The Rats of the Air

Let's talk about pigeons. Okay?

I strongly dislike them. No, I hate them, I really do. I place pigeons in the same category at rats, roaches and "rodents of unusual size" in the Princess Bride. They are disgusting.

Now, I feel bad about this for a couple reasons:

1. I have birds tattooed on my back. I like most of those creatures in the aves classification of species. I've memorized the verse in the bible that talks about sparrows. And have also considered having, "are you not worth more than they" permanently written on my body. I like birds, but I do not consider pigeons birds. They are gross.

2. God made birds. God made animals, and I do find it quite necessary to point out that on day five he made birds and sea creatures. And on day six- wild beasts, livestock, reptiles. .... So, perhaps it's okay to think lesser of birds than of cute little puppies and zebras and kangaroos. But I know I shouldn't feel such animosity toward these creatures. I shouldn't kick at them and shoo them away and stomp my feet to get them to fly in the opposite direction.

...

By our apartment there is a little walkway that is not really a side street, but more like a smallish sidewalk that splits the block in half and goes alongside the traffic pouring off the Queensboro Bridge. And it would be a really nice path. Someone has planted sunflowers that bloomed all summer. There is a private lot with a smallish garden. The area underneath the bridge is used as a motorcycle parking lot- fenced in and everything. (I'm sure this comes with a hefty price tag, and it seems a bit absurd. "Park your $35,000 motorcycle underneath a bridge for $250/ month..." Only in NYC.)

The point being- there are massive amounts of pigeons there most of the time. Why? Because people purposefully and intentionally dump bags of bird seed and loaves of bread to feed the birds.

PAUSE. (Now this also makes me feel guilty, because all I can hear playing in the background as I squint my eyes and cover my nose and mouth when I walk by here is...... "Feed the birds, tuppence a bag. Tuppence. Tuppence. Tuppence a bag...." You know? From Mary Poppins. Now, not only do I dislike pigeons, but (by association) I dislike little old hunched-back women who feed birds and Mary Poppins herself. This is a real source of conflict for me, because I really, really want to like Mary Poppins.)

I want to tell people who dump there bread ends and stale bagels, "No!! Please don't do that." But, I know they wouldn't listen.

And you want to know the worst part? One evening I encountered a "bird feeder." It was this old, white haired 80-something year old women in her night dress and cotton cover-up that snapped in the front. She had one of those shopping carts on wheels that all New Yorkers use to push grocery's home. As I turned the corner I heard the shooshing sound of thousands of little seeds and grains covering the cement, like rice being poured into a pot, and then I saw her. As she shook the bag empty the breeze caught ahold of the empty plastic and it fell to her feet.

She struggled to bend down to pick up her trash. Bending, leaning, reaching her left arm to finally snag the bag back. Her feeble body barely had strength enough to bend over, yet feeding those birds was for some reason important to her. Why?

It's hard to dislike a person like that, and I wonder if that will be me one day. But for some reason I took a little pleasure in seeing her struggle to pick up that plastic bag.

The non-athlete

When I went to the Roller Derby a couple of weeks ago with Erin, I was just in amazed (again) at the ability and strength of these women. I mean who doesn't like a tough, strong girl on skates? Plus, they look so intimidating with those mouth guards.

I'd love to be that fierce. But I'm not an athlete. I'm not athletic. I'm just girly and I'll be the first to admit I like shoes, Sephora, and showering.

Which is why I'm a little nervous about this evenings "End of Summer" event for our office. As a company, we are going bowling. Yikes!!! I can't bowl. I mean, who can really, no one practices or has much experience like they might in other sports: softball, tennis, basketball or golf. But I'm ungraceful, clumsy and sort of pathetic to watch.

Although I'm sure I provide much entertainment. Even though it appears that I'm purposefully using sloppy form, don't care, and might be intentionally sabotaging my team, the truth is - I am giving it my all out there. I'm focused and hoping just for average- just to hit some pins down and not throw the ball down the lane, dropping it with a loud bang, which once again brings full attention to me.

In the 8th grade we (Athens Middle School students) went bowling- some class outing, honors students, or some club thing. Anyway, the next day at school there was a massive sign hanging on the wall opposite the lockers which read, "Stefani Martin bowled a 32. If you can bowl higher than her please sign." I'm talking a banner sized 6' X 10' piece of paper posted in my Jr. High hallway. The teacher who posted it rolled it up nicely and gave it to me at the end of the day with hundreds of signatures. And I'm pretty sure it never made it home with me!

Trauma. I don't think I've recovered yet.

I'd much rather be on a boat cruise around Manhattan like we were last year. That was a great company outing. I'm good with free food, conversation- especially over a glass of wine, and taking in the views. This bowling thing requires me to wear borrowed shoes and most certainly look a bit ridiculous in front of my co-workers.

You'll get used to it

The other day I was headed out to lunch and I asked a co-worker if it was chilly outside, so I'd know whether or not to take my jacket. (and/ my scarf, or my umbrella...) "It's cold. But you'll get used to it."

Really? I've been here five years and I'm still not used to it. I don't want to get used to it. I have a different definition of cold than most of these people. I have a different internal thermometer, and maybe that is partially because of my southern roots, and largely because of my hardheadedness and overall bad attitude about the winter around here, BUT 49 degrees on October 2nd is too cold for me.

It was confirmed yesterday, however, by my general practitioner that my iron was low.... So, that may be a factor as well.

I was thinking about how I really don't want to get used to it. And how I some things won't feel normal, no matter how much time I spend here.

And even if I'm willing to admit that, I'm going to be pretty miserable unless I accept some of these things as cold, hard truth and decide to live in it and with it and among it. I know "every gray cloud has a silver lining," and all that, but I'm really ready to learn my lessons already and move forward into whatever it is that is awaiting me.

I know that I am holding myself back, scared of failure, scared of being vulnerable, scared of success even. It's a funny thing, when you realize that a more and better life- life the fullest- a life that is beyond your wildest dreams- is available. But so many people choose a nice quiet life, and never ever really live.

Life is risky. Nothing is promised us, mistakes will be made, we will hurt, cry, not have answers to some questions. But it is worth it to be who we've been created to be: creators, instead of accepting blase and taking the easy way out- a laissez faire approach.

Doing the right thing is hard. I don't want to take this huge bag of old underwear and towels and bed-sheets and socks and undershirts to the textile recycling. Textile recycling is not convenient and is only on Mondays and requires that I make three trips on three separate occasions. I'd much rather throw my old bathmat down the trash shoot at the end of my hallway and be done with it.

But, because the average New Yorker throws away 46 pounds of clothing and textiles a year (and textiles are the number one trash item in NYC) I just can't do it. These numbers bother me and the answer is easy. It just takes a little time and effort.

And I debated on whether or not I should pick up the keys I saw laying on the otherwise empty sidewalk this morning at 7:00am when I returned home from the gym. But I did pick them up. And I took them to CVS where they will call the person and return the keys. I just hope the phone number is still correct!! They also had a Food Emporium and a Duane Reade loyalty card on their keychain, but I opted for CVS. They seem like they have it together and are nice enough people. I even called the 1-800 number on the back of the little plastic card, and she's the one that directed me to just take the keys to the nearest CVS.

And I didn't have to do that. I mean I'm not tooting my own horn here, because trust me, I missed some opportunities just this past week. You know when that still small voice impresses something on you and you question it? Rationalize it away? Pray about it? Then an hour later when you're convinced that God was right-- it's too late?

That's not what I want the theme of my life to be.

"When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So, what the hell, leap.

- Cynthia Heimel, "Lower Manhattan Survival Tactics"

Peace & Quiet

Today in the mail I received, New York's 50 Best Places to Find Peace and Quiet. So, on my lunch hour I wandered over to 430 East 43rd Street to The Ford Foundation Building. As Wikipedia states,

"It was designed in 1967 by the firm of Roche0-Dinkeloo, the Ford Foundation Building was the first large-scale architectural building in the country to devote a substantial portion of its space to horticultural pursuits. This atrium was designed with the notion of having accessible urban greenspace to all, and is an example of the applications of environmental psychology."

Environmental Psychology: Yes Please!!! This space was amazingly quiet and serene. I can not even tell you how it made me feel. All alone in that big space with the sound of water splashing quietly in a small pond. A woman wandered in pushing a toddler. A guy walked into the space gazing immediately upward, letting me know this was his first time in the atrium as well.

I can't wait to get back there tomorrow. And sit!

Targeted

It's been two full weeks since I've sat down to this thing. That's too long. I'll admit that there have been moments I thought, "I should write" but then I get distracted. With Sudoku or adding items to my Fresh Direct shopping cart or thinking I have nothing to say. When truth is: I have so much to say.

I'll begin with the latest: what's going to today. Tonight is the first Really Big Youth event that Chris has put together. Complete with door prizes, games, music and pizza- I'm praying for a successful evening. And my favorite part, hands down, is that if there are 100 youth in attendance that Chris will shave his face. I've been praying diligently. I have not seen the man's face since before he left for Rwanda. That was June 4th.

Chris was a huge hit in the dunking booth at our Fall Kick-off street fair a couple of weeks ago & this past Sunday was our very first Sunday with students. I'll be completely honest: I was a little nervous! I know that sounds ridiculous, but I haven't worked with students......ummm, ever. I mean I am the eldest of four children, so I can handle kids and just being social, but I told Chris, "I'm just afraid they are going to think I'm a dork." To which he reassured me, "They will. They will think you are a complete dork. What else are you worried about?"

Once I realized that I would never be seen as particularly cool by a 13 or 14 year old, then I felt better. And I realized that even if I did set the church kitchen on fire, or burn half of the chocolate chip pancakes or didn't have enough milk- that no one would care. (Well, except maybe about that kitchen fire...) But, all in all, mistakes make you approachable and people can relate. Plus, it would make for a memorable experience and really great stories....

Chris is just such a natural hanging out with youth... he's in his element. And I love to see him in his element. I've just got to stop thinking so much and just be myself. Those were actually his words to me, "Be yourself." So far, so good.

All I ever have to be is who I am. Which is hard when we live in a world of change who you are. Be smarter, be faster, reshape your self, transform yourself, remake yourself, you need to be like someone else... Someone richer, wiser, thinner, more intelligent. Not So.

Be who you are, who God's created you to be. Who He's continuously creating you to be.

Through Him and For Him and By Him all things were made.

Work it out

I had my first bowl of pumpkin "infused" oatmeal this morning for breakfast. (This means I add about 1/2 C. of Libby's to my regular oatmeal- with a little cinnamon-mmmm!)

And now, at almost twelve noon, I'm munching on a Honeycrisp that I purchased at the Farmer's market I walked through on my way into work this morning. I already had my lunch in tow: baby lettuces with edamame, cucumbers with a side of tuna, with a Gingergold apple. But, it was the first Honeycrisp I've seen this season so I had to indulge. I also purchased a nice ripe tomato for .85 cents to add a little more to my salad.

Even though I started off the work week in the worst of moods, I'm doing better now. Better than sustaining- which is how I was floating through Monday. I don't know what happened to me Monday, but I just wanted to go back to bed and start everything over. I was snappy, short tempered, and just didn't want to be around people.

I am an introvert in extrovert wrapping. I love people, I do, but I am refueled and energized by my time alone. I have to have it. Over the past week I didn't get any time to myself. And my weekend was so busy. I didn't Sabbath. I didn't rest. I can't continue like this, it's not healthy or right or necessary.

Which is why I probably joined a gym yesterday. Monday on my walk home I stopped by this gym I pass all the time at 5:30pm. I haven't been in a gym in years. I mean, I worked out in the fitness center in our last apartment, but since our move in June I have done no physical activity besides walking everywhere. Just being in an enormous (36,000 square feet) workout space made my heart glad. I loved this place.

Initially I didn't know the prices, costs, fees and realize that all of that is subjective and arbitrary anyway. I mean when are there not deals, specials, offers that will "end tomorrow?" Gil gave me the grand tour and answered my questions. He told me about the amazing classes offered, how they are open from 5am-11pm, and that the membership is month-to-month. But I didn't sign up on the spot, I wanted to consider it for awhile.

And I wanted to talk to my husband about spending money that I know might be better spent elsewhere (getting out of debt...). So, I got to try out the place Tuesday morning, and was there bright and early at 5:30am. I stair-mastered, I ellipticaled, I lifted weights. It was glorious.

Gil called me Tuesday around 2:30pm, as I clearly expected him to. I told him my husband had given me the go ahead and that I'd be in to fill out the paperwork after I got off work.

Even though I can make this work in my budget, and desire fitness & want a place I can go and move around in three months when it's 40 degrees outside, it sort of made me nervous to make such a commitment. It's not that I won't go, or feel the price it unreasonable, it's just that I want to do it for the right reasons- for myself, for my health and to feel better. For energy and endorphins and just feeling like myself again.

But even as I put it in writing now, I know those things can not come from doing something. There is no miracle cure for what ails me. Maybe I can benefit from stopping something, or praying something, or slowing down to be something.

I don't know, it seems like I'm always trying to find the right balance, to feel like the best version of myself that I can. So I can live, really live, which I know is not what Christ desires for us. He's just ready for me to just say, "Yes, God, now, what is the question."

...

Last Thursday this passage popped up in two separate texts I was reading that day, and I knew then I should listen up. When something comes at me twice, in one day-- take note, LEARN it, KNOW it, APPLY it!!

Teach us to number our days carefully so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.

Psalm 90:12

We are all born and we will all die. For those of us who are Christians, this body/ human flesh/ Earthly part is just part of our eternity. And are we living eternity minded? Do I live like I care- about anyone besides myself? Do I believe what I say I believe and if so why do things like being without my engagement ring, out of network providers, and expensive flights seem to devastate my day?

Chris told me last week that I should live each day thinking that I only have to do what God wants me to do for the day. That's it- no more, no less. Sounds perfect to me!

Envisioning

Today on my lunch hour I had four (or maybe it was five, I didn't want to look to long...) vials of blood sucked out of my arm. Every time I have blood drawn I think, "Why would anyone want to do this for a living?" I mean, perhaps this person is not currently in their career of choice or maybe they are working toward another job in the medical field, however I can hardly standing sitting in that chair, elastic band tied around my arm... Ehew!

As my left arm was being punctured, I looked over my right shoulder. On the wall, which was less than twelve inches from my face someone had hung an 8X10 picture of a beautiful waterfall with a nice wooden footbridge; everything was green, there was no piece of sky visible and it reminded me of Tibet even though I've never been there. I guess this was supposed to calm and distract me.

I've never passed out while having my blood drawn, but the first time I thought I might. So, I had my one of my best friends tag along for the show. I was 24 or 25 at the time, but I still needed someone to hold my hand. Needless to say, I have not gotten much braver, as my stomach was rockin & rollin for the hour preceding this lovely experience.

Anyway... not the point of today's post nonetheless, it's on my mind.

You're getting me at 5:00pm, before I leave at 6:00pm; weekend on the brain so here goes:

I was indeed, able to find black-eyed peas at the second grocery store I stopped in. I even took the dish to a new level and chopped up two jalapenos. I tasted it last night, before putting in the refrigerator to marinate for twenty-four hours and I can't wait to see how it tastes this evening. The recipe was called Cowboy Caviar, and even though I didn't follow it verbatim- it's more of a bean/ pea salad than just a BEP salad. Which is fine, delicious; it will be consumed- it's just not what I set out with intentions to make four days ago. Initially I had set out to make what my mother has always served on New Years Day- but I let my plans change I guess. Cowboy Caviar sounded more appropriate to eat alongside brisket.

...

Sunday is the tenth anniversary of 9/11. And I honestly haven't given much thought to it. I'm not worried or frightened as other in the city have expressed. There is heightened security- which is quite visible- but that is the case each 9/11.

We are having a special service at church with videos and testimonies and people retelling where they were and how they heard the news on that day in 2001. Not just people who were in the city on that day, but people who were in other parts of the country or the world. I heard (and hope that it's the case) that we may even hear snippets from our pastor's sermon from the Sunday following 9/11/2001. What he said. The hope he gave, how he didn't claim to have all the answers, how he responded- through love and grace- to the hundreds of people who came to church that day looking for answers. It's going to be a time of reflection and looking forward as well.

...

Summer is drawing to a close. Days are shorter, night air a little cooler. I've pulled out my hoodies and bought my first can of Libby's pumpkin. Here's to a beautiful inspiring weekend. I hope to reflect as well as be propelled into action; whatever's next in my life.

Soggy Groggy and a Little Angst

This morning I was considering getting a cab (frugal, on a budget, little ole' me), as I heard the rain beating heavily against our living room window. It was pouring at 6:30am. This is the third day of rain, heavy and hard, but by the time I left my apartment around 7:30 it had let up tremendously and my umbrella simply kept the drizzle off of my face. I decided to take the bus.

I look like quite the eclectic artist walking around in my rain gear. My rainboots are zebra striped with bright pink roses- cut like cowboy boots, complete with pointy toes, a two inch heel and everything. They are actually much more comfortable than my huge Kenneth Cole goulashes which my feet flop up and down in. They fit like clown shoes. My raincoat is gray with a sort of plaid pattern. It's not a bold print, but it's not a subtle as a black or khaki overcoat. And the umbrella I'm currently using (which was in a pile left in my husband's new office) is a eggshell blue and turquoise whirlwind of Parisian scenes. I am not easily missed.

In spite of the cloudiness and constant rains, I've been lucky enough to catch "windows of opportunity" in which to dash to and from the bus/ to home/ to church/ to the wine bar. I gotta be honest, I tried to "opt out" of my vino engagement with four lovey ladies in my life, but they wouldn't let me. So, I went. It rained. It was still fun.

It's funny that rain just make you want to cancel life, all together, on some levels and not do a darn thing! But after three days you begin to feel that really, living indoors forever is no real choice, and you start digging your way out- even if there's no point in drying your hair in the morning or putting on nice pants. You just got to get out!!

The sun is peaking out now, I saw it for thirty minutes on my lunch hour, so that makes me feel hopeful. Perhaps when I get home I can wander the neighborhood, going from grocer to grocer in search of Black Eyed Peas. The D'Agostino I stopped at yesterday did not sell Black Eye Peas, canned or dried or otherwise. Disappointing but not surprising. I want to make Texas Caviar (or some version like it) for a meeting tomorrow night where our host is serving brisket. I just gotta find some BEP's, and some jalapenos too.

Even though it has been a short work week, I've been busy. Tuesday night, last night, tomorrow night- Saturday- forget about it! And Sunday's packed until 2:30 or so too. Saturday I don't even think I'll make it to a baby shower (for twins) in New Jersey that got rescheduled because of the hurricane. But that night, I am going to another Gotham Girls Roller Derby which will leave me wanting to start training for next years tryouts for sure. I loved my first roller derby experience, and I know this one will not disappoint.

Tomorrow: more about our 9/11 service planned for Sunday & the outcome of the BEP hunt! Because I'm from the The Black Eyed Pea Capital of the World, and I have to make this dish.

photo credit

Turn Turn Turn

With only a couple weeks left until the beginning of fall (September 23rd) summer has made his days known. This summer in New York we had some ridiculously high temperatures and some very humid days. We felt the winds blow the rains fall and the very earth shake under our feet. I am ready for fall, and even dug out my navy J. Crew blazer to wear in today's 63 degree temperatures. BUT, it's bittersweet: The End of Summer.

Summer in New York means lots of walking, and experiencing everything so vividly and up close while taking it all in. During the winter months you live life underground. Running from subway stop to bus stop to the front door. During those gray days I forget to look up; I keep my view forward, by brow furrowed - because of the bitterly cold wind hitting me in the face, and my gaze on the next step ahead.

Not that September will bring snow, it's just that summer's always gone too quickly, and then I am cold for nine months. I do love the fall though, especially in the Northeast. Chris and I have been fortunate enough to get away from the city during the first few weeks of October each year and see some amazing fall foliage. In just a few weeks, we are planning on going to Maine during our anniversary leaf peeping event.

For fall order is back in place. Schedules are reestablished. Form and direction are reinforced where it otherwise was let go for the summer. It's the "back to school" in all of us. It's the time to start a new journal. It's time to clean out the closets perhaps, or look into that budget you set up months ago. It's a new season, a new beginning- hitting the gym, getting back in the groove of life maybe. As much as I love summer, and last minute outings, I thrive on knowing what's coming when and having my agenda.

And my agenda is pretty full for the next few "fall kick off" weeks. Between planning meetings and showers and going away parties and service days and appointments- I literally have one free night this week (even Saturday and Sunday are booked...!).

I'll miss all the free activities of summer, bike rides, walks along the river, sitting outside and shopping the expanse and wealth of the Farmer's Market; all the flavors, color and textures which will soon be replaced with root vegetables and apples. (I am looking forward to those apples though!)

So, while we have a couple weeks until her arrival, I bought some things to welcome Autumn- even if a bit prematurely. I picked up some gingersnaps and canned pumpkin this weekend, in anticipation for my first pumpkin pudding making of the season. I bought a cinnamon-y candle. I'm wearing dark lipstick today in place of my shear gloss and feel that we will not see temperatures in the 90's again this season.

Embrace it, seasons change and it will be good. Even if it's hard to see now, through my sunglasses and floppy straw hat that I'm saddened to pack away.

Return$

Does anyone else go "shopping" just to try on clothes in the dressing room without the intention to buy anything? Or, is that just me? Sometimes when I just need a thick, strong, heavy does of reality and I step into Banana or GAP or Ann Taylor or somewhere with well lit dressing rooms and lots of skirts, blouses and slacks to choose from.

Here's the deal: lately (like, all of August) I've totally felt like five- ten extra pounds have settled around my midsection. I know they have. My clothes are tighter on my hips and rear end and as much as I want to blame it on something other than simply shoving food into my face I can't.

I'm sure being totally inactive, medication, partaking in all that summer has to offer, and all those elastic wasted skirts ALL have some part to play. But let's be honest.

I know it may seem like a dressing room with a full length mirror to view yourself while wearing only your underwear, may seem like the completely opposite place someone feeling like the heavier version of themselves may want to go. Most may run screaming simply thinking of the idea... I however find it grounding. It is reality. And, it's usually not as bad as I think.

I like to see what sizes I am at various stores. Even though my own clothes fit snug, all is not lost-- does this make any sense whatsoever? I think if I just let my mind keep lying to me, I may just dive head first into Mr. Softee and eat my weight in mozzarella sticks. Even though I'm jiggly, and will never look like Beyonce- standing in front of the mirror in Ann Taylor I realize, "If I work hard for the next 6-8 weeks I can shave off a little of these saddle bags..." It's not so bad.

However, yesterday during one of these retail therapy sessions I managed to leave with $102.00 dollars worth of merchandise; which was not all on the agenda or in the budget.

See, September 1, 2011 (um, yesterday) Chris and I opened a checking account just for me. For all my wifely spending. This includes: groceries, house-hold items, Rx, doctors, laundry, dry cleaning, and my going out to eat/ coffee/ clothes/ shopping etc. So- day one, I failed miserably.

I saw $$money$$ in the account and spent it. And today, I returned it all, only after carrying the bag of clothes home, trying them on again this morning and realizing I was not being a good steward of my money.

So, I have my excel spreadsheet now. I'm monitoring what I spend where and how much and cracking down. I mean, I've always been frugal, and consider myself a wise shopper, but it's different when this is it. For the month. I have "X" amount of money and I've got to make it work!!!

Labor Day Sales- whatever!!! I'm buying dental floss and lentils!!