Full House

I probably should have waited to shout my Gilbert Gottfried-spotting news from the rooftops. Little did I know this was going to be the week of celebrity spottings. Some, admittedly, in more contrived settings than others.

Passed Jessica Hecht on 42nd on my way to...

The World's Largest Ice Cream Social at Cold Stone - the event was to benefit the Make-A-Wish Foundation and another partner is WWE, so the Hart Dynasty was in the house. I'm probably going to let a lot of you down when I admit -- I don't. know. much. about. the WWE.

So when I was standing in the two feet between the counter and the wall and this guy:

stopped next to me, and then a third person had to squeeze past, so Allison and this guy:

were suddenly face to face - er, face to mid-section - but I didn't know who he was and it felt like a strange time to shake hands and throw out, "so I'm Allison... and you are?" I just averted my glance and waited awkwardly for the moment to pass. Funny that I can survive subway ride after subway ride all up in fellow passengers' business, but recreate the scene with this guy:

and I'm all aware of it. Maybe it's because it's this guy:

(oh, admit it - this picture makes you laugh as hard as it makes me laugh)

and he could probably crack me in half.

The next celeb who could probably crack me in half - Larry Fitzgerald of the Arizona Cardinals. Larry has partnered with Cold Stone to advance breast cancer awareness and research through this program, so we had him in town this week promoting the cause for Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

(I should note, as the only celeb in this post who I actually spent any sort of time with - I am uber-impressed by this guy. The type of person who's so down to earth you think, hey! I kind of have stuff in common with this person. Well, we're both in our twenties and I think the similarities end there. Because I've never sent any team to the Super Bowl. I've never been featured in a video game. And I'm not on the cover of Men's Fitness. Plus, the ladies love him. Behold, the woman in the purple hat: love it.)

We kicked off the morning at Good Morning America, where I fully intended to see the hosts but hadn't thought about who else might be strolling the studio.

Within 6 minutes, I walked past Victoria Gotti, exchanged smiles with Patricia Heaton and made eye contact four times with John Stamos.

That's right. Uncle Jesse.

Consider my seven-year-old mind exploded.

25.

Twenty-five.


25.


Two. Five.


So here it is.


My birthday weekend was delightful, with old and new friends visiting from DC. Ashlee (who is making a run at most NYC visits to the Riley ghettostead), Ali and Joy came for a weekend of thrifting, NYC sites, a visit to the temple and funky vegetarian mediterranean food.


Thanks to their knowledge of all the good flea markets and their sweet generosity, the piece of mirror I got out of the garbage four months ago (I knew there was a frame out there waiting) now has a frame. And I now have ideas... Expect this project to make a few blog appearances and please disregard my leg in the reflection:

My actual birthday came and went a little more quietly than in years past (except last year, when I was alone in a hotel room in Charlotte. Or the year before that when Noah was in Minneapolis so my mom and I got a pizza and rented New York Doll. So maybe this is a trend...?), when our day filled up with the usual and some extra Sunday meetings. But I got what my sisters with kids say they wish for every year - a completely quiet afternoon to myself.

It was the perfect day in NYC, the kind of day where it's a shame to ride underground. So after bidding farewell to our weekend guests at Penn Station, I decided to walk home along 8th Avenue and enjoy the city.

Three blocks into my walk, I passed Gilbert Gottfried. Is it ironic or just sad that no lie - two days previous - I had Iago's lines from Aladdin stuck in my head? I'm afraid I'm revealing too much...

Shortly after the celeb spotting, 8th Avenue was closed to traffic for a huge street carnival. I didn't see any banners or signs or anything, but I'm pretty sure this was in my honor.

I walked until 86th, when the ice cream I knew was at home in the freezer became too much to resist (another birthday miracle: Blue Bunny Ice Cream = $2.50). So I ducked into the nearest station and within 15 minutes I was home, in my shorts and favorite t-shirt with a book and a bowl of Rocky Road.

Don't think that's all I did. I also talked to my sisters, straightened up the house and played Scramble on my iPhone. Then when Noah got home I ate another bowl of ice cream while we watched the Office and he gave me a foot massage.

It was the perfect day. And now I think I need one of these low-key birthdays at least twice a week.

I thought I was out of the clear until Noah got a little twitchy smile on Monday evening. He came into my office at 6:00 anxious to see if I was ready to go. I told him I was wrapping up a release and would be just a little while longer and he replied that he'd just start heading home then. Since we're ALWAYS together, this was blatant suspicious activity - prompting this response from me:

"Oh, crap. On my ugly day?"

I should work on my gratitude, but truthfully - Monday was a really ugly day. Earlier that morning, I'd rubbed my right eye with jalapeno hands (oh. my. goodness.) and resorted to glasses once I could finally pry my contact lens from my puffy red eye. Plus, I had become so complacent by Sunday's non-events that I elected for the no-shower Monday. Yeah, you're picturing it.

But surprise he did, and we enjoyed the evening with old friends (=9 months) and new friends (=2 days) and everyone in between.

Welcome, 25.

G'Day Mate

Each year, our anniversary gift to one another has been a destination. Take two people who love to travel and get antsy when they don't have a passport (side note: four passports in as many years. Expired. Lost. New. New name.), put 'em together and you'd better believe they're planning a vacation or two. It's not much of a surprise when you book several months out, but it does make for two people ecstatic at the prospect of fall travel.

We can't WAIT to see these four thugs:

Here:

"Vacation From My PROBLEMS."

- Bob Wiley

We got away to the coast for Labor Day and boy howdy, did we ever need it. These tan lines are the first to speak of for the summer, if that's any indication.

We got a house in Newport, RI with a few other couples and thoroughly enjoyed a weekend without a schedule and heavy on the sandy beaches, rocky beaches, kabobs, lighthouses, great conversation, games, sand volleyball, friends, mansion walks, skim boarding attempts, salt water taffy and tandem bikes.Most great vacations are typically measured in number of seats and handle bars.You'll never believe it, but the tandem bike wasn't our nerdiest point of the trip. No, no - we hit that low early on when we suggested to the Wrides we play "name every country beginning with A, now B, now C... D... you get the picture" on our drive to Newport. That game got us 4/5ths of the way through a three-hour drive and probably 9/10ths of the way toward the Wrides refusing to ever be in a vehicle with us ever again.

But I suspect we weren't the only nerds in the bunch. There were more games of Acquire (The Game of Corporate Acquisitions - naturally) than I can count on both hands, where I learned to stick with my wicked geography and country-naming skills because my savvy planning and corporate conquest skills are sub-par. I'm clearly not cut out to be a titan of industry.

When we weren't amassing large fictional fortunes, we were contemplating how to spend real ones and dreaming about the day we'll own one of these. Or one of these.Or one of these. Or at least be good friends with someone who does. (Who was the ultimate Acquire champ? We're counting on you...)

A City Divided

Noah and I returned home late Monday evening after a wonderful three-day weekend (updates on that soon), and the hour left little in the way of straightening up the house and preparing for the week (I LOVE a clean house to collect my thoughts). Although, truth be told, it did leave enough in the way of a Friends episode and a bowl of mint cookies and cream.

No willpower. It's frightening.

But we managed to dodge responsibility and the folding/putting away of laundry (yawn) for one more evening when our coworker generously scored us tickets to the Mets/Marlins game last night. We hadn't spent an evening at Citi Field yet (come to think of it, we hadn't really been to Queens yet... so this was uncharted territory all around.) and I gotta say - of all the brand new Major League Baseball stadiums in New York City, I think this one is my fave.

I wish I'd taken more photos, because the inside is really neat - I loved the brick juxtaposed with the dark steel rafters and there was just a cool vibe.

But as I was declaring my love for the facilities (does that reek of a bathroom euphemism? does "reek" conjure equally unpleasant thoughts? i'm stopping...) the Mets were ho-hum on the field. I took this picture in the bottom of the 7th, Mets down by two, bases loaded, one out, David Wright up to bat (evidently a crowd favorite? i suspect because he slightly resembles Donny Osmond.) - hoping I would have an awesome grand slam story to share after I took it. But meh, nope.

My love faded further when we had to wait on two crowded platforms for two different trains in order to get home. We usually walk home from Yankee Stadium. If you've ever been to Yankee Stadium, now you're afraid for me, probably.

So I guess I'm still on the fence. Mets fan? Yankees fan?

METS - dig the digs; free tickets; giant apple; Donny Osmond lookalike.

YANKEES - home in 15; Frank Sinatra; winning.

I guess all that's left to consider is whether I look better in pinstripes or orange. I'm such a hard-core sports fan.