But did we survive? Sort of. Adam and I starting carrying boxes down to the parking lot around 7, and the AAA movers arrived promptly at 8, followed by my parents shortly after. I bit my nails as I watched box after box go into the truck, praying that it would all fit. Meanwhile, we transferred the fish into their traveling aquarium (Styrofoam) and drugged the cats (loopy pills). After two hours, by some miracle, all of our worldly goods were in Sacajawea (our truck). How they managed to do it, I have no idea. But we all breathed a sigh of relief, and suddenly it was time to go. Leaving Mom and Dad was difficult, but I knew I would see them all the time, and so it wasn't so bad. And so, followed by Sacajawea, Adam and I left Ellicott City and took to the road!

The trip was quick and painless, taking only 4 hours. The calmness in the car was only occasionally disturbed by Callie's yowling in between naps. By the time we arrived in Brooklyn, our New York movers, Frank and Carlos, were already waiting for us, along with Rosa, who welcomed us and gave us the keys. While we were waiting for the truck to arrive, I went in search of her to ask a question. Thinking she lived on the first floor, I knocked.

A man's voice said, "Who's there?"

Caught off guard, I cleverly answered, "Uhhhh...."

The door opened before I could say anything else and a young guy in dreadlocks, a towel, and nothing else was standing there. "I'm sorry," I said, "I thought Rosa lived here."

"Oh, no she-" Before he could finish, an enormous white and grey cat waltzed out of the door and started walking down the hall, "Oh damn."

"I'll get him," I said helpfully, and scurried after him.

After I returned the cat, the guy's wife informed me that Rosa in fact lived on the bottom floor, not the first. Later the guy (now dressed) came and introduced himself, and even offered to help! And that's how I met our first neighbor!

So, back to moving...the first thing to come out of the truck was Clifford, the big red couch. As soon as I heard the bonking noises and loud expletives coming from the hallway (in two languages as well!), I knew Clifford was going to be a problem. The thin New York stairways were proving to be a difficulty, and visions of that episode of Friends where Ross breaks his new couch in half started wafting into my head. After nearly 15 minutes of grunting and more expletives, I was starting to think we wouldn't make it, but somehow (another miracle!) Clifford made it through. Scuffed and molested yes, but in one piece. That was the hardest part of unloading, really, and aside from the blistering heat and sore, aching muscles, it was delightful!

Around 5 'o clock, we were done. The apartment was unwalkable, but everything was in it. Frank and Carlos walked off into the sunset, and Adam and I surveyed the damage. I immediately went to check out the cats, who had been languishing in the bathroom while we were unloading. The drug still hadn't fully worn off, plus, they were scared out of their wits. I looked in the bathroom for them, but couldn't find them. Carlos had used it and left the door open, but I thought I had closed the doors to the apartment...I started searching, and became increasingly more freaked out as they were nowhere to be found. Adam looked too, but to no avail. At this point, I started panicking. Like really panicking. Adam ran out to look in the street, saying, "Where would they go? They're too scared to leave!" Hyperventilating, I went back in the bathroom again, and realized there was a closet behind the door that reached all the way up to the ceiling. There, on the very top shelf above my head, were Callie and Hobbes, still half drugged. I called Adam back and then threw up everywhere (not really). "They have no idea how much they scared us," he said.

Whew! Heart attacks are fun. So, the first thing to do was to return the truck. Thinking it would be quick and easy (but really, what is?), we headed to Park Slope and quickly realized that every person in New York City had also chosen that moment to return their truck to UHaul. Yay!

By the time we got back home, the only thing we wanted to do was take a shower. After about 20 minutes, we found towels, and were able to do so. Bliss. We quit unpacking around 11 and collapsed in bed after the longest day in existence. We did it.

Sunday
A much shorter story, and a more relaxing one. After a good bit of unpacking in the early morning, I decided we should be completely awesome and have brunch in Manhattan. So I found a little italian place called 'ino and met up with our groovy friend Vicki. We all had delicious panino's (mine was sweet coppa, hot peppers, and...boy, that's a sexy sandwich!) with tea and juice, crowded together at a small table as the late morning breeze blew through the open door.

After that we decided to hunt down a Home Depot for some sundries, and found one on 23rd. It was hard to miss. We had found the Taj Mahal of Hardware, complete with ionic columns, sculptured doorways, mannequins (ostensibly doing yardwork) and an interior that looked like Ikea on major bling. I felt underdressed. Seriously.

By this time poor Adam was dragging-- he hadn't been up to snuff all weekend, what with all the heavy labor-- so we headed home. I remember a few young black guys coming onto the subway at some point carrying bongos, and busting out with some beats while we traveled to the next stop. This, I thought, is what New York is all about.

After some napping and more hard work, we decided more food was in order and left to discover something fun in Brooklyn nearby. We ended up in a place called Brooklyn Moon, which featured an "Anti-Bush Menu," served until 6, for only $5. The menu included a little manifesto about it, and how the Bush Administration screwed everybody since 9-11, causing New Yorkers to lose jobs, security, money...and so the Brooklyn Moon swooped in to save everyone with their cheap, delicious meal. We missed it, sadly, but the crabcake I had (goat cheese, plaintain and tomato) was excellent. As was the alcoholic beverage we both consumed. A "Dear John," it was called. I had wanted to try the "Pink Sexy," but simply couldn't get up the courage to ask for it.

We were both pleasantly buzzed by the time we left, but that was somewhat dampened by the tsunami that ensued as we walked to the subway. Nope, no umbrella. By the time we got back, we were soaked. A hot shower helped. Bed helped even more. The next day Adam had to return to Maryland, and I had to start my internship at DK. No sleep for the weary...