Well it’s just sort of rude if she gets all dressed up and we don’t take her picture, no?
Posts Tagged With: nyc
These guys are so light and delicate it’s like they’re little princess flowers. They’re fragile, sensitive, sort of cold, but so deliciously pretty. Tiny pretty little princess flowers.
Spring decided to bust out all over NYC today. Delicate and beautiful, fresh and full of anticipation. New buds, sweet blossoms, so much promise for what’s ahead.
This weekend I stuffed myself into a new pair of jeans and headed to Williamsburg, the Brooklyn neighborhood (I don’t know why I just wanted to call it a hamlet) my youngest sister calls home with her boyfriend. Their apartment is adorable – it’s full of personality and sunlight. It’s two fresh faced kids (no no, they’re adults of the younger variety) plowing their way through new jobs, big dreams, life questions, and the pressures of city living. They’re happy, they’re normal, they found themselves a charismatic roomy place to live and neighbors to help them when they almost set their sublet home ablaze. It’s so fun to watch them together, they’re just doing the life thing. I try not to fall into “I wish this was how I started my life in New York” spirals because no matter what, the path would have led here. And it’s not always about me. It’s about how they’re starting their life together. I love it. Love it nice. So is family.
One night, after one of my many manic trips to Westside Market for bags of things (DELIVERED!) that I probably didn’t need, I discovered my Parmesan wedge was wrapped and taped, but the white label had more words than I would expect on a cheese description. They were song lyrics. What I remember is feeling warm goose pimples pluck at my skin as the words I read perfectly captured my state of mind at that moment in time.
What I don’t remember are the words.
From that moment on, I kept an eagle eye on EVERYTHING that I bought from Westside. One cheese declared it was “packed by the INTURN” and I recall that piece sporting some fairly dark lyrics. My room mate and I were perplexed and I hoped that I was the only soul in nyc to make this discovery. “I’m going to blog about this!” I declared. But I didn’t blog about it.
Thanks to my friend, Quail, I found out The Gothamist did! Read about the Westside Market Cheesemonger, who I now have an intense, over the cheese counter love affair with. I’ve always watched him with amazement anyway as he lumbers around the tight corners and basket flinging west siders, arranging wedges, steadying towers, rolling a cheese log. He’s a salty dog, stout, with wild grey hair and a sour smirk. A salty dog. Now my mission is to hug him and also document all of my cheese inscriptions once I’m back on the good stuff again!
Quail’s Gothamist find lit up my heart today. I love that this man exists. I love that he’s at my favorite grocery store. I kind of feel like he’s mine.
Things I’m looking forward to tonight/tomorrow (because if I don’t do this, I’m going to have a hard time getting up)
- Sleeping under the big awesome blanket. It’s so chilly tonight, and I love the big blanket I chose for us, but “us” didn’t really care anyway.
- Dinosaur BBQ! I’ve never had it, and tomorrow, a little slice of hell called a team building afternoon is being catered by it. Believe me, I plan to be the biggest jackass at “field day” team building, and Dino BBQ can only make it better.
- Stretchypants at work. See above bullet. Because of it, I’m wearing stretchy pants to work. So. Excited.
- A beautiful weekend. It’s going to be cool and sunny. I may take my fat ass to a park and get some friggin sun.
- Waking up without a hangover. I know, it’s probably a problem if you look forward to the one time that month (hahahhaha I MEAN YEAR!!) without a hangover, but I’m looking forward to a fresh ME tomorrow. Just in time to tank up hardcore and create a good world of pain for myself on Saturday morning. Don’t judge. Start with the man in the mirror, jerkbags.
- Simplifying. I have boxes, I have plans. I am selling, throwing out, and packing. Time to clean house, clear the attic, mop the… you get it. I want nothing but necessary clothes and cookbooks in my life from now on.
- Renewing my apt search. more to come on this, but assume my stomach is eating a hole through my back and towards my thighs with stress and everything is falling apart, not gelling, getting darker, being shitty. Everyone keeps telling me that it will work out and at some point I may believe them, like when it actually works out. But until then, I’m mentally violently flashing the ole middle finger at every well meaning soul who tells me it will get easier. Shit isn’t getting easier, dicks, it’s actually getting harder.