NYC Classic

Trust me when I tell you how absolutely NYC Classic this shot is: the cracked windshield, the three coffee cups, the blaring Pearl Jam.

Paying attention

Have I really been so occupied looking for pennies embedded in sidewalks (54th between Ninth and Tenth) that I failed to absorb the blockbuster musical hit of the summer? This sure isn't your Gen-X-Jill-Sobule-kinder-gentler "I Kissed a Girl," which was never performed on the Today Show by a pin-up girl dressed like a watermelon.

Gemmasana

I love my yoga cat. She seems to be responding to the incredibly expensive cat food, as the litter box is getting a little less use, and I don't constantly find her drinking out of the toilet these days.

The lovely old shop cat at the work/study gig passed away yesterday. Sweet dreams, Lizzie. I'll miss your dusty little face.

If you say so

Where is the shirt that says "Not So Fresh"? That's how I've been feeling this summer.

Light freight

You can get pretty much anything delivered in Manhattan.

Oh, the sadness

The Wire, it is not. What happened, Tristan?

Back to the grind, such as it is

Every time I have a vacation, or an appointment, and am away from the work/study gig for a few days, one of my co-workers (a paid development employee) greets me with:

"Hey! You came back!"

Why does this both warm my heart, and send a shiver up my spine?

You call it enabling, I call it helping

Big Kitty and I went a little crazy at Anthropologie today. Particularly since we were buying wool, and a month of summer still stretches before us. We both ended up with the same sweater-blazer-thingy (M's is red, mine is brown, but I'm going to exchange it for light blue-green) and the same cowl-necked-hoodie-pullover-thingy (M's is purple, mine is turquoise, but I'm going to exchange it for gray-brown). So, I bought those two sweaters, and Big Kitty bought an entire fall wardrobe, with each garment getting the PdP imprimatur. Except the undies, because she wouldn't come out of the dressing room to show me those.

Beautiful day for a wedding

Our return trip to the city last night was marred by insane weather and insaner traffic, so we aimed to make this another day of ease and leisure. We took our books, bought picnic lunches at Whole Foods, and made our way to Central Park. We weren't the only ones who thought it was gorgeous out, and we shortly found ourselves overlooking this wedding party's photo shoot. What a beautiful day for a wedding!



Just as beautiful as it was five years ago today, in Driftwood, Texas.



I could never have imagined what was in store for me more than eight years ago, when I noted our first date in my planner. A BBQ wedding and a move to NYC! If you had taken me aside at Spiderhaus and told me, I never would have believed you!

Swoon

Our final vacation activity was a performance at MassMoCA by Australian dance troupe Strange Fruit, and we sat on the floor of a vast black box theater for half an hour while the four dancers swirled fifteen feet above us on bendy poles. Swoon was lovely, but afterward M. Panique and I admitted to each other that we had been something more dramatic to happen. I think the synchronized swaying of all four dancers was my favorite part of the piece, but the moments when they all came together were also beautiful.

Morning at The Range

What a treat to find that North Adams has gained a miniature golf course/driving range/batting cage since we last visited. We liked this locally-themed course so much we played it twice. And sucked both times! We split the series.

John ended our first round with a hole in one, at "Yankee Stadium." Boo. I aced the second hole of our second match, but it was just a nondescript sloping thing.

Jenny Holzer at MassMoCA

It's hard to put into words how great it was to finally experience this Jenny Holzer piece. For me, the feeling was of being inside art, and inside a poem. There were enormous beanbags to nestle into as the words wash over. There was no sound, except for two little girls giggling and bouncing on another beanbag.

The poems are mostly by Wislawa Szymborska, and the one pictured is "In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself," which makes me so happy I sort of want to cry.

In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself
by Wislawa Szymborska

The buzzard never says it is to blame.
The panther wouldn't know what scruples mean.
When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame.
If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean.

A jackal doesn't understand remorse.
Lions and lice don't waver in their course.
Why should they, when they know they're right?

Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton,
in every other way they're light.

On this third planet of the sun
among the signs of bestiality
a clear conscience is Number One.

-Translated by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

A girl's best friend, sort of

We were only at the Herkimer Diamond Mine (and KOA Campground) for about an hour and half, but I managed to get all kinds of sweaty and find three "diamonds." I need to take a moment here to thank John for prompting me to adjust my top before he took this picture; apparently I was completely flashing my girls to the rest of the prospectors.



There are two mining areas that look like this, and as you can see, we were not alone. This came as quite a surprise to M. Panique.



But not as much of a surprise as this crazy bike, which he took a picture of when he got tired of banging away at rocks and I sent him back to the car for my camera.



And not as much as we were surprised to see an Amish couple and their toddler son come out of the Price Chopper, carrying several bags and a large bottle of Tide, load everything into their buggy and drive away from this parking space.

The Holy of Holies

We accomplished the HOF in two shifts, pausing for lunch in between. It's really well done and very interesting. And watching so many dads and sons come together around one common interest is pretty sweet.

M. Panique is paying homage at a replica Red Sox locker that has yet to be updated to reflect Manny's recent trade. We shed a tear, said a prayer, and spit on the Yankees locker on the way out.

Welcome to Cooperstown

It rained like crazy as we headed west from Albany, but when we got to Cooperstown it was all flowers and sunshine. We walked up and down Main Street to get oriented, then strolled down to the Otsego Resort Hotel and parked ourselves on a bench overlooking Lake Otsego. Members of at least two wedding parties passed us, congratulating each other and snapping pictures. Lovely.

Hope for the best

I've seen this sticker around our neighborhood before. It's a slightly more expensive form of tagging, like grafitti for slackers with money to order stickers but short on the drive to actually write their name on anything. Or everything. Whatever.

We're leaving town tomorrow morning for a week of vacation, but a not-insubstantial part of my heart will stay here in Manhattan. It seems Gemma has some kidney damage that is causing her to overcompensate by drinking more water than usual (hence the many trips to the litter box and the recent bathmat accidents). It's nothing acute, and she doesn't currently have an infection, but we'll be changing her to a special (really expensive) diet soon. Poor kitty.

Bouquet

I asked a lovely vendor at the Union Square Farmer's Market if I could photograph her gladiolus, and she said yes, so I did.

Coiffed and confused

I made it to Williamsburg for a haircut this morning and boy, do I feel better. Why do I always let it go so long? My layers had become... indistinct.

Speaking of indistinct... could someone help me articulate the difference between craft and art? It came up in my meeting with my career counselor today, and I don't think I made a convincing argument for the distinction. I recently took the Meyers-Briggs and got really hung up in the word pairs section, trying to choose between make and create.

It's not that I can't create, but I don't enjoy the pressure to constantly generate new ideas. It's not that I'm without vision, but I enjoy finicky details and I like getting my hands dirty. I do absolutely love developing an ingenious solution to a technical problem, and the research and planning that might be involved. I'm not comfortable in the limelight, but I value recognition from my peers. I feel the pressure to be a creator, but I think deep down I'm a maker, and making may be what will make me happy.

Dustball kitty

This is the shop kitty from my work/study gig again. She had a bad day (a seizure!) last Friday and it's unclear how much longer she'll be with us. She still rules the roost, though, and claims whatever warm chair has most recently been vacated.

Hey, is that Karo (who left a comment on my post from 8/1) as in Karolina A. from college? I very much appreciate any cat advice I get right now! The vet thinks he has ruled out hyperthyroidism because she's actually gained a little weight recently, since we changed food. Diabetes similarly looks unlikely based on her blood work. She's having an abdominal ultrasound on Friday morning, and we'll be keeping an eye on her for any changes.

National Underwear Day

You mean you hadn't heard?

Moi only found out because I was watching Kathie Lee and Hoda in the fourth hour of The Today Show while I ran intervals this morning.

Coincidentally, I want to introduce you to my new favoritely-named baseball player, Astros fielder UNDERPANTS!


Hunter Pence Smiles, originally uploaded by mlstros.

Okay, his name is really Hunter Pence. But for some reason, when the Sports Center guys say it, it sounds like UNDERPANTS! So now, in addition to blurting out an arguably racist impression every time a certain pinstriped pitcher is introduced, I'll also be screaming UNDERPANTS! every time Houston's #9 takes the field.

PdP Summer Concert Series, Pt.6: The National

Our first Central Park Summer Stage event. We're used to seeing these guys at the Bowery Ballroom, so it was interesting to hear how they've adapted their sound to larger, outdoor venues since they've been opening for the likes of REM and Radiohead. I did end up with some other girl's hair in my face eventually, but again it did not detract from an otherwise lovely evening.

Vanessa's Dumplings

We were looking for dumplings (on the recommendation of New York magazine's Cheap Eats issue) but we found the Peking Duck-stuffed sesame pancake. The passage of time will now be measured as BV (before Vanessa's) or AV (after Vanessa's). Inhaled while watching handball in Sara D. Roosevelt Park and washed down with an almond milk tea with tapioca from Egg Custard King Two Cafe, it's pretty hard to imagine a better afternoon.

At the water's edge

We hadn't planned to enjoy the fresh air in Battery Park this evening, but our movie was sold out and we had an hour to kill before the next showing. Right outside the theater we found a strange grassy stone lighted wedge-shaped monument, which turned out to be the Irish Hunger Memorial. Odd and beautiful, and right up the alley of the other lass in our foursome. We explored it until the attendant threatened to lock us in, then strolled down to the waterfront and took turns trying to read the huge red neon sign on the other side of the Hudson, which turned out to say ERIE LAKAWANNA and marks the site of the ferry and railroad terminal of the same name (aka Hoboken terminal).

Then we went back to the theater and saw The Dark Knight, which sort of paled in comparison to the evening's earlier activities.

Cat scan

We're still trying to figure out why Gemma is drinking a ton of water and peeing a lot, so today we went to the vet. They poked her in the tummy a lot and she took it like a trooper. We expect her results to come back normal, which will mean that she's just being crazy crazier.