Saturday Sightings

Set out for my weekly long run with The Little Nolita Lady, armed with camaraphone, should we see any interesting sights. We were almost home after an uneventuful run when we spied the actor Ron Rifkin of Alias fame at a restuarant on Madison Ave. We chose not to take a photo of him - too cheesy.

It's Official

It's official. I am tired of winter. Of wearing heavy coats and dark colored tights. My hands are desparate to be free of claustorphobic gloves. Spring! Release me!

Sunday In The Park

Did an early morning run with The Little Nolita Lady this morning. Here's what we saw:

1. A jogger juggling 3 red balls
2. A high school orchestra rehearsing in a small outdoor ampitheatre in the park
3. A priest handing out palm fronds for Palm Sunday
4. A woman leading a donkey in a Palm Sunday procession
5. A choir and bell ringers in same procession

Snow Day

Snowing out my window.

Spotted on the Lower East Side

Spotted on the Lower East Side Friday night - Leerone giving one of her few New York performances - at The Living Room. Later in the night saw her canoodling in the corner with a rep from Epic Records. Go Leerone! Rock that shit!

The Zoo

I saw a model in her native habitat today. She was tall, willowy and blond, and doing her time behind the register at Anthropologie unti she gets her big break, I guess. I really knew I was experiencing something unique when she turned to her associate and asked, "What is $19.90 divided by two?" Then she stared at the person, bored, and annoyed that her head had to do anything other than sprout golden locks of hair. I looked around for the cameras, but they weren't there. I was going to help her, but on all the nature shows, they say the first rule is not to intervene and just let the scenes play themselves out naturally. It was truly moving. I felt almost like Jane Goodall.

Old Dogs

Overheard in the Starbucks down the street from our apt.

Scene 1: Two older gentlemen at adjoining tables are enjoying their coffee and a lively early morning debate. One man is tall, with a head of thick, silvery hair, and smartly dressed. The other man is short and slovenly, with an old ratty t-shirt hanging out the bottom of a too-small hoodie. His hair is wirey and attempting to allight off his head.

Mr. Slovenly
I believe that men and women can talk and be friends without it being all about sex.

Mr. Smart
Yes.

Mr. Slovenly
I mean, I don't know what that writer was talking about. I don't think about sex 100% percent of the time. I can be talking to a woman about politics or books or the weather or whatever, and I'm not also thinking about sex.

Mr. Smart
Well, maybe subconciously.

Mr. Slovenly
Well, subconsciously! That's a completely different issue. That is for Sigmund Freud to work out.

Footwear Phenom

You may be familiar with the Morton Salt image of the young girl walking in the rain spilling salt as she goes. She has an umbrella and a cute yellow dress, but no galoshes. Well, I can tell you that I'm one step ahead of her! I am certain that the backs of her legs are getting splattered with mud, and her shoes will be worse for the wear - soaking wet and miserable on her feet. Cold feet and wet trouser bottoms are no fun. That's why on rainy days I've got my Hunter Galoshes (http://www.wellie-boots.com/) - or wellies, if you want to get British about it. I'm quite dashing in my hunter green wellies and my green raincoat. I certainly never needed anything like galoshes in Houston - I was never out in the rain for more than minutes at a time. But I spend at least 40 minutes walking outside each day - 20 minutes each way. So my galoshes keep my feet dry and my heart warm.

Safe Sex

On the way home tonight on the subway, The Boy and I spotted a condom jammed under the seat in front of us. I tried to get a photo, but some people sat down, and I felt kind of like a jackass to ask them to move so I could take a picture of a condom. So I didn't. Then I was going to "reenact the scene" once we got home, but as old married people, we don't have ready access to condoms. So you'll just have to take my word for it. We saw an unleashed condom on the subway. Made me wonder - how did it get there? Did someone think it was funny to leave the little guy behind, or was someone (two someone's I guess) getting it on during a late night Risky Business reenactment of their own? The Boy posited that it hitched a ride into the subway car stuck to someone's shoe. Whatever the reason, I've got just one word for it. Yucky.

Dogged Optimism

While out in the nabe the other day, I came across an interesting site - a trio of dog walkers wrangling their charges. The dogs were in groups - big dogs, medium dogs, and small and geriatric dogs. Each dog walker was responsible for a passal of at least 6 or 7 dogs. The dogs were all quite well-behaved - no infighting and no unscheduled stops. It was quite a spectacle watching three such large groups of canines galloping down 3rd avenue! I got tsk-tsk-ed by an old couple when I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to take a photo. Bad form. But the dogs brought a smile to my face. It's just not the kind of thing you see in downtown Houston.

What A Drag

After the West Side Beauty's Birthday dinner, we did a little monkeying around of her own at The Randolph at Broome http://newyork.citysearch.com/review/45697379. We went down to the basement, where the "cool people in the know" go. Guess what we found? A basement reminiscent of "That 70s Show." And - SMOKING! I guess it's some sort of modern-day speakeasy for smokers. But there was no ventilation, and drippy pipes. Gross!

On the positive side, we did get to meet Fast Fingers Yang's Dallas-based girl-no-space-friend. Cute as a hiccup!

Monkey Shines

Attended the official celebration of the West Side Beauty's birthday Saturday night. We started the evening with an ill-fated dinner at Monkey Bar. Intrigued as we were by the coat-check guy's boast of a $3 million renovation in the dining room, we were still hard-pressed to get service at the almost empty bar. But it was a night of celebration! We let it slide when we finally received our wine, traditional martinis and lychee martinis. The West Side Beauty (with two friends in tow - one real and one imaginary), the Little Nolita Lady, and another newcomer to our girlie foursome - Ms K 2 U - all toasted with The Boy and I.

Later, we were shown into the cavernous - and empty - dining room. Sometimes when a restaurant isn't busy, you are lucky enough to get that extra bit of care and attention that makes an evening memorable. This was not one of those nights. While the food was good, it was promoted as "family style." The only way that food could have been conceived as family style is if you defined family as a couple of thumbless vegetarians. Seriously, I could have shoveled through the majority of the plates myself and only been mildly full. As it was, we ordered 3 appetizers and 4 entrees for 6 people, that left me dreaming wistfully about the delicate bouquet of a sidewalk cart hotdog.

We waited about 25 minutes for our appetizers, and about the same time for our entrees. (This was what made us begin to wonder if there honestly were monkeys in the back slinging hash for this joint.) Honestly, the service was so lacking and the food so small I just wanted to leave. So when the dessert menu came, we decided to skip it. (Note: even though there were only 2 or 3 other tables in the restaurant, they didn't have enough dessert menus for the six of us at our table. I was denied a menu of my own because it was "dirty". Hmmm.

So we decided just to pay the check.

Silly silly people.

The Boy and Ms K 2 U pored over the check and figured out the per person total. Six credit cards were offered, and the waiter and our credit cards disappeared behind the red curtain. We waited. We waited. We cracked jokes and waited some more. FINALLY the waiter reappeared.

He handed out each of the credit card receipts to be signed, and disappeared again. So we all went about signing our reciepts with the 2 pens. We had finished up and were gathering our belongings to leave when the waiter comes back and says, "Thanks and have a lovely evening. OH BY THE WAY, there is $97 that still remains unpaid on your bill." Wha?

Apparently we had inadvertently missed the bar tab on the bill. The imbecile (was he a monkey in a man suit? Perhaps.) didn't have the wherewithall to inform us of our error before he ran all of our credit cards or prior to all of us signing the receipts.

We were so pissed, whoever had cash just threw it in the pile, just so we could get out of there!

Monkey bar, indeed! The whole place is a zoo.

Youthful Indiscretions

Celebrated the West Side Beauty's triple decade last night at Ulysses in the Financial District. Then it was off to Brass Monkey in Chelsea. My assessment of the night? Another clear indicator that people over 37 shouldn't be allowed to drink to excess in public.

Only in New York

So I saw this guy when I was walking to work last week - dressed in white from head to toe, with even a white leather backpack and a white umbrella.

Spotted at Lincoln Center . . You Know You Love It

Spotted at Lincoln Center - Serena van der Woodsen. The Little Nolita Lady called me, breathless with excitement. XXOO, kids.

It Takes A Village

It takes a village . . . to raise a Meow.

We needed a cat sitter for the Meow while we're home in Houston for the holidays. So I put up a sign in the basement offering $30 to anyone who would come visit the cat and feed her a few times while we are gone.

FOUR people in the building called and offered to take care of the cat - FOR FREE!

Whoever said New Yorkers were a mean lot was wrong.

The Doorman Dilemma

It is the season of giving - giving tips to Doorment and Super's, I mean. We had heard about this tradition of annual giving to those folks who help you out each year. And what a great idea! Saves you from having to dig in your pockets each time someone does something nice for you.

While the sentiment is certainly very clear, the reality of how to go about giving the tips is not. Do they get pooled together? How much is enough? If I don't give enough, will I get bad service the rest of the year?

It's a big question, and a big deal for these guys. If each one of my doormen gets an average of $50 from each resident in my building, that's $3000. The doormen in the West Side Beauty's building stand to make $5000 for their efforts.

I tried to find some guides to tipping, but I mostly asked around. The consensus was to give a range of $25 to $50 depending on how much interaction you had with them throughout the year, and how helpful they were.

Still, we spent a lot of time thinking and talking about how to handle this whole thing. It's another of those unique New York rites of passage.

O Christmas Tree

So it's our first Christmas season in our neighborhood, and the most magical thing is happening. Overnight, small enclaves of Christmas tree vendors have appeared on a number of streets. They've got small trees, tabletop size, perfect for small New York apartments. They've got large trees, for the wealthy and rent controlled who have large apartments. And wreaths and garland for the festive who don't want to commit to an arboreal display. I LOVE walking by and inhaling the scent of pine; it's the smell of Christmas really.

On Sunday, it's supposed to snow, and I'm planning to pull a "When Harry Met Sally" move.

NOOO! Not that one! Dirty mind.

I plan to recreate the scene where she drags the Christmas tree down the block in the snow. In fact, I'm waiting UNTIL it snows, just to be more festive.

Then, The Boy and Lady Lawhorn are going to help me trim the tree, and I'm going to make wassail and christmas cookies. Jealous?

New York Perceptions from the Lady Lawhorn

My sister, the Lady Lawhorn, is still visiting and has had enough time to notice several new and different New York ideosyncracies:

1. Excessive honking. She hates it! All the cabby and limo drivers are OBSESSED with honking. Even if there is really no reason for it.

2. Walking strategy. The objective in New York is never to stop. So if you get the "walking man", it makes sense to cross the street and meander your path in order that you never half to slow down. Even for a second. Sprinting in front of a cab is preferred in order to shave a mere milisecond off your travel time.

3. No Dr. Pepper.

4. Plain Baked Potato. When she ordered a baked potato, they brought it plain, with no butter, cheese, bacon bits, or sour cream. When Lady Lawhorn asked for some cheese, the waitress acted like SHE was the crazy one. Who wants to eat a plain baked potato? What's the point?

Please Don't Hurt Me

What is going on? Isn't the holiday season supposed to bring out the best in folks? Yesterday, two women on my subway sparred verbally for 10 minutes. "You don't TOUCH me, honey." If one of them hadn't finally exited the train, I think they might have wrestled on the floor, pulling hair and spitting. Then today, I crossed my legs as I was watching Mad Men on my Ipod Nano, and then I heard it. A low growl eminating from the woman next to me. "Don't. You. Ever. Touch. Me. Again," she clipped. Her eyes looked crazy. Apparently I had grazed her knee with my foot when I changed positions. I mean BARELY grazed. I didn't even feel it! But I said I was sorry. What i really wanted to say was, "If you don't like being jostled around by humanity on your way to work, maybe you should buy a car and drive in." Instead, I moved to a different seat at the next stop, and gave her a look of huffy defiance. Like she cared. But if she had had a fork, I'm pretty sure she would have stabbed me with it.