Lucky in Love

I love Valentine's Day. I know it can be kind of fun to be one of those "I hate Valentine's Day" single girls, but even when I find myself "unattached" as February 14th rolls around, I still can't drum up anything but love for a day that's all about love. Even when I was a kid I remember my crafty mother and I having so much fun going way overboard decorating my Valentine's shoebox. Finding the perfect cards to hand out to classmates was always a fun challenge and the "everyone gets one" mentality of school Valentines always soothed my fear of being left out.

I have very specific feelings about the meanings and celebrations of different holidays, and for me Valentine's Day has always been about thoughtfulness. While expensive gifts are always appreciated, I think the real goal of the holiday (and any other day, really) should be to make sure the people you love really know how you feel about them. Yes, Valentine's Day has become incredibly commercial and contrived, but is there really anything wrong with reminding people how much they mean to you — something all of us should probably do a little bit more frequently.

Last night my friends Jim and Katie hosted a Valenfriends Day party (I'm the only one calling it that) and it was such a great time. We all exchanged cheesy, (mostly) store-bought cards, drank grapefruit margaritas and basically ate nothing but desserts and candy (my contribution was two plates of chocolate-covered strawberries). It was a great group of wonderful people — some are married, some have children, others have boyfriends, girlfriends or fiances and some of us are single — but none of that really mattered.

I brought Little Mermaid valentines (with stickers!), which the four-year-old in me was thrilled to find at Duane Reade, especially 25 years (!) after the movie came out. My haul included a Disney Princess (with bookmark ruler!), a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sticker, a super adorable gray cat, a wrestler, a beautiful hand-painted card (for once I wasn't the one to go overboard in this department) and a very funny, very 90s valentine. I can't remember the last time I actually participated in a valentine exchange, but it was so fun and easy that I don't see why I shouldn't organize one every year.

Earlier in the day I had eaten Chinese for lunch, and got the fortune "You will be lucky in love," and I can't help but think that that has always, and continues to be, very true. No matter what my relationship status has been, currently is or will be in the future, all that really matters is that I'm surrounded by people that I love and adore. I have amazing friends, caring family and so many people in my life that I love and are loved by in return.

Very lucky indeed.

Saturday Stroll

I didn't have any plans on Saturday until the evening, so as with most of my adventures I picked a starting-off point and just sort of went where the day took me. These type of wandering days usually end up to be some of my very favorite, and I always encounter something unexpected and wonderful. This is one of the things I like most about New York — no matter what I end up doing or where I end up going I'm never, ever bored.

I stared the day off by taking the 1 train to the Franklin stop in TriBeCa. My intent was to find one of the last Banksy pieces from his time here in October that hasn't been completely destroyed. I did find it (the 9/11 one on Staple Street) but the flower was long gone and half of it was tagged over. Staple Street is a tiny, almost alley-like street that I definitely would have missed had I not been specifically looking for it. Downtown Manhattan is an area that I'm not super familiar with, so it's always fun to explore.

I walked over to the Hudson River and watched the ice floes float downstream for a while before walking through the rest of Nelson A. Rockefeller Park. I always manage to sort of forget that Manhattan is an island and essentially a coastal town. I adore the Hudson River under normal circumstances, but when it's covered in gorgeous ice I could stare at it for hours.

I stopped at the Shake Shack on Murray Street for lunch, where I was actually able to get a seat — the perks of going to the downtown location relatively early (by New York standards, anyway) on a weekend. The next stop on my tentative list was the West Village, so I decided to walk up Greenwich Street.

Ever since I found out about the privately-owned house at 121 Greenwich Street, I had kept it in my mind to check out if I was ever in the area. It was originally on the Upper East Side, but was moved to its current location in 1967 (I'm apparently into moveable houses lately) and is definitely a strange sight in the middle of the West Village. They even have a cute little yard — something that I (living in Ohio) never would have thought would seem like a novelty.

I love discovering little odd city tidbits like this little house and reading the interesting stories behind them. It would be so neat to be able to own something so special one day, but I think I chose the wrong profession if I could ever hope to be able to afford it — special doesn't come cheap in New York.

When I realized that I was right by Bethune Street, my morbid curiosity got the best of me and I decided to walk by Phillip Seymour Hoffman's apartment building. I'm still sort of in shock about his death. I always considered him to be my male Meryl Streep — he was just superb in everything he did. I hugely regret not seeing him on stage in Death of Salesman last year, not because I didn't want to but because I just could not get a ticket.

It was sad and sort of eerie walking through his neighborhood and standing outside of the apartment where he died. There were flowers, cards, drawings and candles on either side of the doorway and I would be lying if I said I didn't get a little choked up reading all of the mournful notes from fans.

I wasn't meeting my friends (at the Guggenheim) until 5:30, so I spent the rest of my day browsing the dollar section at the Strand. I hadn't been in a while so I found a lot of great books, including: The Westing Game, which I always buy when it's cheap to give out as a gift, a novel about publishing in 1950s New York, Sweeney Todd, and nonfiction books on the plague, the Skull and Bones Society and lobsters. My taste in books is just as varied as it is incredibly off-putting and probably a bit alarming to strangers sitting beside me on the bus.

It was pretty much a perfectly ordinary, yet wonderful New York Saturday that ended with me paying a dollar for admission to one of the most famous museums in the world (more on that later) — in New York even the ordinary is sometimes so much more than that.

The City College of New York

After Trent and I received our private tour of Hamilton Grange, we walked a block next door to explore the campus of the City College of New York. I hadn't really known that City College even really existed until I read this Scouting NY Post about it, and immediately added it to my list of must-sees.

Founded in 1847 and moved to its current location in Hamilton Heights/Harlem in 1907, CCNY was the first free public institution of higher learning the United States. The campus is fairly small (at least when compared to other universities around the country), but most of its neo-Gothic campus buildings are landmarked. 

The best thing about the gorgeous buildings, of course, are the hundreds of gargoyles and grotesques hanging out all over the place. A lot of them are too high up to even get a good look at, which is kind of a bummer since I was so fascinated with them, and they're all so different.

The grotesques have actually been restored, replicated and replaced over the years since the originals were deteriorating, and the whole campus feels as if its been scrubbed clean recently which is nice, of course, but still a bit of a disconnect with the old-world feeling.

The campus was basically deserted on a Saturday morning, which is always preferable to me when I'm exploring and snapping photos. Although I haven't yet been to Europe (I'm working on it!) City College felt very old-world-European to me and I didn't feel at all like I was still in New York City.

There are a few modern buildings sprinkled around, but they definitely feel out of place and can't possibly compare when plopped right next to the beautiful landmarked ones. I would love to go back with a better camera (I'm working on that too!) to try and capture some of the less accessible details. I'm sure I missed a lot in our first run-through, but thankfully City College is only a few subway stops away so I will definitely be back soon to explore further.

Hamilton Grange National Memorial

On Saturday I wanted a city adventure, and Trent was available so I sent him a link to my Google map of New York to-dos and told him to take his pick. He suggested that we do City College and Hamilton Grange, two things right next to each other and not far from either of us that neither of us had explored before.

We met at Hamilton Grange, the first (and only) home that Alexander Hamilton ever built and owned. He only lived there for two years before his death-by-duel, but it's now a National Memorial, controlled by the National Parks Service. The house has an interesting history beyond when the Hamilton family lived there: it had actually been moved twice before coming to rest in its current (and third) location in St. Nicholas Park. In 1889 it was moved half of a block east and two blocks south so the city could put in a street (adhering to the Manhattan grid).

In 2006 the house was moved again (you can still see its imprint on the apartment building next door) one block east to the park to allow for reconstruction and restoration of the original structure, and to provide a more spacious and suitable surrounding landscape. It seems absurd that this large house was completely moved two different times (and globally didn't really even change locations), but I'm glad that despite everything it has gone through that it not only remains, but has been restored to its original glory.

They offer free tours of the interior and when Trent and I went at 11am on Saturday we were the only two people on the "tour." It's a little awkward to receive a private tour of something as nerdy as the Alexander Hamilton house, but not having to endure other people's embarrassing questions was a definite upside.

The tour is relatively short and there are only three rooms available for viewing: the living room, dining room and Hamilton's study. The upstairs is off-limits due to fire code, as well as historians' inability to find any concrete evidence on how it was ever supposed to look.

The most interesting house fact we learned was about the three large windows facing the porch. Apparently houses back then were taxed by the number of doors they had, so in order to avoid larger taxes there are no doors to the porch. The windows actually open upwards in two sections, thereby turning them into doors in a roundabout, tax-evading way.

I also learned, or rather came to the realization that Hamilton wasn't actually a President, a fact on which I probably would have bet some Hamiltons of my own toward proving otherwise. He was a Founding Father, however, and a good friend of George Washington's (not to mention his appearance on the money, due to his position as Secretary of the Treasury) so he was still pretty important.

I love that I am still able to find things to explore so close to my apartment (Hamilton Grange is only two stops away on the 1 train) that feel like they're world's away. Since I'm not-so-secretly 80-years-old I will always be delighted by nerdy, historical tours — even more so when they're free. The best part of the tour, however, might have actually been the two other people who almost joined us, if not for the fact that they were running late picking up their Super Bowl tickets. If Hamilton Grange can make it onto the must-see list of tourists visiting New York for the Super Bowl, then maybe it's not so nerdy after all.*

*Nope, it's definitely still nerdy

Wintery Wonderland

It seems to me that every time a winter storm is really hyped up, it ends up being a disappointment (see: the six-inch blizzard, hyperbolically dubbed "Hercules"). Monday we were supposed to get three inches of snow and it ended up snowing steadily all day, blanketing the city in the most gorgeous snow I've seen in the seven months I've lived here.

It's slightly warmer than it has been lately, and the heavy, wet snow covered the trees, street signs and benches, making the whole city into a real life winter wonderland. I know a lot of people are totally over winter by this point, but I would be content on having snow until spring is good and ready to begin.

As usual I tried to make the most of my time with this batch of snow, and I walked to work through Central Park on Monday and Tuesday. Yesterday the sun was shining and the entire park was blindingly white. I love how fresh the air smells in the snow, and how quiet the whole world seems. I felt like I was far away from New York in a magical wintery land not unlike Narnia. Every new snowy scene I encountered was more beautiful than the last.

On Monday I took advantage of my new job's proximity to Central Park, and on my lunch break I went straight to my favorite spot: the Literary Walk, which was more beautiful than I can ever even possibly describe. The park was pretty empty because it was still snowing heavily and I was even able to get a shot of the Bethesda Fountain without a single person in it, which is always a lofty goal in heavily trafficked areas of the park.

The best part about this particular snowfall is that after weeks of near- and below-zero temperatures, anything from 20-35 degrees has felt downright balmy for my outdoor adventures. It definitely makes a difference in my enjoyment of the snowy city when I can walk around for any amount of time without my phone actually refusing to turn on because it is too damn cold, which has actually happened to me twice this year.

On one of my walks around the park, I started to think about how odd and special snow seems, and how thanks to climate change it might become virtually nonexistent in the future (at least in New York). While everyone is complaining about how snowy this winter has been, I still try to treat every snowfall like it's a special gift and I don't really have any interest in living in a world without snow.

Chinese Lunar New Year Parade 2014

On Sunday I braved Chinatown for the Chinese Lunar New Year Parade. Last year Trent and I had a not-so-favorable experience with the Chinese New Year when we froze for hours waiting for the anti-climactic firecrackers of the Firecracker Festival to begin.

This year the weather was much more agreeable (around 45 and sunny) and I had heard that the parade was the better of the two events, so I decided to give it one more try. I'm so glad I did because the parade was definitely worth seeing, and a huge upgrade from last year's festivities.

I got to Chinatown about 15 minutes before the parade started, and although the streets were already crowded, it wasn't as chaotic as I feared it would be. I was able to get a good spot a few blocks down Mott Street from the starting point (at Canal), and although I was a few rows back I still had a fairly good view of the proceedings. It didn't hurt that the sidewalk sloped down toward the street, and I'm pretty tall — especially when compared to most of the residents of Chinatown. If I go next year, I'll probably arrive earlier to get a better spot, but I was fine exchanging some visibility to not have to wait forever for the parade to start.

The parade itself was a total assault on the senses: loud music, brightly colored floats and more confetti poppers than I've ever seen in one place before. I was right across the street from a man very loudly banging a gong, which was charmingly festive at the beginning and just loud as the parade wore on.

The confetti poppers were definitely my favorite part of the festivities, even if someone popped one off RIGHT by my ear (ouch). I never got over the novelty of seeing a stream of glitter and paper confetti shoot into the air, and by the end of the parade the streets were blanketed. I may be shaking glitter out of my hair and clothes for a few more days, but walking home through the colorful streets was definitely worth it.

It's the beginning of the Year of the Horse, so there were a few horse-themed floats, but mostly it was just a lot of people marching in various costumes. Not being Chinese, I didn't recognize a lot of the singers or "personalities" that went by, but you definitely don't have to be Chinese to appreciate a good lion dance (and there were a lot of those, which I always love). I'm glad I gave the Lunar New Year festivities another chance, and I definitely recommend the parade much more than I ever would the firecracker festival.

In fact I believe I said that seeing Asian Ronald McDonald was the best part of the firecracker festival last year, and to my delight I got to see him again this year, marching in front of the McDonald's float. Nevermind the fact that it feels wrong that the very American McDonald's has a prominent place in a traditional Chinese holiday celebration, or that the juxtaposition of "Happy Year of the Horse" next to a photo of a McD's hamburger was quite unfortunate — any scenario in which I get to see Asian Ronald McDonald is a happy one.

My Seventh Month as a New Yorker

January has never been one of my favorite months — there's the inevitable post-holiday blues, winter seems like it's never going to end and after starting off with a holiday, there's not much to look forward to until Valentine's Day (if that can even be considered a good thing).

Last year I moved to New York (albeit temporarily)  a week into the new year, and it felt wonderful and so very right to ring in this new year in New York again, knowing I am here for good. Thanks to a few decent snowstorms, and despite the bone-chilling cold, I actually spent a lot of time outdoors in January, which went a long way towards quelling any winter blues that were trying to sneak into my life. After a few weeks of Polar Vortex-y cold I did start to wonder if I should just hibernate until spring, but I forced myself outside, where I find it nearly impossible to be grumpy amidst the snowy landscape of the city.

A few more highlights from my snowy January:

We got a "six-inch blizzard" that the Weather Channel dubbed "Hercules" and I walked through Central Park on the way to work, on my lunch break and on the way home; I took advantage of my new membership to the New York Botanical Garden and took a snowy hike through the Thain Family Forest; I walked home through Riverside Park and caught an amazing sunset and I met a lot of new snowy friends.

Trent and I ventured to Long Island City where we mourned the loss of 5Pointz and saw the weird but sort of cool Mike Kelley exhibit at MOMA PS1; I walked on my lunch break to see the ice floes on the Hudson River; On another lunch walk I explored the grounds of Bellevue Hospital and was creeped out by the old Psychiatric Hospital; Mozart stared at me a lot for no reason and I went searching for remaining Banksy works from his October in the city to find that there isn't much left.

Jim and I went to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park in Queens and explored the Unisphere, New York State Pavilion ruins and the New York Panorama at the Queens Museum; I continued to be obsessed with finding unique manhole covers around the city; I walked to a piece of the Berlin Wall on my lunch break and we tried the famous soup dumplings at Joe's Shanghai in Chinatown.

I squeezed the last bit out of Midtown on my lunch walks before changing jobs and saw the original Winnie-the-Pooh and friends at the New York Public Library (Piglet kills me); I said goodbye to my daily views of the Chrysler Building; I went to a Clue-themed party dressed as Colonel Mustard and brought pigs-in-a-blanket with a variety of mustard dipping sauces; I spotted a few old, beautiful starry manhole covers in Brooklyn; I was creeped on by a spooky black cat while creeping on the ruins of Admiral's Row in the Brooklyn Navy Yard and I walked across the Manhattan Bridge and remembered how much I love walking bridges.

I started a new job and took another horrible ID photo; we got an actual blizzard and I wasn't mad about it; I got up early to take a snowy, sunrise walk through Central Park to work on the East Side; I walked by the snowy MET Museum on my lunch break and realized after reading The Goldfinch that I'll never be able to look at the building the same way; I continued my obsession with snowy bridges and smushed some pennies at the Central Park Zoo.

February has already gotten off to a good start, and I'm equally excited for the possibility of more snow (yes, I'm an addict) as I am for the impending spring. Spring is the last season that I haven't experienced fully as a resident of New York and as usual I have a ton of fun things on my to-do list. I finally broke down and ordered a real deal pair of rain boots, so I no longer fear rainy days — in fact I may even be looking forward to them because I love my boots that much. I couldn't have asked for a better beginning to 2014, and I have no reason to believe that the rest of this year won't be just as wonderful.

Remnants of the New York World's Fair Part 1

It's nothing new for me to be really into ruins and reminders of the past, but it seems like I've been extra interested in seeking them out lately. My friend Jim and I went to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park and the Queens Museum a few weeks ago and had a great time hunting out the remnants of the '64/'65 World's Fair. I had been once before, around this time last year, but it was definitely a place I was eager to return to, and Jim had never been.

The Unisphere still tops my list of favorite New York attractions, and it's just as impressive and generally awesome as it was the first time I saw it. I love that the park feels like a total secret, and it has been basically deserted both times I've been. This feeling of isolation only adds to the sense that you're traveling back in time as you stumble upon leftover pieces and parts of the Fair.

The fate of the New York State Pavilion is actually a bit uncertain at the moment — it will apparently cost at least $52 million to restore the structure, and "only" $14 million to demolish it — but it's one of my favorite areas of the park to explore. What I wouldn't give to be able to walk over the 567-panel terrazzo road map of New York State on the floor of the pavilion, or land a helicopter on the top of the Port Authority's heliport — now an event venue called Terrace on the Park.

There are actually a lot of fair remnants (big and small) if you look hard enough — triangular canopies, the undulating New York Hall of Science building, futuristic-looking water fountains and a few remaining sculptures like the Rocket Thrower, which was restored in 2013.  There are even more pieces that we didn't know still existed, like the time capsule and avenue markers, so we're already planning a return trip in the spring.

The Queens Museum just went though an extensive remodel and recently reopened and I definitely recommend checking it out. The building is actually a leftover from the '39 World's Fair, and the New York panorama (from '64) is something that everyone should see at least once in their life. Since our trip, I've become even more obsessed with learning about the fairs, and I'll definitely be more prepared when we return. I can't find any information about the fountains around the Unisphere, except that they were restored in 2010, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to catch them on at some point this summer. Now if I could only track down one of these color-block lamps, I'd really be in heaven.

Brooklyn Navy Yard: Admiral's Row

I don't remember exactly where I first read about Admiral's Row, the crumbling ruins of once grand, Second Empire-style homes used by naval officers at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. But once I read that they may still be standing, I knew that I had to check it out immediately. I found a lot of information warning of their imminent demolition (and plans to turn the area into a shopping complex), but I never saw anything documenting their demise. I figured I'd take a chance, and that chance paid off — they still exist, for now at least — even if they are in a state of extreme decay.

From older images I found, it appears that they used to be more visible as seen through an iron fence, but now there is a tall wall surrounding the whole area. Fortunately, there are portholes that you can peek through, and even more fortunately (for me at least) some of the plexiglass has been punched out in a few areas so you can stick your arm/head through for a mostly unobstructed view. I don't advocate destroying public property, but when it facilitates me creeping on, and photographing, old ruins then I'm definitely not going to be mad about it.

Sometimes I think I love crumbling ruins more than I would love the buildings if they were in their original state, although I wouldn't mind being able to time travel between both extremes. As I was peeking though one of the open portholes, I spotted a jet-black cat walking around, and when he saw me he stopped cold. He sat and stared at me for longer than I was completely comfortable with and it was definitely one of those odd life moments that makes me laugh to myself and think how wonderfully strange life can be.

I probably looked like a totally crazy person with my head stuck through a busted out porthole, snapping pictures of dilapidated houses and talking to a cat that no one walking by behind me could even see. As much as I still feel like a fool gawking at weird things in front of millions of strangers in the city, I'm definitely starting to feel more comfortable just doing my thing. I never regret the photo or detour that I take, and I never want to regret the ones that I didn't take just because I felt awkward about it.

I would love to go back to Admiral's Row and see if I can get even better photos, but I should probably hurry because whether it's razed and turned into a shopping center, or just completely collapses in on itself, the ruins are probably not going to around much longer.

Friday Food: Joe's Shanghai

For the most recent installment of our regular dinners out, Katie, Jim and I went to Joe's Shanghai on Pell Street in Chinatown. We'd never been before, but I had walked by it after Christmas dinner at Nom Wah and took note of the massive crowd waiting to be seated. I got home and immediately looked it up on Yelp to see why it was such a popular destination. After reading tons of reviews raving about the Xiao Long Bao, or soup dumplings, I decided that it was worth a try.

I was concerned that we would have to wait a while to be seated (a common complaint) but at 7pm on Monday night we got in right away. The tables are large, so unless you have a party of 8, you'll most likely be seated with strangers. The tables are big enough that it's really not an issue, although it was bit hard to carry on a conversation since the three of us were all seated in a row. The first thing we were asked is if we wanted crab or pork dumplings, since I guess it's assumed by now that most everyone is there for their signature dish. We ordered pork (Jim and I aren't huge seafood fans) to share, and I wasn't starving so I opted out of ordering my own entrée. I did have a few bites of Jim's sesame chicken, which was perfectly tasty but not particularly memorable.

I'd never had a soup dumpling before, so I can't compare them to anything else, but I can definitely understand the appeal. You get a lot for your money (8 dumplings for $4.95, which falls perfectly within range of my magical $5 price point) and they were surprisingly filling. They are basically exactly what they sound like, which is a dumpling filled with hot (and sometimes VERY hot), delicious soup broth and a ball of meat/filling. They have the potential to be extremely messy or dangerous if you get too excited, but if you take your time they're actually quite simple to eat. The key is to plop the dumpling on your spoon, take a bite out of the top and slowly sip most of the soup before popping the remainder in your mouth. I appreciate any Chinese dish that provides me with a utensil more substantial than chopsticks alone, and believe me when I say that the spoon is your best friend when it comes to soup dumplings.

Yes, the service left a little to be desired (which I expected from the reviews), but it was adequate and an example of "you get what you pay for." I will definitely go back for the soup dumplings and if the reviews are to be trusted, I shouldn't really bother trying them anywhere else. Would I wait in a crowd like the one I passed on Christmas just for the dumplings? Probably not, but at least now I know why it's such a popular spot — even if I'm no closer to being able to actually pronounce the words Xiao Long Bao.

Recent Reads

I've had my New York Public library card for a few months, and it's already turning out to be one of my very favorite things. The library system took a little getting used to at first, but now I think I've got the hang of it. Basically, libraries here aren't really made for traditional browsing. To get the best results, you browse the collection online, place holds on titles you want, and as they become available they're transferred to the library of your choice, where you pick them up from a dedicated "Hold Room." When you place a hold, you can see how many other holds are placed, as well as how many copies are available. This varies like crazy, but I've generally been lucky in getting the books I request in a reasonable amount of time. 

Lately I've had a bit of a pileup in all of my holds becoming available at once, but I did go a little crazy and request a ton of books, so I can't really complain about too much of a good thing. This just means I have to step up my game and read more/faster, which is actually a good thing since I work best under pressure (and with deadlines aka due dates).

Below are a few of my recent reads, all of which have been from the library:

Below Stairs by Margaret Powell

I blame Downton Abbey for my recent interest in the servant life, and seeing that Below Stairs was an inspiration for the creation of Downton was all I needed to know to pick it up. It's a relatively small book, and a quick read — I think I was finished in just a few days. Written in the 60s,

Below Stairs is an easy, straight-forward portrayal of what it was like to be Margaret Powell, who worked in domestic service in London since the age of 15. It's not a very colorful or particularly fascinating account, but Powell is genuine, if a bit dry, in her story-telling. I tend to seek out books that plunge me into a world wholly different than my own, and Below Stairs definitely did just that. It's almost impossible to imagine a world in which £24 was a realistic annual salary, or where kids would work for weeks gathering and selling horse manure just to be able to afford to see a movie. I'm hoping that Servants is a bit more interesting, but Below Stairs did a good job of satisfying my appetite for all things turn-of-the-century British.

Twelve Patients: Life and Death at Bellevue Hospital by Eric Manheimer + Gracefully Insane: Life and Death Inside America's Premier Mental Hospital by Alex Beam

I used to think it was absolute sacrilege to start a book and not finish it, even if I had to force my way through it. I still have a hard time shaking the thought that I'm failing when I stop reading a book that I've started, but lately I have come around to the idea that it might be ok to just move on to something that interests me more.

 Twelve Patients  and Gracefully Insane were two books that, despite their incredibly promising premises (life at Bellevue Hospital and a history of an insane asylum), I found myself struggling to keep reading. After a few weeks of forcing myself to pick them up again, I eventually returned them and moved on. I think that a lot of what makes a book enjoyable is hitting it at the right time in my life, so I may return to these eventually and give them another try (especially  Gracefully Insane, which I think I started at a time when I was a little burnt out on non-fiction).

The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York by Deborah Blum

Let's be honest: I'm probably never going to find a husband while reading books with titles like "The Poisoner's Handbook" on the subway. But then again maybe I'll meet someone who is just as interested in weird, creepy topics like I am and we'll live happily ever after, never quite trusting each other when we prepare dinner or drinks for one another.

The Poisoner's Handbook was one of the best books I've read in a long time, and I would recommend it to anyone. It's nonfiction, but reads like a novel and every story told is fascinating. I didn't think I could go wrong picking up a book about poison, toxicology, forensic medicine and New York City, but it definitely exceeded all expectations. I liked The Inheritor's Powder when I read it, but now when I compare the two, Poisoner's is most definitely the better, and more entertaining book. As a bonus, I now know how to, and how not to, poison someone in 1920s Prohibition-era New York, if you're into that.

Nine Years Under: Coming of Age in an Inner-City Funeral Home by Sheri Booker

My interest in the funeral industry has been going strong since last year, when re-reading Stiff reignited my need to know about all things death-related. While I think I'm close to reaching my saturation point with funeral home memoirs, Nine Years Under was a worthy addition to the genre. It was an easy, enjoyable read and detailed more of the personal (instead of technical) side of working at a funeral home. The urban setting and female point-of-view was a nice change from the suburban white male perspectives that seem to dominate the industry.

MOMA PS1: Mike Kelley

A few weekends ago, Trent and I decided to check out the Mike Kelley exhibit at MOMA PS1. It was my first time at PS1, although I'd walked by it a couple times on my previous trips to Long Island City.

I didn't know much of anything about Mike Kelley, but I'd read about the exhibit and his work with stuffed animals, in particular, seemed interesting enough to warrant a trip. Trent is a member of MOMA, which means that he got in free and could get guests in for $5. The normal adult rate is $10, but with my totally-legit-and-not-at-all-six-years-outdated student ID my ticket would have only been $5 even if I hadn't been with a member. It's a running joke with my friends that five dollars is my magical amount — I'll do most anything for $5 or less with very little expectation. The Mike Kelley show turned out to be a perfect example of this principle, because it ended up being mostly strange and a little disappointing, but because I only paid $5 I can't be anything but glad that we checked it out.

This is the first time that PS1 has devoted their entire building to the work of a single artist, and Kelley was certainly prolific enough to fill the large space. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that PS1 is located in a beautifully restored old school building, which I guess I could have expected if I had ever questioned why it was called "PS1". Just walking through the building is a total treat, with its worn wooden floors, exposed brick and tall windows — I've never really met an old industrial or institutional building with which I haven't fallen immediately in love.

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Kelley's work is incredibly varied, and it's impossible to describe it as a whole, without just saying that it's really all over the place. There are drawings, enormous (mostly) abstract installations, videos, found objects, photographs and of course his stuffed animal pieces. I particularly loved (and was surprised by) the Pay for Your Pleasure installation corridor, lined with banners beautifully painted with monochromatic portraits of celebrated icons, each paired with a not-so-nice quote from the figure themselves.

We somehow missed the room of hanging, rainbow-colored stuffed animal "balls" on the first floor, so it was actually the last room that we visited. Unintentionally saving the best for last was a good move, however, and I wouldn't have had any regrets about paying $5 just to see this one room. 

There's something unnerving and a little sad about seeing so many childhood toys and stuffed animals segregated by color and mashed together into something new entirely. The room is bright and the colors cheery, but occasionally seeing a dangling tail, or plastic baby doll arm jutting out of the soft, furry masses definitely made me feel uneasy. 

There was a handful of other stuffed animal installations sprinkled throughout the rest of the show and this side of Kelley's work definitely appealed to my love of the creepier, strange side of life. I'm not embarrassed to admit that most of the rest of it just didn't really do it for me art-wise, but that doesn't mean that it's not worth exploring. I've tried to get into video installations and performance art before, but I just can't take most of it very seriously. Kelley was obviously an enormous talent, and it's a shame that it all eventually got the best of him.

Bellevue Hospital

This is my last week at my current job — as a designer in the College department of publisher W. W. Norton— and I'm trying to make the most of my lunch walks around Midtown before I get to begin exploring the UES next week. On Friday I ticked an item off of my New York bucket list (how gross is the term "bucket list"?) when I finally walked over to see the Bellevue Hospital buildings in person.

I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that until recently I wasn't even fully aware that Bellevue still existed. I had always known about its notorious psychiatric ward, but in addition to being the oldest public hospital in the United States, Bellevue is still a fully-operational and modern healthcare facility. Thankfully my first encounter with Bellevue was as a spectator, not patient, and despite some modern additions, enough of the old buildings survive to satisfy my love of the creepy and old.

The best part of the Bellevue complex, of course, is the old psychiatric hospital building on E. 30th and 1st Avenue. Built in 1931, it became a homeless shelter in 1998 and there have since been plans to turn it into luxury rentals or a conference center, none of which have materialized, so it remains as a shelter. 

The brick building is in dire need of a spruce, but the grime and climbing vines just add to the overall level of creepiness. I don't necessarily believe in ghosts, per se, but you definitely don't get a happy, warm feeling from walking by the abandoned courtyards, ornate iron gates or boarded-up windows. 

I felt like a total idiot snapping photos as hospital workers and current-day tenants walked by, but I can't possibly be the only person to be captivated by the lurid history and architecture of Bellevue. I would love to explore the interior, which I'm sure is just as creepy (or even creepier) as I am imagining, but as a non-homeless female I won't be setting foot inside those notorious walls any time soon (and I'd be just as out-of-luck if it's ever turned into luxury rentals). 

I'm so glad I finally have a visual (and that unsettling feeling) to pair with all of the legends of Bellevue that I've always heard about, and it continues to amaze me that I get to go on adventures like this on a normal, everyday lunch hour.

Friday Food: Papaya King

On Christmas Eve I had some errands to run that landed me on the Upper East Side. The east side of Manhattan is generally a mystery to me, although I'm starting a new job at 92Y in a week so there is much lunchtime exploring to be done. As I was headed to the Lexington Ave Subway station on e. 86th, I passed by a Papaya King. I was hungry, had no more plans for the day and wooed by their wonderful signage, I decided to stop in.

There are a many hot-dog-and-papaya juice shops in New York (Gray's Papaya, Chelsea Papaya...) but Papaya King, in business since 1932, claims to be the original. There is also a location on St. Mark's Place, but the 86th street shop is where the merger of tropical juices and snappy hot dogs began. The place is teeny tiny, with only a few feet of counter space, so it's not built to linger.

I couldn't recall ever really trying anything papaya-flavored before, except maybe a few bland pieces mixed into canned fruit salad (ew) so I didn't really know what to expect. They have a few different flavors of tropical juice, but I ordered the regular papaya, along with one hot dog with sauerkraut and mustard. My total came to $4.90, and according to the menu board I could have gotten two hot dogs and a juice for just $5, but I've never really eaten two hot dogs in one sitting, so it would have been too much.

I tried the papaya juice first and I discovered that I don't really care for it. It's not that it's bad, but it was kind of bland? I've actually been trying to think of how I can describe the taste, but I'm kind of at a loss. It didn't really taste like anything I'd ever had before, but it kind of grew on me the more I drank. The hot dog was delicious, but — no disrespect to Julia Child who apparently called it the best hot dog in New York — I think I liked Nathan's better. It wasn't a stand-out in my hot-dog-eating adventures thus far, but it's certainly a step above anything you could ever get from a sidewalk cart. Especially since the last time I went to a hot dog cart in Central Park, I asked for one with only mustard and the vendor started to apply ketchup anyway. When I very quickly said "No - I just wanted mustard," he put the ketchup-ed dog BACK into the water with all of the other dogs, and pulled me out a "fresh" one. As far as I could tell, Papaya King doesn't do anything nearly as gross with their dogs, so that's reason enough to stop in if you're ever in the neighborhood(s).

NYBG: Holiday Train Show and Snowy Walk

Ever since my first visit to the New York Botanical Garden last year for the spectacular Orchid Show, I've considered becoming a member. It's definitely worth it, financially, especially if you intend to go to all of the special shows ($20+/ea.) during the year. It is always hard for me to wrap my head around spending a lump sum of money all at once, vs. smaller chunks spread over time, even if the smaller payments add up to much more in the end.

But I finally came to my senses when my friend Jean-Marie and I were at the NYBG a few days before Christmas to see the Holiday Train Show, and traded in my ticket towards the price of a year-long membership. Much like getting my first New York library card, finally becoming a member to a museum/garden goes a long way towards making me feel like a true resident. Now, I can go to the garden anytime I want (and bring two guests), although I'm most excited to see the Orchid Show again and the cherry blossoms in the spring.

The Holiday Train Show was probably my least favorite of the shows I've seen thus far (Orchid and Kiku), but that doesn't mean it was not great. It just means that the flower shows I've seen have been so outstanding, that I found the train show to be a little dull in comparison. 

The show has trains, of course, but the main attractions are the hundreds of famous New York buildings and landmarks, recreated entirely out of plant parts (nuts, bark, leaves). They're incredibly intricate and kind of mind-boggling, and they definitely overshadow the model trains zipping in and out.

The bridges were a definite highlight, which should come as no surprise since I love the real life versions of each so much. I think what I actually liked least about the show was the amount of people (and children) that were crammed into the Conservatory. It's completely my fault for going two days before Christmas, but there's no doubt it would have been much more enjoyable if I'd had some space to breathe. We were constantly getting pushed, prodded or cut-off by grumpy toddlers and their entitled parents, which is something I'm not used to from the other (more adult) shows. 

I think maybe next year I'll do one of the child-free bar car nights, which seem to exist precisely for get-off-my-lawn types like me.

This past weekend I was still enamored with the snow from our "blizzard," even after spending all of Friday in Central Park, so I decided to head back to the NYBG. I'm already experiencing the joy of having fronted the membership money, and it was so nice knowing that the day wouldn't cost me a dime. It may seem strange to head to a botanical garden in January, but the Thain Family Forest is a huge part of the NYBG, and I knew it would be gorgeous in the snow. There were still crowds funneling into the train show (although it appeared much more civil than my previous experience) but the grounds were mostly deserted.

The main roadways were plowed, but the trails were not so I got an even more rustic experience than I had expected. Luckily the boots I bought on a whim have proven themselves to be a worthy purchase, and kept my feet toasty and dry throughout my entire expedition. I walked through most of the forest, stopping to see the waterfall on the Bronx river, the Goldman Stone Mill, the Hester Bridge and the Spicebush Overlook. The NYBG is one of those places where you can forget entirely that you're even in New York, and it was a perfect place to enjoy the beautiful snow. I highly recommend taking a hike there at any time of the year — snow is always magical, the fall leaves were beautiful, it's a really nice escape from the city in the hot, sticky summer and I can't wait to experience spring under their cherry blossoms. The best part about the Thain Family Forest? I didn't encounter one sticky, snotty kid on my entire walk — worth the cost of membership, indeed.

The Six-Inch Blizzard

On Thursday night we got a "blizzard" here in New York — the Weather Channel called it "Hercules" and back in Ohio we would have just called it "6 inches of snow," or "January."

I took a detour from my usual route to work on Friday morning and ventured into Central Park for a pre-work stroll through the snow. I know a lot of people get grumpy about the snow, but as long as I don't have to drive in it (thanks MTA!) I think snow is absolute magic. So when my love, New York, is blanketed with my other love, snow, I'm pretty much the happiest person alive.

On my lunch break, I eschewed actually eating and instead headed back to Central Park. It was very cold, but as always the right winter gear makes all the difference. The southern part of the park was packed with people taking photos, sledding and building tiny snowmen.

The water was just starting to freeze in the Pond, and I couldn't help but notice that the ducks were still there. Everytime I see ducks in the park in the winter, I think of the Catcher in the Rye and how Holden is obsessed with finding out where the ducks go in the winter:

"I didn't want to start an argument. "Okay," I said. Then I thought of something, all of a sudden. "Hey, listen," I said. "You know those ducks in that lagoon right near Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?" I realized it was only one chance in a million."

Turns out that the ducks don't go anywhere. They just stay put, huddled against each other for warmth and begging tourists for food. I'm not sure why that part of the book always stuck with me, but I'm glad I got to see the very ducks he's referring to, after so many years of wondering about it.

Shortly after I got back to work, my boss said I could go home early due to the snow, so I headed back to Central Park for the third time and walked around the east side. I wanted to see the Conservatory Gardens, but the gate was closed by the time I made my way up there. I don't think I give the east side enough credit, although I start a new job on the UES in a few weeks so I'll have plenty of time to explore.

I especially loved the snow-covered bridges I came across — I would love to do a tour of all of the bridges and arches of the park when it gets warmer. Of course it's currently raining and all of the beautiful snow has melted or turned into a muddy pile by now, but that's part of what makes it so special. Snow has a very short shelf life, especially in the city, and I'm glad I didn't waste any of my time with this particular batch.

Goodbye forever, 2013.

I've become fond of referring to 2013 as the unluckiest and luckiest year of my entire life. Sure, I've only lived a little more than 28 whole years — and I hope to live many more — but I doubt (or maybe hope?) that 2013 will not have much competition for a long time.

I started the new year out much like I had the previous five: in Ohio with my man, in the home we shared with our two cats. By January 11th, I was with my dad, in his truck, headed to New York City. I subletted an apartment near Columbia University for two months, still working (remotely) for 427 Design while I test-drove a life for myself in New York. On March 11th, I was once again in my dad's truck, headed back to my home in Ohio. I was reunited with Mozart and threw myself into work, designing and planning 427's annual Open House.

I had planned to move back to New York as soon as possible, but the universe stepped in and gave me a medical issue that, by the time it had resolved itself in mid-May, put me through a level of stress and worry that I had never experienced in my healthy life thus far.

On July 1st, I was headed to New York again, this time with a one-way airline ticket, without job or place to live and far more baggage than the two suitcases I was carrying. On the day I started my first New York job (August 5th), I also signed the lease papers for my first New York apartment.

So now, twelve months later, I sit in that apartment, with Mozart by my side. I've survived losing (or moving on from) my relationship, a very dear friend, my potential health, my home and my job — and in turn, moved to the city of my dreams, started a new job, found a new home, met new friends and strengthened ties with old ones. I'm not one to dwell on the bad, and I try to revel in the good, however small. I'm constantly Instagramming and blogging about my city adventures, but there's another side to life that keeps everything in balance. Breakdowns, crying fits, packing up 27 years of possessions, entire days when I don't get out of bed, long, painful conversations and equally painful personal realizations aren't particularly easy to capture in a photo, but they matter too.

I've been making a habit of reviewing my months here in New York, but I thought I'd pay equal attention the the six months of this year and all the moments big and small that led up to me finally booking that one-way ticket:

I moved to New York and set up an office in my room  |  I tried Magnolia Bakery's famous (and amazing) banana pudding for the first time  |  I bought a hat that changed my life  |  Trent and I explored Flushing Meadows-Corona Park in Queens  |  I warmed up with City Bakery's hot chocolate |  I paid off one (of my minor) student loans.

We got nearly a foot a of snow and I took a snowy tour of three parks |  Trent and I braved the cold (and Chinatown) to see the Chinese New Year Firecracker Festival |  I had my first (and second, and third...) macaron | I walked the Manhattan Bridge |  I explored Roosevelt Island for the first time |  Trent and I searched for Meryl and ate cupcakes during the Oscars.

I had my best restaurant experience ever at Tom's, which ended with a (free) egg cream (my first!)  |  My uncle came to visit and took me to the MET Opera for the first time (and we took a backstage tour)  |  We went to the gorgeous Orchid Show at the New York Botanical Garden  |  I said "goodbye for now" to New York and headed back to Ohio over the George Washington Bridge  |  I tried to settle back into my Ohio life with a little help from lattes and Martha  |  Reunited and it felt so good.

I had my third, and final Blue Carrot Shop sale on Fab.com  |  I designed materials for the 427 Design Open House |  I enjoyed outside lunches with Swenson's (oh Swenson's, I do miss you) and Jessica Mitford  |  We silkscreened (and glittered!) some posters  |  I packed a lot of packages as I liquidated Blue Carrot Shop in preparation of moving  |  Hung out with this beauty.

I managed to stick to a gluten-free, (mostly) dairy-free diet for a few months and made a LOT of smoothies  |  Tried to get outside once in a while and appreciate spring  |  Took a lot of contemplative nature walks  |  Had a massive garage sale and sold most of my earthly possessions including a surprising amount of Reagan campaign buttons  |  I tried to sneak in extra snug time with the other one |  I made intimidating lists and began the process of changing my whole life, one thing at a time.

My mom and I visited New York to scout apartments and I had my first Nathan's hot dog at Coney Island  |  Trent, Alisha and I waited nearly three hours to see the Rain Room at MOMA |  I took my first trip to Governors Island  |  I explored George Washington Bridge park and the Little Red Lighthouse  |  I said "goodbye for now" to my best furry friend  |  I left my home, my family and job to follow my dreams.

So, tonight we all say goodbye to 2013, the year I found out that I was stronger than I ever could have imagined, more fragile than I ever want to admit, that real friends have a way of revealing themselves to you when you least expect, that my family's unconditional love and support is unparalleled, that I really don't care for papaya juice and that the right hat can make all the difference. I could have done without the really terrible things, but I'm grateful for every second of it.

Happy New Year, indeed.

My Sixth Month as a New Yorker

Whew. December was a busy month. By the time Christmas rolled around, I felt as though I had successfully "petted" the entire holiday season to death. I saw the holiday window displays more times than I can count, braved the crowds at Rockefeller Center more times than I ever needed to and watched all of the Christmas movies (including repeat viewings of Home Alone 2).

On Christmas morning I opened a few presents, watched the SNL Christmas special, went to the movies (American Hustle) and had dim sum for dinner in Chinatown like a good New Yorker. It was a pretty anticlimactic end to the holidays, but it felt like the perfect way to spend my first New York Christmas.

A few highlights from the rest of my December:

I discovered a new, beautiful place in Central Park on one of my many weekend walks, saw the holiday windows (Bergdorf's were my favorite, but the Saks Yeti is pretty charming), happened upon a vintage subway car and took it a few stops out of my way, enjoyed my first apartment tree in the company of the Pigeon Lady and tried my first ever "fancy" ramen (it was good!).

I ate nuggets breaded with Cheez-its, found Meryl on 14th Street, my Uncle visited for the second time since I moved and we had box seats at the opera, I introduced him to the delight that is Absolute Bagels, we took a tour of Gracie Mansion before the DeBlasio's move in, and I braved Macy's to go Christmas shopping on my lunch break.

I went to my first-ever corporate Christmas party at the Roosevelt Hotel and ate cake while everyone else danced, we went to Dyker Heights to marvel at their oh-so-tacky-but-amazing Christmas light displays, I took a magical snowy walk through Central Park and made some friends with some beautiful cardinals, I hosted a Christmas Vacation viewing party complete with moose mugs filled with spiked nog and I sent out a New York-themed package as part of the Christmas City Swap.

I walked by the beautiful Bryant Park tree every day, finally noticed the creepy glowing-eyed owls outside of Macy's, pushed my way through the crowds at Rockefeller Center to get my tree photo, had a weekend visit from a friend who wanted to see a Banksy, took her on a tour of obscure movie filming locations, including the arch in Central Park from Home Alone 2, and tried out Georgetown Cupcakes (meh).

We saw the tree at Washington Square, walked the Brooklyn Bridge and became obsessed with all of the locks, visited Carrie Bradshaw's apartment on Perry Street, went to the holiday train show at the New York Botanical Garden (I also became a member!), explored the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and I had my first hot-dog-and-papaya-juice experience at Papaya King for Christmas Eve dinner.

I enjoyed new (and old) gifts, saw an amazing sunset in Chinatown on Christmas day, visited the Bergdorf's windows one last time and was creeped out by "Groundhog Day," waited in line to see Barney's "Floating City" display and spent a rainy day with friends going back in time at the New York Transit Museum.

I'll be posting a recap of 2013 in the next few days, and it's an understatement to say that this year was eventful. I spent a full two-thirds of this year actually living in New York, and it was all better than I'd ever even imagined it would be. I look forward to starting a new, full year living and breathing and loving and dreaming in the city of my dreams. The first six months have been some of the best of my life — here's to many, many more.