Sunshine & Rainbows

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Monkey and I have settled into our new home in Los Angeles and are enjoying every moment of the balmy November weather.  Have I been judge-y of Angelenos who wear puffy vests and Uggs when the temperature turns a frigid 65 degrees?  Maybe.  But then a ray of warm sunshine hits my face and I forget all about those people with thin blood.  (Is that a real thing?  Does your blood actually thin if you live in warmer climates?  Must use interwebs to find out.)

Enough about the weather – let’s focus on some of the other things that make LA such a liveable place: Trader Joe’s found everywhere with no ungodly long lines; hiking trails here, there and everywhere; driving apps that figure out the quickest route so you can avoid road raging; friendly neighbors who verge on nosy but hey, they’ll know if someone is breaking into your apartment to steal your underwear (this has actually occurred before, in a bizarre land known as Burbank); farmers markets are year-round; CVS and Walgreens sell booze; Monkey has become friends with a Pekingese named Tina; I can finally buy in bulk y’all!

Here is a shot of our street, one morning after a rainstorm.  Double rainbow!

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What’s So Great About New York Anyway?

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Oh, everything.

This week, Monkey and I say sayonara to NYC and konnichiwa to Los Angeles – Santa Monica, to be exact.  We are trading freezing winters and icy salted sidewalks for palm trees and warm ocean breezes; reliable public transportation for butt-numbing commutes; an all black wardrobe for…well, an all black wardrobe.

The neighborhood we are moving to is residential, so it’s very quiet.  Everyone is fit – it’s near the famous kill-your-glutes-stairs – so it’s a requirement that I get in tip-top shape or be kicked out of the neighborhood for bringing down home prices with my muffin top.

New York is a very special place.  I will miss my friends, my coworkers, the leaves turning, the first snow, opera singing buskers in the Columbus Circle station, wild thunder & lightning storms, trips upstate, Naya (best restaurant in NYC, go there), street art, bottomless brunches, my barbershop, and a thousand other things that make this place unique.

Once wifi gets hooked up in the new place, I will be sharing my California adventures with y’all.

This is the last photo I took from my apartment.  Love. This. Place.

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Creepy Mannequin Party

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This past weekend, Monkey and I took a Metro North train out to the north shore of Long Island to visit a friend.  Normally, I spend part of the two-hour journey passing judgement on other passengers: loud cell phone “tawkers;” parents who let their offspring terrorize other travelers while simultaneously spreading animal cracker debris over a ten foot radius; a group of guys in their mid-twenties heading out to a friend’s wedding, each trying to outdo the other with tales of female conquests, gross out stories that involve liquor and vomiting, or debating whose boss is the bigger douche bag.  Sadly, this train ride was rather dull.  Monkey and I shared some apple slices, then she napped in her carrier whilst I dove into the new Veronica Mars novel on my iPad.

My friend decided to take me to Old Westbury Gardens, which is a stately old mansion sitting on a shitload of land.  I wish I could tell you more about its history but, to be honest, I was not paying attention.  Why, you ask?  Because I was distracted by the weird mannequins they had set up in some of the rooms.  This is the first historic home tour I’ve taken where they used fake people to set the scene along with the antique furniture and decorations.  We giggled nervously when we first saw them because they were simultaneously wacky and spooky.  We both immediately sensed that they came to life at night and threw creepy mannequin parties.  See for yourself:

IMG_4078IMG_4079 IMG_4080Told you.

The grounds were lovely though and we spent a fair amount of time strolling around snapping photos of everything. And then we saw it – a small sign along a dirt path: Dog Cemetery.  WHAT.  Of course the first thing that came to mind was Stephen King’s Pet Cemetery, which scared the living daylights out of me when I was younger, but this pet cemetery turned out to be very sweet.  There were seven or so small headstones, some with multiple dog names (not sure what that was about…a puppy flu, perhaps?).

IMG_4114And last, but not least, we saw a mustached monkey:

IMG_4088P.S.  Do not eat at the Garden Cafe.  Trust me.

I Dig Cemeteries

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Wait.  Not literally.

In my younger days I avoided cemeteries, believing that if you walked through a graveyard you would be able to feel all the regrets and unfulfilled desires of those who passed, floating around you like gnats.  Yeah, I’m weird.  Nowadays I appreciate the peacefulness and serenity of cemeteries.  I always wonder as I make my way between the large mausoleums and ornate headstones if the people lying in or beneath them were just wealthy and vain, or truly cherished and memorialized in grand style to reflect how much they were valued by loved ones.

My friend Jill, who also digs cemeteries, suggested we visit Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn.  It is the largest and most beautiful graveyard I have ever seen.  After entering through a gorgeous Gothic revival archway you are greeted by a park-like setting with rolling hills, shady trees, ponds and chapels.  I actually thought for the first time that this is where I’d like to rest my cremated bones, right next to the koi pond.  Jill and I ended up driving around a good portion of it (they offer maps, which you’ll need to navigate all the streets – yes, it is so large it has streets and avenues).  There are many famous people buried here, like Jean-Michel Basquiat and Leonard Bernstein.  If you don’t have a car and don’t feel like hoofing it, they have trolley tours on Wednesdays and Sundays.  Believe it or not, on the day we visited, a wedding was taking place in one of the chapels.

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You Know I’m Obsessed, Right?

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Clouds: Cirrus, Stratus, Cumulus, Stratocumulus, Cumulonimbus. If you’ve read any of my previous postings, you know how much I love them and that I’m addicted to cloud porn.   I follow the #cloudporn hashtag on Instagram relentlessly and swoon over the photos, thrilled that others share the same appreciation.

Here is my ode to clouds, with pictures taken over the last two months which, by the way, have been the most mild and cool summer months I have ever experienced in NYC.   (I hope I didn’t just jinx anything by saying that…probably did.)

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I Love It…Wait…I Hate It

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IMG_0120A bad day on the subway:

I know you think there is not enough room for me to get on but there actually is so how about you move your lazy ass further into the train and away from the door.  Hmm?  Well look at that…I fit.  Hey lady, how is it that you don’t know your suitcase-sized purse is digging into my ribcage?  Because you are completely enthralled with reading Fifty Shades of Grey, that’s why.  I know this due to the fact that you keep jamming your Kindle into my forearm every time the train lurches because you refuse to hold onto the pole.  If you end up stepping on my flip-flopped-foot I will punch you in the neck.  Fair warning.  Hey, he’s cute.  Wait.  That’s a woman.  Alright, which of you mutherfuckers farted?  If that rotten smell came out of me I would march myself to the ER, stat.  Hold your breath, hold your breath.  Is the a/c even on?  It feels like it’s not on.  Now I have bra sweat to contend with.  Oh no, teenage girls just got on.  Where are my headphones?  Thank heavens it’s finally my stop.  Yes, you dumb cow, I will shoulder into you if you try to get on the train when all of us are trying to get off.  Learn some manners.  You heard me.  Learn some fucking manners.  And your perfume smells like dusty old lady.

A good day on the subway:

Holy mother of miracles I got a seat.  And the seat is not coated with an unidentified substance.  Today is going to be awesome!

I Love Me A Ferry Ride

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Governors Island, situated between Manhattan and Brooklyn, within a stone’s throw of Lady Liberty, used to be a military base that was sold to the city for public use in 2003.  Nowadays you can rent bikes and explore the different gardens, view dilapidated homes, art parks, a castle, a park filled with hammocks (which hundreds of kids have sat in whilst eating rapidly melting ice creams – you have been warned).  My favorite part of Governors Island?  The boat ride over.  I love being on the water and observing the city from a different vantage point.  I’m one of those people who enjoys taking the Staten Island Ferry just for the hell of it.  It’s free y’all!  And you get a 25 minute boat ride each way.  The GI ferry, which docks next to the SI ferry, is about 6 minutes from port to port.  Much too short.  Also, the GI ferry runs only at the top of the hour and as I arrived at 11:02am, I had an hour to kill before boarding the next available ferry.  Hence, the first photo you see is from the South Street Seaport (which used to be a crappy tourist destination but is currently undergoing much needed renovations including the most awesome urban dog park I’ve ever seen).

IMG_3521 The GI ferry building is beautiful:

IMG_3535 IMG_3534The SI ferry:

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