Things I dislike: Fee Applications

Sometimes I wish Kay Thompson was narrating my life, Eloise-style. I think I'd be in a good mood more consistently if I could scrape my skate key along the hallways of my office, pour a pitcher of water down the mail chute and have all my imaginings unfold before me outlined in red ink.

How is it possibly only Friday? Friday should have been three days ago.

Thought: "The Formation of Mental Objects"

All dresses should be required to have pockets.

My neighborhood has been overrun by the UN General Assembly. It looks like a military junta has taken over and all I can say is thank goodness one in every 15 police officers is good looking. At least this way, when I'm fighting to walk to and from work, I can play infinite rounds of Spot the Hot Cop to distract myself from the diplomats and their aides who, frustratingly, have yet to master the art of brisk, determined, NYC-style pedestrianship.

Have been inspired to blog once again by Dooce.com -- if you haven't read her, you haven't really lived. In a completely hyperbolic sense. Clearly.

Urban creativity

Almost-fuzzy guerilla art that's been "popping up" all over the city: 

The Times has a sometimes graphic art blogger who has been posting some fabulous interpretations of life in New York on his column, Abstract City. His life in legos is particularly funny, and I find this picture particularly ticklish:

What-Ho, Jeeves!

I've long endeavored to be a lively and fascinating person -- the type who by nature gets up to "assorted hi-jinks" and stumbles sideways into feats of derring-do. An enterprising character perfectly suited to P.G. Wodehouse novels, one who is a welcome guest at all parties guaranteed to relieve the monotony by regaling the crowd with wry and pithy tales of spirited adventure is the goal, I suppose. However, in this realm, like many others, I find that life too often gets in the way of living.

It's hard to cleverly disentangle one's self from amusingly sticky situations or to be a boffo sleuth in cracking unexpected conundrums when one does the usual daily work grind and the most interesting quandaries of one's life come in the form of deciding between pasta and sushi for dinner. Spending all day in an office leaves precious little time for tripping into chance predicaments or adding a dash of spice to a routine that has at some point worn a bit thin.

And while a little boredom can be a good thing--certainly better than being caught spying on foreign totalitarian regimes or fleeing modern day pirates (experiences that, though sound excitingly droll on the surface, are likely harrowing in a very non-Gilbert and Sullivan sense)--too much boredom is obviously a precursor to some sort of predatory malaise. Despite my best efforts, the myriad activities I over-scheduled myself with in March, though leaving me with practically no free time at all, were rather tame -- attending community organizing meetings was just a bit too, well, organized, and even volunteering at the Animal Shelter had a patina of desperate sadness to it. Besides, while unbelievably cute and cuddly, walking puppies does not exactly scream "Intrigue!"

Those worthwhile, yet decidedly docile extra-curriculars, coupled with my reticence to schedule activities in light of my impending bone marrow donation, have led me to conclude that I am not nearly far enough along in achieving my goal of becoming a Very Interesting And Much Sought-After Person. Ordinarily, I'd take it in stride and pledge to make better use of living in New York this summer than I have in years past (somewhat of an April ritual, if I'm going to be perfectly honest), but I've spent the winter reading remarkable works of fiction and non that have acutely highlighted my shortcomings. Not the least of them is the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, which in addition to being the most incredibly wonderful piece of literature I've possibly ever read, makes it seem so natural that average people can and do lead out-sized lives. I'm starting to think it's about attitude, rather than circumstance, and that I'm about due for an adjustment.

As such, here is an impromptu list of activities in which I would like to engage this summer with the hope that it will lead to Wooster-worthy exploits:

1. Paddle-boating in Central Park: Aside from catering to my affinity for boats and water, there is something rather mysteriously promising about this activity--maybe that with a very good imagination it could conjure up feelings of being Captain of one's own vessel.
   
2. Trip to the Bronx Zoo: A feast for the imagination! And what better place to encounter minor peril than a preserve of semi-dangerous animals and wholly-frightening reptiles. Certainly not for the faint-of-heart. Besides, camel rides are always a pleaser.
   
3. Going to as many (hopefully free or ridiculously cheap) concerts: New York is a music mecca and I, for one, have been woefully delinquent in exploring The Scene. No more! My horizons await expansion, and the Time Out and other New York Guide-like web pages are dutifully bookmarked.
   
4. Plan an expedition through Central Park: It's been far too many years since I've made any meaningful voyage into the depths of the great park's foliage and pathways. If memory serves, there is much to see--including marionette shows, NYC-style vistas and Summerstage, which would take care of Activity #3 as well.

A short list, to be sure, but one I will add to, and then hopefully cross off as time goes on. Adventure Awaits!

Snow Is Gone

This week definitely falls into the category of "Best Week Ever" -- and it's only Wednesday! Here's why:

1. The incredible Rangers game Liz and I attended last night, where the Boys in Blue served up a ferocious second period to beat the Canadiens and hold on to the last playoff spot. And we spent the third period sitting in the most incredible seats (two rows behind the glass, near-center ice).
   
   
2. My first shift volunteering at Animal Haven, a no-kill shelter on Centre Street downtown. It's a great institution, with lots of room for the dogs and cats to play, and they train, vaccinate and spay/neuter all the animals that come through. I really lucked out--I got to walk the unbelievably (almost painfully) adorable puppies. I took them each out for a good long romp around the neighborhood--which was great excercise for both of us, but also excellent advertising for the shelter. Each dog wears an "adopt me" vest when they go out, so all the passers-by know they are available to take home. I know that I wanted to take all of them home with me. How could you not? This is Molly, an 8-month chihuahua mix:
   


3. Sunday night's Josh Ritter Concert at the Tarrytown Music Hall. Certainly the best concert EVER, by far (and I've been to some pretty damn good shows). My sister and I took Metro North up to Tarrytown (where Washington Irving wrote The Legend of Sleepy Hollow) and grabbed a fantastic Italian dinner and homemade ice cream before heading to the Hall. I've been wanting a Josh Ritter T-shirt for quite some time and was hoping to find one with the current tour's name or maybe this one that I've had my eye on for a while. Sadly, there were only two shirts on display; I immediately took a liking to one (the image from which is at left, it looks far better on the shirt) -- I'm always a fan of maritime art, and the Josh Ritter poster I currently have framed in my room is from the European tour and prominently boasts a similar ship, so I thought it would be nice to have a shirt with the same theme. I dished out the $25, proudly donned the shirt (easier than carrying it around the rest of the night) and excitedly awaited the start of the show. It wasn't until two hours later that I realized the shirt was from the opening act band, The Low Anthem. And before you say, well, duh, the band's name is right on the shirt, I purchased it before I even knew there was an opening act, much less the name of it. In all my excitement, I guess my mind just glossed over the fact that I didn't recognize the words "the low anthem" in connection with Josh Ritter. Oh, well.
   
   The upside is that it's very cool looking, very comfortable, and I really liked the band. The lead singer, Ben Knox Miller, has an incredibly wide vocal range, on full display in the first four tracks (the link to listen is on the right) of their most recent album, Oh My God, Charlie Darwin (which is quite possibly one of the best album titles I've heard).
   
   But while that was a funny moment that ended up being kinda cool, once Josh Ritter took the stage, this week's status as BWE was solidified. Josh skipped out and didn't stop smiling the whole way through. Every song was perfect, and sounded just as amazing live as on the albums. The audience was widely varied, but everyone, and I mean everyone, knew and loved the music, singing along and spontaneously jumping up to dance. I can't stop thinking about the energy and intense appreciation for such a musical genius that was strumming through the Music Hall. I think everyone there transcended as I did to a different plane, that place to which only the best music can transport you. I'm still riding high, and frantically checking for updates on his promised appearance at Summerstage in June. Everyone go listen to Josh Ritter. There are no words to fully capture his ability and talent, though many have tried.

Passover Perk

The management at my firm just sent out this email with the subject line "Passover Perk":

Once again, the firm is kind enough to provide boxes of matzoh in each pantry on each floor. Matzoh will be available as of this evening and throughout the holiday. All boxes should be Kosher for Passover. Please keep in mind that quantities are limited and that many of your co-workers partake in keeping Passover.

I have to admit, I was somewhat disappointed. I was hoping the perk would be something like getting out of work early today, or at least some Kosher for Passover cookies. But Matzah? It's not like we're not all swimming in it already. I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment, however.

Sad to say, the Passover humor on YouTube is, well, as flat as a loaf of Matzah. But the Facebook Haggadah is pretty clever.