Project 365: Days 139-145

139/365: I forgot to take a photo—Fridays are hard for me to remember for some reason, despite me publishing this post every Friday ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

140/365: We had a lazy start to the day but we eventually re-entered the world of the living and walked across Prospect Park, which is currently super green.

141/365: I met my mom for breakfast at the other Tom's (on the UWS) and I walked down West End Avenue from 110th-59th streets.

142/365: I stopped in Flying Tiger, which is like a smaller-scale, Danish IKEA for trinkets/household items and bought this eyeball jar which now holds my flossers and makes me smile every day. It's getting along nicely with my Little Friends of Printmaking coffee print.

143/365: After spending a while reading The Last Days of the Incas, I plowed through two books in three days—Hillbilly Elegy and The Stranger in the Woods, both of which were excellent. I'm currently three books ahead in my reading challenge for the year.

144/365: I wasn't sure where I was going to put some of the recent air plants that I bought, but this hand votive holder was just begging to become a plant holder.

145/365: Celebrating Francesca's birthday a day early with this too-perfect card (I'm obsessed with holographic foil ever since I used it in our Gala invite at work—it's mesmerizing).

Abandoned School

After exploring an abandoned amusement park and motel on my recent trip back to Ohio, JMP and I drove to an abandoned greenhouse only to find that it had recently been demolished. As we sat in her car, soothing our disappointment with cupcakes, I told her that there was an abandoned school on our way back—with the caveat being that I knew next-to-nothing about it, other than its location.

The greenhouse had been my only "sure thing" of the day, and I had only been able to confirm that the school, 1. once existed and 2. had been abandoned—there was no guarantee that we could get in or that it would still be standing when we arrived. Luck was on our sides on both fronts, however, and not only was it still there, but we were able to get inside relatively easily. 

This was my first school, and despite looking as if it had just recently been abandoned and well-secured, it was pretty empty (we freaked out when we found one eraser)—even the chalk boards had been removed. I'm not sure exactly when the school closed, but a stone on the front of the building marks the build date as 1907 (an addition was added in 1922). 

The building was boarded up on the lower level, but the upper floors were so bright I actually thought the lights were on when we first entered. This was a real treat for us since we like exploring abandoned places to take photos and actually see things—it's no fun to creep around in the dark. The multiple layers of pale, peeling paint made for the most wonderful colors and textures, and despite being mostly devoid of stuff it was still a really visually interesting place.

Despite being an older, solid-looking building, the floors were surprisingly unstable. We were very careful, but it was still a bit unnerving. One good surprise, however, was the discovery of the gym/auditorium, with basketball hoops, a stage (creepy velvet curtain ✓ ) and a wrap-around walkway—from which someone presumably threw a cane that now dangles precariously on rusty stage rigging ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

We explored the school until it started to get dark, and it was a wonderful bonus on a day that was full of (mostly) successful creeps. I lament often that I didn't explore Ohio more while I actually lived there, but maybe I needed to leave to truly appreciate its virtues. New York City may have my heart, but it has nothing on Ohio in the abandoned building department. 

Recent Reads

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Patient H.M.: A Story of Memory, Madness, and Family Secrets, by Luke Dittrich

Over the course of his career in neurosurgery, Dittrich's grandfather performed the second highest amount of lobotomies, bested only by the notorious pioneer of the so-called "ice pick" lobotomy, Walter Freeman (you can read more about him and the procedure in The Lobotomist, which is excellent). One of his patients, a severe amnesic referred to clinically by his initials, H.M., became one of the most famous research subjects in the history of neuroscience. Dittrich's personal connection adds another layer to this fascinating story, and he seamlessly weaves family anecdotes with H.M.'s unique journey. 

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The Dollhouse: A Novel, by Fiona Davis

This debut novel alternates between the present and the past, and the stories of two women connected through the years by their time spent living at the infamous Barbizon Hotel For Women (now luxury apartments). This was an easy, breezy read and I love anything that conjures up "old New York"—although The Rules of Civility does so even more vividly. The Dollhouse did pique my interest about the history of the Barbizon but I think that a historical, non-fiction account of the building and its occupants would've been just as—if not more—interesting than this fictionalized version.

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Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time, by Mark Adams

We booked our upcoming trip to Peru and Colombia (including a four-day hike of the Inca Trail) months ago, and until I read this book I literally knew nothing about South America or its famous ruins. This travelogue was written by a journalist who had edited travel journals but never really had an adventure of his own—until he decided to follow in Hiram Bigham III's footsteps to all of the important Inca sites. There isn't as much history here as in The Last Days of the Incas (see below), but Adams's observations are entertaining and this was just the thing I needed to jumpstart my trip excitement (we leave next week!).

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Silent Witnesses: The Often Gruesome but Always Fascinating History of Forensic Science, by Nigel McCrery

This was a quick read covering the basics of forensic science, organized chronologically by innovation—finger-printing, blood-typing, DNA analysis, ballistics, etc. Scientific explanations are mixed in with anecdotes and historical accounts of crimes, whose conclusions and convictions were influenced by the forensic techniques of the time. I love true crime stories and I'm forever intrigued by detective work—sometimes I dream of making a total career change and going back to school for forensics, but for now I'm content to spend my days just reading about other people's gruesome discoveries and contributions to the field.

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The Last Days of the Incas, by Kim MacQuarrie

I set myself on a schedule to finish this 460-page book before we left for Peru, and I finished it with a week to spare. My friend Katherine lent it to me (along with Turn Right at Machu Picchu), and she insisted that I read both books—even when I complained that I wouldn't possibly be able to finish The Last Days in time. I'm so glad she was persistent though, because although Turn Right was a more objectively enjoyable read, The Last Days taught me so much more about Inca history than I expected. It drags a bit in the middle (basically a small group of Spaniards conquer the Incas, the Incas fight back and this is repeated countless times), but immersing myself in the Inca world was the exact thing I needed to really get excited about our trip.

I couldn't feel much except contempt for the Spaniards, who conquered a native people in the most brutal and brutish ways possible. They were so dismissive and completely uninterested in discovering or learning about the fascinating Incas, which is a huge shame. I'm by no means an expert now after reading just two books, but at I'm glad to be headed south with a new-found respect and understanding for all that we're about to see (thanks again, Katherine!).

2nd Avenue: 92nd-34th Streets

One of my doctors' offices is located on First Avenue at 37th Street. I had an after-work appointment recently and it was a beautiful night so I decided to walk from 92Y at Lexington Avenue and 92nd Street. I've done this before and walked down First Avenue, so this time I chose to walk down Second Avenue (Third, you're next!).

I had about an hour, which wasn't really enough time and by the end of it I was nearly jogging to make it to my appointment on time. I walk fairly quickly, I think, but I'm constantly stopping to take photos and criss-crossing the avenue whenever I see something that catches my eye. I'm never really looking for anything super specific on these city walks, but there are things that I will always love: novelty neon, hand-painted signage and anything that looks like old New York to me or makes me laugh.

I would eventually love to take walks like this around the entire city (although maybe just Manhattan is more realistic). Taking this enormous city in tiny slices like this is so much fun to me—the city can be so overwhelming that giving myself constraints (however arbitrary) always helps me focus. I notice things I would probably miss otherwise—like a table for two set precariously over a sidewalk hatch or a fake greenery backdrop only somewhat succeeding at obscuring a construction fence. 

Recently we were having dinner at P.J. Clarke's, a restaurant that has been in business since 1884, and I mentioned that in New York it seems as if businesses are either a hundred years old or brand new—there's not much middle ground. I've already been here long enough to see longtime businesses close (and in some cases be demolished completely) and I'm getting more used to change—but that doesn't make it any easier to know that relics like the hand-painted teal and gold Louis Mattia lighting store sign will inevitably be replaced soon by something far less special.

Project 365: Days 132-138

132/365: Jim and Tag stopped at South of the Border on their cross-country road trip, and I was insanely jealous (I've never been!) until I received a surprise package with souvenirs like this amazing shirt. 

133/365: Poor baby girl wasn't feeling well so I gave her some extra snuggles.

134/365: I took a Sunday stroll through my happy place, Green-Wood Cemetery. Sophie Calle's art installation, Here Lie the Secrets of the Visitors of Green-Wood Cemetery, will be at Green-Wood for 25 years. You can put a secret into the slot, and Calle will return periodically to "exhume and cremate them in a ceremonial bonfire service and moment of remembrance."

135/365: I got to attend the annual 92Y Gala and see the fruits of the last few months of my design labor. 

136/365: Had to take my child to the vet, where they said she might have an intestinal blockage, but x-rays aren't definitive. She seems to be back to her old, annoying self so hopefully I never have to hear "sad meow" ever again.

137/365: I walked to Rockefeller Center from work (50+ blocks) down Third Avenue, which was disappointingly devoid of interesting things unlike Second and First Avenues.

138/365: I know this post is Mozart-heavy, but it kills me when she "hides" under something and I can see her little chicken legs poking out.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Spring

Last Saturday it rained all day here in New York. I'm not exaggerating when I say all day—it may have even rained continuously for more than 24 hours. I love seasons and I try not to get grumpy about the weather, but rain in the city is the absolute worst. I will take extreme dog-mouth heat and below-freezing blizzard conditions over a mild spring rain any day. Part of this disdain probably comes from my inability to find a proper rain shoe, but in a city where you're forced to walk outside, rain basically ruins everything. Since I did absolutely nothing on Saturday, I was up early on Sunday, eager to get outside and do something—anything—before the rain was supposed to start up again in the afternoon.

David lives two blocks from Green-Wood Cemetery, so we headed over there to check out the spring blooms. I became enamored with the bright, beautiful azaleas at Green-Wood last spring, and I was happy to be able to catch them again this year. A few of the bushes were already past their peak, but most were spectacularly full and the contrast of the bright flowers with the dark, heavy stones and statues was so fun to photograph.

In addition to all of the beautiful flowers, Green-Wood is quite literally so green right now. The previous day's rain made everything feel so lush—I don't think that a shade of green exists that isn't currently represented in the cemetery. Ok, so maybe I just convinced myself that rain does indeed have a purpose, BUT I still contend that the perfect rain shoe does not exist.

Being surprised at the passage of time is such a boring thing to talk about, but I was trying to think of the last time I was at Green-Wood and realized that it was back in February after a big snowfall—it barely looks as if it could be the same place. That variation is one of my favorite things about seasons. I understand how people could be intolerant of long winters or humid summers, but I think I'd die of boredom in a place with consistent weather and no seasons.

While we were walking around, we noticed that there were a lot more visitors than normal, and it took me a while to realize that it was because it was Mother's Day. I actually feel really strange when I run into other people in cemeteries, and it's not uncommon for me to be (or at least feel as if I'm) totally alone. Green-Wood is a popular place for tourists (although it feels weird calling cemetery visitors "tourists"), but with so many people actively visiting graves and mourning, I often felt as if I was intruding.

I visit cemeteries so frequently, focusing on the typography, design and history of the stones that it's easy to forget that each stone represents a person or persons. Someone who lived a life—however long, short, easy, hard, complicated, virtuous, painful or joyful—and it seems unfair that they don't get to enjoy the beautiful landscape beneath which they're interred. 

Denning's Point Brickworks

After exploring the abandoned Reformed Church cemetery on a recent day trip to Beacon, NY, we decided to take a little hike. The weather had cleared up and we weren't ready to drive back to the city just yet, so we headed over to Denning's Point, a NSFW-shaped peninsula that juts out west of Beacon into the Hudson River. The scenery is so beautiful in the Hudson Valley, and the trail (basically a large loop) ended up being longer and more secluded than I had expected. The area is a protected winter habitat for bald eagles, and is closed from December 1st through March 31st. 

Earlier in the day (when our plans to spend hours at Dia: Beacon fell through) I had been searching for attractions near Beacon and had briefly read about the ruins of the Denning's Point Brickworks factory. I didn't expect to see it, let alone run right into it on our hike, but I probably squealed with delight, which is my default reaction to unexpectedly stumbling upon things I love.

Denning's Point Brickworks started operating from the Hudson Valley in 1885, but by 1939 they had exhausted the local clay reserves and the factory closed. The buildings continued to house factories, one that made composite wood/concrete construction panels and another that made paper clips. Manufacturing declined in the area and stopped for good in the 80s—in 1988 New York incorporated the area into the Hudson Highlands State Park. 

In its heyday, Denning's Point Brickworks fired a million bricks a week. DPBW bricks were used in the construction of both the Empire State Building and Rockefeller Center, and you can still find them scattered throughout the trail and along the riverbank. The building isn't too much more than a shell at this point but it was a great surprise and a reminder that some of the best days happen after my original plans fall through.

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Denning's Point Trail: Open April 1st - Nov 30th
Where we parked:
23 Long Dock Rd
Beacon, NY 12508

The trail is also just a short walk from the Beacon Metro North train station.

Muffler Man: BP

Usually, when I say that I don't have plans, I'm lying. I am an obsessive planner by nature. I would never, ever describe myself as "spontaneous," although I'd like to think that I'm still easy-going and not impossibly rigid—as long as everything goes exactly how I imagine it will in my head. I spend countless hours thinking about and planning adventures—big and small—so it's rare that I find myself completely without agenda. 

Our recent day trip upstate to Beacon, NY was somewhat spur-of-the-moment by my usual standards, but I still had some ideas (like the abandoned cemetery). In fact, when I told David that we should take a day trip on a day we both had off work for Passover, I began by saying "should I pretend that I don't already have a trip planned or just tell you where I want to go?" This probably makes me sound bossy and horrible but let's just call me opinionated and organized. 

We had planned to take the Metro North to Beacon, but at the last minute decided that a Zipcar would be only slightly more expensive when split between the two of us. I adore public transportation and train travel more than anyone probably should, but the control-freak in me can't pass up the freedom that comes with having a car—and if I don't have to actually drive it, even better. 

Once it was decided that we would drive, I immediately started thinking of possible stops along the way. Beacon isn't far from the city (about a two-hour drive) but any trip I take is as much about the stops along the way as it is about the final destination. My first thought was an upstate Muffler Man that has been on my radar ever since I researched our first Sleepy Hollow trip, and that meant he was on our way to Beacon as well. 

This Muffler Man (my 13th!) is located in Elmsford, NY at a BP gas station. He looks as if he's been fairly well-maintained, despite the fact that he's missing both of his arms. His left arm looks as if it may have broken off, while his right arm may have been intentionally removed to fit him snugly next to the price sign. His feet are partially buried in the dirt, and he's painted BP yellow and green (even his eyes match!). I'm very grateful to have found a roadtrip partner who not only loves to drive, but who doesn't mind stopping once and while to make new friends. 

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BP Muffler Man
135 N Saw Mill River Rd
Elmsford, NY 10523

Project 365: Days 118-131

118/365: Two of my very favorite people decided to leave New York for Los Angeles, and we hung out at their Bushwick apartment for a goodbye (for now) party.

119/365: My mom and I squealed with joy over all of the adorable dogs at the Dachshund Spring Fiesta in Washington Square Park, and cooled off with burgers and milkshakes at the Washington Square Diner afterwards.

120/365: Jim and I had one last breakfast at our favorite Brooklyn diner, Tom's, before he got on the road to CA (and I promptly burst into tears on the street).

121/365: I read Kaylah's blog religiously every day, and I always want to buy everything she includes in her Friday Favorites posts. Recently I snapped up this mini medical man model before I had even finished reading the post and he fits in my curiosity cabinet so nicely!

122/365: I had a doctor's appointment on the east side after work and I decided to walk 60+ blocks down 2nd Avenue because it was such a beautiful night.

123/365: I tried to photograph some light trails on Flatbush Avenue but ended up being more into these unfocused color blobs.

124/365: I helped welcome Trump to New York during his first visit to the city since he became President (ugh).

125/365: After I had taken this sriracha (cha!) photo, I left my skeleton sitting at the kitchen table. The next day he was moved by my roommate, and it took me a minute to find him hiding here behind the curtain but it made me laugh.

126/365: I generally look terrible in hats, but we are going to Peru/Colombia at the end of May (to hike the Inca Trail!) and I decided I needed a sun hat.

127/365: Baking cookies for dinner is always a good idea.

128/365: Hello, moon!

129/365: Day-after birthday portrait of my sweet and terrible 8-year-old child.

130/365: I'm sure I've posted a photo of this mug (thrifted a long time ago in Ohio) before but it's still one of my favorites.

131/365: New victims!

Abandoned Trailer Park

When I was back in Ohio recently, I got an Instagram message from Kaylah (of The Dainty Squid) asking how long I was in town and if I would like her to show me some abandoned spots in the Cleveland area. Luckily, JMP and I had set aside an entire day devoted to exploring abandoned Cleveland delights, so I replied to her a very enthusiastic (and exclamation-laden) yes, please!! 

We had breakfast at a great (and cheap!) diner in Ohio City, where my ham had a face so I knew it was going to be a good day. It was actually a great day—despite running into just about every obstacle you can run into when trying to explore abandoned spots—and I'm so grateful that she reached out. 

Kaylah posted about our (mis)adventures last week, and mentioned that she was initially mad when she discovered that I was in town and hadn't contacted her—which is exactly how I felt when I found out she had been in New York and hadn't reached out. Turns out that we're both just equally shy and didn't want to impose on each other, which we quickly decided was seriously misguided. I am forever worrying about what people think of me and I know I let my dumb insecurities rule in far too many situations so I'm glad that we were able to both kick aside our awkwardness for a minute and make a plan (a huge thank you to her boyfriend, Jeff, for being the voice of reason, and for the pizza!). 

After failing—pretty hilariously—at getting into most of the spots, we made a last-ditch effort to salvage the day by driving to an abandoned trailer park that Kaylah has visited multiple times. The park is a bit of a mystery as to why and when it was abandoned, but it looks like it was maybe a part-time or vacation community. There is a row of tiny one-room cabins on one side of a gravel road, and a row of colorful trailers on the other. 

The cabins had more interesting stuff inside of them—piles of books, dishes, couches, chairs, tables, beds, clothes—but the exteriors of the trailers are painted the most wonderful colors. They're sun-bleached, rusty, covered in crawling vines and brush, and the paint is peeling off in sheets, but each one is different and together they just look so damn cool. 

Jean-Marie and I had had such fantastic luck when we had gone exploring two days prior (if you don't count the Great Greenhouse letdown), that I guess the first part of this day was just the universe balancing things out a bit. I'm eternally grateful to Kaylah for reaching out and being such a good adventure companion, to JMP for driving us all over Ohio and to the burgers and curly fries that saved us all and gave us the energy to make it to this magic place. 

Tulips

While the cherry blossoms are the main attraction this time of year at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden (and throughout the city), the tulips are equally spectacular every year. I had wanted to move to New York from the moment I first visited when I was 14, but I often mention how I solidified my resolve to move during a particular visit to the BBG cherry blossoms in 2012. That trip also included an equally life-changing visit to the Conservatory Garden tulips, which I now make sure to visit every year. 

I was deeply unhappy with my life in Ohio for many reasons, and I spent hours under the cherry trees and surrounded by tulips, imagining how becoming a New Yorker would change my life. It was another year and a half before that dream finally became a reality, but each spring and its explosion of colorful blossoms will always remind me of that fateful trip. 

I hadn't expected that trip to hold such significance in my life, at least no more than every other New York trip had, but life is funny that way. Things change so very slowly and then suddenly all at once. I used to say that spring was my least favorite season—full of rain and mud and temperamental temperatures—but now, despite its flaws, I've come to appreciate it for its unique virtues. And like the best changes in life, the hard work happens almost invisibly—trees bud high above the streets and roots spread out below—and then seemingly overnight the entire city is alive again.

Reformed Church Cemetery

On one of our days off from work for Passover, we decided to take a day trip up to Beacon, NY. I've been to a few Hudson Valley towns—Cold Spring, Tarrytown, Sleepy Hollow and Beacon once, but just for a hike—but the actual town of Beacon had been on my list for a while. It's easily accessible by Metro North, although we opted to take a Zipcar to have more flexibility.

Our first stop was Dia: Beacon, an art museum that, as we found out the hard way, is closed on Wednesdays (and Tuesdays). After quickly moving through the stages of bewilderment, disbelief, annoyance, light anger (mostly at ourselves for not checking the hours in advance) and then acceptance, we found a diner on Main Street to get lunch and discuss an alternate plan for the day. It was raining pretty heavily, but I was intent on checking out an abandoned cemetery nearby. Luckily I am the world's slowest eater, so the rain had pretty much stopped by the time we left the diner and the sun came out as we arrived at the Reformed Church of Beacon.

The Victorian Gothic church—the oldest in Beacon—was built in 1859 but graves in the cemetery date from 1813 into the 20th century. Both the cemetery and church were listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1988, and while the church is still in use, the cemetery has definitely seen better days. In fact, everything that I read mentioned that the cemetery had exposed human remains in a few of the crumbling vaults, which turned out to be 100% true.

The cemetery doesn't look like it's been vandalized, so much as it has just been left to decay without proper maintenance and care. Several brick vaults are sitting wide open, as are the burial spaces inside of them. One article I read mentioned full skeletons, which were obviously there at some point, but now there are only a few bones in a few small piles scattered between the vaults. I was actually more scared of the tiny snake than I was of the bones, although the tiki idol that someone left behind added a nice extra layer of spookiness to the whole scene.

I always have mixed feelings about abandoned spots. I'm excited to explore weird and decaying places, but cemeteries—especially ones with mishandled remains—are often sad. The state of this cemetery is even more perplexing considering the location (Beacon is a nice, popular town) and the fact that the church is still in use. The property isn't overwhelmingly large or overgrown—like Mount Moriah—so a future restoration at least seems plausible, if not hopefully inevitable.

Welcome to New York

When I heard that Donald Trump was coming to New York for the first time since he was inaugurated, I knew I needed to find a protest to join. New York has been begrudgingly dealing with its native son far before he was forced upon the rest of the country, and it brings me a small bit of joy to know that he's despised—and lost bigly—in his beloved hometown. 

I haven't joined a protest in a while (since the Immigration and Women's Marches), and it was long overdue. I'm afraid that people are already becoming complacent and I can't say I blame them—it's impossible to sustain a high level of constant rage without it ruining your life. It's silly to admit, but I recently started watching The Handmaid's Tale (along with everyone else) and the back story has been terrifying in a way that I didn't expect it to be—it's all too similar to what I see happening in real life and it reignited my sense of urgency to speak up before it's too late.

I don't think that the guy in the Trump mask (teeing off with Planet Earth) and the guy dressed as Melania knew each other, but it's fitting that they met in New York. A bright spot of these protests is all of the creativity that is on display, and I get overwhelmed at how awesome people can be when they unite around a common theme.

I was actually a little disappointed in the size of the crowd—it should have been much larger. Trump was speaking at the Intrepid, which is on the far west side, and then scurrying away to New Jersey where he'll spend the night at one of his resorts. Maybe it was too far out of the way or too chilly or maybe it was the last minute change in schedule (he arrived three hours late) but I wish the entire city had shown up to show Trump just how (un)welcome he is in New York.

When it comes to Trump and his administration, there are literally endless things to protest, but most of the signs and messages were New York or healthcare-specific. Sure, these protests don't accomplish much in the immediate sense, but they definitely make it clear to me that New York is my city and these are my people.

New Yorkers have the stereotype of being cold and uncaring, but the people I met were so nice, supportive and thoughtful. I can't say the same of the small number of smug and enthusiastic Trump supporters (how do these people still exist) who were hurling insults at us from underneath bullet-proof vests and Make America Great Again hats. America is already great, and look no further than to a bunch of New Yorkers for proof.

Abandoned Motel

After exploring the abandoned amusement park, JMP and I decided to take a gamble on an abandoned motel I knew almost nothing about. I had an address and the vague memory of a cool photo that had sparked my interest, but I suppose the uncertainty is part of the excitement of exploring abandoned things. We were both driving separately, but I wish I could've seen JMP's face when we finally pulled up to the motel—if she had seen mine, it would've looked something like this.

The motel owners—a husband and wife who died in 2012 and 2009, respectively— also owned the furniture store across the street, which appeared to be open when we went but Yelp lists it as closed. I'm not sure exactly when the motel became abandoned, but we just walked in the doors as if it was still open for business. 

There isn't much left inside of the rooms besides fixtures—lamps, curtains, toilets—but it was still thrilling to be able to explore an abandoned motel (a first for both JMP and me). Even if we hadn't gone inside, it would have still been worth the drive just for the exterior, which is pretty much perfect in every single way. From the huge, wooden M O T E L letters to the artfully placed creeping foliage, to the open doors slowly creaking in the wind—I couldn't have designed it better if I was trying to recreate a classic "abandoned motel" for a movie set.

I think the most important lesson I learned on this trip was to keep my expectations low when scouting abandoned spots. You can research for hours and hours on Google street view and Instagram, but you can't truly know about a place until you see it in person. After the motel, we drove to check out an abandoned greenhouse—one that I had read extensively about online—to find ... a pile of greenhouse materials. I'm not sure how recently it had been demolished, but it was a good reminder to appreciate these places while they're still standing.

Dachshund Fest 2017

Last Saturday was the annual spring dachshund meet-up in Washington Square Park (alternatively called the Dachshund Spring Fiesta, a Dachshund Parade and other names.). I first went two years ago and nearly died of cuteness at all of the adorable dogs and their costumes.

Saturday was really warm—in the mid-80s—so there weren't as many sweaters (and zero bun costumes), but there were some t-shirts, hats and at least one dachshund in a denim vest. The event is probably meant for people who actually own dachshunds, but my mom and I went solely as observers (and squealers). We're both cat owners with not-so-secret dachshund obsessions, and my mom insists that she will be acquiring one immediately upon her retirement. I just can't commit to owning a dog quite yet, so an event that allowed us to pet multiple dachshunds for a few hours was perfect for us.

I heard multiple people wonder out loud why there were so many dachshunds in the park, and I found myself wishing that I could spend a few hours every single weekend surrounded by adorable dogs. I generally love all smooth, small dogs, but dachshunds are by far my favorite breed—they're just painfully cute and always look so happy. It's impossible for me not to smile when I see a tiny, long, short-legged dog waddling down the sidewalk and if it has clothes on I pretty much lose my normal New York-RBF entirely.

Twistee Treats

I used to live just minutes from three separate Twistee Treat locations in Ohio, but I didn't really fully appreciate them until I moved 450 miles away. One was even located in the parking lot of the grocery store, where I shopped at least once a week—and I only ever stopped for ice cream once. I actually never did much in Ohio when I was actually living in Ohio, but after I moved away I've now seen Twistee Treats in Niagra Falls, southern Ohio and even revisited the ones in my old neighborhood. 

Twistee Treat is a relatively new entry into the novelty architecture canon— the corporate chain was founded in 1983 in North Fort Myers, Florida. Because of its origins, Florida is still lousy with the iconic ice-cream-shaped buildings, and I knew we had to stop at at least one on our recent Florida trip. 

This isn't a problem I usually encounter with roadside attractions, but there are almost too many Twistee Treats in Florida, especially around the Orlando area. Thankfully, I was able to do some research via Google Maps, and I virtually traveled to each one, searching for a stand-out. Most of the cones look very similar, and in fact all of the corporate stores are marked with their trademark chocolate dip and tiny, LED sprinkle lights. The original Twistee Treat company actually went bankrupt in the 90s, but new companies bearing the name and patents for the buildings were formed. There are still some privately owned stands operating, and new cones are still being produced.

I had focused my research to the Orlando/Kissimmee area, figuring that we'd be down for an ice cream treat somewhere between shopping at Orange World and our adventures in Gatorland. When I found a Twistee Treat with large, pastel sprinkles (or SPRANKLES, as I noted on my Google Map) I knew that I had found the winner. 

But before we even got there, we happened upon yet another Twistee Treat when we stopped for lunch—about a mile away from the sprinkle cone (apparently Twistee Treats are to Florida what Starbucks stores are to New York). This one was the corporate design, appeared to be brand new and wasn't open until later in the afternoon but I'll never tire of just being in close proximity to such delightful novelty architecture. 

We finally did make it to the sprinkle cone (where I got ... a sprinkle cone) and although the light was in the very wrong spot (a problem we seemed to have all day), I will always be at my happiest when I'm making a purchase from a building shaped like what it contains.

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Twistee Treat Kyngs Heath
2952 Vineland Rd
Kissimmee, FL 34746

Twistee Treat of Kissimmee (large sprinkles)
4722 W Irlo Bronson Memorial Hwy
issimmee, FL 34746

Project 365: Days 111-117

111/365: I caught this pin glowing on my jacket when I got home.

112/365: My mom and I had breakfast at Tom's, checked on the cherry blossoms (and the bonsai trees) at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and tried (unsuccessfully) to get into the Quaker Cemetery in Prospect Park.

113/365: We biked to one of my favorite places in New York, Dead Horse Bay. We searched for treasures in the trash for hours and rewarded ourselves with Roll'n Roaster on the way back (20 miles total!).

114/365: I visited the Central Park Conservatory Garden on my lunch break and breathed in all of the lilacs (my favorite flower).

115/365: I've recently (like, five years behind trend) become obsessed with sriracha and my local grocery store was out of the rooster brand so I bought this one—and I can't not exclaim "Sriracha Cha!" every time I use it.

116/365: I went into Duane Reade hoping they still had Cadbury Eggs left and not only did they have a whole tub, but they were 90% off which made them 12 cents a piece.

117/365: This weirdo has been quite the screamer lately (even more than normal) but at least she'll always be pretty.

Gatorland

While I was planning our recent trip to Florida, I became intent on visiting Orange World. The big, orange-shaped gift shop is located in Kissimmee, which is about an hour and 45 minutes from where we were staying. While I'm certainly not opposed to driving or walking long distances for things many people would call silly, I thought it just made sense to find other attractions in the Orlando area. Of course Orlando is Disney country, but we chose to spend our time at an amusement park that is much more my speed—Gatorland. 

Gatorland, which claims to be the "Alligator Capital of the World," is a theme park and wildlife preserve in Orlando. It was founded in 1949 and has been owned by the same family ever since. It's sort of like a zoo—with several species of birds roaming the property including peacocks and flamingos in addition to a snake exhibit and several sizes and colors of alligators and crocodiles. 

Gatorland is famous for its collection of leucistic alligators, which appear white due to a partial loss of pigmentation (not the same thing as being an albino, although they have one of those too). They also put on shows: Up-close Encounters, an animal show-and-tell; Gator Wrestlin'; and the Gator Jumparoo, which features gators jumping in the air to catch food off of a clothesline.

We skipped the Up-Close Encounters show, but we saw Gator Wrestlin' and the Gator Jumparoo, which they repeat several times a day. Our shows were entertaining, and while it's hard to tell what's an act and what's real, they still managed to be both suspenseful and surprising. 

I had actually been to Gatorland once before, when I was younger, but I'm glad I got to go back and appreciate the park as a roadside-attraction-loving adult. Gatorland feels like an amusement park from the 40s, and I mean that very much as a compliment. Just like its Mold-a-Rama machines—Gatorland has two!—Gatorland is low-tech but thrilling in its own, charming, Old Florida way.

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Gatorland 
14501 S. Orange Blossom Trail
Orlando, FL 32837
Open daily from 10:00AM to 5:00PM