Reclaiming It.

One lesson New York City taught me is that city mobility is not as easily controlled as suburbia motion. Subway rides. Bus trips. Taxi cabs. Guess what- you are the passenger. You are NOT the driver. Those 2 o’ clock coffee plans or 7 pm movie premiers may not be as easy to make as they once were. I’ve accept it. I’ve embrace the ten to thirty minute grace period known as “travel time.” Punctuality used to be a trait I possessed. Now it’s a nice idea. Of course this weekend that all changed!

I got a bike, my very own single speed Bianchi Pista. She’s a real knock-out and she’s no stranger to speed. Helmet up, clip in, and go. Step back, y’all. I’m reclaiming those lost minutes tenfold.

Going Bridal

It’s probably too early to be walking down bridal shower memory lane. Sometime I feel like the wedding is almost over and it’s yet to even happen. I guess that’s one whole year and a half of wedding on the brain will do to a gal.

This post is dedicated to Cristina and Gwen (Gwen is the red-haired beauty in black and nude and Crisitina is the vixen in hot pink on the end). Both G and C are members of my bridal party, friends since freshmen year, truly inspiring girls I love to spend time with. Both are also the only victims of my one moment of bridal rage. The issue was resolved effortlessly (well almost!) by them and my bridezilla mindset was quashed. Thank the heavens. I won’t go into major details as some things remain private even for a bare it all for the world to see kind of lady like myself.

My points are these:

1. True friends are certainly to be cherished. Hang on to them. They right any wrongs and calm a tortured spirit. They make life better.
2. Bridezilla is not a myth. It happens to the best of us. Take it, embrace it, and then throw it out the window.

My Favorite Place

I love living in (long) walking distance to my favorite night scene in this city: Lincoln Center

I love the architecture, the illumination, the sheer space. I love the escape.

[Edit: I also love the ice cream I almost always get on the walk back home]

Interstate Style

We move all the way to New York City…and we still end up craving that fast food that marks the highways back where we’re from. Sure I enjoy finer dining, the perfectly crafted ambiance, the impeccable service, the creative culinary offerings, the presentation just as superb as the food itself.

But sometimes I want the quick and the dirty, the greasy crispy fried potatoes doused in Heinz Ketchup and tastes nothing like real cheese cheese sauce hastily crammed in my mouth in a public plaza teeming with overfilled garbage cans, homeless people, and teenagers making out.  I want to wash it down with a big gulp of crazy mixed soda concoctions (think cherry lime dr. pepper, folks!) and then go back for refills. Sometimes I need to de-class it, go back to my road-tripping roots, and do it interstate 8 style.

The Ballpark

Take me out to the ball game

No but seriously, super slaty popcorn, ice cream in a plastic helmet, and french fries galore is as ideal a meal to me as a nice seafood platter and a bottle of bubbly.

We had perfect weather, amazing seats, and high spirits. It was quite the grand finale to a week of momentous occasion.

Seing batta batta batta SWING!