Woosh!

Wooosh!

This is not the flying down the mountain on a sled kind of woosh!–but the sound of deadlines flying by and the year coming to an end. This kind of woosh! is the hustle and bustle of everyone trying to cram everything in before the ball drops, or before everyone drops the ball. I am supposed to be working–or standing in line buying presents–or packing to head for home for the holidays. But instead I just made lists of everything I needed to do and then did nothing.

Frankly–I am a little burnt out. Last week I decorated my apartment with twinkle lights–a new strand fresh out of the box. But when I got them all hung up and plugged them in there was one little light that was burnt out. I got grumpy and fed up thinking, how could this be? The box was BRAND NEW! Can’t one thing just go right? Where is the holiday cheer if I can’t even get a strand of new lights to work? But then I realized–that little light was me–the little light that is just too burnt out from all the hubbub.

When I was little I was organized. I had my dolls dressed up and ready for the holidays well before December, I made Christmas cards, I insisted on getting a tree way too early, I cranked up the Christmas music so loud the neighbors next door could hear it, and I had a wish list that included: lip gloss, glitter nail polish, and hair scrunchies. More than a decade has gone by and all I can muster is a half burnt out strand of Christmas lights and a wish list that includes but is not limited to:

Sleep

Trees, Mountains and Ocean

Sleep

Running

Sleep

A good book

Sleep

A big cup of coffee

Family

Friends

Sleep

World Peace

Sleep

Time with my yellow lab

Sleep

…And possibly a strand of lights that actually turn on

This cup is for all the Dads out there hanging up the Christmas lights–mine included

Thankful for all the Hodgepodge

Tis the season

Tis the season for what?

Tis the season for long lines.

Tis the season for rushing, pushing, and shoving.

Tis the season for frantic shopping.

Tis the season for people late to trains, planes, parties and dates.

Tis the season for never enough time and always one more thing to get done.

OR

Tis the season for thanks.

Tis the season for calling a friend you haven’t talked to in a long time.

Tis the season for holding the door open for an elderly person.

Tis the season for taking a long walk through the park.

Tis the season for creativity.

Tis the season for reflection.

Tis the season for gathering together.

I have always believed in gathering together a “hodgepodge” of family and friends for the holidays.  My uncle was great at this. He would stack together card tables that didn’t quite fit, throw on a few different colored table clothes and pull together a mess of chairs to seat all his guests. His friends came from far and wide–from the guy who sat behind him in the office to his neighbor that collected his mail a few times a year. To him–these people were as much his friends as they were his family. I am always amazed how strangers can feel as familiar as the people we have known our whole lives, and sitting around the table together we could practically be related.

It must run in the family because my mom is great at gathering together a hodgepodge of people too. She is famous for big pots of soup that simmer for hours and end up drawing everyone in–from close friends and family, to stray neighbors. I can’t recall a holiday that didn’t include “strays.” In my house, the “strays” are always the honorary guests and as a kid I was always excited to see who would be joining us for the holiday. One year we had a teacher from school, another year we took in law students from Lewis & Clark, and once we even gave up on our “blood” relatives all together, and just got together with friends instead. Every year we have multiple sets of families, stepfamilies, twice removed families, adopted families, friends, and friends of friends squeeze around the table. I used to think we gathered together the hodgepodge because my family was always small, and so we filled the empty chairs with good company from outside the family circle. But as I got older, I realized that size had nothing to do with it–it is the deep sense of community, love and warmth that brings us all together.

Sometimes you don’t even need a table or a warm spot to have an excuse to gather together. This week I was part of an email thread for a new (but old) tradition of meeting in an empty parking lot on Thanksgiving morning to take part in a early morning Turkey run followed by an all day long pot luck (a pre-game to the big Turkey dinner). These friends have turned into my family, and I couldn’t be sadder that I am missing it this year. But my favorite part of the email thread was that someone had loaned us their house to hold the festivities after the run and all of us agreed that this gathering had to take place in the parking lot, in the freezing cold–the traditional way. For us–it didn’t have anything to do with being warm and dry, but it had everything to do with being together, sharing hand warmers, freezing, and feasting.

This year–for the first time ever–I am the “stray.” I have never been the “stray”, but I am so grateful that I will have a seat at the table with my new “adopted” New York “family.”  The more “families” I can be a part of the merrier. And so as you expand your tables, add leafs, add card tables, dust the cobwebs off your extra chairs from down in the basement and the garage, and piece together table clothes, I encourage you to invite a “stray.” You never know when they will just become part of the family. Related or unrelated– it doesn’t matter. Join hands, and be thankful that you have one another–here–there–and everywhere.

Tis the season to eat, drink, and be merry.

This cup is for all the hostesses who do such a good job gathering together all the hodgepodge:

George & Maurice, Chris & Chuck, Barb & Sam, Chris & John, The 49ers, The Supper Club, Mark & Jill, Lissa & Albie, Joanne, John & Alison, and Eli, Sharon, Lanie and Jake.

…For some of the best gatherings I’ve ever been to–Thank you.

And cups & cups of love to all my friends & family–I am thankful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Disconnected

An installation in the widow of Fishs Eddy: Messages to Hurricane Sandy

Where do I find the words for the past two weeks? They are hiding in the dark. They are clogged in gutters. They are submerged in murky puddles. They are fractured in broken power lines. The words I am looking for got swept away by a hurricane–hurricane Sandy. Fourteen days ago I evacuated from lower Manhattan. Looking back on it now–it’s all a blur. The long lines of people stocking up on water, granola bars, peanut butter, flashlights and candles–the empty shelves–the panic and uncertainty of what was about to happen filling the air–and then everything went dark.

A few days before Hurricane Sandy blew through I was riding the 4 train, when suddenly everything came to a complete stop–the car went dark and all of us just waited in silence. After about 15 minutes, the lights flickered back on and the announcer told us that it would be another 15-minute wait because of “an incident” up ahead. The sigh of disgruntled passengers filled the car–everyone was late to somewhere–and I remember thinking to myself “if one train can clog up the entire city and make everyone late, imagine how bad it would be if something really catastrophic were to shut down the entire line.” Three days later that catastrophic thing came–hurricane Sandy–and it didn’t just shut down one train–it shut down the entire island.

If I had to pick one word to describe what the last 2 weeks have been like it would be disconnected. Not only was the city completely disconnected from the rest of the world, but I was disconnected from the rest of the island. As I stayed warm and dry on the Upper Westside, my texts and phone calls with friends downtown went silent. The only information I had came from parents that were outside the state that called with comforting words (tinged with a silent worry that loomed between the phone lines). It wasn’t until we turned on the TV that the reality of what was going on began to sink in. Lower Manhattan was under water.

The days following the storm were surreal. The Upper Westside had survived the heavy winds, and by Tuesday, the neighborhood was bustling with a mix of Upper Westsiders and refugees. For those of you that have never been to New York, people who live downtown rarely head uptown, and vice versa. We stick to our neighborhoods, to our small routines, to our local supermarkets, where we know the drill, the fastest ways to get through the line, the quickest way to get the cheese and the apples (even though they are on opposite sides of the store). But when everyone from one neighborhood (downtown) is suddenly displaced to a new neighborhood (uptown) everything suddenly feels foreign. Walking along the streets of the Upper Westside you could identify the natives from the refugees. Natives had dogs, knew their baristas, and gathered in grocery lines and sidewalk corners to chat with neighbors about how many refugees they had taken in during the storm–how many beds they had squeezed into their living rooms, how much extra hair now clogged their shower drain, and how many extra dishes they had to wash by hand thanks to their new long term guests. As a downtown refugee, I made my way through the aisles of Fairway wide eyed and wandering. Wandering and wide-eyed doesn’t work to your advantage in any grocery store in New York–or in any store in New York for that matter. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one, as I shuffled behind other refugees from downtown who I overheard on their phones saying “No I didn’t have time to even grab a change of clothes” or “The air mattress takes up their entire living room” or “Mom–I don’t know when I will be able to move back downtown” or “Where is the orange juice in this place?” As I settled into life on the Upper Westside, I began to pass by the same refugees on the street. We were the ones with messy ponytails, the same clothes and sweater we had lived in for the last 5 days and held the same expressions on our faces. We were all thinking the same thing: What is going to happen? How long will it last? When will downtown have food and water? When will we have electricity? When will the trains be up and running again? What should we do? Where are you staying? Where am I staying? Will I have school? Will I have work? When will the bridges re-open? If I had to get somewhere would I be able to find a cab? What bus takes me to where I need to go? How will I ever find a gift that really shows how thankful I am to my hosts who took me in? Will I ever be able to live in my apartment again? Do I want to even move back downtown? If I didn’t move back downtown where would I go?

To all our amazement–the city miraculously got up and running again. Slowly the waters began to recede and Manhattan began to light up–one building at a time. Unlike so many refugees around the world–I was lucky enough to stay with two amazing people (who gave me a cozy place to stay with amazing food) and eventually I was able to return home. I made it back downtown just in time for a freak snowstorm to arrive, blanketing the city in a freezing cold slush.

As a kid I remember countless drills of duck and cover. I remember climbing under my desk and folding my legs into a crumpled mess for multiple drills. I remember wrapping my arms around the leg of my desk in the event of an earthquake. I remember filing outside as a class and getting the chance to take a break midday for a practice fire drill in the “event that there is ever an emergency.” But never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that all those small–scale practice drills in elementary school would (a decade later) translate to escaping a historic hurricane to the Upper Westside. There is no drill that prepares you for that.

Here is my advice to all those small elementary school kiddos lining up to leave the classroom for a “practice drill”: make sure you have an extra pair of underwear and toothbrush in your pocket, because you never know how long it will be before you can go back to class.

This cup is for Jake and Lanie–Thank you. And for all the refugees out there–on a small scale–I know just how you feel.

First Aid Kit: Hurricane Sandy

If Hurricane Sandy were a Halloween costume...

My First Aid Kit for Hurricane Sandy

Jake and Lanie

An apartment with a view

A blow up air mattress with a super awesome cloud nine cozy comforter (in a very Rudy pattern)

A purple bath towel (A Rudy Color)

Plenty of weathervanes

Boxes of wine

Yummy homemade Indian food

Flashlights

Candles

A jazzy red emergency backup radio

Lots of plugs for charging lots of gadgets

Anna’s ginger thins

Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups

Apples from the farmers market

Cozy socks

Comfy pajama bottoms

College sweatshirts (Columbia. Check. OSU. Check)

Homemade veggie sandwiches (instructions from Mayor Bloomberg himself)

Magazines

Messy hair

Mascara (can’t function without eyes)

Homework

Blogs

Coffee

Colored Pencils

A 4 year old to stop by and color with

Lots of calls from multiple moms and dads in multiple states outside of NYC

The New York Times for up to the minute news and events

Awesome friends and family checking in all along the way

This cup is for Jake and Lanie–this safety kit would not exist without you, and for that I am eternally grateful. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

Happy Halloween Everyone:)

Cups and Cups of October in NYC

This cup is for Sam, Nimish & Lauren. Thanks for sharing the cups with me.

I'm bleeding

Fond memories of stumbling upon this gem in Los Angeles, CA on the day of the 2008 election

I don’t normally like to talk politics. Well, lets back up–I like to talk politics depending on the setting. If I am in a bar having a drink I would be happy to talk about politics if it happens to come up in conversation. If I am at a little kid’s birthday party, I don’t want to talk about politics. If I am out on a run I might consider talking about politics, but only around mile 5, and only for about a half a mile. If I am painting, I don’t want to think about politics. If I am thinking about my career, international affairs, helping others, and making the world a better place, I will probably mention something about politics and then I will probably talk about it.

Recently I had a professional look over my resume—as they peered over their horn rim glasses, after studying the page, she said “Well, clearly you bleed blue.” Suddenly it dawned on me–politics is not something I choose to talk about or partake in, politics is a part of who I am because I actively participate in the political world–however you define “political.” Sure, I have something to say about what I think or feel–everyone should. I once had a long political discussion with a dear friend–one of my best friends (who happens to bleed red)– who asked me where my blue blood came from? And I explained that it came from the people and experiences that have filled my life and shaped who I am. All of our perspectives and backgrounds, thoughts and ideas, people and places, shape who we are. From those deep roots where we come from, to those far-reaching corners of our lives, from those good times and from those bad times–we bleed–be it red or blue. We are supposed to–it is how we survive.

We are not all supposed to be the same. This week I talked with a mentor who told me that the best conversations that we (as people) can have are with those who think differently from us. What do we gain from agreeing all the time? What do we learn from those who finish our sentences and always respond with “Yes! Exactly!” How do we really broaden our horizons if we are constantly surrounded by people who always agree, hold the same thoughts and ideas, and share the same values and beliefs? The truth is, we need others to challenge us, just as we should challenge others. We need to push each other to ask questions, inquire, and gain new perspectives. We need to learn from one another. Everyone has something to bring to the table, and we are all allowed to agree to disagree.

What we can’t tolerate is turning our backs on one another. What we can’t risk is broken friendships and broken ties over disagreements and different perspectives. What we must hold (above all) is respect for one another. What we must keep is the peace. What we must do is participate–because if we don’t, no one wins. We are given an incredible opportunity–the opportunity to participate in our democracy. We are able to vote. Whether you are political or not, think about it, this is an incredibly powerful thing. People around the world are risking their lives everyday to do what many of us take for granted–vote.

Things are getting political. There are 17 days until the Presidential election. These are exciting times. Whether you bleed red, blue, or purple, the election should get your heart pumping. So, while friends and family who know me best would argue, that I in fact do like to talk politics, it is probably because it is in my blood, and I know it is in their blood. It is in your blood. It is in our blood. It is living and breathing inside all of us. And so I encourage everyone to go out and vote–red, blue, purple, and every shade in-between.  

This cup is for Brooke & Sasha: who challenge my blue blood with their red blood–and know that no matter what colors we bleed we will be friends forever.

And here is an extra little treat to start your day thanks to the very talented Ingrid Michaelson

Blood Brothers

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQxRZQW9kZY

Happily Ever After

Love has been on my mind lately–not just any love–but that deep heart throbbing love. This kind of love gathers in a lump in the back of your throat, fills your lungs and makes your chest feel heavy. This kind of love tests your emotions– pushing you to laugh or to cry, makes your heart beat a little bit faster– and triggers an uncontrollable smile that is so big it hurts your cheekbones.

Last weekend I attended a wedding for a friend I have known my entire life–a friend I consider family. As I sat under the trees, a golden glow reflecting off the faces of those in attendance, I felt that heart throbbing love as they exchanged vows, blessings, and lifetime promises to one another. As their parents, family, and friends gathered together to celebrate their love, that heart throbbing feeling filled the air. Did you know I am a hopeless romantic? This is probably thanks to the many years that I spent engrossed in fairy tales watching Cinderella and Beauty find that heart throbbing love…Or maybe it’s because I have grown up surrounded by so many people who truly love one another. Regardless–spending the weekend surrounded by love was the perfect way to celebrate on a crispy fall October day.

Community Blessing

We your community of family and friends

Wish upon you all these blessings…

…in your autumns of great abundance

…in your winters of immense expectations

…in your springs of hard work and execution

…and in your summers of cultivation and caring for one another.

May you both live to see this cycle renew itself for many years to come.

~Lanie & Jake Tracer, October 14, 2012

This cup is for Lanie & Jake: I will never forget dancing under the twinkle lights... Cheers! To happily ever after

And for those of you that haven’t been to a wedding in a while, check out some of my favorites:

Love Actually

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqHRMuUhmnA

Jim and Pam’s Wedding

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3Nxerpkvnc&feature=related

Father of the Bride

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onunI7e5DpE

It’s not always glitter and lights

New York city is not always glitter and lights–and the last few days have felt glum. I think it is that transition from summer to fall, where it is not quite cold enough to pull on your favorite sweater. I think it is that transition in time, where no amount of coffee can wake you up, and all you are left with is a dehydrated headache. Maybe it is a loss of space–that you can’t quite fold up your things into a tiny corner of your own–that everything is shared–you are constantly moving over, shifting around, pulling the sheets over your head to drown out the light and wishing that your earplugs would stifle the noise. Maybe it is the late trains that leave you on the platform for an extra 20 minutes, setting you back a whole hour and slicing your day in half. It could be the rain. A rain that doesn’t smell like fresh pine and cedar, but instead is a muddy haze that makes even the brightest corners of the city look dull. This glum could be a result of too many blocks in wet boots, and soggy socks. Or it could just be an invasion of the mind taking over the body–a fight between the head and the heart– a battle of the inside with the outside.

In the midst of gray three things happened: I witnessed a fistfight on the corner of Broadway and Price between two complete strangers. Obviously the gray gloom had gotten the worst of them, and they could no longer contain their frustration, and so they took it out on each other. As I dodged puddles and made my way to a favorite nearby café–my refuge– the woman behind me barked at the waiter–clearly dumping her gloom onto someone else. When he asked her if she was finished she snapped, “Well do you think I am going to eat the cup and saucer too?” The woman sitting next to me, about 75 years old, ordered a glass of wine at 11AM, a sure sign that her gray morning could only be cured with a toast to the clouds.

Fortunately, for me, I was able to share my gray matter with a friend who was there and at the ready, who was happy to listen, ready to respond, and always makes me smile. How lucky am I?

And so just like a storm, the gray matter will pass. The best advice I received was this:

Write down how you feel today and read it tomorrow…you will be pleasantly surprised.

How I feel today: Today I feel overwhelmed. Price elasticity, supply and demand, normal and inferior goods, total revenue, monopolies, oligopolies, internships and summer plans are taking over my brain, leaving me little time to run, sleep or explore. I miss the trees, the ocean, and my yellow lab. I close my eyes and picture my feet hitting the trails in Forest Park. I open my eyes. I stand up and stretch. I head for the kitchen for another cup. The clouds will clear. Tomorrow is a new day.

This cup is for anyone who is brave enough to walk in the rain without an umbrella. Cheers!

Fall Tunes.

Fall Play List
Breath. Brew. Listen. Repeat.

Brandi Carlile–That Wasn't Me
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVqw1kHPLRc

Mumford & Sons–Babel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uc4NvjzdHZ8

Tegan & Sara–Closer
http://www.youtube.com/user/teganandsaramusic?feature=results_main

Dave Matthews Band–Mercy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT_d2yjkUaY

Heather Nova–Higher Ground
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjETUluDoNc

The Avett Brothers– Live and Die
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ascpwqLnyE

Kate Earl– One Woman Army
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T11W85KndVE

The Head & The Heart–Lost in my Mind
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fcPfaMpSeE

Tift Merritt–To Myself
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J94NTHF-tv8

Neko Case–I wish I was the Moon
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCV-YMD6oXA

Adele–Set fire to the Rain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBcMKwbMEcQ

This cup is for September
And for Fall--you finally arrived–I felt it today.

Women! Lead the way!

It is sometimes hard to define this space. What is the structure? What are the limits? What are the guidelines? What is the goal? What is the dream? I want this space to be real. I want this space to be authentic. I want this space to simmer. I want this space to crackle. I want this space to pull at heartstrings– to fill the soul. I want this space to grow new thoughts– to generate ideas–old and new. I want this space to inspire. I want this space to create. I want this space to laugh. I want this space to share. I want this space for a late night. I want this space for an early morning. I want this space for a sunny corner–or a rainy day. I want this space for me. I want this space for you. I want this space to fill cups, and cups of cosmos.

My latest Cup of Cosmos is overflowing with reality. The reality of what is happening around the world from an international perspective. For some, this seems too daunting, too far away, and/or too hard to understand. For people who feel this way–I understand. But for me, it is right at the centerfold of my everyday. It is the hook that I cast out into the ocean of New York City–an ocean of knowledge, expertise, and experience. In return, I hope to catch the answers to questions, connecting one side of the world with another, and learn something new every single day about the problems and solutions (that are at the forefront of discussion) in the international arena. That is one full cup.

Rarely do I ever spill heavy thoughts and ideas out onto this page–but recently it has seemed necessary. I was inspired this week by a trip I took uptown, to a very tall high rise building, where I found myself in a room in the clouds, sitting around a large table surrounded by members of the UN, women from parliament and ambassadors to countries from all over the world. I heard from women first hand describe their daily struggles to obtain an education, fight for social and political freedoms and a find their voice in countries such as Pakistan and Afghanistan. These women face resistance everyday from their government, from their community and from their country based solely on their gender. As the world looks to strengthen both peace and security, women are at the forefront of the discussion as a means to the solution.

This movement is slowly taking shape– just look at the incredible women like Vandana Shiva, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Leymah Gbowee, Tawakkol Karman and Wangari Maathai. These women are my role models. They are paving the way for women all over the world to have opportunity, equality, education, voice, respect, and a greater role and responsibility in their communities and worldwide. Our very own United Nations Secretary General, Ben Ki–moon recently said, “We must put women at the front and center of the peace process–in negotiation and mediation, post conflict governance and reconstruction. The President of Pakistan also said, “The world would be a better place if more women were in positions of power and women of the region were brought closer together. Bringing together women of the region will make this region more tolerant, more peaceful, and more secure.” As world leaders begin to shine a light on the role and asset women are to our world, we can’t help but start to see some changes taking place.

And so I left the office in the clouds feeling not only hopeful, but also inspired. There are amazing changes taking place all over the world, and incredible people (particularly women) behind those changes. We have a long way to go, but we also can’t forget how far we have come. As Ms. Shinkai Karokhail pointed out to me yesterday, “ You can’t compare a woman of today with a woman from 10 years ago—they are two totally different people.” And so this might not be the Cup of Cosmos that you expected for today. This might not be the Cup of Cosmos that you want to gulp down. All I ask is that you try it, take a sip, let it seep into your veins and just think about some of the global issues that are taking place (all) around you. You don’t have to be an expert. Just be aware. And always have a cup at the ready. Cheers.

This cup is for Ms. Shinkai Karokhail and Dr. Donya Aziz–truly inspiring women who are changing the world 

And I will leave you with a few inspiring clips:

I watch this all the time and feel inspired:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53yuF64UgSM

Great people doing great things:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0MwxOIcj0U

Who better to sing it than Beyonce?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBmMU_iwe6U

Falling in love with Fall

Falling in love with Fall

Cups of Chai

Chunky sweaters in oatmeal knits

Messy braids

Big buttons

Lentil soup

Horn rim glasses

Sleeping in

Chilly mornings

Crispy leaves

Coffee in bed

Gold, red and amber edges

Stacks of magazines

Long talks with friends

Letters

New sharpies

Walking slowly behind old couples holding hands

Candy corn

Hugs–bear hugs

Clean white paper

Cozy chairs

Asking questions

Crackles from a fire

Dreaming

Cinnamon

Scarves

Vanilla candles

Warm socks

Hard cider

Full moons

Throwing a football in the park

Museum corners

Chasing crows

Layers

Watching football games

Bowls of apples

Cashmere

Pumpkins

Flannel sheets

Watercolors

Carmel

Cellists playing in the subway

Heavy hearts

Laughing

Waiting
This cup is for Lottie.

Alice in Wonderland

My own version...

Recently I have been asked a lot of questions from friends about New York City, such as: How is it? What is the best part about it? What is the worst part about it? What is a typical day like? And lately, the only thing I seem to think about in response to all these questions is the subway. The subway is how I get from point A to point B. The subways is the only way to get across the entire island of Manhattan without paying an arm and a leg, and it is the most efficient way to get where you need to be in a timely manner. This week I will have been here for a month and I can already tell you my favorite lines–the 4, 5, and 6–or in a color–the green line. Why do I favor the green line? For one, the cars are newer than on some of the other lines. You can tell when you step onto a newer car because the seats are light blue, the air conditioning is blasting so cold it is an icebox inside, and the lights are brighter.  The announcer is audible and the routes are clearly labeled on a digital monitor to tell you where you are and where you are going. 

When you enter into a subway, it is basically like a scene out of Alice in Wonderland–complete with a whole host of characters. I imagine that Charles Lutwidge Dodgson got the idea of falling into a rabbit hole by entering into the subway on the corner of crazy and insane. Signs point in all different directions and you follow random arrows, letters and colors to (hopefully) get you to where you need to be. Once you are underground, navigating your way through the tunnel to get to your platform, a Cheshire cat is probably not that far from reality. A Mad Hatter–certainly–I see them almost every day. Tweedledee and Tweedledum–pretty sure I am stuck behind them when I am in a rush to make the train or get up out of the subway. And Dodo Birds–let’s be honest–they are everywhere.

I am sure that Chapter 2, Pool of Tears, got its name from how one feels when you are wandering around the tunnels of a subway trying to figure out where you want to go and need to be. Or how you feel when you come up out of a subway to realize you are totally turned around and on the wrong corner. Or how you feel when you get home after a long day and an even longer commute. Or Lutwidge named this chapter after riding the 2, the JMZ or the BDF. These trains are older, and when the doors woosh open, a filmy, dull yellow light fills the stuffy car. An old paper map hangs on a wall, the announcer is next to impossible to hear, and sometimes, the lights randomly turn off and the train comes to a total stop. We have many debates about this, but in my personal opinion, these are my least favorite lines.

And the White Rabbit who is always late–that is just every New Yorker every day. We all are in a white rabbit hurry to get where we need to be. However, I consider myself lucky, because I have what Alice never had–an iPhone 4. Granted, it doesn’t always work underground, but it sure helps get me to and fro without having to be falling into dark holes that I can’t find my way out of. Think how short Alice and Wonderland would have been if she had just had an iPhone? Think of how much more fun she would have had if she had brought a friend with her. Think of how much happier she would have been if she had just enjoyed the moment and gone with the flow? She didn’t really have anywhere she needed to be. She wasn’t in a masters program. She didn’t have an internship she needed to get to. She didn’t have to wait in a long line at Whole Foods to only buy 3 things. She should consider herself lucky. She should have just taken the 4, 5, 6, express train.

In the short time I have been here I would have to say that the best thing that I have seen so far, while waiting for the train, was a pale pink balloon, attached to a white ribbon, that was floating down the dark tunnel along the tracks of the 4, 5, 6. Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos, there was calm and quiet. It was perfect. Beautiful. 

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

"I don't much care where –"

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go.”

This cup is for Mandy (twin)–NYC Metro still doesn’t compare to navigating the subways in Japan…that is something I will never forget. 

Under my umbrella...ella...ella...ella..a.a.a

It’s raining. Not like a Portland rain. It is hurricane rain. And for those of you that have grown up in Portland all your lives, you know that we don’t carry or use umbrellas. And for those of you that have never been to Portland, you now know that we don’t carry or use umbrellas. EVER. Why you might ask? Let’s list the reasons:

1. They are a huge hassle

2. Once they are opened and get wet they never dry

3. There is no place to put a wet and dripping umbrella

4. They blow out–heavy winds yank and pull in all directions until the umbrella is totally mangled and inside out

5. While holding your wet, broken, inside out umbrella, the wind manages to blow the rain at you from all sides–the umbrella does nothing to keep you dry

6. If you have a good jacket with a hood, why would you need to use an umbrella?

7. When carrying an open umbrella, you are liable to loose an eye or poke someone’s eye out–this is both unfortunate, and preventable

8. There is not enough room for both umbrellas and people on the street–it is one or the other

9. The majority of Americans out there leave the house and grab the “soccer game” umbrella by mistake (which for those of you that never spent countless weekends on the sidelines as a child in the pouring rain, a soccer umbrella is about the size of a small tent you can buy at REI and can keep an entire team of fifth graders dry)

10. If you are in a hurry, chances are your umbrella will get stuck right when you need to close it and you will be left in the pouring rain trying to close it and all the metal rods will bend and point in the wrong direction–your umbrella will never close–and everyone will pity you as they walk by

With this in mind I now live in NYC and am surrounded by umbrellas. Why is this? Well, at first I thought (surely) the fur. You don’t want to be wearing a wet bear when you strut up and down Fifth Ave. But it is late September and it is still too warm to leave your Upper East Side apartment wearing a bear–so that is not the reason. Second, I thought (surely) it is the cashmere. Wet cashmere is the worst. But it is (still) late September and too warm (and humid) for cashmere. All I could come up with is that it is (still) late September and still too warm for a coat, and so an umbrella is the only thing that New Yorkers seem to think will keep them dry and cool at the same time. But this is false.

I tried it out myself. I decided to (Portland peeps–don’t judge) buy an umbrella and see what this umbrella business is all about. And I will tell you, not only did it not keep me dry, it blew inside out, and broke. It didn’t match my outfit–therefore carrying an umbrella is not part of a fashion statement. It was too small to share–therefore it is not a way to make quick friends on a street corner. There was no place to put it after it got wet–instead it dripped all over everyone on the subway. And in the end I just threw it away. Worst $5.00 I ever spent. The forecast for the rest of the week calls for rain–and so I urge all of you to save your $5.00 for a pumpkin spice latte and leave your umbrellas at home.

This cup is for Katie–who left her umbrella at home on the rainiest day so far…

Finally Fall

It’s finally fall, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from where I am. In Portland, September hits, and while it is still warm the evenings and mornings get cool and foggy, the sun changes position, the leaves hang on to the branches with crispy edges and their sound crackles in the breeze. In my new home, NYC, the humidity cakes your skin, the only leaves you see are the ones that have some how traveled a million miles in the wind and are broken apart in bits and pieces and scattered about gutters in the streets and it is still too hot for pumpkin spice lattes. But fall is here. We ended the summer with a peach pie in Central Park. We started September with a football game and some hard cider. Friends have filled the space between reading assignments and papers and I am left with very little time to fill my head with extra thoughts and ideas. There is no room for any extra. Not right now.

In the midst of tornados (like the one that touched down in Queens yesterday) I have made it a goal to find a different coffee shop everyday. The problem with this is that when I come across a new favorite I find myself returning to the same places over and over. And then there is my own little coffee press that I got in the mail last week—where I can enjoy cups of Portland from my favorite spot on the East Side whenever I want. And this weekend, in a city that never sleeps, I have found myself blending the cups together…a cup of Portland (brewed by me) in the morning and a cup of NYC (brewed by a New Yorker) in the afternoon. Dehydrated? Probably– but worth it. How else am I supposed to stay alert while reading Hobbes? How else am I supposed to remember the words of Rousseau? The Answer–brew up a cup to feed your addiction, fill your soul and stimulate your mind. Because no one wants to fall asleep in NYC–there is too much one would miss out on without a cup.

Apple Pie: It’s that time again!

-Preheat your oven to 450 degrees

-6 Apples (from the farmers market) peeled and sliced (use a sharp knife and don’t cut your finger)

–Make the dough by hand or go buy pre-made dough at the store (Trader Joe’s pie crust is my favorite)

–Place half the dough/pie crust in a un-greased glass pie plate

–      Mix ¾ cup of flour, ¾ cup of brown sugar, salt, and cinnamon (as much as you like for taste) together in a large bowl.

–      Pour the apples into the flour/sugar mixture to coat the apples

–Place the apple/sugar mixture into your pie plate with the pie crust

–Use remaining dough/pie crust to cover the top (with a design of your choice)

–Bake at 450 degrees for 45 minutes or until golden brown

–Enjoy with friends (in a park, on a subway, or in a small apartment)

This cup is for Hobbes–if you were here I would offer you a cup in exchange for all the answers to all my questions. 

Handmade

Thank you Katie for documenting the whole process

Julia Childe would be so proud. I made an apple pie in a convection oven. To be exact, I made a raspberry apple pie in my convection oven. Did I read the directions? No. Did I own a mixing bowl? No. Did I lug all the ingredients up and down flights of stairs and through subway corridors, hopping trains, and tracks, and managing not to trip all at the same time? Yes. Did I use a crappy knife to peel the apples? Yes. Did I cut my finger peeling apple number one? Yes. Was all that worth it in the end? Absolutely.

There is something very primitive about being a grad student, or just a student living in a high rise building in general. We don’t have much. We can’t buy much. And we make do with what we have on hand (which is often very little). That being said, I think there is something very humbling about not having technology always on hand to help us get through the list–be it a recipe or a task. We can’t always just turn on the kitchenaid and watch everything blend together. Sometimes, we have to do it all on our own– blood, sweat, and tears.  And just when I am ready to give up, I think to myself, my ancestors didn’t have a kitchenaid. They were somewhere on the Oregon Trail, out in the middle of nowhere, and had to pull off the road and start mixing. Cavemen didn’t have a kitchenaid or a dull knife–they probably had a sharper rock and bigger arms to get the mixing done (if apple pie was part of their diet).

If technology had always existed, we wouldn’t have words like “rustic” which you use to describe crust that is falling apart as you place it in the pie plate. We wouldn’t have words like “handmade” which is what you say when you account for the jagged edges around the pie or the flour that never quite got mixed in. And let’s be honest–cobbler would never have come to exist if it hadn’t been for handmade pies that fell apart.  I am certain cobbler was born from pies that never quite held together, crusts that were so fragile they broke (into crumbs of goodness), and people that didn’t have plates and had to use bowels instead. How do you explain and account for your falling apart handmade pie as your guests arrive for dessert? It’s cobbler! Voila!

I was lucky enough that my handmade pie held together (as did the first week of grad school in New York City)! And let me tell you, gathering around warm pie at the end of a long week of new everything– it felt good to taste something familiar.

This cup is for my new Milano family. You are all so talented and amazing. And to Katie–who has been there all week (through thick and thin, and beyond). 

NYC!

If you need a challenge, I urge you to try to cram your life into two huge duffel bags, throw a dart in a new direction, set your sights on new smells, new faces, and new places and head out. Don’t worry about getting lost–someone is always around the corner with the answer, signs will point you in the right direction, and the pounding that you feel in your chest will eventually settle down to its regular rhythm again. In the process you will find new muscles you never thought you had that will come in handy when your are dragging your baggage (called your life) around the streets of a new city (I mean this literally and figuratively).

You will realize that an unknown place that once felt too big to handle suddenly becomes small, compact, and manageable. Crowds of people, lines, clutter, slow walkers, fast walkers, busy corners, hustle and bustle will wear you out. Coffee shops, parks, public gardens and museum galleries will become your new refuge to seek out the calm and quiet. And along the way you will find a whole host of folks that are in the exact same place in life as you–a major transition.

My latest cup of cosmos is overflowing: NYC

Most recent happenings and observations include (but are not limited to)

A pigeon roaming the baggage claim at JFK

A shoebox of an apartment, crammed with too many people with too many things

Random mist that falls from god knows where and lands in your hair/mists your face (gross) as you walk down the street

Sales tax that surprises me at every purchase (something I will probably never get used to)

A grubby homeless person on the train that gave an incredible speech about what a poor candidate Romney is and to do everything we can to support Obama–I happened to agree with everything he said and he made some good points

Washington Sq. Park is one of my favorite places

New Yorkers are super friendly–don’t believe everything you hear

New Yorkers are so friendly that they walk you where you need to be, before heading off to where they are going

People apologize for their shoes

Dress to impress ALWAYS–Tim Gunn is not joking

If you feel dressed up, chances are you are still underdressed

The subway is hot and smells like pee–it’s just the way it is–and it’s quite clean compared to India, Morocco, Egypt, etc.  so no complaining

At 10pm rats come up for air and roam the tracks, but they are small compared to the rats on the tracks in India…so be thankful

There is always going to be some sort of mysterious puddle somewhere…don’t think too hard about what it is…actually…don’t think about it at all

If you look like you know where you are going someone will stop you and ask for directions

I need a blindfold walking to class up 5^th Ave–the shopping is unreal

Personal goal: find a new coffee shop everyday

You walk your dogs off here and the blisters are well worth it

Humidity is not my friend

The water taxi to IKEA rocks!

Not everyone wears heels to work–you change into them when you get to the office

The lines at Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s are so long you think a tornado is heading this way and this is the last day to buy anything–but this is just normal everyday grocery shopping in NYC

Not everyone on the streets wears deodorant and everyone should

Restaurants are open late (LOVE THAT)

People walking around are from all over the world

Every time you turn around you spend money

The first time you take the subway alone feels like the biggest accomplishment of your life

It seems that there are fewer hours in the day on the East Coast then the West Coast

The city never sleeps

If you don’t hold onto rails in the subway you will fly forward/backward

Asking people for directions is more reliable than an iPhone

The Farmer’s Market has the biggest sunflowers I have ever seen

The minute you take a shower and head out into the world you will feel like you need to shower again

Wait for the crosswalk sign or risk being flattened

Walk fast–you can cover more ground

Don’t call your friends on the West Coast when you get up in the morning–they are  still sleeping

Find a post office for snail mail

Help a tourist take a picture

Eat everything

Remember to run

Smile

Get plenty of rest–be it a park bench, coffee shop, chair, subway car, or bed

Find a friend–things are better in pairs

Find lots of friends–the more the merrier

And most importantly–Enjoy a cup. It’s New York!

This cup is for Jessica: who's last cup in the city was my first cup in the city (which I find so poetic). Thank you for helping me land on my feet.