chapter 1: moving on

This picture was taken down the street from my apartment. I walk past that building multiple times a day. Every time I see it, I think to myself "Chapter 1," and I feel the potential of something. I love that blue type because it represents a beginning of sorts (and because it matches a crisp blue sky perfectly).

But I'm horrible with beginnings. It took me over 2 weeks to get Friday's "5 on 5" post up because I was so worried about picking the right pictures and because I let life get in the way of dedicating the time to pull it together. Sure, I enjoyed watching the Wire instead of writing about ice cream. Sure, it seemed like there were more important things to do than kill an hour on a blog that has no monetary benefit and no real life repercussions if I ignore it. But I felt like I let myself down when another Friday passed with no update.

I'm also horrible with endings. It's taken me over 1.5 years to get rid of a motorcycle that doesn't work. I've pushed that motorcycle across the street for alternate side parking approximately 136 times (give or take 10 for holidays, snow days, and times when Charrow took care of the chore for me). Every time I sling my leg over the seat, I feel guilty: because I haven't taken the time or the money to fix the bike; because I'm too afraid to ride it in the city; because I'm depriving the bike of its joy in life (anthropomorphizing does not help with guilt, let me tell you).

Clearly I have a problem with guilt. I can name at least 5 other major situations where it has crippled me from taking any action. And where does it get me? Absolutely fucking nowhere except from one side of the same damn street to the other.

Tomorrow a charity is coming to pick up my motorcycle. In 2 weeks, I will be done with my dog hours. It might be time to put this picture on my desktop and get started on something new.

5 on 5

Today marks the beginning of the first (and only) feature on this blog: 5 on 5. In other words, on the 5th day of the week, I will post 5 things* I'm grateful for. The purpose of this feature is 2 fold:

Fold 1: expressing gratefulness is supposably** linked to an increase in happiness and well, it's probably a good idea for me to stack the deck in this department because I have a tendency to droop like a thirsty shamrock.

Fold 2: it will give me the opportunity to take stock of my photos and share a variety of images with you that you might not otherwise see. Browsing flickr seems to have become too much for our stimulation-addled brains, and I refuse to post every picture I take on Facebook.

Now that I've insulted everyone and indirectly expressed my hatred for Facebook's world domination, let's get started.

#1 Ice Cream. Specifically, a large cone chocolate, from Carl's Ice Cream in Fredericksburg, VA. When you order a cone at Carl's, it doesn't matter how you say it, the person taking the order will yell out to the people manning the huge vats of fresh ice cream, "large cone chocolate!"

#2 A Good Sandwich. (Maybe I shouldn't write this when I'm hungry because all I can think about right now is food). A well crafted sandwich gives me goosebumps. One of the better deli sandwiches I've had was a basic roast beef from the Candler Market (in Atlanta). The day I ate it, I was extremely hung over, and it was just the right combination of salty flavors to keep my stomach from churning (the chips played a key role in this experience).

#3 Picnic Tables in Quiet Places. It's hard to find a quiet place in NYC. One of the things that I found overwhelming when we first moved here was the fact that there are people everywhere at just about any time of day. Yes, you can learn to tune out the rest of the world and sometimes it's possible to feel like you're in a remote place, but it's just not the same. This picnic table is in a park by the Rappahannock River in Fredericksburg. Basically, I want to climb inside the picture and finish reading my library book.

#4 People who say Yes when I ask to take their pictures. I don't generally ask to take pictures. Instead, I attempt to be covert and usually end up with a crappy picture OR I start to take the shot, get spied by my subject and swing the camera in some other random direction, pretending to take a picture of something else. This woman was in a record store in LA and she was very agreeable when I asked to take her picture because of her awesome outfit (sadly, the focus is weird and I didn't stand far enough away to get her whole outfit, but you get the gist).

#5 Being able to run again. I've finally settled into a run/walk routine that seems to be agreeable to my temperamental feet. It's no half marathon training, but it has made a huge difference in my day to day sanity management. (corollary to #5: I'm grateful we're no longer running in the snow)

*things = I'm not sure how this is going to work so we're talking people, places, fuzzy concepts, gastronomic obsessions, etc.

**intentional misspelling

second breakfast

Food that pleases me when I've been awake* since 3:30am due to a severe case of insomnia: plain yogurt with sauteed banana and sunflower seeds (this is of course in addition to my required cliff bar/coffee breakfast). It's 8:36am. It feels like lunchtime and I'm out of my regular yogurt, so I had to improvise a second breakfast.

It's not exactly a donut**, but it was still pretty damn good.

* if you haven't already heard it, check out the This American Story about NUMMI. It was great when I listened to it on my commute from queens yesterday AND a second time at 4:45 this morning.

**I plan to tag as many posts as possible with the word "donuts" so that it takes over my tag cloud like a good donut should.

pass over the fish product

We're off to the see the wonderful wizard of gefilte fish. It's time for the annual trek to Bethesda for Passover. Our transportation will be Jewish (Vamoose!). The food will be Jewish (mmm...fish product). Even I will be Jewish. Wait, that's not right. Hopefully they won't make me go out onto the porch to eat my contraband breakfast. At least there will be a cute ewok to fawn over as she squeaks and leaks (her goopy eye) all over us.

on the road to donutville

Today we travel. And travel. And travel. First there will be a bus, where I will have to figure out how to manage 3 jugs of beer, a flat donut box, and a bag full of cameras. Then, there will be a car with one happy dog, 2 great friends, and many snacks. We might stop here, where I may delay everyone by obsessively taking pictures with my new toy. And then we will fight the rest of the free world trying to get south in this fine weather.

All for the sake of Priority 1: housewarming party (where I get to meet another happy dog) and Priority 2: my grandmother's birthday, conveniently located 45 minutes from each other.

See you Monday after I break the bank in film usage.

pinch the floor

Here is my contribution to the sloshing, joshing holiday that is St. Patrick's Day: a shamrock-esque bathroom floor*, which is something many people will be using as a woobie when they pass out tonight. My chiropractor asked if I was going out for the occasion, and I said, "no it's not really my thing." There was a time when it might have been my thing. Back when I challenged boys to keg stands and made a habit out of waking up covered in my own vomit. Pretty picture, isn't it? Sadly, it happened more than once. And sometimes it wasn't just my own shirt that got soiled.

They (oh naming powers that be) should dub tomorrow Stale Beer Smell Day. Example: when Charrow and I took a weekend trip to Savannah, GA we made the mistake of going the day after St. Patrick's Day. Maybe you're thinking oh, Savannah, what a sleepy little southern town filled with weeping willows and beautiful town squares where people eat ice cream cones and chat about the health of the GA bulldog. Oh, no. Splashes of dried puke dotted the sidewalks down by the waterfront and groups of hungover college kids wandered the streets in search of greasy food salvation. The alleyways smelled like the inside of a frat house toilet and the restaurant we went to after our 12 mile run was brimming with sodden rugby players that consumed all of the hamburgers (sorry, rugby loving friends).

These days I'd rather indulge in too many donuts and have a hangover that drives me to fresh fruit.

* from the bathroom of El Beit in Williamsburg

Bagel with extra bagel on the side

I love bagels. I would eat one every day of the week, but I don't because eating copious amounts of bread makes me want to take a scouring pad to my insides. Sorry, that's not the picture I'm trying to paint. What I mean to say is, bagels are amazing, and today, I present to you my ode to the Everything Bagel.