Key Food on Avenue A Rocks

It's funny where you experience enlightenment. God doesn't have preferences.

Last night Brian and I were walking Saki together. Ben was sleeping over at a relative's house, leaving us in a rare and temporary state of childlessness.

Brian wanted to get ice cream and suggested ducking into Key Food instead of spending more money at a bodega or yuppie ice cream shop.

I ducked into the Key Food on Avenue A and looked around at the shabby decor and its half baked attempt at marketing new food products with uneven pyramids and a confused cornucopia of fading fruits and vegetables.

The wonderful array of Key Food customers glided by me - a distilled group reduced by the likes of Whole Foods on Houston Street and Associated on 14th Street.

Everyone had their own thing going on - all walks of life - it was the end of a working day and people looked at bit tired and run down. This hodge podge loserville - people so far out of the box that they don't even know where the box is....it just filled me with such bliss and peace. These are my people -- the neighborhood I grew up in that informs me to the core. A place to be whoever you want....because anything goes. A brief peak at what use to be the norm here.

This feeling of love and appreciation just flooded me. A feeling I'd taken for granted for many years.

The teenager at the cash register rang my ice cream up and with a very somber face looked up at me and said, "Two for one."

She needed to repeat it three times for me to understand that you get one quart of Breyers ice cream free with each one purchased. I was so psyched that she started laughing. I just didn't see it coming!

My husband is a thrifty WASP -- and you should have seen the look of righteousness on his face when I delivered the goods.

Rack-a-rama

I've been holding back on this issue for some time now, but after three solid hours shopping in Soho with my beloved Icelandic niece....the question must be posed

Hey New York City!

Could you girls please get your titties out of my face!!??

Everyone's boobs are hanging out everywhere I go - uptown, downtown, like never before.
Everybody and their mother is wearing spaghetti straps, strapless or plunging V necks with a friggin' push up - push out bra - or just letting their jugs of any size fall out of their dresses and tops.

I don't find it offensive but I do feel that if you shove your boobies in my face I have every right to stare at them - something I usually don't do.

What is the protocol here folks?!

Neither More Nor Less - Bob Arihood

I followed my blog friend Michael's (One Foot in Front of the Other - see link on the right) advice and checked out the blog Neither More Nor Less (also linked on the right).

The blog just blew my mind. It made we want to cry at some points. He had pictures of a mass at Mary Help the Christians Catholic Church - where my uncle was a priest for years. He showed pictures of a torn up St. Brigid's Church engaged in a battle with developers to somehow gain landmark status in its final hours.

He even knows who Hotdog is!!! How in the world does he know her!? Of course he knows the Mosaic Man - but Hotdog - that is just a whole other level of knowingness.

There was a guy who basically lived on our stoop for years. We called him "Married with Food Stamps". Every time one of us gals would walk out of the building, he'd come out of his haze, compliment us and say "Marry me...I have food stamps!!"

This guy even knows that Bernard Goetz has been active in animal rescue at Tompkin's Square Park.

I'm surprised he doesn't take pictures of all the Yemen guys who work at the bodega near my building on A. They are such a big part of the world here - and I love them!

It's been a very long time since I've felt sad about leaving my bought out neighborhood - - but he got me there.

Stay out of my kitchen

I've been doing a lot of thinking about my son Ben's diet. He's nine but is tall, solid and looks a year older than he is.

He also has a little tummy but I figure that has to do with the onset of adolescence and some parts of his body growing faster than others.

What bugs me in the last year or so is the shift in his food tastes. I've been too careless about his relationship to sugar - and now I think it's a problem. We don't drink soda or have sweets in the house - - but sugar has a way of sneaking its way into the ingredients of just about everything you buy outside of organic fruits, vegetables and meats.

We eat breakfast and dinner together as a family and I make everyone's lunch. I think it's important to eat together and to put love and care into the food your family eats. It keeps us feeling close and on the same wave length with each other.

Avoiding the sugar infused products of the food industry isn't easy - but I have to take it on. I truly believe American food culture and the industry/advertising behind it is killing us.

Hi!

This is a petty observation but I've just got to flame about it.

The world is divided into two types of people; the people who say "hi" first and the people who don't.

I've spent my life always saying hi to someone the minute I recognize them. I can't help it.

Today I bumped into a dad at my son's baseball game. I don't know him well but he seems like a nice person. Every time we cross pathes I ALWAYS say hello first and then he immediately responds. I can tell he's just waiting for me to acknowledge him. Because this behavior confuses me, I try to keep our exchanges pleasant and brief.

Being a "hi" first person isn't always as easy at it looks. Maybe it's wiser to be more reserved - then you're not vulnerable. Unfortunately, that's not a world I can live in. It would make me too depressed to start screening people at this point in my life.

So I guess I'll just keep saying it.

Hi!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes......

as David Bowie would kind of say.

My husband just got offered a faculty position at a school about 90 minutes away from NYC - in Connecticut.

For one day we were scared and argued a bit.

Even though this decision dictates a host of significant changes in our lives, somehow, after the initial fear passed, I was glad that something came along that forced our hand.

My biggest fear/problem is feeling stagnant. It drives me mad. I'm not afraid of change most of the time - as long as it's creative or thoughtfully approached.

Stay tuned.

Memorial Day Weekend

I had a pretty nice weekend and started this post ready to give you the play by play of all we did.

My son stands in front of me as I write, watching his Ken Burn's Baseball documentary for the thousandth time while swinging his bat at an invisible pitch - smacking it out of the park.

And it's hitting me like a wave right now that some mother's precious son or daughter is not standing in front of them today. Because they are dead...casualities of war. Maybe it was last month, last year, in Korea, Vietman, the Pacific, the Battle of the Bulge or friendly fire in the desert. The breathless moment when their world came to an end can be buried but memory is a harsh wind capable of unearthing whatever comes in its path.

I'm humbled by their grief. My stories can wait for another day.

Cool It!

I am in desperate need to get my air conditioner jammed into my window...and fast. I just can't stand the urban heat and NOISE emanating from the sidewalks of my beloved Avenue.

On Wednesday I am going to look at spaces to live in Jackson Heights. Frankly, I have no idea what I'm doing but I must start somewhere. My 450 square foot apartment is beginning to feel like a coffin...a cluttered coffin with a west highland terrier jumping in and out of it.

We will also need to look north of the city where there might be some worn down cottage with our name on it.

My Kingdom for an installed air conditioner! Any takers!?

Day of Mommyness

My special day of Mommyness began with a painfully early morning little league game, followed by a very relaxing picnic at the Hudson River Park.

It was a beautiful day in New York. The city blocks west of Hudson Street were surprisingly peaceful and I somehow managed to be acutely aware of the rare tranquility I found myself in.

I actually recall thinking "Oh my God. I'm living in the moment - how did this happen?"

My very wise and caring husband made sure to give me two swell books I've been wanting. One is the new biography of Alice Waters and life at Chez Panisse and the other is Julia Child's reflections on her years in France.

My gifts were presented to me in an ultra pink canvas Strand Bookstore bag coupled with a perfect mom's day card. You see, my husband appreciates that at my core I am a super girly girl. This recognition helps when I spend most of my time being a super bossy boss of lots of people and projects and money and blah, blah, blah.

Sometimes I just want to drive off in my Barbie camper....with my new pink book bag.

Pumpin' Up the Volume

The buildings next door just got purchased by a real estate company that is notorious for pushing people out of their apartments.

Ugh. This news is depressing. I guess this is the final stage of gentrification. The real estate scum bags driving old people, immigrants and regular working people out of their homes.

Manhattan has become a Disneyland for the uber wealthy of Wall Street and the world. The emerging art/counter culture communities are a thing of the past. I guess we're Los Angeles.

Please join me in a moment of silence...

Today is National Coconut Cream Pie Day.

Up in Smoke

It's a beautiful sunny Saturday in New York City. We completed our rounds of baseball and bike riding with lots of time left over to enjoy the day.

There seems to be a rally to change the marijuana laws going on across the street at Tompkins Square Park. There is a respectable crowd in attendance - far from menacing. So why are there about seventy cops in and around the park?

I'm definitly in support of the legalization of marijuana for medical use. If you have ever been face to face with someone in the throes of chemo or AIDS medication - there is no way you could deny the comfort of cutting through the extreme and endless nausea they deal with.

When I was pregnant with Ben, I suffered from severe morning sickness for my entire term. Now there is a name for it - Hyperemesis Gravidarum - back then they basically told me to suck it up. I wonder how many men could throw up at least four times a day while holding down a full time job and a commute that includes a crosstown bus and a twenty minute subway ride while their tummies are expanding into solid basketballs?

One day I was walking towards Avenue A and someone in front of me must have been discreetly smoking a joint. I somehow inhaled the second hand smoke and for a shining moment - I wasn't sick. I almost started to cry because it was such a relief.
Of course marijuana is no remedy for morning sickness - but I fully support its use for those poor souls dealing with chemo or AIDS medications.

Sadly, no acupuncturist or shiatsu practitioner would go near me for fear of liability issues.

Does my son appreciate any of this struggle? No way! I'm only as good as the last meal I cooked!

None of Your Bee's Wax

Colony Collapse Disorder....apparently a whole lot of bees are dropping dead in the United States. If there aren't any bees to pollinate fruit and vegetable plants we are screwed. Much to the surprise of many New Yorkers, we cannot live on diet coke and survive.

Some possible reasons for bees dropping dead - genetic engineering of plants, pesticides, other weird stuff that sucks.

The United States seems to be going to hell in a handbasket.

And speaking of baseball

We all woke up at the horrific hour of 7 am today (on a Saturday - mama mia!) so that Brian and Ben could go to baseball practice by 8. Ben is playing in the Greenwich Village League this year so he can play with his friends from school. Until now he's always played in the East Village.

At Opening Day for Ben's team last week, I couldn't help noticing how few non- white kids were there. Maybe I'm not being fair - but it appeared that way.

Today after practice we headed back east and rode our bikes along the East River Park. It was a beautiful day today and the breeze off the East River felt good (if that's possible). The park is a long series of playing fields along the river with a broad walkway adjacent to the FDR Drive.

It was Opening Day for OLS (Our Lady of Sorrows Baseball League). There must have been over two hundred boys running around in their adorable little baseball uniforms.

The baseball fields are broken up by several small small soccer fields where guys of just about every nationality were going at it. How interesting it is to see soccer being played really well.

I love my neighborhood and wish it could stay this diverse - but it's not likely.

So where do we go from here?

My Weekend in a Nutshell

The Red Sox and playing the Yankees ALL weekend. My son and husband are already positioned in front of the television.

While I was making dinner, Ben declared "Mom - I'm eating in the living room because I'm not missing one minute of this game."

Eating in the living room is a big no-no in my book.

And yet I am powerless in this situation. No point fighting the inevitable.

Horrible

I am horrified by the news of the shooting spree down at Virginia Tech. 33 dead. Jesus Christ. How is it possible that it happened in two parts? In the morning then two hours later? I guess we'll learn more as it happens.

I can only imagine the nightmare the parents of those dead kids are living in right now. It's all too much.

I'm not letting Ben out of his room until he's thirty. If you're not safe in the Virginia countryside then where are you safe?

Boston Cream Pie Cupcakes

For reasons that I cannot explain, I am obsessed with the idea of making Boston Cream Pie Cupcakes. Just look at the picture! If that isn't proof of God - what is?

East Village Church Bells

It's the evening before Easter and church bells are ringing all over the East Village...at least those churches that have not yet been converted into apartments.

If you stand in the courtyard of my building facing north, you see the back of a Russian Orthodox church. Half of the wall is made up of ornate stained glass panels with a bell tower on top. During evening mass (which is rare), you can stand in my courtyard and look up at the brilliant stained glass brought to life by warm lights behind it.

Those bells are ringing right now.

Down the street, at Most Holy Redeemer Church I can hear their bells ringing. My parents were married there 55 years ago. Both churches keep their doors locked unless mass is being celebrated.

My son was baptised by my uncle, a Salesian priest, at Mary Help the Christians Church on 12th Street - just a few blocks away. The inside of that church is beautiful. Figures of saints are encased high above your head in a semi circle around the church that ends on either side of the alter. I've heard that church will be closing soon.

These celebrations are coming to an end in this neighborhood.

East Village Church Bells

It's the evening before Easter and church bells are ringing all over the East Village...at least those churches that have not yet been converted into apartments.

If you stand in the courtyard of my building facing north, you see the back of a Russian Orthodox church. Half of the wall is made up of ornate stained glass panels with a bell tower on top. During evening mass (which is rare), you can stand in my courtyard and look up at the brilliant stained glass brought to life by warm lights behind it.

Those bells are ringing right now.

Down the street, at Most Holy Redeemer Church I can hear their bells ringing. My parents were married there 55 years ago. Both churches keep their doors locked unless mass is being celebrated.

My son was baptised by my uncle, a Salesian priest, at Mary Help the Christians Church on 12th Street - just a few blocks away. The inside of that church is beautiful. Figures of saints are encased high above your head in a semi circle around the church that ends on either side of the alter. I've heard that church will be closing soon.

These celebrations are coming to an end in this neighborhood.

My 4 Year Old Nephew, Spider Man

Brian: Tommy, stand away from the TV. You don't want to get exposed to too much radiation.

Tommy: Don't worry Uncle Brian. I have radioactive blood.