Thumpity-Thump-Thump

Ever since I was a little kid, there was always something about the story of Frosty the Snowman that scared the bejesus out of me.  Come on, people - he was a man made out of snow, and he sacrificed himself to save the little girl and ended up melting in front of her.  You guys.  Don't pretend that just because it's physically impossible, it's not totally freaky.

Anyway, that's what ran through my mind when I saw that someone had used the (first) Great Snowfall of 2011 as an opportunity to resurrect our buddy Frosty.  Awesome.  Lemonade from lemons.  I guess.

I do have to give them credit for attention to detail, though.  And who sacrificed their scarf and their carrot for this artistic endeavor?  Is the carrot even correct?  I believe the song says button nose.

UPDATE:  I walked by buddy Frosty again, and to my horror, his head had been taken off!  Poor Frosty.  He wasn't ready for the mean streets of New York.


New York City.  On Canon Powershot.

When the City Needs Compassion

A few days ago, during the deep freeze, I looked out the window and saw a homeless man warming himself over a sewer grate.

I prepared my wallet and a jar of peanut butter (I don't know, I thought it seemed comforting) to bring to him, but when I looked out the window a few minutes later, he had disappeared.  I kept checking periodically to see if he returned, but he didn't.  I hope he found someplace warm to stay.


New York City.  On Canon Powershot.

When Clothing Shouldn't Be Optional

Sarni and I witnessed a surprising number of men wearing shorts a few days ago, when NYC was in deep freeze (apparently the "feels like" temps dropped down to nearly -20 degrees Celsius on the "coldest evening in 30 years" - if that mishmash of facts doesn't impress you, I don't know what will).  Anyway, here's a photo of one of the dudes, with his two hilariously mismatched dogs, one of whom at least has the sense to be wearing more clothing than its master.


Flatiron.  On Canon Powershot.

When Words Are Not Enough

Over the weekend, Pre-Raph, KK and I went for dinner at St. Alp's tea house (mmm, bubble tea) and caught a showing of The King's Speech.  I have to admit, my interest in this film stemmed from all the great reviews it received (and maybe a little because to me, Colin Firth will always be the irascible Mr. Darcy).  It really did live up to its hype!  CF is absolutely amazing in a role that, in less competent hands, would threaten to descend into parody.  The movie is effective as a historical portrait, but also as a portrait of a debilitating condition that reminded me of one of those nightmares where you suddenly can't do something most people take for granted - run, speak, attack people with swords (that last entry was suggested by Sarni - I'm so proud, babe).  Plus, if all this isn't enough to convince you to see it, you should know that there are THREE Harry Potter actors in this film.  Bonus points to anyone who can name them.


Union Square.  On Canon Powershot.

When Everything Tastes Like Chicken

Continuing my mission to eat NYC specialized foods, Sarni and I paid a visit to Hill Country Chicken.  (Too...many...chicken...jokes...)  Sarni's a big fan of Hill Country, so we had high hopes for HCC.  In the end, we had some chicken, chicken fingers, buttermilk biscuits, and cheesy fried mashed potatoes.  In case you were wondering, that's mashed potatoes with cheese and fries mixed in - you know, just in case you couldn't decide between three different fatty foods.

Sadly, none of my photos of the food really turned out (which could be because HCC is styled like a fast food restaurant, even though the chicken is apparently organic).  I did want to throw in this photo of the banana cream pie we had for dessert though - vanilla wafers, whipped cream, and banana cream in a custard shell.  It was, in my humble opinion, the best thing we ate at HCC.  (Sarni also had a double cherry pie for dessert, but it was far inferior to my banana cream treat.)

Sarni and I sat upstairs, but discovered the downstairs space after we ate.  It basically looks like your grandmother's rec room, complete with board games from the 90s.  Love it.

Right??


Madison Square Park.  On Canon Powershot.

Mixed Messages

So often, I come across really enigmatic signs or symbols in NYC.  Like this one, for example.  What does it mean?

I looked around for nearby butchers or, like, petting zoos, but nada.  Maybe it's a meeting place for Orwellian pigs to gather, to plot to take over the world.  What I should have been looking for was a sign that said "some are more equal than others."


East Village.  On Canon Powershot.

Kaleidoscope Project on Location: Killington, Vermont

New Yorkers don't get the kind of great skiing I'm used to in Canada - Hunter and Wyndham mountain (in the Catskills) are the closest ports of call, but they're usually overrun by snow-desperate New Yorkers.  So Sarni, Megaphone, Wonderland and I schlepped all the way to Vermont for some high-quality mountain action over MLK weekend.  Despite our dabbles into snowboarding, we all opted to ski - thus fulfilling east coast stereotypes, as LB pointed out.

We had a great time - the snow was plentiful, the runs were long, and the scenery was crystalline and Narnia-esque.  I really tapped into my inner-Lindsay Vonn and learned to ski really fast (okay, fine, faster than usual).  I even took a (small, tiniest of all) jumps.

Check that out.  How can you look at that and NOT want to strap long wooden slats onto your feet to coast down the mountain at high speed?

I went to "anonymize" our faces in these last two shots, and then I realized that I didn't really need to.  I'd be surprised if our own mothers could recognize us in these getups.  In our defense, it was minus 25 degrees Celsius on our second day of skiing.  (That's "butt-cold" in Fahrenheit, by the way.)

I really do wish, however, that someone had told me how creepy I looked with my sunglasses and face warmer on.

Vermont.  On Canon Powershot.

Being a Good Host

Last week, Cuddles and I attended a taping of "Late Night with Jimmy Fallon", where we saw the Roots (so excellent), Jimmy Fallon (funny, but not as funny as Conan), Paul Giamatti (very personable), Faith Hill (beautiful, but kind of vapid), Cake (okay, but would have preferred Neon Trees, who were scheduled for the next night) and Jenna and Frank from "30 Rock."  Well, I saw Jenna and Frank - they were standing and talking right next to me outside of the studio, and I subtly but unsuccessfully tried to get Cuddles' attention by jerking my head spastically towards them.  Smooth.

As it turned out, Cuddles and I had a long wait time before the show.  Here are some tips for those of you who might want to view a live taping next time you're in NYC - for Jimmy Fallon's show, you can call a month in advance and make reservations for up to 4 people.  Then, on the day of the taping, you and any of the 3 other people who want to attend need to show up at the studio before 3:30, where you get an assigned place in the line-up into the studio.  But then you can leave.  With me so far?  Then, at 4:30, you come back and get into line in alphabetical/numerical order.  Also, once you're in the theatre, try to sit either on the aisles (so Jimmy Fallon will give you a high five when he runs past you) or in the three rows at the back (because then you get moved on stage when the musical guest plays).

Anyway.  That's what we learned at the Jimmy Fallon show.  Oh, also that there are a lot of cameras.

While we spent an hour wandering around the NBC Experience store, we found all kinds of paraphernalia for shows that we had totally forgotten about.  Like this - Saved by the Bell t-shirts.  How hilarious is Zach Morris' phone?  And Cuddles and I agree that we don't remember Kelly Kapowski looking so hot.  I guess everything's fair in love and defunct television show mementos.

Rockefeller Plaza.  On Canon Powershot.

S'Mac Talk

Continuing our quest of eating all of the famous "specialty" foods in New York, Cuddles, G and I had lunch at Sarita's Macaroni and Cheese ("S'Mac" for short).  We ordered two of the party platters, which were clearly invented by someone with a serious Mac 'n Cheese addiction problem.

In all honesty, we admitted to each other that we couldn't always tell the difference between the various flavors, even with a nifty little chart to help us identify what we were eating.  We did have a few favorites - I liked the Cajun Mac 'n Cheese, Cuddles was a fan of the Cheeseburger Mac 'n Cheese, and G favored the Alpine Mac 'n Cheese.

Hmm.  I've said "Mac 'n Cheese" so many times now, the words have lost all meaning.


East Village.  On Canon Powershot.

Eat Pray Love . . .

. . . or at least Eat.  Sarni and I stumbled upon the newly-opened Eataly, co-owned by Mario Batali.  I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting an expansive space filled with markets, restaurants and food stations.  As for Sarni, he was so impressed that he engaged in the following dumbfounded conversation:

Sarni:  Wow, this is quite impressive.  We should come here sometime.

Me:  Um . . . we are here.

You know things are authentic when food hangs over your head.

In all seriousness, I read that Eataly is part of the "slow food" movement, and imports only the freshest ingredients.  I was expecting my pizza to get up and walk off my plate.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to actually have any pizza.  Even though it was 3:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday, the wait for the pizza restaurant was well over an hour.  I also didn't get to eat any pasta, but I did snag this photo of the uber-fresh pasta for you guys.

Were truer words ever spoken?

This was possibly the most expensive square foot or so in the joint.  Saffron and black truffles?  Waiter, I'll just take a seat here.  No utensils necessary, thanks.


Flatiron.  On Canon Powershot.

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet

I don't get it - aren't squirrels supposed to hibernate?  Sarni and I encountered a gang of decidedly non-hibernating squirrels.  Check out the little guy at the bottom of the photo.  He is literally launching himself at my face.

They were completely undaunted by the unusual amount of snow covering the ground.

"Frolicking mindlessly across the ice.  That's just how we roll."

See that maniacal look in his eye?  This was taken just before he advanced towards Sarni and me, ruthlessly demanding food.  It was a silent demand, but no less threatening.  Be afraid.


Madison Square Park.  On Canon Powershot.

Baby You Can Drive My Car

So I missed most of the Great NYC Snowstorm 2010, but the city still insists on showering us with a light dusting of snow here and there.  I think it just likes to remind us that yes, it is our master.

On our way home one evening, Sarni and I saw that someone had . . . edited . . . a snow-covered car.  I'm not sure that's the cover of an actual Beatles album, but it was random enough to amuse me.  Lemonade out of lemons, right?


New York City.  On Canon Powershot.

Sixteen (plus a few) Candles

Have you guys noticed that ever since college ended, people rarely throw birthday parties?  I don't just mean the parties with pointy hats and loot bags from when I was a kid (although I do love me a good loot bag - mmm, hello random candy necklaces).  I mean any kind of party.  Starting from my early twenties, it seemed like the thing to do was "go out for dinner" or "go out for drinks."  What happened to a good old-fashioned party?  Maybe with festive signs?

Polo turned back the clock for the birthday of his girlfriend, Dr. J.  We had a great time with friends we haven't seen for awhile, and we greedily gobbled down two kinds of cake from Black Hound (which I initially thought was the name of a really badass cake, but is actually the name of a badass bakery).  We also sang "Happy Birthday" to Dr. J, and I was reminded again of how bad my warbling singing voice is.  By the end of the song, I was just mouthing the words sheepishly.  That's okay though, because it's the silent thought that counts.


New York City.  On Canon Powershot.

East vs West

Last year, good friend LovelyCozy unfathomably left NYC for the sunny shores of California, but a few days ago, she returned like a long-lost prodigal daughter.  Except it was just a visit.  And she's not my daughter, obviously.  This whole metaphor is falling apart.

We celebrated our reunion with crepes and french toast at Bar Breton (who knew there were passable restaurants close to Penn Station?).  My deconstructed Madison crepe was pretty good, although the ratio of apples to bacon was way too skewed towards the bacon.  The company, though, was impeccable.  Come back soon, LovelyCozy!

Flatiron.  On Canon Powershot.

Project Runway for Seriously Amateur Beginners

If you guys have been wondering (and I know you have) how my knitting was going, wonder no further.  Above you'll see the infinity scarf I knitted for Mama Sarni.  But I know it can be hard to envision a piece of clothing without a model, so I asked/forced Sarni to send photos of the knitted pieces in their new English homes.

Mama Sarni models the infinity scarf, worn in the style of Grace Kelly.  Bien sur.

I also knitted fingerless cuffs for Boz, Sarni's sister.  You don't want to see my hands modelling the cuffs though.  You want to see Boz.

Boz is so psyched over her new cuffs, they inspired her to throw gang/Star Trek symbols at the camera.


New York/England.  On Canon Powershot and Blackberry.

Kaleidoscope Project On Location: The Great White North

The Winter Sports

LB and I try our hand at curling.  Well, LB does.  I mostly try my hand at posing.

LB prepares to join the Canadian Olympic Curling Team.

An ice sculpture is carved to commemorate the moment.

LB prepares to play ice hockey ("shinny").

I get distracted by a little baby hockey player who gets tired of playing and decides to be the puck.

Check out the idyllic Canadian tableau.

LB shoots!  He scores!  He poses obligingly for my photo!

Shinny game in process.  (I have no idea if I'm using that word correctly.)

Not exactly a winter sport, but had to include a photo of one of the biggest burgers I've ever had.  After skating, Beta in her ridiculous generosity treated a busload of us to dinner at Tommy Burger for Rockstar's birthday.  Yum, supersized.


Canada.  On Canon Powershot.

Kaleidoscope Project On Location: The Great White North

Dogsleddin' in the Rockies

I practice my dog whispering on an inanimate breed.

Our team lies in wait.

A quiet dogsled into the sunrise makes getting up at the crack of dawn worth every sleepy minute.

LB and I pause to say hello to the "muscle" in our dog team.  Up until now, I had only seen their butts.

Some canine patriotism at work.

We glide across a frozen lake with the greatest of ease.


Canada.  On Canon Powershot.