in which i'm totally a techie, but still a girl

I got a new phone. Not because I needed one, but because it needed me. My phone, my wonderful old flip phone (my first) was just making me sad. I loved him so much when he was pushed into my hands, but this new one, this upgraded, uptraded one is all sparkly and wonderful and I'm sorry, but I haven't looked back at the little Motorola that had no camera, could not recieve pictures and voice calling or bluetooth - what are those. But my new baby, my baby rzr is all pink and all girl even though she does eveything the grey ones do. You go girl. And if I had you number I would totally text you cause that stuff is cool yo. I will say though that I do love it when cool phones are totally free. Want to see a picture of my Christams tree? Send me your number.

oh the thinks you can think

Kelly at klog tagged me for a meme about websites that make you think. She called the dribble on this site "poetic prose" and "profound." I'm going to suggest she go see a doctor- the kind that analyzes your head.

In the meantime I've been thinking about who on the Internets makes me think and here's what I've come up with. I link to most of these guys anyway, but it's always good to shed some real spotlight love on those you think about, or with, everyday. I think the list was meant to be 5, but I'm not that good at counting.

My cousin love Becca at TryBecca makes me wonder a lot about a bright poet who might be obsessed with pop culture. She recently compared Anna Nicole Smith to Dorothy Wodsworth. If that doesn't make you think then you might be dead.

Because she influenced my blogging fingers, I have to give some props to Snarkspot. My favorites are when she talks about other authors and about how catty or snooty they can be among themselves. Shame, shame on you published people.

I recently started to read Knitting blogs. Why? Because I knit and while in NYC on my last trip I got a little excited about the NYC Knitting webring. The thinking happened after I had been reading the following blog for several days (weeks) and just the other day realized that it was a man writing about knitting. Did you read that? Enter, the quite interesting and amazing knitter,brooklyntweed.

I love photography as much as I love words and so I have to offer up my daily photo addictions of the two places I love most in the world. These guys make me think a lot about living in these magnificent cities. They sometimes make me want to jump right inside the picture. The first is London Daily photo and the second is Joe's NYC. And here is a little extra one (because I'm also a little addicted to subways) Express Train.

with friends you get oreos

I’m housesitting. It seems in the recent past I’ve become the single girl who house and baby-sits. I knew a girl like me when I was 25, she was 32, I didn’t like the look of her life- working to be a teacher and paying her debts by housesitting and babysitting. Even if she did housesit for some famously rich people, I didn’t like the look of that aspect of her life. And yet…

My friend L. and her husband live -in my mind- in Egypt. It takes 30 minutes, $1.25 in tolls and a lot of gas to get to their house. And my life- is in the city. (I’ve told L. this so if she reads it she’ll know I still love her). It is soul sucking to drive this far away from humanity. And yet, humanity is creeping toward them. They have everything you’re cheesed out, chain store heart could want. You name it (TGIFridays) they’ve (Barnes and Noble) got (Babies R Us) it (Outback).

I hate the one main road aspect of suburbs, the endless traffic, the siding, the siding, the siding, the Wal-Mart, the siding and the utter uncityness of it all. In my perfect world, there would be city and there were be country and suburbs would not exist. My perfect world does not exist- yet.

What’s strange about house-sitting for your friends is that you know this person very well, might have even slept over before, but now, their house is yours. You pretend that the deer head in the living room is your deer head. Wait, no, actually you don’t. You watch TV nonstop because their 42-inch TV with surround sound seems better than your 32 inch TV with surround sound. Plus they have On Demand and so you have to watch like 10 movies before they get back.

And you eat their food. As a food lover, this part is fun. Except L. does not really “cook” and therefore there is nothing to “work” with in her kitchen. Even though I’m single, my fridge is packed with things, ready at any moment to host a dinner party (even though I never do). L.’s fridge on the other hand has a cheese drawer with a Costco amount of processed cheese (for the dog), pre-shredded cheese and some deli meat (ham I believe). There is also some flat ginger ale, yogurt, pudding cups, applesauce cups, beer, a few potatoes, half a red pepper, a bag a carrots, a questionable cucumber and a door of condiments. (Did I mention that I love L. because I do, I love her). What can I do with this stuff? I could make something. I could, but that would require opening things that have not been opened and using all of something that there is only one of. That is the thing about housesitting, you get to eat the food, but there are rules about it. So, I’ve feasted on eggs and toast (forgot the eggs in the fridge list) and Oreos. The one good thing L. does is stock Oreos in a cookie jar (because she doesn’t really bake either) and I am now addicted to Oreos.

It’s strange to have a friend whom you adore and with whom you’ve shared many a meal and yet their kitchen essentials look nothing like your kitchen essentials. And so I wonder how it is that we are friends at all. Maybe it’s that I feed her, literally, and she feeds me, emotionally. Somehow, somewhere there is balance. There always is, or at least there’s Oreos.

with no umbrella in her hand

It’s raining in Brooklyn today. I needed a rainy day. I’m tired. The city has worn me out a bit, in a good way.

I saw two musicals yesterday. The first, The Drowsy Chaperone, was a high profile Broadway production. I sat beside a couple on my right and an older lady on my left. The left hand lady slept through most of the show, bobbing her overly made up and big blond head and snoring now and then. She was the quintessential New York old lady who goes to matinees every now and then as her hobby. Before her nap (read: before the show started) she rummaged in her purse for decades, filed her nails and blew her nose. I wanted a shower after sitting beside her. New York is dirty and you are onslaught with miniscule debris constantly, but I think the left hand lady gave me a day’s dose of New York slime in 5 minutes.

The show starts I complete darkness with the narrator introducing the show. And from the second I heard his voice I was in love. The voice was a little high for a man, but something in it was familiar and warm. I couldn’t place my automatic fondness for this man, hadn’t recognized his name on the program, hadn’t placed his face. But, I wouldn’t have. It’s been years, decades even. I was in middle school probably and he was my dream man. For any girl who’s ever breathed in the girly air of the 80’s and was jealous of the red-headed Anne (with an “e”) you’ll understand why I was so easily in love with the narrator’s voice because it was Gil .

The second musical was Gutenberg! The Musical! at which my cousin Rebecca works. It was hilarious and wonderful and in a tiny theatre where you can feel the subway underneath you as the show goes on. I loved it and hope that it continues to run for longer and longer stretches. “A musical about a man who invented the printing press?” I know, but it’s got everything a musical needs and they’ll tell you so. If you are in NYC you should go and it’s in a great location in the Village near Magnolia Bakery, Sushi Samba, Tasti-D-Lite, and few other places you’ll love.

Today, this rainy, cold day is my last in New York, this town I love. I have not key to leave the apartment and partly I don’t want to. I’m tired and ready for home, but sometimes I wish this was that place.