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December 22, 2005
Bye For Now
Maybe I should have trekked to work today. I'm feeling a bit guilty.
Word has it the strike might be over soon- just in time for us to hightail it outta here. Too bad for me though, today I have actual work to do and so there will be no Oprah-watching. I also have to finish packing. I spent all morning frantically wandering around Brooklyn Heights looking for last minute Christmas gifts and now I'm scrambling to get all this shit done.
Good thing we don't have a fish anymore, that would be just another headache to deal with. When we went to New Orleans in July, we left our little Flush all alone...but in what we thought was good company. Vince just had to feed it a few little flakes every other day or so, but when we came home a few days later, the fish was belly-up and bloated beyond recognition. I was sadder than I should have been considering I had only known the fish for about a week. Still, it taught me several lessons- one, not to trust Vince with live creatures and two, that if I can get emotional over a fish, I'm probably not ready for a dog.
Ah creatures. A cuddly-looking (though probably rabid) squirrel just came up to the window and ate a nut right before me. It was starring rather intently inside our apartment, probably casing the joint for valuables. Well, goodbye squirrel. Goodbye Brooklyn. See you in 2006.
Posted by debbie at 9:34 AM
December 20, 2005
BREAKING NEWS: NYC GRINDS TO A HALT, DEBBIE COURAGEOUSLY STAYS HOME
The transit strike is going on but I couldn't tell you much. I'm at home eating the banana bread I baked last night and goofing around in my sweatpants. To my credit, I've made myself available for work- that is, my cell phone is on and I'm checking email periodically. I love this. But today, Dr. Phil made me cry. Since Christmas is coming, he was featuring some real miracle stories. Like this girl with cystic fibrosis who was born the same day her dad died in horrible house fire. She wasn't suppose to live past the five year mark but somehow she did. And then when she was 20 and her health was rapidly deteriorating, she finally got a new set of lungs. Her old lungs were so damaged that if she hadn't had the transplant right then and there, she would have died within the week. AND while she was in the hospital, she met a young man with cystic fibrosis just like her and now they're getting married. Just thinking about it now brings tears to my eyes. I promise this blog won't turned into a blow-by-blow account of what I watched on daytime tv. But if this strike continues, what choice will I have?
Posted by debbie at 3:59 AM
December 19, 2005
An Antidote to Monday Morning Melancholia
My least favorite time of the week is usually the time between Sunday night and Monday afternoon. I suffer not only from Sunday night blues but also, Monday morning melocholia. Perhaps everyone is like this, but I really feel it hard. Not so much today for some reason. Perhaps because Christmas is coming!
Actually, I'm looking forward to Christmas and to California, to all the time we will spend stuck in traffic getting annoyed at each other and fighting over the radio dial. This time will be a bit different though. For the first time, The Annual Goldberg 8-hour Holiday Car Ride will have a non-Goldberg in its midst. I hope Rafe will have just as much fun as we do!
This weekend was very busy. Kristin rolled into town and we had a good time, spent a lot of time talking, about life and relationships and the future. I love having overnight visitors, especially in the form of Kristin. The time spent together is so much more relaxed and real. And I love sharing our home, serving snacks, offering drinks, making up the guest bed. There is a little Martha Stewart in me and I just can't supress her. Anyhow, Kristin is getting married in the summer and will move in her with husband on his farm in York, Pennsyvania, which is near Amish country.
They're going to partake in some very German traditions at their wedding and I'm looking forward to it all, such as the one where every guest brings a dish or piece of pottery, enters the barn (good thing they have one), gets drunk, and then breaks the dish. The couple then cleans up the mess as a symbol of their first chore done as a married couple. This tradition also is done so as to ward off evil spirits. Hearing her describe the farm life is absolutely fascinating as it's so foreign to me. We're going to go visit during lambing season, as when the baby lambs (I guess all lambs are babies? I don't even know) are born. Baby lambs people. My Little Bo Peep fantisies are just waiting to come true. Or was that Mary, Mary and her little lambs?
Laura's party on Saturday night was a fun time. We brought a birthday pudding pie, which I thought was a fairly novel alternative to the ol' frosted standard. And Alma, with its rooftop view of the Manhattan skyline, was more delicious and impressive than I remember. After, we headed to Sugarlounge, a great little bar on Columbia Street that I reviewed for New York Magazine once. The bartender remembered me and treated us all to some unnecessary shots at the end of the night.
Last night, after Kristin left, Rafe and I went to Cousin Phil's new apartment in Fort Greene. He and his fiance Sara are also getting married in the summer. We went to another Mexican restaurant, Pequena, which is also delicious in case you didn't know. At one time, I thought finding reasonably priced yet delicious/somewhat authentic Mexican food was an impossibility in New York. Thank god that is not the case. We went back to their apartment after dinner and had some wine and chocolate chips which is actually not a bad combination. Later, when I was talking on the phone to my dad, I mentioned that we had hung out with Cousin Phil and he told me how happy he was to know that I had such a good network in New York of family and friends. And I thought about how true that was, and I felt very grateful. How when I first arrived in this city, how alone I felt and how I never imagined I would have good friends, a good relationship, my brother, and my Cousin Phil all within in a few mile radius from me. I am grateful to report life is good and surprising like that.
Posted by debbie at 11:08 AM
December 16, 2005
Bad Smells Amongst Us
I for one was looking forward to the transit strike and it didn't happen. I know that might sound selfish, but I love the idea of telecommuting. Rafe did it for months and I was a bit envious he didn't even have to put on pants in the morning. He would roll out of bed whenever he felt like it and sometimes when I got home, lo and behold he still hadn't put pants on and would be wearing a blanket around him fashioned into a makeshift kilt. But if I could watch Oprah and "work" simultaneously, I would be a very happy employee.
Strike or no strike, I think the MTA workers were in a really bad mood today. The trains were slower than usual and the conductor kept announcing on the intercom that there were "sudden delays, sorry!" When I got on the train, there was a horrible stench (not the MTA's fault per se but still) and it was coming from a woman in the center of the car. People literally bolted when they took a whiff. If they didn't have time to bolt, they smushed themselves into the corners, holding their jackets or scarves over their mouths. The smell really filled up the entire car. I was too lazy to actually move and so endured it for most of my journey. But when we got to 14th St, there was a police officer who told her it was time to get
up and go. We were in the station for over ten minutes while she refused and he stood between the car doors ordering her. What crime is it to smell? What crime is it to be homeless and on the train? I suppose there are vagrancy laws, but still, how did he know she wasn't on her way somewhere? It was a bit outrageous.
Speaking of smells, Rafe's new car smells. Of crayons. You may think that the smell of crayons is not so bad. You might be thinking, ooh, the smell of crayons- that smells like kindergarten and of innocent times when opening up a new box of Crayolas was a moment of pure bliss. But this crayon smell is intense, more like a toxic crayon factory, and it's nauseating and headache-inducing. It's a long story, but most likely the dealer won't do a thing about it. Rafe's gone to the doctor to get a note and has joined a support group online (really) but the crayon-smell has yet to be resolved. Many other cars of the same year and model have the same problem. I smell a lawsuit.
This weekend is going to be very full. My good friend Kristin is coming into town and it's Laura's birthday on Saturday. Kristin, Laura, Renu and I used to be rooomates our sophomore year of college. And look at us now, all grown up. Among other accomplishments, Renu's a big-time trader, Kristin's getting married in the Spring, Laura's having a baby, and I've just gotten me a domestic partnership. I could get all sappy right now, but I'll save that for this weekend when we are all drinking margaritas and feeling old and like college was a hundred years ago.
Posted by debbie at 10:24 AM
December 15, 2005
On the subject of breakfast meats
My blog is messed up. My old posts are back on the site but my recent posts are not. If you haven't read about my theory on hot dogs, email me post haste and I will have to just tell you from memory.
On a related note, my brother the anthropologist just got a project assignment from this company he works for to research breakfast meats. We worked together once, wherein he was the ethnographer and I was the videographer and we travelled all over New York into people's homes and interviewed them about their teeth brushing habits. The project was sponsored by Sonicare and it was very, very thorough. Part of my job entailed having to film the research subject brushing their teeth and going through their whole morning routine. I don't work with Vince anymore, but boy do I wish I did now! The project is described as so:
.
"We are conducting a study to learn about the behavior and motivations among people who consume breakfast meats at home. Specifically to understand the role of the family breakfast meal and how breakfast meats fits into the picture."
Aside from conducting extensive interviews with each participant, he has to take a kitchen inventory, do a "meal observation" and go on a "shop-along" as the participant buys his or her meats. It's a good thing he loves breakfast meats so much. He really does. Still, I'm jealous.
Posted by debbie at 10:45 AM
December 8, 2005
Production Assistant Barbie
Wow oh wow. I thought this was a joke at first, but it's not. Melody the Production Assistant Barbie doll. She's the bitch to Barbie, the indie film producer, and Ken, the set designer over at "1 Modern Circle Production Company"!
From the website:
"Melody is the most carefree and energetic spirit of the group, and her style is in step with what's cool for work and play. She is dressed in a black knit sleeveless top with a matching cardigan tied at her waist and black tweed-like pants. She dons black-heeled boots, a golden lariat necklace and a matching bracelet. She carries with her a pink handbag and her morning cup of coffee.
Melody's face shape is representative of the nostalgic Midge doll, paired with modern-styled and totally current teal blue hair."
Indeed, teal blue hair is so in the now. And a matching cardigan tied at her waist. I don't know what a bettter Christmas gift would be for the little girl in your life. What kid wouldn't want to be a glamourous PA when she grows up?
Posted by debbie at 4:45 PM
Hot Toddy
Apparently in England, a "hot toddy" means an attractive girl. But all I wanted was some warm alcohol because the evening was so very cold. So I coerced Vince and Amit into heading out in the frigid air to Ceol, a charming Irish pub on Smith Street. On Wednesday nights they have live Irish music, played by real live Irish people. There was a fiddle and also a woman singing about rolling hills and other Irish topics. The toddy wasn't as spiced as I imagined it would be, but it was hot.
On a side note, I think Rafe and I are going to become official domestic partners soon. There is more to this than just being able to say we are domestic partners (like a visit to City Hall!) and we spent a good deal of the evening discussing the situation. It would legally bind us in domestic partnership. You might be thinking that domestic partnership is for same sex couples. I'm pretty sure it is, but it is also for straight couples who want health insurance benefits.
Posted by debbie at 12:38 PM
December 7, 2005
Humpday
Went to Webster Hall last night for a show-- Iron & Wine and Calexio, two of my favorite musial acts, were playing a joint concert (they also have a great album out together called "In the Reins"). Calexico, if you don't know, is an amazing band, a bit hard to classify. Think of a more orchestral Wilco, with a more Southwestern flair. Added to the hushed and angelic voice Iron & Wine's Sam Beam, the combined sound was like a dream- Calexico being the sultry fever dream and Iron & Wine being those lovely dreamy seconds just before falling into slumber. Yes, it was downright dreamy. I remember when Webster Hall only had cheesy club nights, but it has recently been transformed by the folks from the Bowery Ballroom. The venue itself is very grand and the sound is much cleaner than at other venues. Plus, there are couches in the back.
A funny sidenote: when one of the opening bands went on, Rafe said he thought the girl on stage looked familiar. They were called The Mulligans, a girl and guy duo singy twangy country. And suddenly it clicked- it was The Mulligans, as in The Mulligans who used to live in the apartment beneath ours. We had no idea they were in a bonafide band together. Sad, really, as we never got the chance to know them and their obvious connections in the music industry. Ha ha. It was a strange coincidence, and reminded me that I would like to know my neighbors better. There are only three units in our building for crying out loud.
Also, I've lost my keys for good. I can't find them anywhere. I've been informed that if I don't find them in three days time, they will have to change all the locks for security reasons and I will be the laughing stock of the entire office. The punishment seems a bit harsh but I guess I have to face the music. Also, someone put a box on my desk this morning, a box containing a deflated "Giant Airblown Inflatable Snowman- Giant 8 Feet Tall!" ....but kindly there is a sign, even kindlier in English, taped on it that says "Do not touch please."
Posted by debbie at 12:36 PM
December 6, 2005
The Real Lost in Translation
What a morning. I get into work nearly forty minutes late because the subway is all fucked up and completely packed when it finally arrives. Some greasy dude coughs on me for most of the way and I have nowhere to turn my head to avoid his phlegmy wrath. And then I remember when I arrive at my office that I've lost my keys and so I am forced to ring the doorbell. The receptionist answers and rolls her eyes (note that the buzzer to let people in is maybe a foot from her desk) and then asks me if I have a set of keys. Well, yes of course I do, but I've lost them (I have a habit of leaving my keys in the bathroom but this time, unfortunately, I have no idea where they are). Although part of her job is to open the door, she acts supremely annoyed and then proceeds to talk in hushed tones about this to a co-worker sitting next to her. Normally, this would be totally inappropriate office behavior right? But I work in an office where it Japanese 24-7 unless they are speaking to an American. Often my co-workers will talk about me and think I can't understand. I can understand when every twentieth word is "Deborah" and I can understand tone and gestures, people!
Sometimes it is very frustrated working here but the good thing is they usually have no idea if I'm working or not or what exactly I'm doing. And also, while everyone eats their bento boxes in the lunch room, I'm the only one with a real lunch hour. I also get to field all sorts of interesting questions about the English language and about American life in general. And most of the time, people are very nice to me. I'm not so paranoid to think they're always talking about me, just when I hear my name dropped and/or excessive giggling and pointing in my direction. For example, when the boss brings back treats (usually a green tea cake, some sort of biscotti, strange pastry, etc.) from his business trips to Japan, I am always offered one as well, and they all watch while I eat it to see if I like it. It's like that old LIFE commercial. Once the boss handed me a slice of cake and I was busy with something else so I said "arigato" and ate the cake without looking and I had accidentally eaten the paper liner that came with it and wow, did they have a good laugh over that one. What a silly, silly American. And once, at the boss's birthday party I poured salt in my coffee instead of sugar (everything in the office is labeled in Japanese as well) and no one said anything until I had gone so far as to take a sip even though they had all noticed what I'd done.
Anyhow, these are all minor annoyances. Usually I don't get so worked up about these things. Probably one day I will explode with office rage. What did you say bitch? Say it to my face if you have something to say! And then I will take the offending person outside and we will fight until someone's hair gets ripped out and/or one of us gets fired. I'm exaggerating! I'm good natured! I can play the silly American, that's fine, I love it!
Arigato.
Posted by debbie at 10:59 AM
December 4, 2005
Christmas/Armageddon
It already feels like Christmas and I confess that I am suffering from Christmas anxiety. Why must we be in anticipation of the day for so damn long? It's like the coming apocolypse. I mean, all the hype and planning and money spending and even maybe a dash of non-cynical eagerness thrown in- and then the day comes and you get three pairs of slippers, maybe a gift certificate to Starbucks, a big greasy meal and then the day is over and you're left feel sad and bloated. Or maybe that's just me. Or maybe what I really have is Christmas guilt because, simply, I'm a Jew that celebrates Christmas. But I swear, I only celebrate it because we have relatives who celebrate it! These relatives are referred to as our Christmas Cousins. You see, every year my dad, Vince and I down from Berkeley to LA and spend a few days with our Christmas Cousins, and then a few day with our Hanukkah Cousins. Maybe that we have two sets of cousins balances everything out and really, I am a good Jewish girl.
And while it is not Christmas yet it is, however, very much Winter. Outside my window right now I see pine (?) trees capped with snow and other trees (pathetically, I have no idea what they are called) with bare branches. Dusk is nearing, the sky is that eerie shade of Winter blue, and it's just four in the afternoon. Today has been one of those non-days which I desperately needed. And somehow I got Rafe to clean the bathtub, which was in a dire health-hazardous condition. Vince is in the office printing some photographs for this Night of 1000 Drawings event this coming Friday where anyone can submit photos and anyone can buy them for $50 a pop, with all monies going to charity. It's a nice event, very egalitarian. Everyone's an artist! Speaking of art, we all went to the Guggenheim First Fridays party on Friday. The line was wrapped around the block, and once we got in it was packed and there were selling cheese slices and nuts for $9 and $6 respectively. There was an interesting display of Russian art, mostly 18th, 17th century paintings. We spiraled up to the top and back down again and cabbed it all the way home. Kind of a weird night, everyone seemed a bit spaced out...
Yesterday we drove (ok, Rafe drove) to Connecticut to visit Rafe's former au pair, an Iraqi Jew who used to live with his family when he was growing up. He's now married and has kids of his own, and is a very sweet guy so I was easily persuaded to go despite the horrific prospect of spending a whole day in the suburbs. We had a good time, and played some rousing games of Balderdash. I was never one for boardgames (except Pictionary), but this is a good game. We also went to this hibachi restaurant nearby where three out of four patrons were under the age of 6, and the chefs prepared our whole meal before our astonished eyes. The food was ho-hum but the pyrotechnics and knife-whirling were very impressive. Anyhow, this guy had also just adopted baby from Guatemala. It's strange how certain countries are more trendy than others for adopting babies. I wonder what's the hottest kind of baby you can have right now- Sri Lankan? Zambian? Uruguayan? The possibilities are endless. Strange though how there are tons of babies in our own country, and that a lot of Americans won't consider adopting from within but will go thousands of miles away to get one. I suppose all adoption is a good thing but I find it very sad that people from other countries, such as Germany, England, the Netherlands and even Canada for example, are willing to adopt American babies but that a lot of Americans themselves are not. Most of these parents are white and most of the babies are black. There's a very good article about this phenomenon, which is a lot more complex than I've laid out, here
I digress...the Guatemalan baby yesterday was adorable and I want one.
Posted by debbie at 4:09 PM
December 2, 2005
Dr. Dave and the Sternum
Dr. Dave was the best. I arrived at his seriously funky office on Clinton Street and we began with a lightening-rod debate about the various possibilities of my malaise. Is it a heart attack, doc? No, not a heart attack. Could it be cancer? No, I would doubt that. How about a blod clot, that could happen? It could but you don't have one. A weird blood disorder? I don't think so. Mitrol valve prolapse? You're pronouncing it all wrong and no. He then sent me out to the pharmacy across the street ("think of it as an intermission," he suggested) to get two bottles of Maalox, one for him and one for me. I came back and he instructed me to drink what seemed like half the bottle and then made me wait five minutes. He thought it might be acid reflex disorder (I mean, doesn't everybody supposidly have this "disorder" these days? How trendy! But I don't want to be trendy, I want to have weird obsqure afflictions that aren't advertised on tv!)... but the only thing the Maalox accomplished was in leaving me with a chalky mustache. Dr. Dave then gave me an EKG, placing little electrodes all over my torso, and hooked me up to a machine. The little meter strip came out perfectly, so as it turns out, I don't have any heart problems. I even got to take home the strip as a souvineir. He then started touching my bare chest (no, not like that) in various places and when he hit my sternum, I discovered that I was in immense, crippling pain. New diagnosis? Possibly a fractured sternum which could be in turn injuring my lungs. He asked me if I participated in any sports and to that I laughed a good laugh. He then suggested it could be from, well, you know what. Hmmm, beat that acid reflux!....So next week I'm getting x-rays and I'm advised to lay off any pressure-bearing activities, wink wink. Good thing is he charged me only $150 for what at a regular (read: blood-sucking) doctor's office would have set me back at least $600. I asked his secretary how he could charge so little and she it was because he was "fantastic" and makes no money but that he doesn't care. It almost makes me want to shed a tear for the fellow. I'd love to write a profile on him. He's truly fascinating, has a wacky but reassuring personality, and offers services that few, if any, doctors do in this city.
Rafe and I are going to the Copacabana tonight for his annual holiday work party. I'm interested in meeting his co-workers, especially the one named Ida Babbitt and the woman who didn't know what hummus was when Rafe said that's what he was bringing to the office potluck. Do you know that song by Barry Manilow about the Copacabana? No? Here are the lyrics, then:
Her name was lola, she was a showgirl
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there
She would merengue and do the cha-cha
And while she tried to be a star
Tony always tended bar
Across the crowded floor, they worked from 8 til 4
They were young and they had each other
Who could ask for more?
Chorus:
At the copa (co!) copacabana (copacabana)
The hottest spot north of havana (here)
At the copa (co!) copacabana
Music and passion were always in fashion
At the copa.... they fell in love
His name was rico
He wore a diamond
He was escorted to his chair, he saw lola dancing there
And when she finished,he called her over
But rico went a bit to far
Tony sailed across the bar
And then the punches flew and chairs were smashed in two
There was blood and a single gun shot
But just who shot who?
Repeat chorus
At the copa... she lost her love
Her name is lola, she was a showgirl,
But that was 30 years ago, when they used to have a show
Now it’s a disco, but not for lola,
Still in dress she used to wear,
Faded feathers in her hair
She sits there so refined,and drinks herself half-blind
She lost her youth and she lost her tony
Now she’s lost her mind
Repeat chorus
At the copa... don’t fall in love
Don’t fall in love
Talk about a cautionary tale! That song has been in my head (well, the chorus anyway) since I found out that this is the venue at which we are going to drink egg nog and stand around awkwardly. I hear this song and all I want do is a little dance. But I can't, because I'm at work. And I probably shouldn't anyway, because of my sternum. Ah well...
Posted by debbie at 2:57 PM | Comments (1)
December 1, 2005
Super Exciting Funtime Holiday Show!
*
So the shoot is over. I was accosted at 10am by the film crew outside my office, hung-over and un-fresh, with nary a second to powder my noise or down some coffee. I must have looked great- with wet hair, a confused look on my face, and bags under my eyes. Still, I tried my best to be perky and "typical American girl." When asked to demonstrate my favorite hobby, I hula-hooped for the camera... sans hula hoop. I'm trying to forget the experience...
Last night I met up with Vince and Amit and our friend Alyssa for drinks at Boat. Good ol' Boat. A classic in the neighborhood- classic meaning one of the first hipster bars on Smith Street. It still has retained its grungy je ne sais quas and still has one of the best jukeboxes anywhere. Poor Rafe was too tired to come along, so he just popped his head in, said hello, and left. We're both having horrible sleeping problems. Everything is out of whack with his new work schedule and I don't know what's going on, but we're both chronically tired. I was dog-tired last night too but ended up having a few too many brews of this beer called "Sweet Action." I'm a sucker for new and strangely named beers, and I came home too late and still wasn't tired. And now I'm very tired.
Work today is interesting enough though. I'm setting up a shoot in Chicago about the case of Anthony Porter, a man who was wrongly convicted of murder in 1982, and then released from prison in 1999. A group of students and their professor at Northwestern took up his case for a class on investigative journalism and ended up freeing the guy! Amazing, really. And just a few days ago, he sued the city for $24 million and lost. Not a fucking penny! For seventeen years in prison! We wanted to interview him for the show and it turns out he's so poor he doesn't even have a phone.
* Note: The above image is not from the show I worked on- merely a stereotypical example of wacky Japanese television programming.
Posted by debbie at 12:39 PM