Is it just me or is it really hot and MCSTEAMY in here?

Before moving to New York City, I was told by a veteran New Yorker that it was a city full of anonymous faces.

And boy is that true. No matter how many times I walk around my own block, I still manage to see people I've never seen before every time.

Unfortunately for them, celebrities can never be a part of this anonymity - even if they don't live here.

One such example is Rebecca Gayheart, whom I recognize every time she comes into my coffee shop even though none of my co-workers know who the heck she is. I know her from the 1999 movie Jawbreaker, and, of course, because she's married to Grey's Anatomy's resident McSteamy Eric Dane. Through small talk with her and other customers who approach her, I've learned she's living in New York for awhile while starring in the Broadway comedy Boeing-Boeing on Broadway.

Though I do feel a bit bad for her that it's rare for her to be able to come in and just buy a cup of coffee or coffee beans without someone saying something to her, even if it's just, "I loved your play," such is the case with all celebrities. Comes with the title!

This is why that even though I probably did a triple-take followed by a series of quick glances when her McHottie hubby showed up to get some coffee early the other evening, I composed myself enough to then smile and ask him what type of milk he wanted in his two triple espresso macchiatos (read: SIX shots of espresso with some foam). This was, or course, after I asked my co-worker, "Is it just me or is it hot in here?" which is my probably obvious way of informing my colleagues that a hottie's raising the temperature in the store.

Afterward, I was a little disappointed at myself for being so star-struck. I mean they're no one special and they're just people too, blah, blah, blah.

But this one IS THAT HOT in real life. Talk about tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome. I'm totally updating my top 5 list!

Christmas - Rockettes style!

"I have just two complaints," Brent announced after seeing the amazing Rockettes Christmas Spectacular. "There was too much singing and too much dancing."

After that comment, I didn't even bother asking him what he expected. What I expected was greatness, and that's what I got.

Brent's parents flew in for a relatively short weekend visit, and we started it off with a bang - dinner at Carnegie Deli (home of the sandwiches that are an entire foot tall - no exaggeration.) followed by seats in the SEVENTH ROW at Rockefeller Center to see the Rockettes.

Though after it ended, I wished I had shared the experience with one of my nieces or young cousins, it still was an amazing show.

And since Brent's parents were the fourth set of people who came to visit us in December alone, it was a relief that the weekend was relatively relaxing. We spent days watching football, evenings playing games, and tried a bunch of new restaurants in close proximity to our apartment, among them being Lasagna Restaurant - a place where they took a good 45 minutes to an hour to custom-make lasagna for each individual customer.

I think I was probably the saddest to see them go because in the year I've been here, I've always had something or someone solid to look forward to. "Only one more month until I head back to Toledo," I'd think, or "only three more weeks until my mom comes to visit."

But this is the first time where, not surprisingly, no one is on deck to come and visit and we don't have plans to go back to Ohio anytime soon. The holidays are over and all I have is winter, winter, and more winter to not look forward to. I can tell the next few weeks are going to be tough.

"Chesnuts roasting over a lit candle because there's no way a fireplace could fit in here..."

Just like last year, Brent and I decided to spend Thanksgiving in Ohio with our families, but Christmas in the city by ourselves.

I can't say that this was a decision I fully supported (what would be more accurate was it was a decision I vehemently opposed, yet understood given the nature of Brent's job and all their end-of-the-year wheelings and dealings) but when the decision was done, I decided to make the best of it.

Since our New York City apartment is not conducive to anything that requires any amount of space, Brent didn't think getting a Christmas tree would be a good idea, given that we tend to like to move around when we're home. So I improvised and promoted my tiny singing Christmas tree from table ornament to full-fledged Christmas-tree status.

And one of my favorite Christmas traditions growing up was when my brother, sister, and I got into our pjs, grabbed our blankets and stuffed animals, and my parents drove us around town so we could check out all the neighborhood Christmas lights. The trip always culminated with McDonald's shakes - eggnog shakes if we were lucky.

So, in New York, I made sure I to make a few trips to see the Rockefeller Christmas tree and the lights on 5th Avenue - walking in the cold, unfortunately - followed by a Starbucks Eggnog Latte.

And although I will admit that I cried for unfortunately a very good part of the day on Christmas Eve because I felt left out from what my family was doing back in Ohio and missed them, I did have a nice, relaxing Christmas day at home celebrating the holiday with Brent and Chloe. Between spending time on the phone talking to my family, Brent and I took part in another family tradition of mine: opening gifts together in the morning, eating a big breakfast that my mom makes (in this case, it was me, and I made spectacular omelettes), and spending the afternoon lazing around and watching movies.

Chloe loved her bones and toys, and Brent loved the books I bought him (which he picked out) and also loved the hat and T-shirt I found for him, which was a first because not only does he hate surprises, he's usually not very excited about gifts that I surprise him with. (But the hat he's wearing in the photo is the one I picked out for him! Score!)

And of course, I loved the Nintendo DS I asked for from him - which I wrapped myself. Men!

So even though I couldn't spend Christmas with my parents and siblings, I was happy to spend it with my wonderful husband and pup.

The tapestry of life

My Grandma Bubacz called it "The Tapestry."


It's the notion that people you may or may not know influence you in ways they would never have imagined.

For example, my favorite Grandma Bubacz story starts with my Grandpa Bubacz proposing to her by asking her how she'd like a house with a white picket fence. But with my grandma being my grandma, she didn't immediately answer him. Instead, she made him sweat for three days while she went on a weekend trip by herself to pray to God for guidance. She secretly asked God for a sign: that she would receive a red rose if she should accept my grandfather's proposal.

Days went by without the answer my grandmother was seeking, but before she left, she went to see a nun whom she'd made friends with during the weekend trip. When my grandmother told the nun she was leaving, the nun embraced her, turned around, and plucked a red rose from a bouquet behind her to give to my grandmother to remember her visit.

That nun most certainly didn't realize what an impact she made on my grandmother's life, but had she not made that simple gesture of friendship, maybe my grandmother wouldn't have married my grandfather. That would mean neither my mother nor I would never have been born.

This same principle exists every second of every day - just without anyone realizing it every time it happens.

On a small scale, someone at the checkout line at the supermarket who compliments me on my outfit might not know that later, I'll put a little extra confident bounce in my step.

On the flip side, someone who shoves me and shouts "MOVE!" while I'm walking up the stairs from the subway could vaporize my otherwise good mood and put me on the defensive for the rest of the walk home.

So I think it's a blessing when our eyes are open to this phenomenon.

The other day, I was serving coffee and cleaning as usual near the two tip jars that sit next to the cash registers when a 10-year-old boy ran up to me - bypassing the tip jars that are evenly split between all the employees - to press a $20 bill into my hand.

"My dad wants you to have this," he said. "For Christmas and to thank you."

"Are you sure?" I twice ask him. Then, because I was so bewildered at the time and I didn't think to go up to his dad and tell him myself, I said, "Tell your dad I said 'thank you.'" It was either that or I subconsciously thought that if the guy sent his kid up to me instead of coming up to me himself, he didn't want the recognition.

Either way, I made sure to pay attention to see that the kid scampered off next to a man who was on his way out the door. Even from behind, I realize it's a customer who I know well. He's a middle-aged man with gelled sandy-brown hair who always orders two bagels with four cream cheeses for his kids in the late mornings, and will smile his shy smile only when you look directly in his eyes and smile at him first.

After he left, I racked my brain as to why he would single out me to show his appreciation. I mean, I see the guy maybe once or twice a week; we've never had anything that could be misconstrued as a meaningful conversation, and one of the longest interactions we did have revolved around the time he and his kids were sitting in the lobby near a ceiling tile that collapsed along with a whoosh of water from the rain the night before, and he asked me for another bagel because some dirty rain water splashed on it.

Nevertheless, a few days later, I see him again - Bill, I later find out - and try to look into his eyes as he's ducking his head so I can tell him, "Thanks for the other day. It meant a lot." Then I left it at that because I felt that with him, it was all I needed to say.

What I was feeling, though, was surprise that I'm more than a robot serving coffee to these customers. I apparently affect them in ways maybe I don't realize (the tapestry at work!). Though I may never know exactly why Bill gave me the extra Christmas bonus - because I'll never flat-out ask him, of course - it's a gift in itself to know, simply, that I matter.

COUSIN!!! (And an aunt!!)

The month my parents introduced me to my baby brother, I also got a brand-new cousin - one who has shared countless happy childhood memories with me. I knew I couldn't get married without her being in my wedding party, and was thrilled when she asked me to be the maid of honor in hers.


So it killed me that after Breanne told me she was planning her first visit to NYC, I had to count down more than three months until she actually got here!


But the day finally came when she and her mom, my Aunt Liza, flew in to spend a long weekend with Brent and I, and we had an absolute blast - though I'm pretty sure I would have had more fun had I not had to work. Among the stuff they did while I was serving coffee was being in the audience on the David Letterman show the day Will Smith was on promoting his new movie, Seven Pounds, and getting onto two segments of Good Morning America.


But when I was around, I made sure to take them to see the holiday lights on 5th Avenue, the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, Chinatown and Little Italy, Wall Street, Times Square, and the Statue of Liberty.


And I got my monthly Broadway fix the day they arrived because we scored tickets for Grease. The following day, we thought it would be great to just chill in the evening, so we went the chick flick route and took in the surprisingly hilarious Four Christmases with Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon.


Thursday night, I took them to my favorite Mexican restaurant, Rosa Mexicana, where we ordered two of their famous $14 guacamole appetizers and just sat and talked over dinner and margaritas for nearly three hours.


So it came as no surprise that we were exhaused after a day out in the rain and snow on Friday, where a trip to the Statue of Liberty could have been better had we had any type of view from Liberty Island. All we saw was snow and all I felt was hail and coldness! After drying off, we ate dinner at the Italian restaurant on the opposite corner of my apartment building and spent a night playing a fun, but endless game of Trivial Pursuit.


And what I've found is that it's amazing that you think you know someone until you spend every waking minute with them for even a short period of time. You might know what a friend prefers to order at a particular restaurant, but that's because you're with them at the time. What you don't know is everything leading up to that fact - how many outfits she tried on before heading out or what songs she listened to on the car ride on the way over.


But when you are with a person from the moment they wake up until the two of you say goodnight before going to sleep, you learn a whole lot that you didn't know that you didn't know. Because I grew up with Breanne, my Aunt Liza was always around, and we'd usually talk about this or that, but I didn't realize how much quality time I was missing with her.


So amid the catching up during the five days my cousin and aunt were in town, I relished the fact that we could not only catch up, but I could get to know them on a whole different level - all while having a blast in the city!

Wow - I wonder what he has in store at the year mark!

This month marks a small, but significant milestone in my very young marriage. As of Dec. 14, Brent and have been married for six months.

Let me backtrack a bit and say that with the exception of our one-month anniversary on July 14, the 14th day of the other months have been - understandably - quite unexceptional. If I happened to notice that it was, for example, Oct. 14, I might give Brent a, "By the way... happy four-month anniversary hubby!" kind of remark, but other than that, I didn't expect to celebrate anything until the big ONE YEAR! (Fingers are still crossed very likely in vain for a very unlikely surprise trip to Hawaii!)

So it wasn't a surprise to me that I didn't put 2-and-2 together when Brent asked me if I had any plans for yesterday night - a Sunday. Now I know I've only been married for six months, but I do know my husband. Therefore, I know that it's like pulling teeth to get him out of the house on Sunday nights - he would much rather relax in front of a football game and get mentally prepared for the work week ahead. So when he mentioned a surprise on Sunday night, I immediately became suspicious, yet didn't register the date.

He told me to dress nice, so I put on a dress and high heels and off we went down 57th Street so I could see my favorite NYC Christmas decoration - the giant star that hangs over 57th Street and 5th Avenue.

But then he cut over to 58th Street an led me into this restaurant called Tao. I had never heard of it before, but I later found out that it's a trendy place popular with celebrities that's also the largest and most popular Asian restaurant in New York City.

Apparently, it's designed to indulge all the senses. To that extent, it's relatively dark so you can't see what you're eating as much as you can smell and taste it. Also, they spin their own music inside the restaurant, which looks much like someone decided to turn a big, empty warehouse with a high ceiling into an Asian retreat.

After sharing a warm edamame appetiser, I dug into my fillet mignon over spicy noodles and veggies and he nibbled on his salmon. Then, we were given the dessert menu. Normally, Brent doesn't even glance at it, but this time, he asked me what I wanted for dessert. Again - I was very suspicious. So we ordered a pot of green tea and decided to go with the over-sized fortune cookie that was filled with white chocolate mousse on one side and chocolate mousse on the other and surrounded by fresh fruit.

A few minutes later, the waitress brought us our dessert - complete with two lit candles and the words "Happy Anniversary" spelled out in chocolate sauce on the plate.

"How did you..." I began to ask Brent, who had never left my side the entire time we were at the restaurant, so I know he couldn't have let them know it was our anniversary that evening.

"I can't let you in on all my secrets," he replied with that impish smile. But he did tell me that he had to make our reservations at the restaurant at least a month in advance. So while I was or was not noticing it was our five-month anniversary, he was already planning something special for our six-month anniversary. You gotta love the guy!

And of course we each got a fortune with our cookie. Mine said "Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it that you can," which was appropriate for me as I attempt to be a painter in my art class.

But Brent's was absolutely perfect for a couple in love celebrating their anniversary. It said "Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go, it's one of the best." What's more romantic than that?

One of the most fun family visits ever!

Since we've lived in New York, Brent and I have had many visitors of all different types - from parents to sons of former bosses.

Though all those visits have been fun in their own unique way, I must say that I had an absolute blast when my cousins, sisters Gillian and Alexis, came to visit.

I grew up with these girls, who are now both in college back in Ohio, but have never spent more than a few hours at a time with either of them. Now that they have spent four entire days with me, I realized how much more I have in common with both of them.

Take Alexis, for example. She and I both have an unconditional love for travel, musicals, plays, and all things Broadway. So I was thrilled that she was just as excited as me to see The Little Mermaid, which was - by far - the most amazing show I've ever seen on Broadway. It might have something to do with the fact that The Little Mermaid was my favorite movie as a kid, but as far as the show, the special effects were nothing short of phenomenal. I mean there was a thunderstorm and shipwreck ON THE STAGE! The costumes were big and colorful, tentacles came out from the stage at the audience when Ursula was onstage, and all the sea creatures wore those shoes with skates on the ends of them so they could glide as if they were swimming.

And since going to a show is a great excuse to dress up, the two girls thought it would be just the time to give me a makeover. I wore Alexis' dress and used Gillian's purse and jewelry. Alexis told me how to do my makeup, and Gillian attacked my hair with a hair straightener. The photo I included here is the result of their hard work.

As far as Gillian is concerned, I found out that our personalities jive more than I initially thought. We seem to have similar views on relationships - and have been through some similar situations - and the same type of thirst for chilling out at bars and just having a good time. Although, I have to admit that the college girl's thirst for going to bars is a bit more extensive than my married one!

What I liked most about the girls' visit was that I got to spend time with both of them together and each of them individually. Together, the three of us walked through Central Park, went up the Statue of Liberty, discovered the deliciousness of rice pudding, marveled at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and the lights on 5th Avenue, and went on an hours-long, old-fashioned bar crawl. The three of us also spent time with Brent as well at some dinners - including one I made in my fondue pot on Sunday night before we all played games - and at the dive bar we live above - which became Gillian's favorite.

Individually, I went to the bar downstairs with Gillian one night when Alexis wasn't feeling well and spent hours at The Little Mermaid with Alexis. It worked well that when I was with one sister, Brent usually was with the other, so we both got individual time with each of them just to chat and catch up.

My favorite activity that the three of us did together, however, was the bar crawl we did on Sunday night - the last night they were going to be in New York City. The three of us donned our cutest red shoes and off we went down 9th Avenue stopping everywhere from a classy wine bar to a dirty college bar. The only reason we headed home around 2 a.m. (bars close at 4 a.m. in NYC) was that none of their kitchens were open and we were STARVING. Though it was literally freezing outside and we were all wearing dresses and high heels and I actually took a little spill mostly from the ice, but probably also because of the inebriation, it was fun as hell. Just like their entire visit! Miss you girls!

Thankful for family

Thanksgiving has always been a time for family, and I was thankful that this year, Brent and I were able to spend it back in Michigan and Ohio with our families.

Brent's family tradition has always been to spend Thanksgiving at his grandmother's house - his mom's mom - and I am thankful that I had been able to experience that tradition with him in the past. But his beloved grandmother, who I loved dearly, passed away earlier this year. So though we couldn't be with her, his family took some of the traditions they had there and transported them to his parent's house. Though it of course wasn't the same, it was still so great to spend that time with family.

Not so great was the morning after, when we decided that it was a good idea to participate in Black Friday. Now I know it's supposedly so-named because stores bank on that date as the starting point to get their books back in the black, but I think it's quite appropriate because it can then be in the same category of the Black Plague and other such horrific terms.

Brent and I started our morning at 4:45 a.m. in the line at Target. Normally, we would have gotten in line at Best Buy or Circuit City, but since I told him he wasn't allowed to buy the 50-some-inch plasma TV he wanted, there was nothing else at either of the stores we were dying to get on sale this year. So, we ended up at Target so Brent could look for a Nintendo DS to give me for Christmas, we could get a few new DVDs to enjoy all winter, and we could find some toys on sale for his nieces.

But unbeknown to us at first, when we got up to the doors, we accidentally got in line toward the front (it snaked around a few times and around to the other side of the building). But since no one called us out on it, I quietly convinced Brent to stay where we were. Sure, sure, it wasn't quite ethical, but it was Black Friday, so rules go out the window! Besides, everyone got in - we just got in more toward the front, and even with the madhouse of people who are grabbing everything in sight, we actually ran into Brent's mom and aunt, who had gotten up an hour earlier to make it to Kohls at 4 a.m. So the four of us tag-teamed the rest of the way, which was necessary among the madness.

But I will hand it to the stores. Though it was Black Friday, they were surprisingly well organized. Signs were posted, areas were roped off, and shopping carts were lined up facing the electronics so people could grab them as they ran!

The sales were great this year, and after going to Best Buy - AFTER the early rush - Petco, Bath & Body Works, Kohls, Old Navy, and Bed, Bath & Beyond, all before 8 a.m. we ended up getting all of our Christmas shopping done. And on Nov. 28. SCORE!

The rest of the day was spent with my family - including my Aunt Carol and Uncle Tom - at my parents' house, where we had a blast playing Taboo and just hanging out together.

And since my parents were heading on vacation on Saturday morning, the rest of the weekend and Monday morning were spent with Brent's family, which is great because we got to spend time with our nieces, who are growing up too darned fast.

Gotta love the holidays!

But I've only been married for FIVE MONTHS!!!

Without even knowing it or consciously planning on it, I've become a stereotypical housewife.

Since September, I've been enrolled in a three-hour watercolor art class on Tuesday nights. There's very little actual instruction, several demonstrations, and then some one-on-one time with the instructor as us students work on our own projects. The photo I've included is of the very first painting I've ever done. I painted from a photo I took of a little island near the shores of Lake Tahoe. Not too bad for a first try!
For two hours on every Monday night in November, I head to a knitting class, where we'll be taught how to make a scarf and hat.


Once a month on a Monday or Wednesday night, I'll head to the monthly meeting of the Upper East Side Book Club, the members of whom were kind enough to welcome me even though I live on the west side of Manhattan.


Other Wednesday nights are spent at the Abs, Back, and Butt class at the gym with Janine, my gym buddy, and Thursday nights we go to the gym's rebounding class.


Occasionally, I'll volunteer at the United States Humane Society and will soon be starting to play basketball in the winter league I joined last week.

Apparently, this is what happens when you have very few friends, no kids, a husband who works ridiculous hours, and only a part-time job with lots of free time on your hands!

It was supposed to be a hat, I swear!

As I mentioned before, a friend and I enrolled in a knitting class because both of us have always wanted to know how to do it. I took a single class about a year ago with my mom, but it wasn't enough instruction for me, so I decided to give it another try for a longer period of time.

I knew at the beginning of the class that we'd be taught how to make a scarf and a hat. What I didn't know was that I'd be taught by a very flamboyantly homosexual male knitting instructor, which was a pleasantly fun surprise! He has 20 years of knitting experience - he picked it up to have something to do while on the road when he was a dancer - so he has been quick to say "STOP" when I do something wrong.

We started with the scarf, which he taught us how to do, but the majority of the work was supposed to be done at home. This week, we finished up the hat.

I ended up with a multi-colored, knitted condom.

When I finished it in class, my instructor was the one who pointed out that fact to me. Not that he really had to.

Not that it would fit anyone's head, but the instructor told me to do a smaller version of the hat we were supposed to make because I knew I wouldn't be able to finish the entire human head hat in just a week.

So while I was admiring my first knitted something, I announced to the class that it would be a nice Christmas gift for my husband. I'm sure he'll love it!

Where else but NYC would you...

... be sitting in a bar with its windows open on a random Thursday evening and hear bagpipes being played before watching the guy in a kilt playing the instrument calmly walk by alone on his way to God knows where.

Maybe it's because I am a dork, but I thought it was clever

I love Halloween and love to dress up when I get the chance.

Brent does not.

So it was a challenge for me to try and figure out a way where we could dress up for this Halloween party we were invited to in Connecticut, but not actually dress up.

Some ideas I was tossing around included the lame idea of us wearing all of our college sportswear and going as college football fans. Boo.

But since I love a play on words, I came up with this idea:

Both Brent and I would wear blue from head to toe - matching blue long-sleeved shirts and pants - and would each wear a name tag. Mine said "Jean" and his said "Gene." Therefore, we would be...

A PAIR OF BLUE JEANS!!!!!!

HAHAHA! I thought it was clever.

For the record, Brent agreed to this idea after we mentioned it to his college buddies, and they thought it was a good idea.

However, it totally backfired because once we got to the party, we saw that virtually NO ONE ELSE was dressed up - not even the hosts - even though the invitation clearly said "Be sure to wear a costume!"

So since we were essentially wearing jeans and long-sleeved shirts, albeit matching, it didn't look as if we were wearing costumes. And since we knew only a few people at this party, people gave us funny looks when the host introduced us as "Brent and Erika" because we were wearing name tags saying "Gene and Jean."

So we not only confused this sophisticated group who was mostly sipping wine and nibbling on catered finger-foods that were being cooked on-site by a hired chef, but we also looked like total dorks with the same name who felt it was necessary to wear name tags to a party.

Talk about your ultimate backfires.

The monster mash!

This weekend rocked. I have many favorite things, and this weekend included two of them: Halloween and my good friend Sarah.

I was thrilled that she chose the weekend of Halloween to come into the city for a visit because I was dying to go to the NYC Halloween Parade, which is listed in the book 100 Things to Do Before You Die: Travel Events You Just Can't Miss because it's the largest Halloween shindig in the country.

Two million other people checked that off their list as well because it was estimated that that's how many were in attendance for the city's 35th annual parade. Geez Louise!

Though we were late, and missed about half of the parade, the half that we did see was nothing short of phenomenal.

Anyone dressed in a costume could be in the parade if they lined up ahead of time, and the streets were packed with floats and tens of thousands of marchers who donned costumes that ranged from ghoulish creatures to friendly cartoon characters. My favorite was the Michael Jackson impersonator who was followed by dancers monster-mashing to Jackson's "Thriller" in celebration of the 25th anniversary of the album's release.

Other good ones included Brangelina, a girl dressed as the Mona Lisa and holding herself in a photo frame followed by a friend dressed as da Vinci, and a guy dressed as an innocent schoolgirl who would lift up his skirt to show a giant penis.

I was shocked at how creative some of the costumes were - many of them looked like they took weeks to prepare followed by hours of time spent actually getting into them and applying the makeup.

And maybe it shouldn't have been such a shocker, but I was surprised at how many political messages were being spread. Sure it's close to the election, but it's Halloween, and supposed to be a good time.

Not that we didn't have a good time! Sarah and I enjoyed just standing there (about three people deep!) watching the creativity pass us by. Afterward, we walked around looking for the bars participating in the Halloween pub crawl, but ended up getting lost, so we just wandered around the city and caught up with each other. At one point, we wandered by Madison Avenue, and since Sarah was wearing a sweatshirt that also said Madison on it, it warranted a photo. Obviously.

Trick or treating was great fun as a kid, but Halloween can totally be a great time as an adult too.

Girl power!

Listening to a cover band is always fun, but I think it's totally awesome when any band is mostly male, but is carried by a female lead singer.

Such was the band that my gym buddy, Janine, and I saw tonight. Even though I had planned on being out for only a short time, I ended up staying out late because even though the singer wasn't the greatest on some songs, all the songs they played rocked and were totally danceable.

Though we weren't dancing, we couldn't keep our eyes off this tall, dorky guy who looked like a computer programmer who WAS dancing. Badly. But it was funny!

And since we were out once the clock struck midnight and it was officially Halloween, it seemed appropriate that the band's male lead singer was dressed as a skunk, the drummer was impersonating Bret Michaels, and the lead guitarist was a giant pink gorilla wearing a skinny red tie. Halloween rocks!

As if freezing out in the cold for seven hours was even an option

I love going to back to Toledo, but now that I have two families - mine and my husband's - it's so much harder to strike a balance between seeing both sides plus any friends I want to catch up with while I'm home.

And this weekend was even more difficult because the main reason we trekked back to Toledo was for Brent, his three good friends from MBA school, and all their wives to get together and catch up.

So we landed in Toledo Thursday evening and our flight out on Sunday was at 6 a.m. Saturday was shot because we planned on being in Ann Arbor all day at the University of Michigan/Michigan State football game, so that left a whopping one day to try to cram everyone in at least once.

But since I've had several opportunities to practice, I think I've got this thing down to a science.

I'll plan one meal - preferably dinner, but I'll settle for a lunch - with all of my friends. Most of them know each other, so that makes it easier and more fun.

That leaves the morning and breakfast with one family and the afternoon or evening with the other family. After an exhausting Friday doing just this - and getting some random shopping in so we could take advantage of Midwestern price tags - I was actually looking forward to a relaxing Saturday eating and drinking at the tailgate party before the football game.

But then, after talking with his buddies, Brent told me there had been a SLIGHT change of plans. One of the couples wasn't able to make it for the weekend, so that left us and two other couples. Neither of the wives were too keen on the idea of being outside in the cold to watch an entire game - it was October after all - so Brent informed me that he was going to the game with his friends by himself by sneakily first telling me, "Hey, guess what you get to do?! Spend more time with your family!"

This is where I gave him the now-we're-married-so-there-are-no-more-unilateral-decisions-especially-when-it-concerns-both-of-us speech. But I was still upset because I actually do love going to live football games.

So I was stuck with a when-life-gives-you-lemons-then-make-lemonade sort of problem. And I kicked ass at it.

Since I now had several hours to fill that I didn't have before -and that I never have when I go home - I booked an hour-long massage for myself at my favorite Toledo-area salon and asked my sister - who's in the middle of her cosmetology school program - if she had any openings for me.

So while my husband and his two friends stood in the cold and shared a case of beer and a bag of Fritos they were given from a nearby tailgating party that actually THOUGHT to bring food to a tailgating party, I was lying on a soft, heated table getting an amazing full-body massage followed by a pedicure and fancy hair updo, courtesy of my sister, while visiting her at her work with my mom.

Then I drove in my toasty warm (borrowed) car up to Ann Arbor to meet up with the sore guys - who had been standing for tailgating and the entire game - and the wives at a nice restaurant/bar for dinner, where us girls listened to our husbands complain about the cold and the standing, etc.

Afterward, I drove my exhausted husband home and marveled at just how great that lemonade tasted.

It was great, but seriously, let me sleep already

I love having my family around, whether it's when I'm back in Ohio/Michigan or whether they come to visit me in New York.

That's why, this past spring when my mom and sister came to visit me, I jokingly kept suggesting that they come back in September. I had plans to visit Ohio in both June for my wedding and in August for my cousin's wedding, but nothing after that had been nailed down.

I'm OK when I know when I'll see my family again. It alleviates the loneliness a little bit.

So I was pleasantly surprised when my mom called me out of the blue in early September and said she was planning a visit to New York "just because." She said she had talked to my dad and they decided that her coming out here twice a year would be OK.

Little did I know when I went to sleep the day before she arrived that it would be the last time I'd sleep in a LOOOOONNNGGGG time.

Among the highlights in our crazy whirlwind of a five-day trip are:

- FINALLY having an excuse to use the fondue pot that Brent and I received for our wedding. Y-U-M!!

-Deciding AGAINST going to the NYC Wine & Food Festival because we didn't want to pay $40 per person to rush from business establishment to business establishment in the three-hour-time-period allotted to wait in line to get a sample of wine and take the chance that there might just be food samples. Instead, we went across the street from the festival to eat outside where we could still watch the street performers, shared a bottle of wine, and followed up dinner by going to two crazy trendy bars in the Meatpacking District of NYC.

- Meeting up with some of her cousins and their older kids to wander around the city looking for a place to get cheesecake after the well-known restaurant, Serendipity, told us they were "too busy" to give us takeout. We later were turned down by TWO taxicab drivers, one of whom yelled at us because we asked him to drive in a direction he wasn't currently heading.

- Complaining about how terrible Serendipity REALLY is when, a few days later, we later sat down in the restaurant for dessert. Our plans to split their famous (and trademarked) Frrrozen Hot Chocolate (yes, it's as stupid as it sounds) were derailed when they told us each person had to spend $8.50 apiece. So my mom ordered their drink (which was stale-milk-chocolate flavored) and I ordered a chocolate mousse that was as thick as butter, richer than Donald Trump, and topped with cardboard-flavored whip cream. Needless to say, it was a waste of $20.

- Realizing that we spent nearly an entire day simply riding NYC public transportation. In just one day we rode the subway, then took the cable car to Roosevelt Island, hopped on a bus that drove around the two-mile-long island between Manhattan and Queens, and finally boarded the boat that travels between Manhattan and Staten Island for an evening view of the city from the water. But hell, it was fun.

- Relentlessly teasing Brent when the football team of MY alma mater, The University of Toledo, kicked the ass of HIS alma mater, The "mighty" University of Michigan.

- Spending three hours on bicycles seeing everything we could see in Central Park, including the castle, gardens, and ponds.

- Getting extremely irritated one morning attempting to understand the newfangled coffee/espresso machine that Brent and I received for our wedding so we could finally have cappuccinos even though I work at a freakin' coffee shop and we could have just got drinks there.

- Attempting to see a good part of The Met even though I knew ahead of time that its collection has reached the two million mark.

- Laughing at ourselves for actually believing the Roosevelt Island bus driver who said it was a MUST to see the island's "famous" lighthouse, which supposedly would illuminate the fish in the water. So after walking quite a ways to find the lighthouse, which wasn't even lit up, we realized the only reason he was so excited about it was because it was the only remotely exciting thing on that damn island.

- Touring Brooklyn before walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to see the art exhibit that features the man-made NYC waterfalls soaring 90 to 120 feet in the air. At night, the four waterfalls were lit up and gorgeous!

- Being diverted away from a park near Brooklyn because they were filming an episode of 30 Rock.

And all this and tons more in five days. I need a 48-hour nap.

At home on the set of a popular TV show

One morning earlier this week, I woke up to literally being on the set of a TV series.

I've said it many times before, but seriously: only in New York.

For a week or so, I've been reminded that the simple task of walking my dog around the block or even walking out of my building might be difficult via the following posted warning on our front door:

"'Law and Order, Special Victims Unit' is scheduled to film in your neighborhood on Monday, Sept. 30 from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. We will try to not cause any neighborhood interruptions."

This has, obviously, never happened to me before, so I didn't quite know what to expect when taking my dog out of the building.

My first impression? TV shows need a hell of a lot of crap. First of all, trailers took up 56th Street from 9th Avenue to 10th Avenue. Many of them were labeled with actors' names, yet I didn't see any of them, though I dawdled quite a bit with Chloe.

Turning the block, all I saw were miles of cables connected to scaffolding, speakers, poles, etc.

One more block turned up tables of food, and another trailer devoted to providing the food right on set.

But still, I didn't SEE any actors. Apparently, they were filming inside the high school that's across the street from my apartment building. Dangit! TV stars right on my block and I didn't even catch a glance at one of them.

But hey, maybe I'll catch a shot of my building in one of their episodes!

The last people on Earth who still use a TV antennae

As I got up off the couch to answer my ringing cell phone earlier this evening, I had an inkling it was Brent just calling to tell me he loved me.

HA! As if.

To my surprise, it was my brother calling from Toledo. Even though my 24-year-old brother and I are close, it's not like he calls me just to talk.

So I was curious to know what he might have to tell me.

"Hi Cal!" I said.

"Hey Erika," he replied. "I just wanted to let you know that today is a momentous occasion in the Ray household." (He's referring to my parents' house.)

"ARE YOU GUYS GETTING CABLE RIGHT NOW!?!?!?" I shouted, mostly because I couldn't think of anything that could be more momentous than that.

"Yes," he replied simply. With that one single word, he confirmed what may be the most significant technological advance that my parents have ever undertaken. Before today, they were the last people in the world who have not jumped on the cable bandwagon.

And I think that's ironic. I know I wasn't even a teenager when my dad introduced me to that newfangled thing called "the Internet." Most of my preteen and teenage years were spent as "OVERRIDE25" in chat rooms or instant messaging random people claiming they were "16/m/Ohio" or "15/m/Michigan." (I chose the moniker "OVERRIDE" after the cool computer hacker chick in the not-so-popular 1995 movie "Hackers.")

My dad has always been technologically savvy and has always had a great fascination with newfangled gadgets. It seems like he updates his computer monitor every year to go with his system that has all the bells and whistles, and once passed down his relatively new camera to me when he got an even newer one.

However, it's important to note that while the computer system is nearly as new as it gets, it's still a dial-up. For those of you who don't remember 1990, that means that one can use either the computer OR the phone, but not both at once because they use the same line. That also means that if you want to download a file, you should click the "download" button in the evening, then go to sleep for the night, and hope that it's finished downloading when you wake up in the morning.

But when it comes to cell phones and the TV, they live ridiculously like it's 1985. Though they were one of the first people I knew of to get a cell phone, they also had THAT EXACT CELL PHONE until about a year ago. I could never understand how people kept a straight face when my mom actually pulled out their cell phone - which had a whopping 30-minute-a-month cell phone plan - and attempted to use it. It was as big as a standard-sized flashlight with a battery almost as big and didn't hold a charge for more than a few minutes at a time. And they never had it on or with them, which made it useless.

And now that they have cell phones with plans that allow them to call long-distance for free, they got rid of that feature on the regular phone. So if my mom or dad have to call anywhere but their own town or maybe the next town over, they have to use their cell phones because their regular phone won't work.

Luckily, my mom updated their cell phone and actually keeps it with her, and my dad adopted my old cell phone a few months ago.

But the poor TV has been neglected for years. The most that's ever been done when it comes to the TV is that it's actually in color. Channels 11, 13, and 36 came in relatively well, but whenever my parents or siblings and I wanted to watch one of the other two channels that came in OK - 24 or 50 or if we were really lucky, one of the nearby Detroit channels - one of us had to go downstairs to adjust the antennae via a control pad. So one of us was downstairs turning the antennae while someone else was upstairs watching the channel we wanted to watch, saying, "It's still fuzzy. Turn it a little more... a little more... TOO MUCH! Change it back."

R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S!

So as you can see, today IS historic for my parents. FINALLY! They will get to watch QUALITY programs, such as "Paris Hilton's My New BFF," "The Hills," and "The Girls Next Door" instead of the boring, same-old, same-old shows such as "60 Minutes" or the local news.

Can somebody get me a tissue... oh wait, I'm sick and all alone

Being sick sucks.

But as I discovered this week, what's worse than being sick is being completely alone and being sick.

I got sick Sunday night, then spent Monday morning trying to find someone to work my Monday night shift. Thankfully, I was off on Tuesday, so I then had two full days to recover from what turned out to be a nasty case of strep throat.

So along with wincing every time I had to swallow - and even feeling the throbbing pains from my throat when I wasn't swallowing - my entire body ached like when I have the flu. So to sum it up, my existence hurt - especially when I moved.

But since Brent was at work both days until after 10 p.m., that meant I had to still get up off the couch, bathtub, or bed - my three sick zones - to get medicine, tissues, extra blankets, food, etc. Since I didn't have any "sick" food - applesauce, juice, ice cream, and cream soda - that meant I also had to go to the grocery store feeling like crap.

When I lived in Toledo and Brent was at work, I would park myself on my parents' couch and have my mom take care of me. And at the very least, if I was sick during the day and she had to work, I would call over a friend to do something low-key, like watch movies.

Here in New York, I'm not comfortable enough with my semi-friends to let them see me in my glasses, sweatpants, and fuzzy slippers with my unwashed hair matted to my forehead. All I had was my dog Chloe, who was great to snuggle with until she got too hot and decided to leave me for the cool tile of the bathroom.

So man was I lonely. I mean, I get lonely a lot, but this was a new kind of lonely. Sure I got some sympathy from my mom over the phone, and caught up on some movies I had been wanting to watch, but that just wasn't the same as being with people. People who care about me who could take care of me.

Such is the trade-off. But it still sucks.

Extra parmesan, please!

If Brent and I do go out, it's on Saturday nights, but I'm usually the one who's pushing for doing something fun. So that's why it was a pleasant surprise when Brent told me out of the blue to call a place called Lombardi's and make a reservation for Saturday.



Even though they don't take reservations on weekends, that didn't stop Brent and I from heading downtown to eat at New York City's first pizzeria.



In going there, I learned that, unsurprisingly, New York City was the birthplace of New York-style pizza (which is very thin pizza without a whole lot of sauce, but a good amount of cheese and big toppings). And Lombardi's was licensed by the City of New York in 1905, making it America's first pizzeria.

Since this pizza place has been perfecting pizza - which is pretty awesome on its own - for more than 100 years, I had high expectations for it.

After waiting for about 45 minutes for a table, we would our way to the back of this restaurant, and through the kitchen, to our quaint table alongside a wall of photos. The most memorable were the ones with the guy feeding pizza to a monkey sitting on his lap in the restaurant (health department must have taken a sick day!) and the ones of the owner shaking hands with celebrities, like Robin Williams.


Though it seemed like a long wait for our large pizza with pepperoni and tomatoes, it was probably because we both saved tons of room to taste this pizza! Plus, it was nice to just sit back with our Diet Cokes and have a conversation with my husband.



When the pizza finally arrived, I have to say it was good, but it wasn't fantastic. It had everything it was supposed to have, but nothing about it stood out. I've had other pizza in New York, and it tasted about the same. I think I was disappointed because I hyped up the place so much in my mind, but apparently all New York City pizza is just that - New York City pizza.

But hey, it was an evening out with my husband at a true New York City jewel!

I'm just going to enjoy some garins while I plant some chuirot

After an 80-plus-hour workweek, often the last thing my husband wants to do is go out again. While we usually go out on Saturdays, he prefers to stay in on Friday nights and Sundays.

Since our New York City apartment is roughly the same size as the living room of the condo we sold back in Ohio, it's tough to each do our separate thing. Plus, since weekends are the only time we really have to spend together, we've gotten into a pretty predictable routine of playing a word game - Scrabble or Upwords - either Friday or Sunday or sometimes even both days.

Because we're both headstrong first-born children, we're competitive by nature. And that competitiveness is especially apparent when we make a bet on the game's outcome. Sometimes we get creative, but the usual bet is that the loser has to give the winner a 10- to 20-minute back rub.

And with that on the line, each of us scrutinizes each other's every choice of word and every play. We've learned that while I have a more extensive vocabulary - naturally, as a writer should - Brent has a more interesting interpretation of the English language, meaning he simply makes words up, then spends time trying to convince me that they're real words. When he's proven wrong after I hand him a dictionary, he then attempts to convince me that our dictionary is outdated, and the words he wants to use were recently coined. (It's gotten so ridiculous that I've actually bought a new, official Scrabble dictionary to squash any of his ideas of new words. It comes in the mail soon.)

During our most recent Scrabble game, when it was apparent that I would win after I used up all of my letters spelling the word "pioneers," Brent got especially creative and hilarious, so I had to write down his last four pathetic attempts to get some major catch-up points.

These are examples of words and their supposed meanings that Brent attempted to play in our most recent Scrabble game:

garin: a type of strawberry

chia: a hairstyle, like a fro

chuirot: a type of grass, like crab grass

cbox: a gaming system, like the x-box

Even after nixing all of these words, Brent actually managed to catch up in score a little bit, making the last few plays crucial. When it came to be his turn, he decided to take a bathroom break.

AND HE TOOK HIS SLATE AND LETTERS WITH HIM TO THE BATHROOM.

At first, I thought he was kidding. But then he proceeded to continue to the bathroom with his letters.

Let's dissect this decision: What, if anything, would I have done differently if I had peeked at his letters? Each of us had the last few letters available, so I knew which ones he had by virtue of which letters had yet to be played. The number of letters available is written directly on the board. Did he think I would swap some of my letters for his? I'm pretty sure he would have noticed he no longer had the only "x." And even if he didn't right away, he would definitely have noticed had I tried to play it on a triple word square.

In the end, it didn't matter what Brent did because I won... but am still waiting for that winning back rub!

Doggie play date

I don't have children, so when I want to channel the child in me via Candyland or the playground, I live vicariously through other people who have them.



Or I schedule play dates for the closest thing that I have to my child: my dog.


So the other day, I borrowed a colleague's 4-pound Yorkshire Terrier to play with my 65-pound German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix.

Or rather, I gave my dog a new, live squeaky toy.

Chloe LOVED Georgie, but the tiny, 6-month-old Yorkie didn't want to have anything to do with my giant dog who kept pawing at her and trying to get her to play. To defend herself, Georgie would leap up as high as she could go - which was nearly as high as my dog's nose - and squeak. It was hilarious.


And also a little sad, so after a few minutes, I took pity on her and started carrying her around the apartment as my own little armpit ornament. Then, because I felt ridiculous carrying around a dog, I went back to work to meet up with another colleague, Amanda, and the four of us took a trip to the nearby dog park.

While the three of us walked - Amanda, Chloe, and I - Amanda carried poor Georgie because she was too little to walk five whole blocks. She is such a pathetic excuse for a dog!

When we got to the dog park with the two city dogs, Georgie tore off and hid behind trees, below benches, and finally crawled into Amanda's bag to get away from Chloe, who was chasing her and continuing to try to get her to play. So after several minutes of Chloe's sitting and waiting for Georgie to crawl out of the bag, which she was not going to do out of her own volition, I decided to distract Chloe and once again attempt to desensitize her to water using the kiddie pool provided at the dog park for the drool machines.


Chloe likes water if it's in the context of the amount that can fit in her water bowl. She is terrified of pools, probably ever since I lowered her in the huge one in my parent's backyard, then watched as she immediately scrambled out and hid. And she's even more terrified of rain - more specifically thunderstorms.


She also hates baths, and literally runs from the bathroom if she's resting in there and I turn on the water in the bathtub, even if it's for my shower. When she hears water running in the tub and then sees me coming to get her, she actually pees herself in terror. Poor thing. But who wants to cuddle with a stinky dog?


I at least have made headway with bath time. She now gets into the bathtub on her own when I ask her to - which is helpful since it was a struggle to lift a squirming 64-pound dog into the tub in the first place - and tolerates it as long as I don't dump any water on her head or near her ears.

But when we were at the dog park, I was watching an owner throw a ball into the pool with a big black dog diving in after it, then rolling around in the water. It was adorable on the exceptionally hot day, so I thought Chloe would enjoy cooling off between terrorizing a dog weighing 60 pounds less than her.

Since she wouldn't get in the pool on her own, I lifted her up and put her into it fully expecting her to immediately jump out. But to my surprise, she stayed there for awhile, probably because the cool water felt good on her paws. Then she drank a bunch of it - probably not the healthiest thing - then literally marched toward the edge while lifting each paw up completely out of the water before hopping out.


Then, Amanda and I decided to see if Georgie could swim. We found out that she could, and when she swam to the edge of the pool and we lifted her up, we saw that her tiny body had shrunk to half its size. A wet rat is definitely bigger than this "dog."


After about two hours at the dog park, we decided to call it a day, and Chloe, Georgie, and I spent the rest of the play date cuddling and sleeping on the couch - with me holding Georgie an arm's length away from Chloe.


So much for a mutually fun play date, but at least Chloe had fun!

My own worst enemy

When I know I have to get up to open the coffee shop, it's hard for me to sleep. I can't seem to get those dangit-I-only-have-three-more-hours-of-sleep-before-I-have-to-get-up-at-an-ungodly-hour thoughts out of my head long enough to relax and actually get some quality shut-eye.

Besides, I can never actually get myself to crawl into bed before 11 p.m. because then I just feel ridiculous staring at the sunlight filtering through my curtains.*

But I fell asleep relatively easy last night - even though it was well after midnight - only to be jolted wide awake a little after 2 a.m.

"What the hell?" I thought to myself as tears escaped from my eyes and flowed around a sharp pain emanating from my face - specifically my nose.

It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. When I sleep, I dream vividly. And in my dreams, I was fighting off vampires. (Full disclosure: I'm nearing the end of "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyers. Even though it's essentially a teenage love story - in which the human protagonist falls in love with a vampire - I easily read 250 pages in one, four-hour sitting. It's that good.)

And apparently, while I was sleeping, I was fighting the vampires with one of my arms stretched straight up toward the ceiling with my fingers curled into a fist. Then, gravity did its thing when I simply let my fist drop... right into my nose.


That's right: I PUNCHED MYSELF IN THE FACE.


And I wasn't even mad when I woke myself up with the stabbing pain. Even though it really hurt, I thought it was hilarious.


I went to wake up Brent, who was sleeping soundlessly next to me, but then changed my mind and decided to let him stay in REM sleep. He looked so peaceful. Apparently the vampires were only attacking me, and I ended up hurting myself.

I swear I can't even make this stuff up!

*May be a slight exaggeration, but that's how it feels.

A clear sign that I'm at the coffee shop A LITTLE too much

I opened the coffee shop today - meaning I was there at 4:45 a.m. - and worked until early afternoon. Then, as usual, I collapsed when I got home and fell asleep for several hours.


I don't remember what I dreamt about, but when I woke up in a serious fog, my first thought was that Brent was the strawberries in my strawberries and cream frappuccino. Wow. Where the heck that thought came from is truly beyond me, and it's pretty embarrassing to admit.

But nevertheless, I shared it with Brent when he came home tonight.


"Yeah, so that's just freaking weird," he said. "So I'll ignore that."

If you can't beat him, join him

Everyone looks forward to the weekend, but I especially love them because other than in bed every night while I'm sleeping, it's the only time that my husband is home for any length of time, so we can actually spend quality time together.

The wrench in that plan is that I almost always work Saturday mornings until noon or later and usually work Sunday mornings until noon or 5 p.m., so that cuts our time together significantly. But we usually make up for it Friday nights, when we watch a movie or play a game together, and Saturday nights, when we either order in food or go out to enjoy the city together.

So I was ecstatic to tell Brent that after I worked a mid-day shift on Friday, I wouldn't have to go back to work until mid-day on Tuesday. That meant we had Friday evening to spend together without my having to worry about getting to bed early and ALL DAY Saturday and Sunday. I was thrilled.

He then took that moment to tell me that he was going to be spending his Saturday afternoon and possibly Sunday afternoon in the office.

HELL. NO.

I told him no. He retorted yes. I told him no again, but he said there was nothing he could do about having to be in the office this weekend.

So I told him I was going with him. Even though it was my day off, I was willing to spend it in a high-rise banking office building surrounded by nothing but empty cubicles and stacks of paper if it meant I could be there with him.

To my surprise, he readily agreed and said there was a project I could help him with. So since we were going to the same office together to do the same job, I thought it would be funny to waer the same outfit. So I let him get dressed first - he chose to wear jeans, a white v-neck T-shirt, and a U of M hat - and put on the exact same outfit. He took one look at me and told me to change. He's so not fun.

So after we got to the office around 11 a.m., with me wearing a jeans, a U of M hat, and a green T-shirt instead of white, I figured he would steer me toward something involving copying, filing, or alphabetizing, but no, he actually GAVE me one of the projects one of his bosses gave him to do. Granted, it was a simple project - converting hundreds of .tif files into .pdf files, then uploading them into certain files on the server - but it irritated me to no end to realize that people dump stupid things like that on him. Things that I could do - or, better yet, a secretary getting PAID TO DO IT could do. Sigh.

So he did other work in an adjoining cubicle while I listened to my ipod or flipped through a magazine while the files were uploading. Even though I was working, it was nice. It reminded me how much I miss working at a desk. And since we were relatively alone, we could talk, and we even enjoyed a lunch break together after we had food delivered to the office.

It sounds totally corny, but even though I wasn't getting paid for the work I was doing, it meant more to me have that time with him, and it felt good knowing that the work I did meant four hours less at the office for him, and four hours with me at home!

All dressed up and no place to go

It's no secret that even though I inhabit a city of 8 million other people, it's still an incredibly lonely place.



But work flew by tonight because I had set up a billiards date with a bunch of people from work. Finally! A fun night out! With friends!


Wrong.



Earlier in the day, a few people canceled, but that was OK because there were still some people who were still free.


So I went home and hopped in the shower in a great mood, humming Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats." Since I was feeling a bit seductive, I put on my sleeveless black shirt with the sexy rip in the front along with jeans, black flats, and big, hoop earrings that peeked out behind the waves I put in my hair.


But then, one guy had to work later than anticipated, and just before I was ready to leave to meet my other colleague at the pool hall I picked out, he told me it "didn't look like he was going to be able to make it anymore." This was after telling me just three hours earlier that he would meet me wherever I wanted to go. Seriously?


But since I was all dressed up and ready to go, I called the girl who had just gotten off work and asked her if she still wanted to go. She said she did, but would have to meet us later because she had just gotten off work and had to go home to get ready. That left just me and another guy who said he was also planning on meeting us up later.


Even though I am desperate to have friends here, I drew the line at going to a pool hall by myself and waiting for an undetermined amount of time for someone who may or may not show up.


Since I was literally ditched by my colleagues, I decided to call the one person who I can always count on: Brent. Even though he's always (eventually) there for me when I need him, he was at the one thing that stands in his way from being there for me at the exact moment that I need him: work.
I told him the situation and explained that I was literally all dressed up with nowhere to go. I then suggested I meet him downtown for dinner and a drink. It was, after all, a Friday night. But he said he still had more work to do, and after a long day, going out was the last thing on his mind.

So I had two options: Stay at home, cry, and feel sorry for myself, or go out on a Friday night by myself.


Even though I seriously considered the first option, I decided to do what I usually do and take on this big, bad city solo.


So I changed into a bit more comfortable outfit - meaning a T-shirt, jeans, and sandals - and headed downtown on 9th Avenue - which is loaded with restaurants and bars. I was hungry, so I just started walking to see where my feet would take me.

My first stop was to a wine bar, Bocca Di Bacco, about three blocks away that I've been to before when my mom came to visit. Even though I was feeling like a bit of a loser - alone on a Friday night, after all - I took a deep breath and went through the doors ready for a bite to eat and a nice glass of wine, even if it was by myself.


I asked the hostess if I could just order food from the bar, but then looked over to see it was all full of people with unbuttoned suit coats and loosened ties laughing at happy hour after work. Then I asked her for a table for one, but she apologized and said the place was full. Then she handed me a card and suggested that I order takeout for home.


Even tougher than going out by myself was keeping it together just enough to smile and thank her for the suggestion to essentially doing my first option: going home to cry... with some food.


So there I was, tears running down my face as I was trudging down 9th Avenue feeling sorry for myself. Thank God it was dark out or people would have seen just how pathetic I felt.


After walking another two blocks and wiping away the tears, I crossed the street when I saw the nice place that Brent and I went with one of my best friends, Sarah, when she was in town a few months ago.

I originally planned on sitting on the velvet furniture like we did last time, but they're all situated in circles around tables. I would have looked ridiculous sitting there alone. So I chose to sit next to an older guy nursing a scotch. I was alone at a bar. I might as well look the part.


After perusing the menu, I decided order a mixed drink made with Southern Comfort mostly because I was hoping to take advantage of the "comfort" part. Then I ordered some quesadillas.


Then I watched the lame show on the TV above the bar for a bit. And then I read that there was a $15 minimum if you wanted to pay with a credit card. No problem. The one drink I ordered was $11 - along with the three more that followed.


Then I texted a few of my real, actual friends - none of which live anywhere near New York - to tell them that I missed them. Most of them quickly texted back asking if I was OK, which at the time, I didn't feel OK, but it's nice to have people who know you and care about you. I love my friends.

Then I watched the lame TV show some more and tried to ignore all the groups of people laughing around me while praying that my quesadillas would show up and I'd have something to do.


The turning point came when I accidentally dropped my purse from my lap - and the 60-something guy drinking alone next to me picked it up for me and struck up a conversation.


For the next 90 minutes, I actually kinda enjoyed myself while I talked to this guy, Harry, about New York, my job, his job, the area we lived in, his family, etc. It was nice. And he wasn't hitting on me or being a dirty old man or anything - we were just two people alone at a bar enjoying the company of someone else. It would have sucked a whole lot more if I would have just sat there alone re-reading the credit card sign 100 times.


And he apparently was grateful for the company because before he left to meet up with his family, he took care of my more than $60 bar tab. He really was a nice guy!


And after four strong drinks in less than two hours, I was feeling pretty good myself - so good in fact, that it took me four blocks to realize that I was walking in the wrong direction. Very stupid on a number of levels, but thank God the streets of New York are numbered, so it was easy to correct my mistake, even in an inebriated state.


When I got home and told Brent of my grand plans to go out with another guy from work - one who didn't get off until almost midnight - he immediately nixed my plans, which at the time really infuriated me, but now I realize he was, once again, looking out for me and there when I needed him.


I may not have any friends here, but I thank God every day I have him.

Not the kind of Usher I had at my wedding, though it would have been nice!

"For the love of God, would you PLEASE SHUT UP AND LET ME SLEEP," I thought, frustrated, at 7:30 a.m.

For once, I got to sleep in until a blissful 9:30 a.m., but the excessive horn-honking from the street below my window - WAAAAAYYYYY more than usual for New York City, anyway - was making dreamland impossible.

So I threw off the covers, angerly swept aside the curtain from my bedroom window, and saw cars bottle-necked in all four directions at the nearby intersection. Police were trying to sort out the mess, but apparently it wasn't quick enough for those pesky New York cabbies.

Even though I had an inkling that there might be extra traffic near my apartment today, I had no idea it would be this bad EIGHT HOURS before a concert at Columbus Circle, featuring Usher and Keith Urban, to celebrate before the NY Giants' opener.

But hey - who was I to complain? I didn't have to navigate through car traffic. All I had to do was worry about foot traffic after work as I changed into street clothes and moseyed around the block to enjoy the concert - for FREE!

I admit that before I went, I imagined that there would probably be a stage set up for Usher and Keith Urban to perform, but I wasn't expecting a complete transformation of Columbus Circle into an amazing outdoor concert venue.

The streets were closed off to make way for a HUGE stage, complete with platforms all around it and a giant background screen so those of us who didn't get there eight hours ahead of time could still see the performers, even from a block or two away.

And even though the concert was free, there was only one way in. For me, I had to walk a few blocks east, then north one block before turning back to walk back toward my apartment and toward the main stage.

After passing a bunch of different booths of advertisers - and picking up a free T-shirt that said "I (heart) GMC" - I maneuvered around groups of people dancing and cheering for Usher, who was performing when I got there.

I have never been to an Usher concert before, but wasn't surprised that he was a great performer. And I never really realized how hot he is -especially when he ripped off his shirt during a song. Wow-eee!

Even though the concert was free, and the music was great, I didn't stay for a long time because I felt a little awkward being there by myself. But hey, it was something to do!

My cooking is apparently THAT GOOD

"So which one is your favorite?" I asked Brent, who was busy chewing on a mouthful of asparagus.

I treated us to two appetizers for dinner tonight because the main course was leftover pasta from the dinner I made us on Saturday night.

But he didn't answer me for a moment, so I asked him again to tell me which he preferred:

-The prosciutto-wrapped asparagus grilled in EVOO (Rachel Ray rocks) and sprinkled with pepper and basil

OR

-The sauteed feta cheese I drizzled over tomatoes before again adding pepper and basil (two of the greatest spices ever invented)

"That's like asking me to choose between my two children," he said.

BEST COMPLIMENT EVER (on my cooking, that is)!

Game, set, match!

"Yay! He won the game six to two!" I said to Brent while watching Rafael Nadal at the U.S. Open this past weekend.


"No he didn't. He won the set six to two," he quickly corrected me, then once again proceeded to explain that a "set" is made up of several "games." (I had already flubbed up the lingo earlier in the day when I asked when we'd be heading to the game, and he said we weren't going to just a "game," but instead would be heading to one whole "match.")


You see, it's important to Brent that I understand the way sports work because, like a typical guy, they actually mean something to him. He's actually told me that sports are "the social lubrication of the world." And he was serious.


To me, sports are meant to be PLAYED, not WATCHED. I'd much rather be playing football or basketball or tennis than watching someone else have fun doing it. Whenever the players mess up, I'm usually on the couch or at the stadium screaming, "Put me in, coach!" This annoys Brent a lot, though he's easily annoyed while watching his teams lose.


Back to the tennis match as I am attempting to master the lingo:


"OK, so they play games to see who wins the set. Whoever wins three sets wins the match," I said to Brent slowly, making sure I understood the lingo. "So it's game... then set... then match."


(Wait for the ephiphany)...


"Hey! Do you think that's where the phrase 'game, set, match' comes from?" I ask him. He rolls his eyes and laughs. Rightfully so.

Anyone up for some tennis?

For Brent, working in the corporate world of banking has its perks - and it had better have its perks for all the crazy long hours he's working!




One of the perks is if he's lucky, he can sometimes score free tickets to sporting events. This year, he was able to get each of us a ticket to the 2008 U.S. Open.



I have to admit that I didn't exactly jump up and down when he told me we had a chance to go to two matches - a women's match followed by a men's match. That's a whole hell of a lot of tennis in one evening!

But I went anyway and ended up having a blast!

Not did I have an entire evening alone with my husband (and more than 23,000 tennis fans!) but we got to have a VERY RARE middle-of-the-week night out in New York City doing something fun we've never done together before.

The evening started off with us roaming the grounds surrounding the Arthur Ashe Stadium in Queens watching the not-so-famous tennis players on the smaller courts while we kept an eye out for the Citibank hospitality tent so we could eat what Brent called the best, juiciest hamburgers he's ever eaten (he went to the open with colleagues last year before I moved to the city).

Though the hamburgers this year were a little disappointing, the hospitality tent awesome - free booze, free food, and table tennis in the corner, but I still felt uncomfortable.

First of all, I knew no one and in my jeans, black flats, and a tank top covered with a white sweater, I was easily the most under dressed. Everyone else was in khakis or skirts and some guys were even still wearing ties.

Even after Brent introduced me to a colleague he was chatting with, I still felt invisible and uncomfortable. I have nothing in common with bankers - except that I married one - and to be honest, the work they do would bore me to tears. But Brent loves it, so the more power to him. I'll leave the stuffy corporate world to him.

Luckily, we only stayed to eat and have one drink because we got to the venue more than an hour later than Brent wanted to, and Serena Williams had already started warming up for her match against a woman I'd never heard of in the second round of the Open.

Williams ended up winning in straight sets, and though our seats were really high up - we were in Row H of the upper deck - I thought they were great. We were low enough to see everything going on, but high enough to talk to each other whenever we wanted to* even when people sitting lower had to be quiet to not disturb the players.

(*I wanted to talk a whole lot more than Brent did. He took a keen interest in just watching the games.)

Following Serena was Rafael Nadal, the No. 1 men's single player in the world, who easily beat American Ryler DeHeart. Though I was excited to see Nadal play live, I still cheered for the American player.

Nadal also won in straight sets, and we watched him score the match point while power walking toward the subway that would take us back into the city.

If we would have waited until the match were truly over, we would have had 23,000 people to contend with as we all tried to get on the train at the same time. I doubt we would have easily won that battle!