Happy New Year - with the Haydster and Abbeylicious

I'm not a terribly impulsive person. Sure, I've walked out of the house with no intention of purchasing galoshes before my return and returned with galoshes nonetheless. But I let most decisions marinade a bit before I pull the trigger.

But compare me to my CPA (and all the wonderful, but typical personality and behaviors that implies...) sis and I seem like I belong at the end of the scale with our great aunt who got married in Reno after a few drinks and a heart-t0-heart about belief in a higher power. (For the record, I am not knocking this story. One of my all time faves. Wish I'd know this particular family member better, for sure.)

So now you get the picture - Ashley and Allison, not the most impulsive gals on the street. Which is why we both surprised ourselves when - faced with the unexpected flexibility of a few extra days off work - ideas were thrown out, plane tickets purchased and a half-baked plan, in which we wake up her babies at midnight to ring in the new decade in Times Square, was born.

Ashley and her sweet kiddos got into town Thursday evening and we partied (and when I say partied, I mean roasted red pepper and feta hummus and gummy bears kind of partied...) at our office in midtown for the evening. Our office is just a block off Times Square (albeit a quiet block off Times Square. They're not kidding when they shut that block down.), so it worked out well to be near the action without being in the lose-a-hand-or-nose-to-exposure and wear-a-diaper-'cause-y'ain't-leavin' action.

It was also nice to be a landing spot for these rockstars who did brave a few hours in the thick of the action. (But I feel, for their sakes, the need to disclose that they used the restroom before they left the office and didn't use it again until they returned.)
The girls were pleasantly wired from their first night in the big city, or perhaps because I can't say no to one particularly adorable towhead who politely signs for more gummy bears.

They were so much fun to be around and sleep didn't even seem like a consideration until they crashed promptly at 11:15pm. JUST enough time for us to wake them back up at 20 minutes 'til and run to 59th Street for the countdown. I know, I KNOW - Child Protective Services will read this and say I'm unfit to raise another human being. I say we're making memories.We met up with the crowd in Central Park and pressed on as far as we could - a distant view of Times Square down 7th, a giant countdown monitor so we'd know exactly when it was go-time and fireworks behind us in the park. That'll do. Not bad for fairly minimal effort.
I was tempted not to fix the red eye in these photos. It really added to Hayden's glossy stare.
If you think these photos are the best thing ever, you should see the video of Miss Abbey right at midnight. It is just classic enough it might inspire me to learn how to upload a video on this blog. In our defense (no really - you have one, Allison?), she growls because she hates fireworks, not because her crazy aunt woke her up at midnight to go stand in a crowd of one million people.

A Few More

I tried to add these to the last post. Blogger was so over it.

I breezed by Central Park in the recap just because I didn't have any images to add to the story. But I got these from Daddy-o yesterday and they made me smile.

I love this picture of my Dad with his baby girl. What a handsome guy. Now you see why I'm such a handsome woman... :).

This is all we did for all five days. That's why there are so many jumping pictures. Hard to get one of Megs and me holding still.

And a quick revisit to that first frigid day in Times Square. Doesn't my mom look so cold?! She could catch a chill in Arizona in August, so you know she's dying here. Bless her heart. We hit H&M the first day and properly outfitted those necks and heads.

It (Was) Christmastime in the City

You know it's been a great holiday season when January hits you like a a ton of bricks. Hello, January 7 (you're not confused, I wrote this yesterday) - you're the masonry I was expecting.


2009 was the year of epic moves amongst the Furniss kids. Every kid in a new state in the last calendar year. So when my parents thought it might be just the two of them and Megan in Utah or the two of them in Megan in New York for Christmas, we were giddy when the latter worked out. (And then we found out Koryn and her clan would be Utahns again before the holiday season, but too late - I called dibs.)


The trio rolled into town early Wednesday morning and we hit the town. But the town was bitter cold, so we checked Dad's first indoor to-do off the list with an early lunch at a gen-you-ine NYC deli. (Where the Honeybee was delish; too bad the boys didn't dare order such a girly sounding sandwich. Mom, Megan and I were pleased.)


From there, Mom and Dad treated us to a matinee of West Side Story. It was a great performance - one of my favorites thus far. Though I fear there may have been a few holes in the plot for Dad and Megs. We opted for the matinee thinking the red eye flyers wouldn't last through an evening show - but when I glanced down the aisle just before intermission, I saw a few drooping lids. Who falls asleep during a rumble? Thanks for the tickets, Dad - and sorry you fell asleep.Christmas Eve was Ellis Island, Lady Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge (that's a good family who will take a jumping picture on the Brooklyn Bridge with you),

and what will make me look like the ultimate hostess, I'm sure...

Christmas Eve dinner in Chinatown. (You know I can't help it... "Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra, Ra Ra Ra Ra.")

We attempted to make it to Christmas Eve services at Trinity Church that evening, but as we called the elevator all we heard were alarms and ringing. The faint scent of smoke further alerted us to a possible problem and by the time firemen pass us in the stairwell, we had a hunch someone on the 20th floor was not having a great Christmas Eve. Fortunately, nobody was hurt and the fire was actually out before the fire department arrived, but we were able to put to rest my Dad's suspicion that we are not actually 25 floors above ground. And it's true, folks, it's true. The numbers in the stairwell jumped from 19 to 13, so apparently there are no floors 14-18. Who knew? Dad knew. He's a numbers guy.

That little anecdote has us way off track. Didn't make it to the church on time. Did get these photos.
Meg's a little too cool for school in this picture. Or too cool for church, rather.

Christmas morning was... lazy. Which means it was lovely. But somewhat reminiscent of childhood years when I was the one pestering the 'rents to wake up and open presents. I was worried if they didn't know what their gift was before 9:45am we wouldn't make it in time...

to the traditional* Christmas Day Knicks game at Madison Square Garden. And glad our pal Ibrahim could join!

We dashed from the Garden to the only quiet place we could lay claim on in midtown. The hallway of our offices. Yep - hallway. We did remember the key to the building. We did not remember the keys to the actual office. So we enjoyed our first official missionary call with Elder Furniss from the hallway of the 10th floor in a building on the Avenue of the Americas. It was quite a scene, bro. Sorry I didn't think to snap a picture. But you won't read this blog for two more years anyway, and by then it may have lost its appeal.

Christmas night was dinner in Little Italy, a little scarf and hat perusing in Chinatown and a rainstorm that proved Allison has a tough time remembering the reason for the season when her head is wet. What can I say? Wind and rain make me irritable. No Seattle in our future...

Saturday poured. And because Mom, Dad and Megs witnessed the evening before how onery rain can make me, they wisely made haste to the Met and spent the day absorbing all the loveliness that entails.

A beautiful Sunday afternoon in Central Park, a butternut squash lasagna that would make you renounce your love to the marinara and ricotta stuff and run away with a butternut squash and nutmeg, and not wanting to fall asleep on Sunday night because I knew Monday meant a teary goodbye.

It's nice to love being with your family. And it's really nice of them to come 2,000 miles to eat General Tso's Chicken with you on Christmas Eve. Thanks for visiting. Hope the chicken was worth it.

*not an actual Furniss family tradition.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree...

Sorta.

We had to get creative this year. 450 square feet doesn't exactly scream giant conifer.
And so, the Christmas Coat Rack.

Happy holidays, from the Rileys.

Perfect Storm

Monday Night.

Jazz versus Knicks.

$6.50 tickets.

Sounds like all the makings of a good Family Home Evening (taking liberties with "home," of course) for a frugal Utah gal like myself.

So we roped in a few of our favorite fellow Utah Staters and headed to the Garden for what proved to be an excellent way to spend three hours and a dozen bucks. Good night to be a Jazz fan.

Thanks for the photos, Jake and Dave!

Down Undah - The Venice Beach Chapter

Few things make a 20 hour flight more fun than a six hour layover. So we hatched an escape plan to the beach rather than spend six hours at Bradley International Terminal.

The shuttle was the more economical option, and you know me and economical. We waited at the curb with a really nice couple from Australia, chatted with them about their plans, realized we were all going to the same place and could split cab fare for a much better rate (I know, that has the makings of a thriller flick. But I wasn't alone and they weren't three men.). But things turned sour fast when our high-stress, super-pushy driver showed up and practically threw their bags in as we debated.

Things got sourer faster as we picked up the rest of the passengers, even less thrilled to be in the shuttle. It felt a little like a scene from a sitcom where people were saying whatever onery thing came to mind. Except that only the Rileys and the Aussies got the memo that it's actually super awkward to say everything you're thinking out loud. And hey - smelly emo boy, maybe you wouln't be so angry if your music wasn't screaming at you to do something drastic. See - I didn't say that out loud though, did I?

It all proved to be worth it when we hopped out of the shuttle, wished the Aussies an uphill U.S. experience from here and hit the beach just in time for the sunset.
We walked with the sand between our toes from Venice Beach to the Santa Monica Pier.

And then we caught a cab back to the airport.

Down Undah - The Riley Chapter

A nice vacation is one thing, but phenomenal hosts send "nice" to "amazing" like nothing else. There's a certain appeal to Australia, sure, but we really knew we had to go when Ben and Natalie moved their sweet fam to the southern hemisphere almost two years ago.

We've grown accustomed to hosting here in the city, but hospitality is relatively easy when your job consists of, "there's the subway. and be sure to get yourself a good map." It's a little different when you're the chauffeur, the chef and the tour guide - and your guests are hoping to visit, eh, an entire continent.

But visit {lots} of an entire continent we did. Seeing and revisiting a lot of places they have already seen (and being, or at least acting :), genuinely excited to see it again!), or driving hours and hours out of their way to visit new places.

Ben is Noah's oldest brother and one of my favorite people to be around. He's genuinely interested in others and as a result, I find myself talking a lot in his presence. My answers to his questions were probably a lot longer-winded than anticipated :). Ben's accomplished a lot and crammed a lot of living into not a lot of years - the type of person you'd like to be when you grow up. And then you realize he's not that much older than you and you might wanna get crackin' if that's really the plan. Natalie is the type that does it all and makes it all look easy. Beautiful home (our toiletries were beautifully placed on a silver platter {no lie} on a gorgeous runner on our bed when we arrived. I looked twice for the pillow mints.), tons of fun, uber-stylish, great mom, in killer shape... the list goes on and on. If any of you know Natalie, you know she and great food are pretty much BFFs. If you don't know Natalie, you'll probably want to be her BFF, but you should at least get to know her food. I don't think I had to eat for three days after we got home.

Laine and Gabe - tell me these aren't the sweetest kids. Laine had us wrapped around her finger and Gabe had us laughing the whole time.

Our favorite Gabe-ism was how he started each of his stories with, "when I was a boy..." The kid is three. Hilarious.

And we were treated like royalty at Laine's restaurant - "here's your glass of water. Here's a pitcher of more water when you run out." Impressed by the details there, babe.

We could not have asked for a better trip.