MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

It's Christmas Day and Brent and I are continuing to celebrate by inventing our own traditions. But we both wanted to keep one - opening up gifts on Christmas morning.

So we got up around 10 a.m. and went into the living room. I flipped on some Christmas music and we let Chloe open her gifts first. She got a stocking full of treats from Brent and I, and two rolled-up rawhide bones and some stuffed squeeky toys from Maize and Duke - a beagle and a chocolate labrador belonging to Brent's sister and brother-in-law/best friend. She really liked her snowman!

Then I opened my gift from him - a necklace that I picked out to wear with my wedding dress. It compliments my engagement ring and is G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S!!

And I love that my future mother-in-law also gave me a necklace - that she MADE. It's black, yellow, and green, and truly is one of a kind. I got all kinds of compliments the first time I wore it.

Chloe got Brent Talladega Nights (because I hate that movie), and I got him Road Trip, an iTunes gift card, Jim Cramer's new book, and some new earbuds for his iphone, among other random gifts.

Afterwards, I made my famous quiche and we ate it while watching the classic "A Christmas Story." Then we fell asleep on the couch in the most random position - my head at one end, his at the other, and our legs tangled together in the middle - half on the couch and half off.

After we woke up, we went into the bedroom to take another nap on the bed where there's more room. Then I made dinner - and by "made" I mean heated up the lasagna and asparagus that I bought the day before at Whole Foods. I chose lasagne and asparagus because they're red and green. Yep - I now have time to think these things out!

After a slice of apple pie for dessert, we just hung out, played some board games, and enjoyed our time together as a family.

The holidays are such a magical time. Too bad tomorrow is just another day!

Only 364 more days until next Christmas!

Christmas Eve in the city

Since I can remember, this was the first year that I didn't spend Christmas Eve at my Uncle Chris and Aunt Joanne's house, which happens to be directly next door to my parents' house - the house that I grew up in.

My parents, brother, sister, and I would celebrate Christmas Eve by first going to mass at Regina Coeli Church, which is next to the elementary school where I have so many memories because I attended it for nine years.

There, I'd see old classmates, girls from my basketball team, my grade-school crush, and former teachers to chat up after the mass that included so many of those amazing Christmas carols.

Afterward, we'd go home, load up our arms with gifts and food, and head next door, being careful to stay in the path that my dad made earlier with the snowblower because the grass would always be covered with at least a few inches of snow.

Once we got inside, we'd celebrate the holiday with my dad's brothers and sisters (he has 10 of them!) and their families.

The evening always included me sticking to "my seat" in front of the fireplace until my brother would come find me to be his partner in a euchre game with my cousins. There was always too much food, too much chocolate, and songs and performances from my littlest cousins.

This year, it was a bit different.

My fiance works at a bank and had a lot of end-of-the-year stuff to do, so we didn't make it home for the holiday this year - much to my disappointment because my family means the world to me.

But that still didn't mean we didn't celebrate. Though I was sad, I was excited that we had an opportunity to make our own memories.

So I sat up late one night and made a list titled "To do on Christmas Eve or on Christmas with my family" (meaning Brent and our dog, Chloe).

And I am happy to report that we did most of the suggestions on the list.

Our Christmas Eve started around 5 p.m. - after Brent got home from work and I had a chance to get dressed up.

We then linked arms and headed over to Rockafeller Center to once again see the big Christmas tree. (We didn't have one of our own because there really is nowhere to put one in our apartment.)

And though it was crowded, we decided to try our luck eating at the Rockafeller Cafe, which is adjacent to the ice rink so you can watch the skaters through floor-to-ceiling windows. The line went around the corner of the restaurant, but since we only had two people for dinner, we were ushered right in. They sat us one table away from the windows and one table away from comedian Chris Rock, his wife, and his two adorable daughters.

Let me tell you that it was fascinating sitting next to a celebrity to see how he handled his fame in public. He was classy. Only a few people came up to him just to say they love his show or to say happy holidays, and he responded with "thanks" or "you too," which was fine. But the annoying people were the ones who spotted him while ice skating because they kept blocking his view of the rink to take photos of him with their cell phones. But he took it all in stride.

As for me, I would have loved to talk to him - I said a few words to one of his daughters about the Christmas show they went to see - but having people come up to me 24/7 would be annoying and I wanted to respect his privacy so he could have a nice holiday meal with his family.

On our way back to our apartment, Brent and I detoured down 5th Avenue to see what $1 million in pennies looks like, check out the holiday displays of the well-known 5th Avenue stores, and see the biggest sonwflake in the hisotry of the world, which is always suspended above 57th street. It was magnificant.

The last stop was Starbucks so we could grab some hot chocolate and cookies before heading home to watch Elf with Will Ferrell. Brent thought it was the dumbest movie ever while I laughed hysterically at such parts where Buddy answers the phone at his father's business by saying "What's your favorite color?"

And among my own festivities, I put in a call to my aunt and uncle's house and talked to a bunch of my relatives to let them know that, while I was having fun making up my own traditions, I did miss those of my childhood.

City cultures

I've only been here about three weeks, so I haven't done much outside of Hell's Kitchen where I live and the immediate vicinity. So when Brent suggested checking out some different areas of Manhattan, I immediately jumped on the idea.

So we decided to explore Chinatown before heading to Little Italy for dinner on Saturday. The second I got off the subway, I felt like a celebrity because people came at me like I was a magnet.

"You buy bag! Prada, Fendi, Gucci" shouted several Chinese vendors at once. After about five minutes, I got sick of saying "no thanks" and just averted my eyes - which was hard because there was so much to look at. If you want a designer purse or watch knock-off, boy is this the place to go. But if you even so much as glanced at a T-shirt, you'd inevitably hear "you like T-shirt? $10 or two for $20!" Yeesh. I was just looking!

But I loved that there was no mistaking that we were in Chinatown, even without a map, because every store was either dedicated to their culture or had Chinese lettering on them near the English words.

And I've never seen so many stands dedicated to seafood. Every other store had a smattering of fresh fish, crab, and shrimp that you could buy cheap by the pound. Too bad I don't eat anything that comes from the sea with the exception of tuna in a can.

Afterwards, we headed into Little Italy, which was beautifully all lit up in red, green, and white - appropriately - for the holidays.

And even when it's not around the holidays, the parking meters still look like this:

Awesome!

So we strolled up and down the neighborhood looking for a great place to eat and found Sal Anthony's restaurant. It was probably the biggest restaurant I've been to in New York, but I loved the atmosphere because colorful murals took up most of the wall space. I absolutely loved our eggplant appetizer which was followed by a simple, but great, spaghetti and meatballs. Classic!

We skipped dessert, but that's only because Brent wanted to stop by Koreatown so he could introduce me to Pinkberry, a place he tried when his parents came to town a few weeks ago.

It's apparently this trendy place that is only located in New York or California. Its frozen yogurt comes in original or green tea flavor and is made without preservatives or excess sugars or other additives. Plus, you can choose from a variety of guilt-free toppings to put on it, including fruit, cocoa or fruity pebbles cereal, and rice cakes.

I chose to get the original flavor with fruity pebbles and for some reason they put rice cakes on it also. But it was OK with me because they rice cakes tasted like marshmallows! But the dessert was just sweet enough satisfy my sweet tooth, but not so much that it made me feel guilty for eating it. It really is a great dessert - unless you order green tea with blueberries on it like Brent - Y-U-C-K!!

Too bad there's only two locations in Manhattan or it would have been in danger of replacing just Starbucks as my splurge of the week!

The naked cowboy with a bit of toilet paper thrown in

In New York, I can't even do the simplest, most mundane task without running into something totally unexpected.

Our filing cabinet recently broke, so I looked up the nearest Staples and Office Depot stores so I could check out what was available. I went to Staples first, and even though it was two stories tall, it was so narrow that there wasn't any room for any filing cabinets. So I headed over toward Office Depot, which is right near the heart of Times Square about a dozen blocks from our apartment.

But before I got there, nature called from the Starbucks I downed on the way. So I went into another Starbucks and ducked in the single restroom they had for both men and women. But there was no toilet paper. A trip to the McDonald's next door was just as unlucky - the one restroom door was locked and I really had to pee.

This is what's irritating about New York - every store and many restaurants either doesn't have a public restroom or only has a single toilet for both sexes. And they're always dirty. The only time you see seperate restrooms is in fancier restaurants. But I digress.

I finally found an open restroom with about three sheets of toilet paper at a coffee shop in Times Square. After taking care of business, and probably contracting several diseases because it was so disgusting, I headed to Office Depot to browse.

On the way home, I met the naked cowboy(http://www.nakedcowboy.com/).

Clad in only boots, a cowboy hat, and tighty whities, he was posing with tourists for photos between playing the guitar and singing "I'm the naked cowboy... I'm the naked cowboy..." I have no idea if there were any other words to the song because he kept getting interrupted by women going up to him, giving him a buck or two, and grabbing his ass - to his delight. I do have to admit that the buff guy, though annoying, was rather nice on the eyes.

After doing a little research on the guy later on, I found out that Robert John Burck is a Cincinnati native who is a well-known figure in Times Square. He hangs out there relatively nude in all kinds of weather. Notice in the photos that everyone else is wearing thick coats! But he inspired me to think outside the box when it comes to a job - he's given an average of $1,000 a day. That means he only has to work, like 50 days a year to make the same salary as a normal person - tax free.

So after ogling his bicepts for a bit, I turned to continue the walk home, but couldn't walk past this big red-and-blue building with the words Charmin on it without going inside to see what it was all about. A few moments later, I really regretted peeing in that nasty coffee shop.

I walked inside and immediatley stepped on an escalator to go to the second floor and saw a long line of people. So I did what anyone would do when they were in an unfamiliar place and had no idea why they were there - I got in line to see what would happen.

In one corner, some guy was on stage with pompoms dancing to a catchy tune that included the lyrics "a wiggle to the left, a wiggle to the right." It's part of the Charmin song - as in Charmin toilet paper. After watching him half-heartedly do the Charmin butt-shaking dance, it didn't take me long to realize that I was in the most luxurious public restroom I've ever seen.

There were about two dozen public restrooms that the public could use. And each toilet was cleaned after EVERY USE. And everyone was able to choose which type of toilet paper they prefered - ultra strong or ultra soft - depending on their needs. And you could take a piece of the "Charmin Restrooms Experience" home with you by actually buying some memorabilia, like a T-shirt. Doesn't everyone want to remember the time they took a crap in Times Square?

I know what you're thinking. How can this get even more awesome, Erika? HOW? Simple - employees cheered for each person once they flushed and came out of the stalls. It was awesome.

After that experience, I know I won't ever be able to use a public restroom again, and don't know how I'll be able to go back to using the bathroom in my apartment. How can I knowing that there is a place where I get a pat on the back just for peeing?

Oh well. I guess I'll just settle on becoming New York's naked cowgirl.

Too much fun at the dog park

Apparently, puppy energy was a bit too much for Chloe to handle. When we got home from the dog park yesterday, she started whimpering and acting like every muscle in her body ached.

Then I saw the blood. While she was darting around the cement-floored, fenced-in dog park, she scraped up her two rear two paw pads something fierce. But it was late, and all she wanted to do was lay down and lick her wounds, so I figured I'd reassess the situation in the morning.

The next day, she seemed sore, but OK. So I popped out for a few errands, and when I came back, there were bloody pawprints all over the kitchen and little patches of drying blood in her favorite spots. That's all I needed to see. We needed a vet anyway, so I called the one who helped me before I moved here when we thought we'd need to kennel Chloe for the holidays and they said I could come by in 45 minutes.

Unfortunately, it's 11 blocks away, so it was a hike, but Chloe handled it like a champ. But I knew she was in pain when we walked in to see the vet office's two resident cats wandering around and she barely even gave them a glance. Then I knew she must be in pain and nervous because she sensed she was at the vet's when one very brave black-and-white cat came up and sniffed Chloe nose-to-nose and she ignored it. She is a huuuuuge baby when it comes to messing with her at all - clipping her nails, taking her temperature, etc.

The vet said that the wound on her paw pad was like a callus that has been trimmed way to far. So he recommended that she get it wrapped with a soft cast. Other than that, he said she was healthy, but needed to toughen up because she's a New York dog now.

So she went in the back to get her cast and almost immediately, I heard yelping and yowling from my place in the waiting room. From the sound of it, they must have been drilling holes in my dog's head - it sounded that bad. Then the vet came out and said "You're right. She is a big baby. All we're doing is looking at it." Pathetic, isn't it?

So after 10 long minutes of hearing my dog yelp, she finally came out with a blue soft cast all the way up her leg. And she has to wear a baggie over it when we go outside and one of those lampshades if she starts picking at it. So while she's recooperating, I've been avoiding the other dogs in the building... for Chloe's sake.

I think she does these kinds of things on purpose because all I do is baby her. I give her extra treats and I'll make her favorite food and bring her dish to her while she's laying in bed so she doesn't even have to get up to eat. I don't even do that for Brent!

Now all I need is someone who will do this kind of stuff for me!

A day at the dog park

I've always been a dog person, but never realized there was such a dog culture until I actually had a dog of my own.

Before I got Chloe, my 3-year-old German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix, I used to admire other people's dogs as I passed them. Now, I walk with Chloe by my side more often than not. (OK, usually she's out on front of me or choking herself next to me because she wants to drag me along behind her and I'm holding her back. But anyway.) And even though it drives me crazy, we can't pass another person walking a dog without Chloe dragging me over to check it out. And there are a hell of a lot of other dogs walking around New York City - some seven at a time with dog walkers.

But because Chloe's always making me go up to strangers, it's a great conversation starter. And especially now, when I'm desperate to meet people, I'll talk to anyone.

So today, even though it was dreary and overcast, I thought it would be fun to take Chloe to the dog park five blocks away. I found out there was such a park a few days ago when I ran into the dog walker who walks Lucy every day. Lucy's a Chow mix who lives two doors down from Brent and I.

Corey, the dog walker and a former dog trainer, took pity on me when he saw how Chloe takes charge when we walk and showed me how to be the master. So we've been practicing.

So we practiced on the way to the dog park and Chloe met Bella, Brutus, Shelby, Ollie, Brooklyn, and Lauren. This is what's funny about the dog culture. I sat and talked with every single one of those dogs' owners about their dogs, professions, and the city in general, but have no idea what any of their names are, and none of them asked what my name was, but most asked what my dog's name was.

When I talked to Brutus's owner, he taught me how to facilitate Chloe's meeting other dogs because she tends to be on the aggressive side until the other dog knows that she's boss.

Shelby's owner confided in me that Ollie is not welcome at the dog park because he picks fights and his owners let him do it. She steered her Australian Shepherd mix away from Ollie while he sniffed around and told me about the time he had another dog cornered and the day she and the other dog owners called the police on his owners.

Then in came Brooklyn and Lauren, who are six months old and eight months old, respectively. Chloe L-O-V-E-S puppies, so for the next 30 minutes, I watched her and the puppies tear around the dog park, barking and nipping at each other. It was so cute.

After Chloe was sufficiently covered in mud, dirt, slobber, and rainwater, we headed home to dry off and chill for the rest of the evening.

Celebrity sighting #1

In New York, apparently Whole Foods is THE place to be. The closest one to our apartment is three blocks away at the Time Warner Center. After grabbing the few items I was there to get, I started toward the checkout line.

But the line was so long that an employee had to hold a sign near the center of the store that said "end of the line." But as I looked at the line of people in front of me snaking around the food displays, I thought there had better be a roller coaster at the end if I'm going to stand here for a sandwich for Brent, some apples, and waffles.


So I got in line behind a woman and the employee holding the sign did a double-take and said "hi" to her. He then touched my shoulder and whispered, "Do you know who that is?"

I looked again and said "nope."

He said he didn't know her name, but that she was in The Last King of Scotland. I didn't see the movie and she didn't look familiar at all. So when I got back to the apartment, I looked up this chick and found she was Kerry Washington, who was also in Ray (which I also haven't seen).

So even though I had to be told that it was my first celebrity sighting, it was still pretty cool. I gotta catch up with Brent - he had luch near Val Kilmer this week and has seen Hilary Swank, Howard Stern, and Justin Timberlake IN OUR APARTMENT BUILDING a few months ago. There's a recording studio on the first floor, so we're assuming that's why he was there.

I'm so going to find reasons to hang out in the lobby!

Working out in style

I naturally woke up today and rolled over to see that the numbers on Brent's alarm clock glowed 12:20... as in 12:20 P.M. (Yes, I slept until this afternoon but I stayed up until 3 a.m. last night for no real reason. Plus I had to look at Brent's alarm clock because I still haven't plugged in my own. Unemployment has its perks!)

But after pouring myself a bowl of cereal, I saw on the calendar that it was Dec. 14... as in, my wedding is in SIX MONTHS. Jimminy Christmas! So, I decided to dig out the two flyers I've acquired that allows me to try out one health club for a day and another for a week so I could get my butt to the gym. A girl has to look her best in her wedding dress!

So after my breakfast settled, I made a quick trip to the post office four blocks away before heading to Club H Fitness in Hell's Kitchen, which is literally right around the corner from my apartment.

I walked in and immediately thought that I must be in the wrong place. I had thought that Club H Fitness was a gym. But my first impression was that I had stepped into a new, hip cafe or something. It looked like what I might envision for my apartment - trendy and totally modern.

The whole place was decorated using bright neon colors. Next to a main desk was a smoothie bar in front of a gift shop with tons of T-shirts labeled with Club H Fitness. Past that was a lounge with magazines on a table in front of sharp red chairs. Above the lounge was orange lighting that looked like beautiful, drooping flowers.

Embarrassingly enough, I actually asked the guy at the front desk if Club H was a gym or an actual club of some sort. He laughed, said I was at the right place, and pointed to the gym equipment around the wall bordering the front desk. You live and you learn.

So he called a woman named Amy so she could show me around. And man, I have never seen a gym like this one. None of the equipment, lined up like tools on a dentist's tray, are more than a year old and they're all functional.

At my old gym in Toledo, there were four TVs that were set up in front of the main exercise machine area for those using the aging cardio equipment, many of which had rotating "out of order" signs on them. At Club H, there are TVs mounted on INDIVIDUAL cardio machines. With cable. Seriously. My parents don't even have cable, and I can do step aerobics while watching The Real World.

The gym has all kinds of classes, like yoga, spinning, and boxing, that are free for members. The locker rooms - located conveniently next to the waterfall - are nicer than my bathroom at my apartment, which has all new appliances. The locker rooms don't actually have lockers, but have cabinets modified to include locks. Warm, rolled up towels are on every shelf and each sink is sunk into green glowing counters near free tampons, disposable razors, spray-on deodorant and hairspray.

The showers are big enough to change in after you're done showering with the complimentary shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner, and they're next to a steam room and a sauna. Needless to say, it's waaaaayyyy swankier than I'm used to. But then again, most everything in New York is beyond what I've experienced.

The only things Club H is missing that I loved at my old gym are basketball courts and a pool. But in New York, those are few and far between... and if you want them, you definitely will have to pay for them. As it is, Club H is the cheapest gym I've found, and it costs more than three times the membership fee at my Toledo gym.

But man is it cool.

Making every inch count

I loved our condo in Monclova Township. It had three glorious bedrooms - the biggest of which Brent and I actually used as a bedroom. The second one was an office and the third one was "my" room. That room had a daybed and a TV and I used it as my personal getaway space, like when I needed to get away from Brent watching sports in the living room to read a good book.





Our German Shepherd mix, Chloe, even had her spots around the condo, which included underneath the daybed and desk, and beneath my clothes in the farthest corner of our walk-in closet.


And when either Chloe or I needed to get out of the house, I had to go no further than 50 yards in front of our condo to take advantage of a 10-mile bike trail.


And now we live in a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a six-floor building in New York City. Before we moved in, I measured every room and dusted off the graph paper I used in high school math class to sketch out our new place so we'd know how much room we had to work with. I then measured our furniture and told Brent what we should take and what we should store at both of our parents' homes. That was the easy part.

The hard part was deciding what we'd "need" at the apartment. Would I use my muffin pans and wok? How many cups and water bottles would we need? Would we watch all of our DVDs? Do we really need all of our clothes?


Brent and I both thought we downsized our belongings to fit. Boy were we wrong. I've been in New York for a week and I still have a pile of clothes I have yet to find a place for because we have exactly one closet for clothes. Yep, that's right - ONE. Think about your house. You probably have a hall closet for coats, a closet in each bedroom for clothes, and maybe one in the laundry room or in the basement. Ours is crammed to the point that the hangers don't budge so all you can see of each clothing item is its profile.


The dresser drawers throw up if you open them and I even bought an extra metal stand to hang clothes from, but all it holds is our coats and business suits.


The problem is that I have way too many clothes because I still believe that I'll lose enough weight to fit into those size 4 jeans from high school. Ha. And believe it or not, Brent has too many clothes because even though he may not wear them anymore, they have sentimental value, and he won't give them up. (That was my favorite shirt in the seventh grade - I need to keep it!) Sigh.


And poor Chloe really only has one place to take shelter - underneath the kitchen table. The rest of the time, she's sleeping on her pillow or next to the toilet like a drunk college kid.

So even though it's been a week, I can't really finish unpacking because I have no idea where to put the rest of the stuff we brought here. So it's piled up next to the wall in the living room labeled with an imaginary "what the hell should I do with this crap?" sign.

Elbow space is not something to take for granted.

We're not gonna paaaayyyyyy

I've wanted to see the musical Rent ever since I really got into seeing musicals in high school. But for whatever reason, I never did. But I always said that I wanted Rent to be my first Broadway show.

Yesterday it was. And it... was... AWESOME.

It was totally worth the hour-long wait that my mom and I endured in the freezing cold hoping to get tickets the day of the show for half the price. Score!

So even though I was feeling like crap because of an awful cold, I totally forgot I was sick while watching the show with my mom and Brent. It was impossible not to get drawn into the story, which for Brent was a bit tough to follow because he didn't know what the musical was about before we got to the theatre.

The singing was nothing short of phenominal. Although, I have no idea how some of them could sing an entire song because they were constantly moving, gyrating, and climbing around the stage sets that were constructed with items you'd find at a junkyard.

I don't think my back actually touched the back of my seat, especially when the cast sang "Rent" and "Seasons of Love" (which I performed as a cast member of a talent show in high school and have always loved). But I think I really annoyed the guy sitting in front of me because I kept tapping my feet to the music and bumping his chair, but I couldn't stop!

The only downside for me was that Tamyra Gray, who I loved when she was on the first season of American Idol, was supposed to play the dynamic part of Mimi, but she wasn't there that night.

Darn. I guess I'll have to see it again. (Yay!)

Our new home

The first time I saw this apartment, I knew it was "ours." The apartment in Manhattan was the third that Brent and I looked at when we wandered around several neighborhoods with our broker.

It is HUGE, by New York standards, meaning is it 650 square feet... all for the low, low price of, well, let's just say it's not QUITE $3,000 a month. (I know, I know - it's I-N-S-A-N-E!)

So Brent and I now live in Clinton in Manhattan, which is near Central Park. Native New Yorkers know the area as Hell's Kitchen, but it was recently re-named Clinton to clean up its bad reputation.

On the first floor of our apartment is an Italian restaurant I have yet to try and a bar and grill. The only annoying part about living above a bar is their patrons often smoke outside and get pretty roudy by 3 a.m. But it's all good. I've noticed that the windows in New York are amazingly sound-proof.

Otherwise, I've been telling people that our apartment is on the edge of crappiness. There's an abandoned building right next door to our apartment and the sidewalk is paved with trash. Old ads and movie posters line the building. My favorite is a poster where Tyra Banks is portraying four different emotions - happy, surprised, scared, and fierce. The "surprised" Tyra stands out the most because someone stuck a bright yellow sticker on her forehead that reads "I'm an asshole. I wear fur." Everything past our apartment and the abandoned building also leaves something to be desired. A psychic practices across the street and there's a high school down a ways. That means there are dozens of punk teenagers who pick fights with each other around 3 p.m. every day.

But the positives of our apartment far outweigh the negatives. Everything from our apartment toward the park is beautiful. And I love that our apartment has doormen who are on duty from 7 a.m. until midnight on weekdays and from 7 a.m. until 5 p.m. on weekends. They question everyone who doesn't live in our building and call us when we have visitors so we're never surprised by a knock at the door.

This way, I won't have to worry about some stranger wandering the hallways of our building waiting for me to come home so he can force himself into my apartment, slit my eyelids, and rape and torture me for 19 hours. ( True story - happened to a woman in Manhattan earlier this year.)

There's washing machines and dryers in the basement, trash chutes near the elevator (no walk-ups for us!), and any type of food that I happen to be craving within a few blocks, including an Italian restaurant on three of the four corners right outside our door.

And there actually is a Starbucks on every block - three within less than two blocks of us. So no matter where I'm heading, I can grab an eggnog latte on the way.

Now all that's left is to figure out where to go first!

The New York I "knew"

The first time I saw New York City was in March, 2007. At that time, the only thing I knew about the city for sure was that I'd be moving there - the city that's home to the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and Broadway musicals (on Broadwaaaayyyyy!!!).

So en route to the city, I jotted down what I knew about New York, which essentially came from news reports, TV, and friends who spent time living there or visiting. Here's what I came up with:

It's HUUUUUUGE!! The buildings are probably so tall that they block out the big blue sky that I'm used to seeing in Ohio.

I always need to be on my toes watching out for muggers, rapists, and all around bad people.

I'll most likely get flipped the bird more than I actually see birds. People will be regularly shoving, yelling, and belittling each other because there will be no elbow room anywhere.

The city will be a place of many colors - a sea of yellow taxis and people of all races. However, the only color I WON'T see is green, as in trees or grass.

Our apartment will most likely be the size of a walk-in closet where we'll cram all our stuff in every corner of the dark and dirty, roach-infested place. Since our apartment will be so small, we'll have to trade in our German Shepherd mix in for a Chihuahua.

Instead of squirrels, we'll see rats.

Starbucks will be the only staple on every corner.

I'll stick out like a sore thumb becasue I don't have the model looks nor am I anorexic. In addition, I don't own many designer clothes and can't justify spending the money it will take to wear the labels that most everyone else will be walking around in: Prada, Gucci, etc.

If I'm hungry for a basic sandwich, I'll need at least a $10 bill. Since I'm not willing to spend $10 every time I want lunch, I'll probably lose tons of weight!

Since I'll have no car, I'll be walking everywhere because I can't see spending money every single time I want to leave my apartment.

Needless to say, living in New York City will be a bit of a change. Heck, there are still some side streets in Lambertville, Michigan, that haven't yet been paved!

Only time will tell whether I'm right!

My life inside the snowglobe

January, 2007

I'm 24 years old living with my boyfriend, Brent, in a three-bedroom condo in Maumee, Ohio, which is just about 20 minutes away from the tiny town of Lambertville, Michigan, where I grew up. I can drive home in my 2003 Dodge Stratus whenever I want.

For the past three years, I've been working as a journalist in Toledo for a metropolitan newspaper. The Toledo area is great - I grew up here, I went to college here, nearly all my family lives here, and I've lived here since I was born.

Fast forward... December, 2007

I'm now 25 years old and I'm still living with Brent, but he's now my fiance! We got engaged during an amazing trip to Las Vegas, which you can read about on our wedding Web site: www.mywedding.com/brentanderika.

For the first time since I was 13 years old, I'm unemployed (but looking!) and am now living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment smack in the middle of Manhattan in New York.

2007 has been one hell of a ride. My life in Ohio used to be like the inside of a snowglobe - calm and familiar. But then my world got turned upside down so now there's all this strange stuff whirling around and getting me all disoriented. So I have no doubt that 2008 is going to be even crazier.

Read all about it here.