What I Learned at 35,000 feet

I generally do whatever I can to avoid redeyes because they turn me in an absolute zombie for the entire next day and sometimes even beyond that. But this week, I didn't really have a choice, so I showed up at the San Jose airport last night ready to climb on a 10:00 pm flight headed east.

Unfortunately, the inbound flight had been re-routed to Denver because of a medical emergency on board, so by the time the plane did make its way to NoCal, we were already almost three hours behind schedule, finally departing San Jose at 1:00 am PT.

I don't often sleep on planes, even in the middle of night, and this trip was no exception. I managed to get about an hour and a half of restless sleep in the middle of flight, but was jostled awake by some pretty aggressive turbulence somewhere over Iowa.

Thanks to JetBlue's promise of 36 DirectTV channels at every seat, I at least wasn't sitting wide awake for 5 hours with nothing to do. In the darkened cabin with my little TV screen glowing in front of me, I caught up on a couple of original Law & Order episodes and as a result, was exposed to a number of commercials that would NEVER make primetime.

(As an aside, I have to say that I was kind of thrilled (in a deliriously tired sort of way) to find the original Law & Order episodes since Ben Stone, played by Michael Moriarty, is my favourite L&O character ever. Now, apparently I can find him on TNT at 3:00 am if I'm in dire need of hearing him deftly negotiate a plea bargain.)

But back to the commercials. It turns out that while most of us are peacefully slumbering, the Chia Pet has quietly taken a stranglehold on late-night TV and is now promoting all sorts of product extensions this holiday season. I saw ads for the standard Chia Pet, but also for Chia Garfield (the fat orange tabby seems to also be making a comeback), Chia Scooby Doo and Chia Shaggy. Ok, not such a stretch for those (remember Chia Mr. T? I pity da fool!), but THEN I saw a commercial that I thought must have been one of those Saturday Night Live spoofs.

Get this -- You can buy a product called "Chia Cat Grass". You get a little ceramic planter (decorated with Sylvester and Tweety Bird of course!) and within said planter, you can grow this amazingly fast growing grass that is supposedly going to solve the problem of your cat tipping over and generally making a mess of your other potted plants. (Not ever having owned a house cat, I had no idea this was even an issue.) Never mind that now you've introduced something that looks like your worst neighbour's yard after months of neglect into your home. Yeah, THAT's progress.

You can also buy Chia herb gardens. But really, would you ever actually eat ANYTHING grown as a Chia??

Oh, and by the way, I did a little Google search on Chia Pets and imagine my lack of surprise that the same company who brought us the Chia empire is also responsible for the Clapper.... and its ridiculously annoying, droning jingle.

Aside from the Law & Order element, I will be quite happy to avoid middle-of-the-night TV for the foreseeable future and let the Chia's multiply without any of my support, either moral or financial.

Ch- Ch- Ch- Chia!

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

It is exactly one week before Christmas.

And on top of those seven days, there are approximately 6,000 miles still separating me from a day full of my mom's great cooking and baking, cuddle time with Special K, non-stop Christmas music and with any luck, something fun on TV like "It's a Wonderful Life".

I'll be praying to the weather and airline gods that all my flights get me where I need to be over the next few days, landing me (and Special K) with my parents late, late, late on December 23.

Jokes from a Neurosurgeon

I met Ann and Spiros through Nick and Reny. Ann is an attorney, Spiros is a neurosurgeon and they both possess a sense of humour that has me (and everyone else who happens to be present) doubled over in laughter more often than not. At Sunday brunch at a Vietnamese restaurant a couple of months ago (by the way, this is got to be one of the best dining deals in ANY of the boroughs – 5 of us ate copious amounts of food for only $80 total), I remember laughing non-stop as Spiros recounted the ingenuity of a group of smart but mischievous medical residents (he was, of course, one of them) who were constantly raising the stakes with a series of creative practical jokes.

Once, they took every single pair of pants one their friends owned and had them all hemmed so they were 2 – 3 inches too short. Another time, they had neon under car lighting installed on the undercarriage of someone else’s car. The owner of the newly “accessorized” vehicle drove around for months, having no idea his car was glowing purple each and every night.

So, at a dinner party the other night when Spiros began passing around his iPhone, saying “Check this photo out!”, I figured it would probably be something pretty funny.

But remember, Spiros is also a neurosurgeon, so when Nick cocked his head to the side while looking at the photo and said “where’s the rest of this guy’s head?”, I quickly abandoned my place in the photo-viewing queue.

Nick Knacks

I know a lot of Nicks in New York. Honestly, I think I know more Nicks since I moved to NY than I have at any time previously. I feel like I should rewrite that old Kids in the Hall song “These are the Dave’s I Know”. My version would be:

These are the Nicks I know I know
These are the Nicks I know
Some of them are Nicholas
But most of them are Nick

New York – Home of the Knicks…and the Nicks!

"The Saddest Thing in Life is Wasted Talent. Don't Waste Yours."

I was able to entice Special K to the Big Apple this past weekend with tickets to "A Bronx Tale" on Broadway. (Well, I think it was actually ME that was the enticing part and the Broadway tix were just gravy.)

"A Bronx Tale" was originally a one-man show, written and performed by Chazz Palminteri for the stage. After runs in both Los Angeles and off-Broadway, Palminteri adapted the story into the screenplay which gave Robert de Niro his directorial debut. Now, almost 15 years after the film was produced, "A Bronx Tale" is finally on Broadway for a limited run.

If you've seen the movie (or were lucky enough to see the original stage production), you know it's the story of a young boy who has to make tough choices and each choice shapes the direction of his life's path. Palminteri is absolutely riveting in this performance with brilliant timing, delivery and an uncanny ability to convey a number of complex and convincing characters.

Like I said, it's only playing for a limited time, so get tickets while you can!

From the Mouths of Babes

I flew into San Diego on Monday night and was actually pretty lucky because the flight was only about two-thirds full, so I had all three seats in my section to myself. Score! That really helped make up for the hour we spent on the tarmac at JFK before take-off ("Ladies and gentlemen, there are 30 other aircraft in line ahead of us to take off.") and the loooooong cross-country east-to-west flight. (Honestly, traveling from east to west feels like you are never going to get there.)

I straggled into the hotel at about 1:30 am ET, dragging my bags and my proverbial you-know-what. I got into the elevator with a woman who had a small, tow-headed boy by the hand. He was happily chatting away about everything and nothing at the same time when I heard the word "shoes", but thought he was referring to his own fun little printed canvas runners. But then, he took a deliberate step forward, turned his sunny, open face up to me and with more enthusiasm than I'd heard in a long time, said "You have cool shoes!" (which sounded more like "shooooooz", all wrapped up in the adorable timbre of a nearly three-year old.)

I burst out laughing and we spent the remainder of the elevator ride comparing our cool shoes.

I think I was probably sharing the elevator with a future Stuart Weitzman.

The Cure for Insomnia

My constant trips between New York and California have put my body and mind into a land of timezone confusion. When I go to California, I'm getting tired by 9:00 or 10:00 at night because it's midnight or later in New York. Conversely, when I come back to New York, I find myself lying in bed until 2:00 in the morning blinking at the darkened ceiling, unable to fall asleep, even after reading and watching mindless TV.

That's what this whole week has been like. Until last night, that is.

Nick, Oda, Ally and I went to a Mexican restaurant down the street after work for dinner and drinks. (We abandoned the 2-for-1 margarita place at the last minute because it was too cold to walk that far.) After an evening of belly laughs, tableside-prepared guacamole (and Nick being super impressed that I actually make my own guacamole from time to time), and gooey enchiladas and nachos, we parted ways. I went home and flopped into bed and was dead asleep by midnight.

The cure for my insomnia? Frozen strawberry margaritas with Patron tequila, of course!

The Cable Company STILL Sucks

I came home tonight and turned on the TV to catch some news and/or entertainment while I had a bite of dinner. I bet you know what's coming, don't you? (The headline kind of gives it away, doesn't it?) Well, if your guess is that my cable is once again NOT WORKING, you'd be dead right.

When they switched me over to IPTV, they assured me that this would be much better. Apparently, it is NOT.

My customer service "community manager" and I are now exchanging Christmas cards because we've become so close over the past few months.

Honestly, cable people, get it TOGETHER.

I'm Huge in Cincinnati

Special K called me out of the blue at work on Friday because Cincinnati Bob had just called him with a funny story. Cincinnati Bob is, as you may have guessed, a good friend of Special K's ... who lives in .... well, Cincinnati.

Cinci Bob was picking up his car from the mechanic's shop and while in the waiting room with one of the mechanics whom he's known for years, they ended up flipping through an issue of Redbook. (I have no idea why they were flipping through Redbook and not say, Popular Mechanics... but ANYWAY.)

It turned out to be the issue that my Dove ad was in and Bob off-handedly said, "Oh, I know her."

"NO WAY. You do not!" was the obvious reply.

"Yeah, I do -- she's my buddy's girlfriend. Her name is Shari."

"DUDE!?!?!?"

"Seriously."

And just like that, I am known in the most elite of auto shop circles in Oh-H-ten.

Duvet -- Put To Bed Permanently

Remember Duvet, the hipster club featuring giant beds as part of its decor? I just saw on the news that the club has been permanently shut down (by court order) because a 25-year old man was stabbed to death in the club back on November 23.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

I have a sinking feeling that this winter is not going to be as mild and managable as last year's. Right on cue, snow has appeared to usher in the month of December. (Last year, we managed to make it through much of January before the snow started gracing us with its presence.) While yesterday was a bright and sunny (but chilly) day, today the city is waking up to a blanket of the white stuff and it is currently about 22 degrees. Ugh. I have to go out to run some errands and I am procrastinating like you wouldn't believe.

In Theory, It was a Good Idea

I originally planned my Saturday morning around the Theory sample sale down in the Fashion District. I even had a pithy, clever title for my anticipated blog entry -- something along the lines of "The Battle for Cashmere". (I guess Pakistan wouldn't think that was either pithy or clever.)

Well, I'm sorry to say that I failed in my mission.

But it's not like I didn't try. Even though it was only about 30 degrees this morning, I still bundled up, walked up to Columbus Circle in bone-chilling wind and got on the C train. I've never been to this sample sale location previously, so I was concerned it would be hard to find -- you know, one of those unmarked doors that only those "in the know" know about.

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry about not being able to find the place. The 500 or so other women standing in line to get in kind of gave it away. Seriously, the line stretched all the way from 7th Avenue to 8th Avenue (and those east-west blocks are loooooong). As I walked down the street, seeing the red noses, watery eyes and hands clutching Starbuck's cups, I contemplated joining the end of the line. Honestly, I did. But as I approached the very last girl in line, I didn't slow my pace for even a split second. I just kept right on walking and popped into the nearest Dunkin' Donuts to re-group.

I spent the next couple of hours milling around various stores and checking out the Christmas window displays at Macy's and Lord & Taylor. As it turns out, the fashion gods work in mysterious ways because even though I didn't pick up a single shred of massively discounted Theory merchandise, the Banana Republic associate hooked me up with an extra 30% discount (on top of the already-on-sale-price) for two pairs of dress pants.

Reality trumps theory again.

Texas Chill

I forgot to tell you that it SNOWED in Dallas on Thanksgiving Day. We were watching the Cowboys game on TV when they showed a shot of the scoreboard and there were big, soft, white snowflakes fluttering down. Since Texas Stadium is only a couple of miles from Special K's mom's house, all heads swiveled to look out the windows and sure enough, it was snowing. In Dallas. Do what now y'all??

(And I was a complete embarrassment to my Canadian heritage -- in the spirit of traveling light, I didn't even have a warm coat with me. And it wound up being colder in Texas than it was in NYC. Oops.)

Turkey Day Redux

Special K and I spent Turkey Day in Dallas again this year with his mom, his siblings (and siblings-in-law) and 11 busy little bodies known as the "smellies". (Special K has 11 nieces and nephews, ranging in age from 5 months to 16 years.)

"Crazy Uncle K" masterfully wound the 2 - 10 year-old smellies and released them like spinning tops, watching them collide with furniture and with each other as they whirled around the house fueled by caramel apple dip and homemade fudge. He also doubled as a human jungle gym and any time I looked over, he had no fewer than three smellies hanging around his neck, from his arms or from his legs.

On Black Friday (as far as shopping goes, it's like Boxing Day for you Canadians out there), we took six of the smellies shopping. Oh. My. God. From Toys R Us to Game Stop to Circuit City, I could barely keep up. I'd look up in Toys R Us just in time to see the five-year old go peddling by the end of an aisle on a tricycle. Just as we were about to check out, a soccer ball was rather aggressively kicked and nearly took out an entire endcap display (never mind another customer). And to top it all off, the kids were bound and determined to somehow ride in the TRUNK of the rented Chevy Impala. (Can you say "You have the right to remain silent"?)

The biggest laugh-out-loud moment, however, actually happened on Friday evening. Special K's oldest niece is an extremely accomplished ballerina and she was dancing in a performance of The Nutcracker. Right after the "Waltz of the Flowers", in the quiet of the brief break just before "Pas de Deux: Adagio", a young man's voice rang clearly through the theatre with a plaintive "aw, man!" (sounding more like "meee-an") when he realized that the brief break was not actually the END of the performance.

Aw, man, we haven't even seen the "Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy" yet!

Road Warriors R Us

Here's a quick snapshot of how the month of November has unfolded for me:

-- New York (5 days)

-- San Diego (3 days)

-- Orange County (36 hours)

-- New York (36 hours)

-- Santa Clara (3 days)

-- Orange County (4.5 glorious days)

-- Dallas (4 days)

-- Orange County (16 hours)

-- San Diego (36 hours)

-- and finally back to New York two nights ago ... and will finish up the month of November in NYC. Whew.

This means that in the month of November, I will have slept in my own apartment in NY a grand total of 10 nights (which makes me want to throw up when I think about my monthly rent payment), I will have been on 8 flights and flown a total of about 14,000 miles.

No wonder I'm a little knackered!

Gobble Gobble

Happy Thanksgiving (almost) to all my American friends! For once, I will be making a trip sans laptop today (yeah! my back and shoulders will be thanking me) when Special K and I head off to Dallas for the Turkey Day holiday.

For my New York friends, I'm crossing my fingers that the weather holds for tomorrow's Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (remember the rain LAST year??).

For everyone, I wish you safe travels and plenty of good laughs with family and friends over the coming days.

And just as a matter of principle, please don't let me hear that any of you were in a mall at 4:00 a.m. on Friday morning, no matter HOW good the deals are.

Is that Rupees or Dollars?

So, I have discovered a local Indian restaurant where I will quite often order dinner and have it delivered. I've sort of narrowed down my order to a few key things that I really like from this particular restaurant and the last few times I've ordered from them, I end up getting Chicken Dildar (a nice combo of Chicken Tikka Masala and saag), naan and a couple of vegetable samosas for good measure.

What's absolutely fascinating to me is that every single time I order the EXACT same combination of food, I always end up getting charged a different amount. And it's not like the amount is slowly and surely creeping up as they increase their prices. Nope, sometimes it will be about $18, then the next time, it will only be about $16, then back to $18 and then if I'm really lucky, back down to $15.

I'd hate to be that restaurant's bookkeeper.

Dinner with Friends

I love it when friends come to New York to visit! Last weekend, Lisa and boyfriend, Rob, came to town and I, of course, was back in California. So I flew back on an early flight on Sunday so that I could at least meet them for dinner on Sunday night before they left.

Everything seemed to be going in my favour -- my flight actually landed early and I was out of the airport in record time. And then... my towncar drove straight into a giant traffic snarl and it took almost two hours to get into the city. I got a very lengthy tour of Queens and THEN my driver tried to charge me extra "waiting fees" because he claimed he had to wait for me at the airport. Buddy, my flight was EARLY. Try bamboozling someone else.

I not only love having friends in town, but you all know I also love completely random situations. And I was not to be disappointed last Sunday. It turned out that Chris, Lisa's brother (also from California) was in town for work for a few days, so he was able to join us as well. Lisa and Chris joked how ironic it was that they had to travel almost 3000 miles to see each other when they only live one county apart in SoCal.

We had a great dinner at Ustav (Indian food) on 46th and as luck would have it, half the restaurant was closed off for a Diwali party and so we also got to enjoy some great Indian music.

And I was doing some Bhangra moves in my seat.

Heaven On Wheels

A couple of weekends ago, I went to see Xanadu on Broadway. Oh yes, this is indeed the musical stage adaptation of the 1980 movie. For those of you not familiar, it's the story of a Greek muse who descends from Mount Olympus to come to the inspirational rescue of a struggling artist in Venice Beach, California. She helps him realize his dream of opening a, um, roller disco. (What more could you possibly want in 1980?)

We weren't sure if we were going to like the show or not (it was one of the only tickets we could get at TKTS 15 mins before curtain), but we gave ourselves up to all its kitschy glory and transported our minds back 27 years (1980 was TWENTY-SEVEN years ago?? Ugh!) and laughed at the semi-lampooning of a questionable (at best) movie and story line.

Tony Roberts and Jackie Hoffman both starred, the lead character spent much of the performance cruising around stage on rollerskates, and there was just enough balance of darn good singing with purposely cheesy lines and situations. It's also in a relatively small theater so it seemed like every seat was probably pretty decent.

Still not sold? Not sure you'd actually fork over the precious cash for the tickets when Wicked, Lion King and Spring Awakening are all playing just down the street and around the corner?

Well, you have to believe we are magic, don't you then?

Taser Parties

This has nothing to do with random UF student, Andrew ("Don't Tase Me, Bro!"), but I did learn today that coincidentally (ok, not really), women in New York are now beyond tupperware parties, Mary Kay parties and maybe even botox parties (ok, maybe those are still going strong) and are starting to host taser parties.

That's right, now you too can hire a law enforcement professional to come to your home where you can host all your closest girlfriends for a self-defense mini-seminar on how to use a taser. I had no idea tasers were even really legal for civilians to carry.

I sense a whole new business opportunity here... taser accessories like bejeweled carrying cases, taser charms that express your individual personality, even tasers in every colour of the rainbow.

Taser-ific.

Random Updates

- Oda found a butter knife in her purse the day after Halloween after we'd been in the Village with all the crazies. We have come up with a number of interesting ideas about how the butter knife came to be in her bag. Lucikly, the knife was not bloody (just buttery), so it wasn't like someone was ditching a used weapon or anything.

- I flew back to San Diego last night and once AGAIN, someone had rifled through my suitcase. Thankfully, nothing was stolen this time. I have to consolidate my packing better so I don't have to ever check bags again.

- On this, my first day back on the west coast, I forgot my laptop power cord at the hotel (and had to fight traffic to go back and get it) and showed up for two meetings early because I was completely screwed up on what time it actually was. Can someone build me a "Where in the World is Shari?" widget for my Facebook page??

Since I Know You Must Be Wondering...

Yes, the Useless Cable Company actually finally DID show up and has now upgraded my service to IPTV. And yes, I am getting channels I didn't used to get (score!) which is great because I have been dying to see "Mad Men", but until my cable upgrade, I didn't get AMC. So, maybe the cable company is slightly less useless now. We'll see what happens when my first bill comes.

First Fridays at the Gugge

What do you think of when you hear “Guggenheim”? Frank Lloyd Wright, visionary architecture, fabulous works of art? Well all of that would be accurate, but it turns out that on the first Friday of each month, the Guggenheim is all that and more.

On “First Fridays”, the Guggenheim is open well into the wee hours of Saturday morning and the impressive, open rotunda becomes host to hundreds of culture-seekers cum Friday night revelers. There is, of course, a bar and even a DJ spinning just loud enough to create a definite nightclub vibe, but not loud enough to prevent conversation.

Mike suggested First Fridays, having been once before, and had also found out that another of our former college classmates, Steve, was now living in New York, so we all agreed to meet up at a bar on the East Side, not far from the museum. Mike and I arrived first, so we order a drink and start catching up. After about 15 minutes, we’re wondering where Steve and Irene are. We realize we’re actually supposed to be at another bar down the street – oops! Bottoms up, throw some cash at the bartender and sprint down the street – sure enough, Steve and Irene are there.

Off we go the Gugge where Kim meets up with us and the five of us enjoy a fun, random evening socializing and check out the Richard Prince “Spiritual America” exhibit. I have a little bit more of a traditional taste when it comes to art and while I appreciate modern art, I admit that I just don’t get a lot of it.

Richard Prince has been a key contributor to the development of contemporary art since the 1970’s when he made an impact by rephotographing existing magazine advertisements and presenting them as his own art. In a similar vein, much of Prince’s work is appropriated and repurposed images and material direct from a variety of pop culture sources. Many of the giant canvases featured stencils of off-colour jokes and tawdry comments. Of course, one of our favourites was the repurposed cartoon whose caption read: “My father was never home, he was always drinking booze. He saw a sign saying DRINK CANADA DRY. So he went up there.” (This is when I got yelled at for taking photos of the art – oops.)

Even though Halloween was over, there were still three guys dressed up as 70’s porn stars, so I definitely had to snap that photo.

And finally, the most random part of the evening was meeting Andrew, the University of Florida student who was tasered by police about a month or so ago at a John Kerry speech on campus. NBC had flown Andrew to New York to appear on The Today Show the day before and we spent a good hour chatting with him and his cousin, Jason, and hearing more about the “incident” and the fall-out. Apparently, he still has a mark on his back from the taser gun.

We said our goodbyes, went our separate ways and I sang “Let It Be” and “Material Girl” with my cab driver on the way home, cutting across Central Park.

Can't Get an iPhone? Just BE One

The funny thing about New York is that even on Halloween, it's sometimes hard to tell who's wearing a costume and who's not.

"Oh, look -- a lady in a bee costume... oh wait... no.... it's just a yellow and black striped sweater."

"Oh, look -- a pregnant, trailer trash Britney! Oh wait... no.... not a costume either. Oops."

Alyssa, Oda and I were walking back to the office from The Daily Soup when we bumped into a quartet of Ghostbusters. These guys were the real thing -- proton packs on their backs and even a lifelike Slimer hovering above a modern day Venkman. While we waited for the light to change, we inquired about the briskness of the Ghostbusting business these days and learned that our phantom hunters had been on the Today Show that morning and had come in second place in the costume contest.

After work, Nick, Oda and I bravely headed down to Greenwich Village to the annual Halloween parade, stopping on the way for Mexican food near Union Square. (Queso Fundido = heart attack in a bowl.) We were seated by Quasimodo and served by a decaying corpse. A giant bouncer escorted me to the men's restroom since the line for the women's was not moving. He stood guard while I was inside and when I opened the door to come out, the entire opening was filled by this giant man's frame. Leaving the restaurant to find Nick and Oda outside, another masked crusader demanded a hug before he'd let me pass.

We got as close as we could to the parade without getting crushed by the crowds and had a blast checking out the various costumes and enjoyed the general party atmosphere.

I'm sure this must be the worst night of the year for the NYPD. Think about it. Hundreds of thousands of people pretending to be whoever they want for a night, fueled by alcohol and by each other. Many are in masks, concealing their true identity, feeling like their actions have no consequences -- at least no consequences that they'd have to deal with in their real lives. Mostly the revelry is harmless and fun (like a red-eyed Barney hugging passers-by!), thank goodness. (Unfortunately, there was a shooting and stabbing in Union Square last night, but hours after we'd left the area.)

One of the funniest moments? A slightly inebriated reveller stumbling up to one of New York's finest, saying "Dude, great costume! It looks SO REAL. Damn!"

Year in Review

Happy Anniversary to me! Exactly one year ago today, I arrived in New York… without a return ticket in hand. That’s right, October 29, 2006 was the day I gave Special K a fierce hug at the Long Beach airport, said “See you in three weeks for Thanksgiving!”, and boarded a Jet Blue flight (the first of what would turn out to be MANY) to head east for my new adventure in Gotham.

So, now that I’ve been here a year, let’s review a few of the highlights:

• Have lost all modesty about other people seeing (and touching) my skivvies and now regularly send all my laundry out for washing.

• Got food poisoning within my first week in New York (on the day the movers arrived with my truckload of stuff from California, thank you very much) – and have not had Thai food since.

• Have cooked a proper meal in my apartment exactly once. (In spite of the food poisoning, I continue to eat out … all the time.)

• Have seen P. Diddy a few times when I’ve happened to pass by his office building just as he’s coming or going. (I see his Maybach with much more regularity.) Have also seen a handful of other celebs, including Andy Rooney, Wanda Sykes and my personal favourite – Rupert from the Hello Deli.

• Have learned that I can live quite comfortably in 650 square feet and there are a lot of items that we think we need, but we really don’t. But I still want a bigger place and a yard so I can get a dog.

• Have adopted “New York Time” – I walk everywhere faster and have even caught myself getting unnecessarily impatient when the tourists in front of me in line at the corner deli are taking a bit too long to order their sandwiches.

• Finally learned that “on line” does not mean “online”; it means “in line”, as in “I’ve been standing on line for hours at TKTS”, not “You can’t order tickets online from TKTS”.

• Have seen a ton of shows, both on and off Broadway including some gems such as Mamma Mia, The Producers, The Drowsy Chaperone, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, Spamalot, The Scene, Avenue Q, Altar Boyz… the list goes on.

• Reconnected Special K with a high school friend who is now a successful actor. (Special K’s brother and I stalked Chris in the theater lobby after a show, and shocked the you-know-what out of Special K when I handed my cell phone over to Chris and had him say ‘hi’.)

• Broke a number of heels on shoes… and as a result, have rediscovered shoe repair shops… and flats.

• Logged approximately 12 trips back to California (so far), traveling almost 60,000 miles on those trips alone.

• Made “friends” with the construction crew up the street since I walk by every day to go to work. Started pretending to be on my cell phone when I walked by so my new “friends” would stop “chatting” with me.

• Had the unbelievable fortune of being selected as a “Dove Girl” for a Dove Hair advertorial and viral video.

• In the last mile of the New York Marathon, saw a guy get down on bended knee and propose to his girlfriend who he was running with. She said yes.

• Was quoted in Women’s Wear Daily.

• Had a number of fun rendezvous with Special K in Chicago, Dallas, Calgary and New Mexico.

• Was one of many victims of the Valentine’s Day Massacre – was stranded in New York over President’s Day long weekend because of severe snow and ice storms that started on Feb 14.

• Discovered that the two best food deals within a block of my office are the combo deals at Café Metro and at Subway. Discovered that the worst deal is the $3.50 bottles of Vitamin Water in the café in the base of my building.

• Bought more winter clothes than I have in 10 years.

• Promoted into a new role at work.

• Most importantly, have made lots of great new friends and have rekindled a few old friendships as well.

• And I saw a man poop in the street. What more could I possibly ask for??

Guess Who Called Today...

... to tell me that they regretted to inform me that they would be unable to keep the appointment they had scheduled with me today? That's right, the Useless Cable Company! How did you guess?? Ugh. They are now rescheduled to come tomorrow, but I am not holding my proverbial breath.

Charles Atlas is Alive and Well on the West Side!

My building, like many apartment buildings in New York, has quite an electic, random collection of doormen and porters who monitor the building's comings and goings and overall operations. The entire staff is extremely pleasant and friendly, but over the past year, I've definitely gotten to know some of their, um, quirks.

One of the porters, Randy, has worked here since the buidling opened last year when I moved in.

He speaks like a machine gun, rapidly firing off a dozen questions and comments as one single sentence and doesn't stop until it's time to breathe and reload a new magazine of verbal ammunition.

"Hi,HowYouDoingToday?Good,Thanks!That'sRight,NiceToSeeYou,HopeYourDayWasGood, TakeCareOfYourselfNow!"

At the end of this barrage, you have no idea what you should say so you end up just saying "Hi!" and stumbling off to the elevator.

Somehow (I guess I managed to actually fight my way into the conversation properly) I have learned that Randy works out. A lot. No, I mean, A LOT. Like 5 hours each day. He lives in Brooklyn and sometimes rides his bike to work (depending on where he lives in Brooklyn, this is probably at least a 10 - 12 mile ride. THEN, he tells me that he's starting RUNNING to work. That's right, all the way from Brooklyn. Not only does he run, but he runs with a weight vest... because running a half-marathon each day is just not quite enough exercise on its own.

And I can barely drag my sorry butt downstairs to the gym three or four times per week.

IPTV on its Way

Well, after calling Useless Cable Company back and getting a different customer service rep on the phone, I have somehow managed to negotiate myself an "upgraded" cable/phone/internet package that gets me more (but useless) TV channels and I will actually be paying less per month. Sweet. Cable guy is supposed to come tomorrow to switch out my receiver (good bye satellite cable forever) and hook me up to IPTV. Given the cable company's poor track record, please wish me luck.

I Want my IPTV

Or maybe not.

I am not happy with my cable provider at the moment. I think we are literally the ONLY building in Manhattan that does not have a contract with the tried and true cable provider, Time Warner.

Since I moved in, I have had an "issue" with my satellite cable no less than once every six weeks or so. Generally, these "issues" take the form of me being greeted by a blue screen (yes, it's a bad omen for more than just computers) that happily proclaims "No satellite signal". I do all the things I'm supposed to do: turn the TV off and back on, try to walk through the little (read: completely freaking useless) troubleshooting tutorial on the screen, and finally, go for the full "hard reboot" by yanking the entire power supply out of the wall for a few minutes.

Inevitably, I wind up on the phone to the customer service department saying "Just look in my file -- it's the same thing that happened last time."

So, the day before I took my last trip to CA, I turned on the TV for some background noise while I was packing and was faced with the ominous blue screen again. I upheld my part of the script while on the phone with a customer service rep and patiently obliged her in the slow dance of "did you unplug the receiver from the wall?" until she finally said "we'll send someone out first thing in the morning".

I went to work, the Useless Cable Company came to "fix" my cable, I came home from work to pick up my suitcase and flicked on the TV and actually got a picture... happy enough with that, I turned the TV off again and headed out the door to the airport.

Fast forward 10 days when I arrive back in NY. Last night, I turn on the TV to catch the late news and I find that I can't change channels, I can't get the satellite menu to come up and and venturing anywhere off of CBS gives me nothing but static. Sighing, I resignedly dial Useless Cable Company's customer service number (which I have now memorized via frequency of use) and explain the situation to the rep on the other end.

He asks me to try a few things, none of which have any impact, and then he asks my favorite question: "Are you sure the receiver is actually on?" I reply with "yes, it is", but it takes all my willpower not to say something like "On? Darlin', isn't this one of those fancy little HY-bred do-hickeys that runs on banana peels and solar power?" (Side note: It drives me nuts when people say "hybred" instead of "hybrid".)

THEN, Wayne from customer service proceeds to tell me that the package I've been paying for on my monthly bill isn't even a package they offer. Wha? Apparently, at some point over the past few months, Useless Cable Company has converted my building to a fibre optic cable service (that's the IPTV reference), but no one bothered to notify me. And not only that, but now I only have two package options. One is that I can pay the same I pay now, but get 130 fewer channels, OR I can pay twice as much as I pay now for every channel under the sun.

Or I guess there is actually one more option. I can make NO changes and watch anything I want -- as long as it's on CBS.

Have Gun(n), Will Travel

Armed with little more than a laptop and rollerboard suitcase, I am the ultimate corporate road warrior these days. Unfortunately, the accumulation of frequent flyer miles doesn't exactly compensate for a lot of the nightmares that occur when traveling. Here's a snapshot of the first part of my current trip:

-- Nearly tossed my cookies upon arriving at JFK airport (from Manhattan) last week on my way out of NY. Had a particularly jerky driver (commentary on his driving style, not necessarily on his personality overall) and by the time he jerked and swerved his way to the airport, my stomach was ready to do some swerving of its own. Blasted into the terminal to the nearest bathroom only to discover, that's right, a LINE. (Imagine THAT -- a waiting line for a women's restroom!) Managed to hang onto my cookies (barely), but not without the whole nauseous incident converting itself into the sweats and a splitting headache.

-- Six hours later, arrive in San Diego and drive to my hotel. Park in the designated parkade (that's "parking structure" for my American friends) and come up the elevator only to find myself in the lobby of an office building and my hotel is literally a quarter mile away. Did I mention I now have not eaten anything for about 12 hours?

-- Finally get to my room and open my suitcase only to find that my bags have been completely ransacked by shady airline/airport/TSA staff and yes, items have been stolen.

-- Spend the next 45 minutes on the phone with various airline and airport personnel railing about the general state of the human condition (particularly that of the lowlife who invaded my personal space and stole my personal things) and demanding that SOMEONE be held accountable for their employee's criminal actions. I am assured that it is very helpful that I have reported the incident (what ELSE would I have done??) because it helps them narrow down what shifts these "incidents" are occurring on and ostensibly which of their shady employees is running a theft ring behind baggage carousel number one. (I still have not eaten.)

-- Calm down enough to finally crawl into bed in the wee hours of the morning and grab a fitful few hours of sleep.

-- Retrace my steps in the morning in order to find my car and find myself in a part of the parkade that does not look remotely familiar and my eco-friendly Prius rental is nowhere to be found. Even though I was nearly delirious with hunger the night before when I arrived, I made special note of where I was parked and even noted the number of the space I was in. I trudged back up to the lobby and demanded the clerk on duty to tell me what, pray tell, had become of parking space #114 since 11:00 the night before. As it turned out, they had closed off an entire section of the garage with a giant garage door and I wasn't losing my mind -- the Prius was exactly where I left it, but I just couldn't get to it using the previous night's route.

-- I get in the Prius, miraculously find my way out of the Hall of Mirrors parkade, only to discover that my failsafe GPS can't find any satellite signals to hook me up to. I can nearly picture Stella (this is the name I have christened the female GPS voice with) tipping back in her chair, throwing her feet up on the desk, lighting a cigarette and after the first deep inhale, shaking her head and saying, "Sorry, sweetheart, you're on your own now."

Gone to the Dogs

Why did I rent an orange Mitsu Eclipse and wander off into rural Pennsylvania, you ask? Why, to go to a dog show, of course!

As many of you know, my Mom is an extremely well-known and accomplished breeder of Miniature Schnauzers (aw!!) and she made the pilgrimage to PA for the weekend for one of the biggest show weekends of the season. Since she was so close, I went down to visit her and her friend, Heather, for the day.

When I was little, I used to travel with my Mom to shows quite often, but up until last weekend, I hadn't been to one in well over ten years. It was fun to watch the proceedings and field emails from friends who all wanted to know "Is it REALLY like that movie 'Best in Show'?"

Best of all was getting to see my Mom stateside and to have the opportunity to see another good family friend, Joan, whom I haven't seen in over 15 years.

Pic above is from the Miniature Schnauzer ring at the Montgomery County show.

Gettin' My Drive On NYC-Style

Drum roll, please.

Are you ready for this?

I have now driven in New York.

That's right, I have actually been behind the wheel of a car myself as opposed to just popping into the back seat of a cab. And mostly, it was fine. Except that most of the routes to the Lincoln Tunnel were blocked and it took me 20 minutes just to get out of the city. That and the fact that my GPS system was getting a tiny bit frustrated with me. (Calmly: "Turn left in 2oo yards." Then more insistently: "TURN LEFT NOW." Then with annoyed resignation: "Missed turn. Recalculating route." She refrained from adding "idiot!" to the last comment.)

Avis hooked me up with a pumpkin orange (festive, right?) Mitsubishi Eclipse and I have to admit it was fun getting behind the wheel of something nimble and sporty again.

But the key lesson learned? A GPS system is key. I drove down to a little town in Pennsylvania, just to the northwest of Philadelphia and even in the daylight, I feel like I would have missed at least a couple of turns were it not for my trusty little electronic companion anchored to the dash. And coming back at night in the dark? Fugeddaboudit. Seriously, I suppose it's mostly because I'm not familiar with the area, but I really felt like the roads (even the highways) were not all that well marked.

Funniest GPS moment? On the way home at about 9:00 at night, I'm sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic snaking my way down the long winding entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel, barely inching my way forward when Ms. GPS pipes up in her infinitely chipper tone, "There is a better route available!" Well, unless is has to do with this Eclipse having teleporting capabilities or unless there is a helicopter immediately above ready to pluck me out of the traffic snarl, I think I'm sticking with the original route.

Weird Day

I don't know what was going on today. Everything felt a little off kilter. I felt lethargic and tired all day. I was yawning before the clock even struck 10:00 am. When I got back from lunch, I felt like I could have easily passed out for a two-hour nap.

Walking home from work tonight, it felt like the city was grittier and dirtier than usual. There was more garbage on the streets and people seemed to be in fouler moods than normal. There seemed to be an abnormally large number of dogs barking at frantic pitches and a heightened level of sirens piercing the evening air.

AND to top it all off, I walked by a policeman (yes, a POLICEMAN) who had just finished relieving himself against a tree and was zipping up. Are you KIDDING me?? He would ARREST others for less than that. New York's finest indeed.

(The one redeeming thing about the day, however, was the absolutely spectacular sunset... the entire city and the Hudson River were positively glowing.)

Jersey Girls

On Saturday afternoon, Jess and I met at Penn Station and "train-pooled" out to Maplewood, NJ to Kate's house for a fun Oktoberfest party. Kate and Evan had thought of everything from the wide variety of German beer to the polka music playing in the background.

I feel like such a bad Canadian when I go to parties like this because I don't particularly like beer. I end up drinking wine and I know that's not exactly on point for an Oktoberfest party.

Funniest part of the night? We were starting to get ready to leave to catch our train back into the city when one of the guys told Jess she couldn't leave until she'd had another glass of red wine. In his slightly inebriated state, he came back with a glass of rosé instead and didn't even notice as three of us polished off the glass and handed it back to him empty. He simply looked at the empty glass and then looked up at Jess in awe.

Please Kindly Curb Your Homeless

There are signs all over the streets of New York that say "Please curb your dog" or "Thank you for caring to curb your dog". I've heard a few variations on what it actually means, but apparently the general gist is that when you're walking your dog, you should keep the dog close to the curb so that we he relieves himself, it's not in the middle of sidewalk where every passerby could walk through it (or the remains of it).

So, this morning, I was walking to work along one of my regular routes... it was just before 8:00, so the sidewalks were bustling with activity. As I approached the corner of 57th and 9th, I was walking under some scaffolding in front of the building and I caught a whiff of something extremely foul-smelling.

A few more steps and the scaffolding cut away to my right and in the split second before I could turn away, I saw an image that nearly made me retch and will unfortunately be burned in my brain for quite some time.

A homeless man had his pants down around his ankles, was in a squatting position, and was defacating quite shamelessly in the middle of the sidewalk. Ironically, he actually had the mental wherewithal to position himself over a sheet of newspaper like a semi-housetrained puppy.

I'm sorry, but did I say I missed New York??

NYC's Got Its Hooks In Me

When I moved here last year, I just knew I was coming to NY for a great new job and I didn't really know how it would all play out. I have always really liked the city, but I didn't have a clue about what it would be like to actually live here. I have mostly really loved it (except for snow storms that make the entire eastern half of the US grind to a halt) and when I was back in California on my last trip (for about 10 days), something very unexpected happened.

I starting missing New York.

It may have had to do with the fact that all my stuff is here, my permanent office is here etc and while I'm on the road, I feel like a bit of a corporate gypsy. But I think more than that, it had to do with the energy of the city and the availability of SO much to see and do at any given point in time. Plus, I've met some pretty incredible people here and that becomes a big part of the equation.

(And it doesn't hurt that it was about 80 degrees today and it's OCTOBER, for crying out loud.)

But don't kid yourself, priority number one is to spend as many days as possible in the same zip code as Special K and you know that as winter approaches, those zip codes will increasingly begin with the number 9.

If you need me, I'll be in the Hamptons, Dahling

So, after nearly a year in New York, I had still never been to Long Island. Technically, I'd been on the land mass that contains Long Island because of my numerous trips to JFK and LGA. But I'd never ventured beyond the air traffic controlled part of Nassau County until this past weekend. And then, I ended up going twice! (Making up for lost time, I guess.)

On Saturday, Nick, Reny (and wee Ryan), Sia (and puppy, Tad) and I piled in the car and headed out of the city to Cold Springs Harbor on Long Island. We packed the car with munchies and supplies as if we were embarking on a bona fide road trip instead of just a 35-mile jaunt outside the city.

We arrive in Cold Springs Harbor and immediately locate a cute little retaurant called Bedlam Street where we installed ourselves for lunch and a glass of wine. Bedlam advertises itself on its sign and menus as "Bedlam Street Fish and Clam Company". Ironically there was not a clam to be found on the menu and frankly, the fish was pretty sparse, too. I mean, come on -- you're right on the north shore of Long Island and you can't scare up a couple of decent fish dishes? I think the restaurant needs to consider a re-branding exercise: "Bedlam Street -- Nary a Sea Creature Company".

This was also the first time in my life (that I can recall, anyway) where we actually sent back the wine because it had turned and tasted no better than a fruity variety of vinegar. Ugh. (Side note: The ENTIRE time we were having lunch, little Tad the Maltese was in his sherpa bag/dog carrier under the table and didn't make a peep until we were standing up to leave... and even then, the waitress thought it was little Ryan who was "barking". Ha!)

After lunch and a leisurely stroll around the quaint main streets of this little hamlet, we wound our way around to the other side of the inlet where we spread out picnic blankets on the lawn of the Teddy Roosevelt mansion, Sagamore Hill, and enjoyed WAY too many of Sia's homemade chocolate chip cookies and then got organized to trek down to the beach.

How many grown-ups does it take to fasten together one snuggly for one 5 month-old to be safely transported to the beach? You don't want to know, trust me. Poor wee Ryan was infinitely patient as Reny, Sia and I tried to hook together this baby-carrying contraption so Nick could be a hands-free dad on the walk to the beach. I have no idea what they thought I could contribute to the process since I'm clearly a rookie, but after a number of attempts, and laughing 'til we cried, we finally got it right and Ryan seemed moderately tolerant of the whole situation.

I was back in the city Saturday night and less than 24 hours later, I was back in the car, stopping at LGA to pick up Debra and off we went to Southampton for a two-day management off-site. I was looking forward to going to the Hamptons, but frankly, since I only really the saw the inside of our meeting room at the Southampton Inn, we might as well have stayed in the middle of Manhattan. I can't wait to go back and explore -- I got just enough of a taste to be even more intrigued by the area.

Global Warming?

Ok, not to jinx things or anything, but it's October and it's still really quite beautiful in New York. Warm, sunny days. No turning leaves yet. I'm pretty thrilled about this whole situation. Hot, sweaty, humid days are behind us for another summer and we are now in this brief (not TOO brief, I hope) idyllic period where the mornings are crisp and fresh and the days peak in the 70's, still allowing lunch and dinner on sidewalk patios, but not necessitating a fresh swipe of deodorant every time you step outside.

I heart NY in the fall.

A La Moda

We finally did it!! All summer long, a group of us from the office have been trying to go to Moda, a restaurant/bar that has what looked to be a very fun and hip outside patio (fully covered, in kind of an opening between two buildings in the middle of the long block between 7th and 6th Aves). Every time we've tried to go, it has been near-hurricane conditions, so we've had to abandon our Moda plans and opt for somewhere where we could stay dry inside.

But Thursday night, the planets were aligned and we conquered Moda. It was sort of a celebration/send-off for me and my new role at work, but most importantly, it was a great excuse to get everyone together, have a couple of drinks and have some fun.

After Moda, a few die-hards (Ally, Oda, Holly, Andrea and I) were pretty hungry so off we went to never disappointing Eatery where we demolished the house Mac & Jack (A-mazing), but also a fairly decadent chocoate/ice cream concoction for dessert. Yum!

Nick, we missed you and now you have some catching up to do!

Love it!

Best sign (seen in an art gallery in Santa Fe):

"Unattended children will be given a free puppy."

I'm Cracking Under the Pressure

There's a pusher in my building. But it's not what you think. She's not pushing illegal narcotics on me, instead she's pushing house cleaning services. Yes, you read that right. House cleaning services. The sweet Asian woman who runs the valet service that takes care of laundry and dry cleaning for the building has just added house cleaning to her laundry list of services (pun intended). And as it turns out, she is a hardcore sales woman who doesn't take no for an answer.

Last week, when I breezed home to pick up my bags and catch my ride to the airport, she spied me coming in the front door of the building and pounced on me. "You want house cleaning? We come this Saturday." I respectfully decline, as I'm backing away towards the elevator, one eye on my watch, very aware that I'm running a bit late.

I flew home last night and this morning, on my way out, I stopped to drop off some dry cleaning. It was as if we were picking up on our conversation from over a week ago as if the time gap had never occurred. "So, we come on Saturday?"

I'm just going to have to give in. It's a win-win situation after all. I get to come home to a freshly cleaned apartment and she gets to claim me and my testimonials as her next weapon in her campaign to secure house-cleaning rights to every single apartment in the building.

Vegas, baby, Vegas!!

Life is random and unexpected and that's what makes it an adventure. I have been in California now all week for business and I stayed over this weekend for more west coast meetings on Monday.

Special K emailed me on Friday with the simple two-word question "Vegas tomorrow?" and less than 24 hours later, we were settled in on Jet Blue for the short 47-minute flight.

Special K's company is hosting an event in Vegas in early November, so we went primarily to scope out the venue, but we didn't let the opportunity pass to have one of those great Las Vegas dinners. We dined at Rao's in Ceasar's Palace and it was a pretty incredible display of Italian fare. The original Rao's is in East Harlem and has only 10 tables and apparently, customers actually "own" the tables (much like one owns a condominium) and so unless you know someone from whom you can "borrow" a table, your chances of dining at the original Rao's are not much better than a snowball's chance in you-know-where.

Vegas to the rescue. While the Sin City version of Rao's features decor much like the original, it's much bigger and turns the tables many times per night. (East Harlem Rao's only offers one seating per evening.)

We arrived early and had a drink at the bar and I noticed that there were Christmas decorations up already (it's not even the end of September, for pete's sake!). We asked the bartender and she said it's a tradition from the NY-based Rao's and described an historical decision made by one of the owners years ago when it came time to take down the seasonal decorations and pack them away.... "Ah, just leave 'em up .... fuggedabouddit." And voila -- now it is Christmas all year long in Rao's.

After dinner, we went back to the Voo Doo Lounge at the Rio (where Special K's event will be) to see what it looked like on a rockin' Saturday night.... we listened to the band for a while and then made our way back to our hotel where we dropped a tiny bit of cash at the blackjack tables and then dropped into bed for about two hours of sleep before heading back to the airport for the first flight out.

I think we were in Vegas for about 15 hours altogether.

The art of the hang up

There used to be nothing quite as satisfying as the feeling of slamming down the phone on its base, punctuating the end of a particularly frustrating or upsetting conversation, and knowing that the person you just disconnected from was probably still holding their own phone in their hand, mouth agape with disbelief.

I hate to say it, but this was a simple (if not destructive) pleasure that technology has really robbed us of.

Now what do you do to make a point to your annoying conversation mate? Aggressively push the "end" button on your cordless or cell phone and think "There! That'll teach you! Hmfph!!"? Yeah, THAT's satisfying. I suppose you could throw the phone after you hang up on someone to really demonstrate your anger, but really, what good does that do? You will probably break your phone and the person you hung up on just thinks that this is yet another case of a dropped call and they'll probably just call you right back and continue to be annoying.

Taxi Talk.... with your host, Shari

I don't know what it is, but I tend to get the chattiest cab drivers. Occasionally, it's annoying if I'm dead tired and just can't muster the energy to hold up my end of a conversation, but mostly, I try to engage at least a little bit because some of these guys tend to be downright entertaining.

It's a bit of the Forrest Gump "box of chocolates" philosophy -- you never know what you're gonna get.

My most recent cab ride in NYC was from my office to my apartment in the middle of the afternoon so that I could get home in order to pick up my bags and catch my towncar out to the airport.

I flagged down a cab at 53rd and Broadway and the driver almost ran into another cab, swerving over to pick me up at the curb. That, of course, caused a chorus of honking that didn't stop until I had climbed in and quickly pulled the door closed behind me.

After I gave the cab driver directions on where I wanted to go, he peered at me in his rearview mirror. "You must be a supermodel or something, right?"

I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Yeah... no. Incredibly lucky Dove girl, yes. Supermodel, no.

The conversation evolved from here and in the ten minutes it took him to drive me home, I learned that he was not only a cab driver, but also worked part-time as an embalmer (you can't script this stuff) and that he had just sold his first script in Hollywood and was soon heading to LA for the production of his film.

He had just finished telling me that he lives in the South Bronx and how scary and violent it still often is when we pulled up to my block and I told him where to stop to let me out.

"You live here?" and he let out a low whistle. "Momma, you doin' ok!"

Travel Log

You may have noticed that I'm not blogging quite as frequently as I have been... I'm easing my way into a new role at work which means that my travel has just jumped significantly. It looks like I could easily be on the road 50% of the time (mostly traveling back to California) which is proving to make it a bit of a challenge to siphon off a bit of time here and there for an occasional random blog post.

But I do have to tell you about a few things that happened on my last trip out west (I flew last Friday night):

-- First thing in the morning, Oda comes by and tells me that her sister (who was also flying to SoCal from JFK that morning) has just called to tell her that a "suspicious individual" was yanked off her flight, causing all sorts of dominoes to fall and culminating in the FBI combing the plane.

-- I actually make it to JFK on time for my flight! (Whoo hoo!!)

-- I am sitting at my gate, thumbs tapping away at my blackberry when I happen to glance up at the people sitting across from me. The girl is reading the new issue of Cosmo and lo and behold if she doesn't have the magazine open to the very page where my Dove ad is! So cool.

-- Once seated on the plane, I notice the lady seated across the aisle from me.... she is clutching a prayer on a small laminated piece of paper.... she is repeatedly crossing herself with one hand while muttering the prayer and fingering her rosary beads in the other hand. Put in a good word for me, please.

-- Directly behind me is an elderly ex-Navy white man and next to him is a young Chinese immigrant. The American is super friendly and SUPER curious about where the young Asian man is exactly from etc:
"Where in China are you from?"
"South China"
"I use tiger balm!"
Wha???

Viva New Mexico!

A few highlights from my rendezvous with Special K in New Mexico:

Biggest "I'm not in New York anymore" moment: Finding that the only restaurant open for dinner after 10pm was Taco Cabana.

Biggest "What were we thinking??" moment: Driving a total of six hours for Pizza Hut pizza. And paying for it all night long.

Best town name: "Truth or Consequences" (Or "TOC" on the weather maps, thank you very much.) But when it comes right down to it, don't we ALL really live in "truth or consequences"??

(And yes, I really did make Special K turn the car around and go back so I could snap the pic.)

Funniest XM Radio moment: Hearing the song "Big Girl" by Mika. Key lyric: "Diet Coke & a pizza please." Just about made the 6 hour trip for Pizza Hut pizza worth it. Ok, maybe not.

Most frustrating XM Radio moment: Hearing "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie. Over and over again. And no, the lyrics don't get any better the more you hear them.

Best TV commercial: 60 second spot for "Tater Mitts", rubber gloves with an abrasive surface that basically allow you to "peel" potatoes" by scrubbing them vigorously under running water. Yeah, I know.

Most interesting artisan encountered: Carol in Santa Fe who used to paint for NASA. Art meets science in fascinating ways.

Most "interesting" artisan encountered: Robert the Navajo pottery artist we met at Petroglyph National Monument. After an interesting conversation about his previous "ladies" and his background in learning the art of indian pottery, we beat a hasty retreat when the conversation turned to how he can fly.

Most romantic moment: Accidentally stumbling across a winery in Los Ranchos de Albuquerque, stopping in and having a peaceful glass of wine beside the pond and fountain on the winery grounds. (But a glass of tawny port in front of the outdoor fireplace at Baleen in Santa Fe was a darn close second!)

Most offbeat experience (and frankly, a tiny bit creepy): The burning of a giant groaning marionette effigy called Zozobra at La Fiesta de Santa Fe. Zozobra is "Old Man Gloom" and his fiery demise symbolizes the destruction of the previous year's troubles and worries.

Best birthday surprise (I hope!): Hot air balloon ride for Special K's special day. I even managed to keep it a secret until the morning we went. Even though I was on the verge of spilling the beans for DAYS. Special K was an excellent sport even though he had no idea why he had to get up at 5:00 am.

Coolest new experience (on the ground): Llama trekking with four furry llamas, Andrew the crusty trail guide and Jesse the ever loyal and adorable trail dog.

Most relaxing moment: Hour-long couples' hot rock massage in our room at the Taos B&B where we stayed. Job? What job??

Geography 101

This is the conversation between me and the towncar driver as he's approaching the Newark airport terminal, preparing to drop me off nearly two weeks ago:

Driver: "Where are you flying today?"

Shari: "I'm on Continental to Albuquerque."

Driver: "Great, I'll drop you off at the international terminal then."

Pause.

Shari: "Um... why? I'm just going to Albuquerque."

Driver: (with sheepish laugh) "Where's that?"

Shari: (looking for the hidden cameras) "New Mexico. NEW Mexico. You know, between Texas and Arizona."

Clearly my driver had NOT seen the relevant Bugs Bunny cartoon.

September 11

I'm finally back in NY. After a glorious New Mexico vacation (details shall be forthcoming), I had to make a bit of a detour and head to Northern California for business for a couple of days, so I hauled my suitcase full of vacation clothes westward and made the best of it.... sans laptop. (But Blackberry never far from my nimble thumbs.)

So, while it's ridiculously late for me to blog about anything in detail (ignore the time stamp -- it's actually 1:00 am), I did have to say that when I was in the towncar tonight, riding back into the city from JFK, I could see the pillars of light emanating from Ground Zero, in remembrance of the tragic events of September 11, 2001.

I did feel a little bit weird about flying today -- when I was booking my flights last week, it did make me shudder a bit when I asked the travel agent to help me find a return flight on Tuesday, September 11. I think my voice trailed off a bit as I said it. My plane ended up being only about half full, but everyone was in cheerful enough spirits and the worst thing that happened all day were flight delays due to the rainstorms on the east coast. Amen.

I Made a Wrong Toin at Albukoykee!

Hopefully I won't repeat Bugs Bunny's fateful mistake and inadvertently find myself in the middle of a bull fight. (Side note: Until I read "The Sun Also Rises", I had a very romantic notion of bull-fighting all because of that very Bugs cartoon. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. Thanks, Mr. Hemingway.)

Anyway. Special K and I are rendezvousing in New Mexico for a proper vacation for a week, so I will be MIA for a bit, but I promise I'll return with tales of llama treks, hot rock massages and goodness knows what else.

Typical Saturday Morning on the UWS

Saturday morning, I threw on a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, my runners and I set off for a walk. I had no real plan or any particular destination in mind, so I ended up walking up Broadway from about 62nd to 95th and back again. According to Yahoo! Answers, there about 20 north-south Manhattan blocks in a mile. That means I walked about 3 miles. Not bad. (Someone check my math, please.)

Here's what the Upper West Side was up to on a random Saturday morning:

-- Lots of power walkers cruising hurriedly along, pedometers in place.

-- Actual groups of joggers. I haven't seen groups of joggers since my days in The OC.

-- The Avis car rental place was positively teeming with customers... Manhattanites gettin' their drive on to get out of the city for the day or the weekend.

-- Zabar's market already absolutely packed, with a row of curly-haired ladies lined up at the window counter, all with reading glasses perched at the ends of their noses while they read various papers and consumed various Saturday morning pastries.

-- Early bird shoppers at Fairway scooping up the freshest fruits and veggies before the crowds hit.

-- Men pushing strollers, but said strollers full of groceries instead of small children.

-- The weekly farmer's market in the triangle at Broadway and 65th.

-- A few random drunks still left over from Friday night.

Against the Odds

So this is my 100th blog post. No, really, it is! Which means that I have beat the blogosphere odds. I read somewhere that a new blog is started every eight seconds, but that fewer than 50% of blogs last past the initial three months.

Blog on, dude.

Fastest way to Identify a Symphony Rookie

It's the clapping. Seriously. And I have been completely guilty of it myself. The trick is that you are supposed to wait until the LAST movement of the symphony (or concerto or whatever) has been completed before you applaud. And I ALWAYS feel compelled to clap between movements.

This past Wednesday night, my friend Josh was playing at Lincoln Center with the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra. He is one of the best violinists in the world and once again, he did not disappoint. I love watching someone perform who I know personally, but almost as enjoyable as watching Josh was watching the other musicians in the orchestra watch Josh. You could tell that even they were blown away by his talent.

Josh played a very ambitious Prokofiev concerto and before the first movement was over, he had already broken two strings on his bow. I still marvel at the fact that his violin is a 300 year-old Stradivarius with an amazing history of its own.

After the concert, I met up with Josh and a few of his friends for a drink and a bite to eat... and as always, it's so refreshing to be reminded that such a successful, accomplished and talented person continues to be so down-to-earth.

“Strange women lyin’ in ponds distributin’ swords is no basis for a system of government”

I think that’s my favourite line from Monty Python’s “The Holy Grail”. (The “She turned me into a newt!” exchange is a darn close second.)

Special K was in town last weekend and we spent our Saturday night at the Shubert Theater watching “Spamalot”, the musical adaptation of “The Holy Grail”. While the show was undoubtedly hilarious and had us laughing all night, I think I actually gave my seat mates an even grander show that night, albeit quite inadvertently and unexpectedly.

Rewind to earlier in the evening as we’re getting ready to go out and I wriggle into a grey knit shift dress and because I don’t currently have full-length mirror in my apartment, I ask Special K if he thinks the dress is too short. Of COURSE he says it looks great (he is a boy after all) and off we go.

At the theater, we find our seats and Special K goes off to the restroom. There is one man already seated in our side of the row and our seats are on the other side of him. He is currently absorbed in a conversation on his cell phone. It’s only a few minutes before curtain, so I don’t feel bad making my way down the aisle to sit down, even though I’ll obviously have to disrupt his phone call.

He doesn’t even realize I’m there until I lightly touch him on the arm, say “excuse me” and motion to the seats on his other side. Instead of standing up properly to let me pass, he cradles his cell phone between his right ear and shoulder, uses his hands to hoist himself up by using the armrests as resistance and ends up sort of perched on the edge of his now flipped-up seat.

As I’m trying to slip past him, he loses his grip on the armrests, his seat flips back down under his full weight and his knees and legs shoot forward, right between my legs, pinning me in place as I’m now straddling this strange man (in a short dress …Me, not him.) Even at this turn of events, he still does NOT hang up the phone. “Oh, I just ran someone over” is what he says to his conversation mate on the other end of the line.

After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only about 5 seconds), I manage to extract myself from this man’s lap and I sit down with as much decorum and class as I could muster.

He finally hangs up his phone, leans over and says “Geez, I’m really sorry!” and then with WAY too much enthusiasm, he says “We’re gonna have a GREAT time tonight, yeah!!”

Not THAT great, buddy, trust me.

Modern Day Ziegfeld Follies – with John Travolta in Drag

I have been meaning to go see a movie at the Ziegfeld simply because it is one of the last grand movie palaces built in the United States. When I first heard about the Ziegfeld, I thought it might have actually been the original theater built in 1927 and now just repurposed for film, instead of live performances. But the original theater was actually razed in 1966 and this new theater was built just down the block from the original location in 1969.

It turns out that the original theater was not only a live performance venue, but had also been used as an NBC television studio, it had hosted the Perry Como Show and it had hosted the Emmy's twice. The original building was tore down to make way for yet another skyscraper (like Manhattan needed MORE of those) and a piece of beautiful New York history was lost forever.

The “new” Ziegfeld is gorgeous inside – miles of sumptuous red carpet, gold trim and detailing. You feel like you really should be dressed in something more than just shorts and flip-flops when you're surrounded by so much gilt and velvet. Oh, and the bathrooms have private sinks in each stall – your own private powder room. Tres chic.

On the day I decided to cross “See movie at the Ziegfeld” off my list, “Hairspray” was playing. Being a Sunday matinee, there were probably fewer than 100 of us in a theater that holds over 1000 people. People were spaced comfortably apart, no one sitting directly in front of anyone else. That is, until two 50-ish women, scurried in just as the previews were beginning, slid into the aisle in front of me and proceeded to sit directly in front of me. I sat there in disbelief with my hand suspended in mid-air, on its way to deliver a few fluffy pieces of popcorn to my waiting mouth. Are you KIDDING me?? An empty theater and you are sitting RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME?? One of the women realized what they had done, nudged her friend and they moved over a few seats.

In retrospect, I think they were just literally SO EXCITED to be there that they momentarily forgot themselves as they were choosing seats. As soon as the film began with the good morning Baltimore song, they were bopping and weaving in their seats to the music. And it wasn’t long before they started singing along with the lyrics. And so did the women a few rows behind me. As a Hairspray virgin, I was starting to feel a little out of place, but I persevered.

It wasn’t until a few days later when I rediscovered my ticket stub in my bag that it all made sense. The ticket read “Hairspray – Sing-A-Long!”. Ah ha. THAT explains A LOT, including the karaoke-style lyrics on the screen all throughout the movie.

Ziegfeld Follies indeed.

(Photo note: The image above is the original Ziegfeld -- can you believe they tore this down?)

Nice Umbrella, Dude!

Today, it rained. ALL DAY. While everyone else was scurrying around like mice, darting from building to building, brandishing umbrellas, wellies and rain slickers, trying to stay dry, one single, solitary man in the city of New York seemed completely immune to the pouring rain, and in fact, appeared to openly taunt Mother Nature by exhibiting complete disregard for the weather surrounding him (and indeed, beating right down on him!).

Holly, Ally, Jesse and I set out for our rainy day favourite, The Daily Soup, at lunch today, and as we rounded the corner in front of our building, Holly and I see something quite strange which makes us do a double take.

There is a rather normal looking guy in khakis, collared shirt (tie completely askew) and windbreaker, standing at the corner in front of one of those standard newspaper vending boxes. Above his head, he is holding what used to be a complete umbrella, but which is now simply the metal skeleton of an umbrella without a speck of actual umbrella fabric anywhere to be found. He is soaking wet. (Duh.) He is also casually flipping through a newspaper which he has laid out on top of the newspaper box, at just below his chest level. The newspaper is, of course, just as wet as he is and flips in clumps instead of page by page.

There are a lot of (ahem) interesting people in New York, so this guy could have been anyone, but we were wondering if this is some sort of rainy day prank for the Letterman show (which tapes right across the street from our office).

Somebody needs to stay up tonight and see.

(We never did see what happened with the tubing they ran from our Jamba Juice, across Broadway and into the Ed Sullivan theater... There's always something interesting going on in our neighbourhood.)

Photo credit: Holly and her camera phone

Dove -- The Director's Cut!

Geoff, the director of the Dove video, emailed me last week with a link to his director's cut of the "Fried" video. It's a really cool cut and shows a few 'do's that didn't make it into the final version of "Fried". (Behold the Marge Simpson/Amy Winehouse combo to the right here -- holy beehive, batman!)

Check it out on Geoff's site (you need to click on "Commercials" under "Motion" in the left navigation in order to find it -- sorry I can't link to it directly.)

My Teeth Hurt

When's the last time you had cotton candy? That's right, spun sugar on a stick, usually in either a bright pink or blue hue? If you're like me, you haven't had it since you were about 10 years old, and probably not even so much because you tired of the sugar, but simply because you couldn't stand how sticky it made your fingers. (Oh wait, that's probably just me... goes right in line with the fact that I eat pizza with a knife and fork and will under no circumtances order ribs because I can't STAND how sticky my fingers get -- even with a cute little bowl of lemon juice handy at my place setting. This probably gives you all way more insight into my "food rules" than is strictly necessary.)

Ashley, Mahala and I were out for a girls' dinner on Friday night at Landmarc in the Time Warner Center and when it came time to order dessert, OF COURSE we were each going to order an ice cream cone (!), but Ashley delighted us all when she noted that you could also get cotton candy. (It wasn't on the menu -- you simply have to know to ask for it.)

As soon as our waiter told us that the cotton candy flavour of the night was Pina Colada, we ordered a big fluffy stick of the stuff faster than you could say "cavities on a stick" and we were just like our 10-year old former selves again as we marveled at the way it simply dissolves against your tongue.

And then we all went home and brushed our teeth for about an hour.

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbour's Electronic Gadgets

That's not a commandment, is it? Not the last time I checked. The ten commandments talk about wives (no husbands??) and houses, but there's not a speck of language about thy neighbour's electronic gadgets. And thank goodness. I admit it -- I am coveting my neighbour's iPhone. Yes, it's true. Mahala had one at dinner last Friday night and with just a few minutes of hands-on experience, I have decided I need to begin an extra-curricular relationship outside the scope of my current long-term commitment to my Motorola Razr.

I mean, come on, just for the YouTube videos alone! At dinner on Friday, we watched "Filipino Prison Thriller", "Indian Thriller" and "Random Wedding Party Thriller". Can you beat that for dinner entertainment? (Only the break-your-heart, hand-holding otters can come close.)

Covet away. There aren't three day long lines to buy iPhones anymore.

Huh?

I forgot to blog about this a few weeks ago when I first saw it and I just stumbled across the little note I'd written myself about it.... The note says "Mired.cow". You don't know what that means?? Heck, I couldn't remember what it meant and I wrote it!

After a couple of minutes of reflection, it finally came to me.... I was down in Battery Park a few weeks ago and there's a little marina there with lots of little sail boats docked. Many sail boats had logos on small, pennant-shaped, semi-transparent flags that were being whipped around by the wind.

One boat had a Wired.com logo on its flag, but as the flag twisted upside down and backwards in the wind, it looked like "Mired.cow" and it took me a minute to figure out what the heck muddy barnyard animals had to do with anything.

Toby Likes Noodles

Apparently, Toby also likes vegetables. Or so he says. But Toby has a habit of just repeating things he hears, so it’s hard to place a lot of stock in what Toby says.

I met Toby this past Saturday evening. Nick, Reny, wee Ryan, Jay and I went to Riverside Park for a picnic and some live jazz. As we were walking through the park, we passed a beautiful garden with a wrought iron fence bordering it, and I thought I heard a voice coming from what sounded like a radio. I turned to look, but didn’t see anything. Reny was actually the first to see the brilliant green parrot perched on the top of the iron fence, but once we zeroed in on him, he ironically had nothing more to say.

Toby’s “mom” was sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the sidewalk and she made introductions. Apparently Toby is only a year and a half old (and since parrots can live for 80 years, acquiring such a youngster is literally a life-long commitment) and he already knows over 40 words and phrases. His first full sentence was “Toby is a good boy, SUCH a good boy!”

I think parrots are fascinating, but with my luck, I’d stub my toe in front of the bird, curse aloud and be stuck with a foul-mouthed fowl friend until I died.

Dove Update

So, I misspoke previously. My Dove hair print ad is actually coming out in the September issues of Marie Claire and Harper's Bazaar and in the October issues of Cosmopolitan and Redbook. (An extra magazine that I didn't even know about -- bonus!) Here's a little preview for y'all.

And if I can make a shameless plug, I use the "Sheer Moisture" formula every day now and I really love it -- I definitely recommend it!

"Deluge Brings New York to Its Knees"

That's the lead story on the NY Times web site tonight. And it's completely true.

I was woken at 5:00 this morning (along with most of New York) by bright flashes of lightning and violent cracks of thunder. Almost two inches of rain fell between 6:00 and 7:00 am alone. There was even a tornado in Brooklyn that blew out windows and left the twisted wreckage of cars in the street. (Oda's in-laws were one of the impacted homes, losing a number of windows from the sounds of it.)

Between 7:00 and 8:00, the rain let up, but it was already over 85 degrees and it was just like walking out into a sauna. According to the giant time/temperature indicator outside our office window, it hit at least 95 degrees today -- it was definitely the most disgusting, humid, sweaty day I've experienced yet this summer.

Many main roads were under water, but even more debilitating was that the sudden downpour sent water gushing into subway tunnels, paralyzing the mass transit system just before the busy morning commute. Oda and I are lucky enough that we live close enough to the office to walk, but most of our colleagues were significantly delayed because of the subway disruption and some weren't able to make it to work at all.

Just to give you a sense of how complete the chaos was, here was a sign posted in Penn Station:

“No trains at this time: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, N, R, S, Q, W, V, F, L, J, 7 to Queens.”

Um, that's pretty much ALL the trains to Queens.

Many trains still weren't running by the time the afternoon commute rolled around.

Oh, and by the way, this is the same darn storm that kept me in Chicago all night on Monday. I talked to a colleague in Chicago tonight and he said they're sending another big storm our way.

Is there a Noah out there anywhere?? We may need your services.

My RENT was Overdue

Last Wednesday night, Nick, Ally and I went to see RENT on Broadway. I’ve seen RENT once before (back in the day, in Los Angeles, when Doogie Howser played Mark), but this was something special because both the ORIGINAL Mark (Anthony Rapp) and Roger (Adam Pascal) have returned to the cast.

When Mark and Roger first appeared on stage, there was more screaming and shrieking from the audience than you see in old black & white footage of Beatles concerts. Seriously, the girls behind us nearly blew our ear drums and then they sat literally whimpering and on the verge of hyperventilating for the next two hours and forty minutes.

We were completely surrounded by RENTheads. Actually, Ally and I were accompanied by our very own RENThead. Nick has seen RENT seven or eight times now and knows all the words and all the lyrics. It was really fun watching the show with someone who loves it so much.

I personally enjoyed getting reacquainted with the storyline and the characters and you can’t help but enjoy Jonathan Larson’s clever lines and lyrics (and the actors’ individual interpretations of such), but at the end of the day, I still find myself musing over the question “Why don’t they get JOBS?”.