Guest Book: Chris and Mindy

We have been looking forward to our visit from Noah's mom, Christine, and his sister, Mindy, all year! The call of the US Open song was too strong to keep these tennis aficionados away for long (Noah and Allison are a decent draw. Roddick and Clijsters sweeten the pot considerably.) and we're so glad it happens to be in our own backyard.

Before they came out, Mindy was explaining to her son, Josh, where we live. By the end of the conversation, Josh was apparently pretty concerned about our well being - what with our no yard/no car/no bedrooms existence. She also used this information + stories of art museums and lots of walking around a city to convince him why this was going to be a grown-ups-only trip, so I had to laugh when Mindy refrained from a photo of the display at the new Lego store in Rockefeller Center, knowing Josh would spot the photo and insist there are fun things for kids in NYC. Hilarious! I love how well Mindy knows her kids :).

The ladies took the NYC museum scene by storm while Noah and I wrapped up work, then we caught a "street meat" dinner (because we're classy hosts like that) before checking out Rockefeller Center, Fifth Avenue and Grand Central Station.

Saturday was Noah's famous lower Manhattan tour (a throwback to his USU Ambassador days. just waiting for him to start walking backward around the city...) and Clinton Street brunch at Tompkins Square Park with the potheads and weirdos. Seriously - do park goers get any stranger than this bunch? I submit that they do not.

We serpentined around the city and ended up back downtown in time for a visit to Purl Soho, where Noah joined the rest of the testosterone in the room at the shopping legs table (I saw them exchange knowing glances as he sat down). I've been looking for an excuse to visit this delightful fabric store, but knew I had to go with a seamstress extraordinaire like Chris. The woman knows fabric like the back of her hand, so it was fun to explore with an expert. From there, we were off to dinner and a show - Chris generously treated us to tickets to Memphis. It was amazing! One of our very favorite shows we've seen.

Sunday was an absolute highlight of the trip. After church, we packed a picnic to the High Line and as we dined, were serenaded by a group with guitars, harmonicas, you name it... singing everything from John Denver to the Beatles (though, I suppose John Denver and the Beatles aren't exactly on opposite ends of the "everything" scale).

After lunch, we enjoyed a nice walk through the Village, then retreated to our apartment for a few hours to escape the oppressive heat before venturing uptown in search of this building:

Noah's grandmother attended NYU for a time when she was a young girl. In fact, NYC is the scene of Grandma and Grandpa Riley's engagement. A month or so ago, Grandma found a letter her younger sister sent while she was living out here. Armed with the address, we came to this building - excited to realize it's a building we've passed often on Broadway in Morningside Heights. While we were there, we gave Grandma a quick call and sent a few pictures of the building. It's so fun to feel connected to Noah's grandparents this way and to think about the adventures they had at our age. I loved this note she sent back:

How fun to see the place where I lived 64 years ago!!! It brings back many happy, special memories, not only of the nine months I lived there but especially the week that Grandpa and I spent together seeing exactly the things you, Mindy and Chris are seeing while you are there. New York City is definitely an exciting place to be.

Looking at this picture I can just visualize Dave (the door man) standing on the side walk and opening the door for us with a great big smile. He always called us ladies and he was dressed very properly with gold trim on his grey suit and hat. And then I can see Frank the nice little black guy who ran the elevator for us with another big smile. His hair was so startling black that we thought he probably touched it up with black shoe polish. (The reason I know Frank's name is that I just found a poem in my book that I wrote about New York for my literature class at NYU.)

Mindy, after being in New York you will enjoy reading my diary more about our activities there. It was truly a glorious nine months of my life. Thank you all for the call and the picture. I am just happy that 'my' building hasn't been bull dozed over for a newer more modern building. Try to visualize me leaving the building and going in the wrong direction to buy ice cream for everyone in our apartment. It took a few blocks for me to realize that the numbers on the street were going up (or down) when they should have been gong the opposite. I was always lost, either on foot or subway. I am surprised Norma and our roommates even let me out of the apartment.

After our visit with Grandma, we stopped by the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and the LDS Temple before heading over to Julliard and Lincoln Center. The Metropolitan Opera happened to be broadcasting a performance of the Magic Flute on the plaza at Lincoln Center. We made our way to a grassy area further away from the crowd, but still within earshot of the music and spent the evening chatting and getting our Mozart on.

Perfect evening and wonderful company. Thanks for making the trip, Chris and Mindy!

'Allo Gov'na

Off the southern tip of Manhattan is a little spot of land called Governor's Island. One lazy summer Saturday, Noah and I cut across the park and hopped aboard the ferry. (The pre-boarding survey was awesome. "How did you get here?" On foot. "How do you plan to get home?" Also on foot...? Maybe they're used to visitors from more exciting locales than across the street.)Don't get me wrong, I really loved this place - but Gov's has the makings for the set of horror movie.

Used as a military facility by British and American forces for more than 200 years, the place has essentially been deserted for the last 15 years. As in, looks like people just up and left, deserted. (That's probably not dramatic enough - deserted usually means up and left, I suppose.) As in, tapestries still hanging on the church walls and didn't drain the toilets, up and left, deserted.

After I got over the initial eeriness of its desertion, I quickly moved on to the realization that there are houses - full on neighborhoods with full. on. houses. - just the tiniest stone's throw away from Manhattan. I was already hatching a plan to move into one of those houses (the ultimate fixer-upper) when Noah reminded me of the logistical catastrophe that would be home improvement projects on a tiny island that was otherwise deserted and only reachable by ferry. Plus, there is always the inconvenient detail - not for sale.

We made a loop around the island (well, no - we made an erratic path around the island that looked like one of those Family Circus cartoons) and eventually came to the hammock grove. The grove of hammocks... and Adirondack chairs. The former were full, the latter were not. And so, we enjoyed a nice sit.

Somewhere in the process of our outing we snapped this shot of the skyline, including our building. Not sure what happened to make it turn out this way - but I'm a fan!

Week. End.

I feel like I am living for weekends these days. I find myself looking more and more forward to Fridays, making this a particularly painful topic for a Monday. Fortunately, that's mostly a reflection on the great weekends we've been enjoying lately and not necessarily the daily grind of the weekdays.

We made a daytrip to Fire Island with the Smiths and Cromars. And while the summer cold made for an achy bod and a confusing exchange with a waitress, it was not enough to put a damper on beach time with a few of our favorites. In moving out here, I never really thought of the city in terms of nearby beaches. But yes, as a matter of fact, we are near the water. How's that for weekend recreation and also an explanation of early colonization of the area?

The next weekend, Wheelers indulged us by joining in on our free/last-minute (typical.) plans - a Friday night showing of BIG at the Hudson River Park. I have two very salient memories from watching that movie as a kid - the trampoline in the loft and the scene where he cries himself to sleep at the seedy hotel in the theater district. In fact, if you're one of the people I've spoken with lately about NYC's dramatic transformation in the last few decades, this is usually the scene I'm picturing when I discuss the NYC in the '80s. What evidently did NOT stick from my childhood viewing of BIG was the love scene and story - i.e. a major point of the plot. A majorly awkward point of the plot.

We also took a trip up to the Bronx for an afternoon at the zoo with Hydes and Arnetts. We appreciated Arnetts' little guy for lending a little credibility to our cause by bringing down the mean age of the group.

And this weekend, we were delighted with a surprise visit from the Morrises. Ashlee and I were roommates during the DC chapter, and she and her husband Nate are still there tearin' up that town. We enjoyed lots of great conversation, statistically-improbable stories about Nate's lineage, no-strings-attached free bowling and the best Indian cuisine we've had in the city.

Back up. Free bowling? Why, yes. We were perusing a street fair in the Village when a giant bowling pin approached bearing free bowling tickets. No strings attached. I know what you're thinking... "but Allison, where they really get you is the shoes." No. Also free. Nearly the perfect diversion for four wanders, except that -- hitch -- all of us were in sandaled feet. No socks and bowling shoes? Pass. But leave it to the street fair to solve all our problems with the socks and underwear booth.

$2 and three pairs of ankle socks later (that's all I had in cash, and that socks salesman drives a hard bargain. Noah just ended up bowling in his street shoes.), we were bowlers. We bowled.

We didn't realize we had a ringer in our midst until Nate divulged his deepest, darkest secret: South Carolina state CHAMPION in doubles bowling. With his grandfather. That is the swagger of a man who knows his way 'round the alley.

Which is why Noah earned some serious bragging rights when he came out victorious. That is the stance of a man who beats the South Carolina state champion in doubles bowling.

It did get me thinking... Nate, was grandpa the weaker link? If so, no disrespect to grandpa, but you and Noah could pair up and really show SC a thing or two. Just sayin'.

City Perks

Living here has its perks.

The fact that nearly every new product is marketed here means sometimes we are handed free granola bars as we walk down the street.

The fact that it's a major, major metropolitan area means sometimes Noah gets to check things off his bucket list.

Still waiting for that really awesome day when he gets both.

Many thanks to the organizing minds behind the outing for making all of Noah's dreams come true.

Do I Know You?

I've always creeped myself out a little bit with my superhuman memory. Like the time when I was 10 and I was at Classic Skating with some friends (what's the trashy equivalent for "did I just date myself?" ... "did I just white trash myself?") and I saw a guy and I knew his name was Chris* and the only reason I knew that was from looking at my sister's junior high yearbooks? Not even like Chris was a hunky guy or anything. I just saw his name, saw his face, and somehow committed it all to memory.

Not sure why I used to pass the time looking at my siblings' year books. But I did that. A lot.

Moving on...

We hop on the subway to head home last night and I'm standing next to this girl I know. Like I know I know. And I don't know her name or really anything else about her. But I know for almost-certain she and I were camp counselors at the same summer camp six years ago with 200+ other counselors and true - we didn't actually know each other all that well even at the time - but I'm pretty sure that's why I know this face.

The guy talking to her has a Russian accent, and I think to myself, "well - if she's Russian, we have our answer." Pretty sure girl from camp = not Russian.

But then I hear her talk and accentless. So now I'm even more convinced. And I do it. I play the creeper stranger card. "This is probably really strange to ask, but..." Because you know it's going to drive me crazy if I don't.

AND...

Sure enough. Counselors at the same girls camp in Maine six summers ago. And now we're standing next to each other on a subway car in Manhattan reintroducing ourselves.

It makes me think the universe sometimes does things just to see if we'll notice.

As we walked home, Noah told me about this NY public radio interview he listened to about face blindness. Or, more accurately, prosopagnosia. It sparked the most fascinating conversation about what it would be like if that was your reality. Meeting people and promptly forgetting them. One example shared in the interview (we went straight home and unloaded the dishwasher as we listened to this interview. it's always a party at the Riley pad.) was even to the extent that the man didn't recognize the woman he lived with for two years upon seeing her again. This is unreal to me - I can't even imagine. And it has my mind going about 200 mph just thinking of what that must be like.

By the way, this also happened to me a few weeks ago when we were headed uptown to meet some friends. The familiar face and I kept exchanging glances, so I was sure he recognized me, too. Totally thinking I've probably met this person at some church function. Maybe I should be nice and go out on a limb first. Toss a "remind me where we've met" out there. But before I could make a total fool of myself I realize it's this guy. Kidding, I just wanted a reason to say that again :). It was this guy.

Cheater.

The tastiest corner of this city just so happens to lie 10 floors below our very feet.

48th and 6th.

That's where the fruit guy and gal set up shop each afternoon. Bearers of berries. Purveyors of peaches. Pickers of plums. Champions of cherries. Merchants of mangoes. The colossus of clout. {*The colossus of clout.*}

We're not on a first-name basis. But he calls me sweetheart. And I ask about her daughter.

I peeked out Noah's office window this afternoon to be sure they were there, then ran down for my daily ration of goods.

I was greeted with a smile, an explanation to other fruit seekers that I get to pick out my own fruit (being a daily customer comes with its perks) and an inquiry, "where have you been? haven't seen you in a while!"

I didn't have the heart to tell them I made a Costco run last week. And we didn't need their services for a few days while we polished off seven pounds of grapes, four pounds of strawberries, three pounds of cherries, three pounds of blueberries, three mangoes, two muskmelons, two pineapples and a bunch of bananas.

I felt like I'd cheated on them.

They sure showed me what I'd been missing.

Those peaches are the size of softballs and those apricots are 10/$1.00. Better believe we're making jam.

Bisitors*

*97% of the time when I think the word "visitors" - in my head, I pronounce it "bisitors." And there is some sort of accent associated with it. It seems to have a Latin influence. Why do I do this? Is this a movie quote? A sisters thing? Someone help me out...

July has been a landmark month for visitors. In a 17-day stretch, we spent some portion of 14 of those with friends, family, toddlers, babies and one dog in the house. Our doormen are probably getting suspicious.

We were lucky to spend the 4th of July weekend with our favorite Aussies, Ben and Natalie. I know I've said it before - all company is nice, but it's especially sweet to have family visit. Noah and I commented several times during their visit that this was one of our favorite weekends in New York City. A few old standbys, a few new destinations, a lot of laughs and great conversation.

New Destination: Clinton Street Baking Co. Not sure how we made it this long in the city without stepping foot into Clinton Street. Not sure how life was worth living before stepping foot into Clinton Street. Over the top? Eat their maple syrup and then you tell me.

On the way to our life-altering brunch, I had an unfortunate encounter with a ketchup packet on the Lower East Side. Truly, I didn't think it was possible to get everysingledrop of ketchup on my shorts without even the slightest bit of it left behind or squirting on the ground. But folks, the ketchup packet and I defied the laws of physics. Also impressive how the ketchup seemed to land in all the right compromising places. So my ketchupy shorts and I hit the new Nordstrom Rack at Union Square before meeting up with the crew at the Met. In my new shorts. That looked exactly like my old shorts. Except, you know, hold the condiments.

Old Standby: One of our favorite areas of town is the High Line in Chelsea/Meatpacking District. After perusing Chelsea Market, we hit the High Line and Nat channeled her inner-runway. Posing. Posing a threat, that is.

New Destination: Spice Market for dinner. We'd heard great things - and they're all true. Delicious food, unique menu, killer ambiance. A million thanks to our incredibly generous guests for treating us and also for insisting we use the restroom so we wouldn't miss the awesomeness that was the other floor of the restaurant. Loved this place, will definitely be back.

We also caught a few shows with Ben and Natalie. We saw Sean Hayes and Kristin Chenoweth in Promises, Promises - felt a tad lackluster in the first act, but the first scene of the second act made me laugh so hard I cried. (Tell me if you've seen it so we can laugh uproariously at the word "owl.") Also grabbed tickets to a 4th of July-themed improv show at Upright Citizens Brigade. After getting over my fear that they were actually just luring us down there to rob us (sketchy theater much?), I learned George Washington reminds me a little of Noah's brother, Jesse, and Dwight D. Eisenhower has a potty mouth.

People have been swearing up and down that Levain has the greatest cookie in this town. Got that intel from no fewer than 7 unsolicited sources in as many days. So we made like a tree and scrammed to the Upper West Side.

It's at about this point that I remember the second part of all their stories, "...and we went on a Saturday because it closes so early." "...and we decided we had to stop in because we're rarely on the UWS during the day and it closes so early." "...closes so early." "...so early."

And so, old standby: Pinkberry, anyone?

And since it was the anniversary of our country's independence, we joined the masses along the Hudson for the fireworks. I would be lying if I said I didn't think once or twice - as I tunneled a path to *turns out* nowhere through people whose deod had long since thrown in the towel in the fight against the hot, humid evening - that independence was overrated, and let's maybe duck out for some fish and chips.*

*I kid. I'm actually a huge fan of living in a free country.