The Freedom Tower's Progress

From the rubble rises freedom...



The Freedom Tower...at least I think it is.



Infused with renewed hope and strength, maybe NYC will speed up the construction now.

I'll Be Back NY

As I wrote at the end in my last post, the best part of New York City is New York City. It's the city's feel, the lights, the action, the anticipation, discovery, the unlimited potential one feels when one is in a New York City state of mind. There's something always going on and you'll never hear "I'm bored" from me when I'm there.

Although one would think that the "city that never sleeps" would be done by now with rebuilding at the World Trade Center site. Nope, not yet...



Every time we go I try to introduce my daughter to another site she hasn't seen and this trip it was going up the Henry Hudson Parkway to The Cloisters.



I took so many pics there that The Cloisters deserves a pictorial post by itself so when I get some time I'll do just that.



I also brought her to my old stomping grounds, the Village. Irving Plaza was one of my favorite clubs and I'm glad it's still standing.



I couldn't believe how much Union Square Park and the area surrounding it has changed. At one point even the Park Department workers didn't want to go in there but now it's all cleaned up and surrounded by great shopping. My daughter's favorite stores were Forever 21 and Sephora, naturally. I didn't even know Trader Joe's had found a home on 14th Street until we drove past it on the way to the FDR. I'll have to stop in next time we're there. She did get to have a meal in a real New York Diner. Except for the egg cream it was the crappiest one I've ever eaten at.



Which brings me to another point...the food. In the past I've always marvelled at New York's culinary treats. This trip I noticed something distressing...the food wasn't the same. At all our normal eateries something tasted different, and not a good different. Tasteless is the best way to describe too many meals. Thank you Mayor Bloomberg. His edict that restaurants now cook with no salt, no trans fats, etc. has resulted in no taste. I'm really annoyed he stirred the cooking pot. Do I really want low-fat skim mozzarella on my pizza? No, no I don't! Frankly, I'm old enough to make my own decision if I want to clog my arteries or not and I don't need the government sticking their nose in my mouth.

This trip was also an opportunity to spend time with family and friends. I was thrilled I got to spend a night with my friend Barb who I haven't seen in over 15 years. As is the case with good friends it felt like we only hadn't seen each other in 15 minutes. She looked great, so thin and lithe which she attributes to walking everywhere, and probably not having sausage gravy smothered on biscuits, grits or fried chicken and waffles. None of which I eat, by the way, however my walking is hampered because without sidewalks in my Roanoke neighborhood I have to drive my car to a greenway to walk.

We also saw my cousin who lives in the Bronx, literally on top of Bruckner Blvd and underneath a flight path.



You can't imagine how loud it is sitting on his porch. As someone who complains about the noise when they pick up one trash container a block away I could never live where he does. They say they're used to it, and at least inside of his house is quiet. Two surgeries later my cuz is still disabled but on the road to healing from his shower accident, and still joking away...



Another stop was made to see my 100-year old Grandmother. A blizzard in February prevented us from attending her celebration and I was glad I made good on my promise to her that we'd stop by the next time I was up there.



I brought her a vastedda (a traditional Sicilian specialty made of cow spleen and covered with ricotta and grated cheese...yum, yum) which she said she hadn't had in decades. She looks great and her mind is as sharp as a whip for her age. God bless her!

From the centurion to the newborn my husband met his six-month old granddaughter for the first time. She is a doll.



His grandson is a trip...my stepdaughter certainly has her hands full with him.



Here's a shot of my husband, his son who got back from Afghanistan (thank God) and was on leave for Easter, my husband's brother, grandson and my daughter.



There was very little drama on this trip and we left before we got sucked into anyone else's. Always leave them wanting more. My daughter really enjoyed hanging with family since we don't have any in Roanoke. According to her, "You, your cousins and your friends are all cut from the same cloth...you're warped. And I love hanging with them. You guys crack me up when you're all together!" I agree we are warped, know how to laugh, and always have a good time.

I miss them all terribly and feel so lonely being back in Roanoke so have decided the time has come when my daughter and I can travel alone to NYC. Thank you Amtrak. We're planning a Manhattan only girls getaway and the search for an affordable, yet decent hotel is underway. I can't wait to get back home...Yes, home will always be New York City for me.

Roanoke has served its purpose. Sixteen years ago I put my children first and brought them to an area that has good schools, a good environment and was family friendly. I tossed out my career and the New York life I lived along I-81. I don't regret a moment. My kids have thrived here and have good solid footing for their future. I've done my part...the rest is up to them. And now the time has come for me to start living for me again. Leave the lights on New York City, I'll be back soon and I can't wait...

Driving in New York

After visiting New York City I continue to believe the worst part of the greatest city in the world is the traffic situation. Driving is not for the faint of heart. Luckily I never realized my horn was broken until I got back to Roanoke. I had my thumb poised at all times on the steering wheel, ready to blow loudly as a back-up in case my quick maneuvering failed. I never had to use it.

In New York, the driving horror begins before you even enter the red-headed stepchild boro -- Staten Island. No matter how much great time you'll make zipping through many states you can always count on coming to a standstill in the worst state of the country, New Jersey.

We enter New York via NJ and have to crawl through the smelly parking lot known as Staten Island before we escape via the majestic Verrazano into Brooklyn.



Every time we drive to New York traffic seems to get heavier. I blame this on the genius who invented the EZ-Pass. The majority of toll booth lanes accept EZ-Pass with a mere single lane left open for cash customers. The EZ-Pass lanes are always empty. The Cash lane had a 6 mile back-up just to get through the Outerbridge Crossing. One lane open for Cash. Five lanes open for EZ-Pass. The EZ-Pass lanes do not accept cash. If they did there wouldn't be six mile back-ups. These are the bridges we crossed and the latest tolls -- $8.00/Outerbridge -- $13.00/Verrazano -- $6.50/Bklyn Battery Tunnel -- $6.50/Triboro, all using EZ-Pass which makes driving anything but easy.

At every bridge and tunnel we encountered, the situation was the same. Doesn't NY and NJ realize they attract tourists, and some locals, who do not own an EZ-Pass? Why are cash carrying folks treated as second class citizens? I got tired of hearing, "Dontcha have anything smaller?" every time I handed over a bill. I could understand a hundred or fifty, but a twenty? And I don't own a MetroCard either. You can't get on a city bus without one. They no longer take exact change. You know where you have to get a MetroCard for the bus? In the subway. I have to find and walk to a subway to get a card so I can ride the bus that I'm taking because I don't want to walk. And for the record I miss not being able to pay cash to a man sitting in a glass booth and getting a token in return to plop into the turnstile as I rush to catch a train. Inserting a card is so cold, and awkward for me. But I digress. This is about driving in New York.

Once you finally enter the city the next driving debacle ensues...trying to find a parking spot. My parents never jumped on the whole "cut out a driveway to the front of my house to stop my life from being a living hell" bandwagon years ago, and now it's "illegal" and impossible to accomplish. So many other houses spent their money wisely, and with all the older homes knocked down and made into multi-family units, there's not enough parking on the block. And why, oh why, do people who do have driveways and garages keep their freaking car on the street instead of in them hoarding a precious spot?

I'm actually luckier in finding a parking spot in Manhattan than I am in Bensonhurst. Naturally you have to already be aware of the parking regulations. Sundays are pretty wide open. You gotta get there right after 7:00pm when parking is allowed during the week. Certain neighborhoods will be easier to find than others and always be prepared to walk. I could only imagine how much worse the congestion would have been those days if it wasn't for the Jewish holidays. And the reason I knew there was a Jewish holiday going on was because alternate side of the street was lifted. Good thing the Jews have a lot of holidays.



It's always an adventure when we drive into the city. This trip we hit four out of five boros in one day -- road and bridge construction everywhere.



We weren't supposed to hit Queens coming from the Bronx, but wound up lost there on Randall's Island after crossing the Triboro which I think has been renamed the RFK Bridge, adding to the confusion. We had Miss Garmin with us who got us up to The Cloisters (pics in a future post) and into the Bronx and luckily nowhere near Yankee stadium's night game. She attempted to get us to the Village, but she's only as good as the driver who knows his left from right. We eventually got back to the mainland and I was able to put my mace away.

At Union Square we found a spot very quickly. As we walked through the Village I forgot about what I hated about New York City and remembered what I loved about it...New York City itself.

...to be continued.

Time for Rebirth

Happy Easter...it's time for rebirth.



Happy Birthday to my husband...

Azaleas

My azaleas, are tough.



The front bushes stood in the way of window replacements. Willy nilly they were hacked away to make room for ladders and workers. I feared they wouldn't survive the stress and I had seen the last of the blooms.



I was wrong. Although they're not as full and well-shaped as they were last year, they soldiered on, adapted to the conditions and managed to bloom beautifully.



Even the most recent white azalea bush I planted in the back had been stomped upon during a winter snow. My husband said I killed it under my motorcycle boot sole. He was wrong.



The shrub adapted -- it's lower and wider than before -- but its blooms are more beautiful this year than last.



Then there's the yew -- notorious for being stubborn and tough -- it didn't fare as well as the dainty lady-like azaleas.



Yet, new growth springs forth...

Evil Egg Hunt Repost

Yup, Easter is Sunday and that means it's that time of the year again when I reach back into the archives and repost an old entry entitled "Evil Egg Hunt." I guarantee it's not your ordinary Easter egg hunt...

Evil Egg Hunt

In my travels I recently picked up a couple of papier mache Easter eggs from Tuesday Morning. At the time I wasn't sure if I really liked the Victorian era eggs or not, but figured I should just buy them because if I decided later on I did like them they would probably be gone. When I got home I really couldn't find a place for them so I just put them on top of the tv center.




When the kids got home from school my daughter asked what they were and brought them down to get a closer look. When she saw them up close and personal she screamed, "What are these Easter eggs from hell?" She thought they were scary and creepy looking and told me to get rid of them as they gave her the willies.




She particularly hated this one...who she said reminded her of a deranged devil rabbit walking his sidekick familiar, chick demon spawn.




Since she kept going on and on and on about my questionable "taste", I decided I would have a little fun with her. While she was having her snack I placed the evil egg on her bed, hiding it under her covers. I'm not very good at keeping secrets when playing a practical joke so kept giggling the whole night in anticipation of her discovery.




I actually went to bed first, but before I could fall into my peaceful slumber I heard her screams echo all the way from the other side of the house. She marched into my room trying to act all upset, holding the evil egg at arm's length, but instead cracked up laughing, finally realizing what I was giggling about all night. I told her I wouldn't tease her with it anymore. As I looked at the eggs closer I realized she was right, these things could give you a nightmare. The next morning I awoke to find Mr. Evil Rabbit staring at me...





Man, she was good. And silent. I never even heard her come into my room. Again, we laughed so hard that the $1.99 I paid for each one was suddenly worth it. Naturally I couldn't let her get the best of me so I sneaked the egg into her school bag.



We both left the house at the same time, she heading into the mini van with my husband, me in the Jeep with my son. Waiting at the light, next to each other, we both were cracking up and I told her her to look in her schoolbag. She started really cracking up and told me to look in the backseat of the Jeep. Holy shit! There it was! Just sitting there, staring at me. She is damn good. The light turned green and we went our separate ways, with me practically peeing my pants. Driving my son to school he came up with a brilliant idea to notch up the competition a bit. He suggested I bring the big guns out, Pee Wee Herman.




Yes! She hates that doll more than anything, and at her request, I've had it hidden in my closet for years. What a great idea. So while she was in school I placed Pee Wee under her covers. Later when she came home she felt something under her as she plopped on her bed. She slowly pulled the covers down to see what was under there and was met with his spooky stare.




She wouldn't even touch him to remove him, so asked her brother to come and get him out of her room, who by now realized what happened and was bent over in laughter as I was. She vowed revenge. Inadvertently when she sat on Pee Wee I think she may have wounded him because when I pulled the string on his back he just garbled gibberish. I was saddened to see him lose his voice but it was my own fault for placing it where she couldn't see it.

That night my husband wasn't feeling too good, so being the compassionate wife that I am, I kicked him out of our bed and sent him downstairs to infect the spare room instead of me. Hey, if mom goes down, we all go down. When I awoke in the morning I didn't have a 200 pound man next to me but this instead...





Pee Wee with a plastic bag over his head. She suffocated Pee Wee! Check and mate for the little one, as the only thing left to put in her bed is a horse's head...

Cherry Petals

As soon as the cherry trees blossomed fully the tornadic wind whipped up and blew most of the petals away...











All that's left is the pink carpet of petals...so soft between the toes.