Long weekend of F-U-N!

I've lived in New York now for about five months now, so it was high time for a visit from my family! Sure, my mom helped me move, but that was all work and hardly any play (plus, I was sick the whole time she was at my apartment, which sucked!)

So my mom and my sister, Brittany, came in on Wednesday for a long weekend visit. And it was AWESOME! I don't think I've ever laughed as much in my life as I laughed in the past four days. Whenever us girls get together, we just have a blast.

I told my mom and sister ahead of time to give me a list of what they wanted to do while visiting New York. Since it was my mom's second visit (other than moving me there) and my sister's first visit, their list included all things touristy, including the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park, etc. Though I've done most of the tourist things with Brent, I was more than happy to see them again with my family.

Here's a little taste of what we did on while they were visiting:

THURSDAY

My sister is so not a morning person, so we ended up heading to the Statue of Liberty late in the morning. A long wait later - and after my sister ruined her new, white pants by sitting on an apparently freshly-painted bench - we were headed off to Liberty Island.

But we only had 45 minutes to explore the surprisingly small island and marvel at the beautiful statue or else we'd miss the boat to Ellis Island.

So we rushed quite a bit, but made it on the boat headed to the island where nearly 12 million immigrants passed through from 1892 to 1954.

But because they were closing early for an event, we only got to see a small part of the building/museum. Yet we still saw the most important room - the one where the immigrants walked through those many years ago, which has since become the depot that processed the greatest tide of incoming humanity in the nation's history.

FRIDAY

The highlight of today for me was getting all dressed up in my new red dress and matching high heels to head to the Tribeca Film Festival.

After pouring over all the potential movies we could see ahead of time, I settled on the world premier of "Boy A," a British film about a 24-year-old man who has rejoined society after committing a horrendous crime as a child. The film follows the man's attempts to readjust to the world outside of confinement and restart a life that really had never began. It was one of those movies that left room for doubt and led the viewers to draw their own conclusions about many events in the film.

The coolest part of the movie was that after it ended, the director, John Crowley, came out to answer questions. Since the film was being shown on a college campus, there were many quite insightful questions asked that gave me a better understanding of the film that was shot in 5 weeks and cost 1.8 million pounds ($3.5 million dollars) to make.

After the movie, since we were all dressed up anyway, the three of us went to meet Brent in Little Italy at Pellegrino's for dinner. Apparently the cat-calls work a little different when you're in Little Italy, because as we walked by a group of older guys, they started whistling (typical) and then shouted out "Made in America, huh, baby!" We giggled at that.

Though it was a little windy and chilly, we still snagged a seat on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant and enjoyed an amazing Italian dinner with equally amazing service. There was never a time when one waiter came to our table; it was always two or three at a time to make sure we had everything we needed all at once - and this when the restaurant was relatively busy!

After a fun time shopping in Little Italy and the adjacent Chinatown, we enjoyed Pinkberry's (of course) before turning in for the night.

SATURDAY

I made brunch reservations today for the Russian Tea Room, an elegant restaurant right near Carnegie Hall. (Hey - it was another excuse to dress up!)

Though brunch is a very popular thing for New Yorkers, they apparently avoid this restaurant (maybe because of the prices!) because ours was one of the only occupied tables.

But we took advantage of the solidarity by just enjoying our time together. For an appetizer, we ordered a basket full of tasty donuts and pastries, then I settled back with some pancakes with fig butter. Yummy!

With our stomachs full, we went shopping for a bit before grabbing a subway to go to the top of the Empire State Building.

I've been to the top with Brent at night, which was amazing, but it was a completely different experience during the day. What a view!

In the following pictures (in order) you can see the Statue of Liberty/Manhattan's financial district, Central Park (in the top half of the photo), and the West half of Manhattan/the New Jersey shore.

SUNDAY

I live near Central Park, and one of my favorite sounds is hearing the clip-clop sound of a horse's hooves as it trots by my apartment to the garages that have been converted into stables.

Now before you think I've gone all insane - thinking there are horses and stables smack in the middle of New York City - let me assure you that I have not (I swear! Look at the photos for proof!).

A big touristy thing to do in the city is clamor into a Cinderella-esque buggy and take a tour of the southernmost part of the park. I've always wanted to do it, but since Brent has long since he'd never be caught dead in one ("Why would I want to pay to sit and smell horse poop?" he says) I jumped at the chance to take a ride with my mom and sister.

Though it was fun while it lasted, I must say that I will never do it again.

The guy blatantly overcharged us - we later found out - and probably justified ripping us off by telling us two pieces of trivia as he guided the horse at a snail's pace along the same route I take with the dog every time we go to the park. But you live and you learn, right?

One bonus of the ride was that we saw a street fair from the carriage and wandered over there for some sweet potato fries and mozzarella sticks, and Brittany found the cutest purse ever - a real, live Dolce & Gabbana for just $15 (note the sarcasm on the "real, live" part).

After our bellies were full, we took the dog on a quick trip to the dog park before glumly dragging their suitcases to the subway so we could ride it as close to La Guardia as possible before hailing a cab in Queens (a little trick I invented because I'm cheap and hate seeing the meter ticking away while the cab is at a dead stop in traffic).

A tearful goodbye later, I trudged up the subway steps to head home. But I quickly perked up when I remembered that I'd be back in Toledo with my family in three weeks for the last-minute wedding plans. Yay!

You know you're a true New Yorker when...

You know you're a true New Yorker when you're walking past dozens of pigeons and barely flinch when the wing of one flaps against your shoulder in its rush to scurry away even though you've just contracted some horrible, uncurable disease carried by the ubiquitous rat with wings.

What gives a girl power and punch?

"What gives a girl power and punch?
Is it charm, is it poise?
No, it's hairspray!"

Since I've been living in New York, I have only seen three Broadway shows (Rent and Mamma Mia being the other two) but I can't imagine another show holding a candle to HAIRSPRAY! I have only one word for that show...


WOW-WEE!!!!!

Mom M came in this weekend for Brent's surgery (see my April 14 posting) but before we had to spend an afternoon/evening at the hospital and take care of our patient on Friday, she got us tickets to the show.(Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!)

And even though we were in the very last row on the main floor, that didn't matter in the least. The singing was just phenomenal and the dancing was out of this world!! George Wendt, best known for his role on the TV show Cheers, gave a fantastic performance as Edna Turnblad.

It was a toe-tapping, fantastic show that was over all too early.

The only annoyance were the two teenagers who didn't have seats, and therefore were standing behind us, who were whisper/singing the songs until Mom M and I both turned around to glare at them! That did the trick!


Before the show, we walked a few blocks toward the theatre until we came across a little Italian restaurant, Patsy's, and had a nice dinner together. The food was good, but it wasn't anything spectacular. The conversation was much better!

And after the show, we headed over to one of my favoritest New York spots, Pinkberry, for some ice cream and headed home to watch one of my favoritest shows - American Idol - of course!


So all in all, I kept telling her that it was one of my favorite days in New York doing some of my favorite things with my favorite soon-to-be mother-in-law!

When it comes to hospitals, there's a world of difference 600 miles away

Brent's mom (and my future mother-in-law!) came into town this past weekend, which was fun, even though the underlying purpose of her trip was to be there for Brent during a surgery he was scheduled for.

I was definitely happy to have Mom M around not only to have someone to do things with, but also to help me deal with a very unhappy fiance who was not looking forward to six weeks on crutches in a city where you walk everywhere.

So I took the day off from work on Friday so I, too, could be with Brent at the hospital for the very late-in-the-day surgery. We left around 1 p.m. to take the subway uptown to the very last subway stop in Manhattan, then walked two blocks in an extremely shady-looking area to the satellite hospital where Brent's surgery was scheduled.

This hospital was unlike any other I'd been to in the past. The ones I'm used to in Toledo have large, carpeted waiting rooms with plants and tons of people walking around in crisp scrubs or nursing uniforms. Toledo hospitals have several nice, big elevators leading up to squeaky-clean hospital rooms that just reek like they're sterile.

Nothing about this hospital reminded me of the ones in Toledo. This particular one was a dirty yellow color from top to bottom and actually seemed dirty as well as deserted, even though it was mid-afternoon.

When we finally found where we needed to be, Mom M and I were regulated to a nearly empty waiting room with only hard, plastic chairs to sit on and CNN running on a continual, annoying loop. The reason we couldn't be with Brent while he was getting ready for surgery was because there wasn't enough room in the pre-op area for both of us and the book bags of stuff we brought to stave off boredom. (She brought a book and I brought boxes of blank wedding envelopes that needed to be addressed along with some magazines.)

So, we took turns sitting with Brent as he waited more than an hour to go into surgery. During that time, two bags of IV meds were pumped into him in under 10 minutes, which we both thought was a teensy bit too fast. Add that to a scary, near mix-up with the IV drips, and I was way more nervous than he was by the time he was wheeled into the operating room around 5:30 p.m.

By that time, the hospital had virtually shut down. I went down to the cafeteria to get some dinner and found that I was cutting it close because it closed at 6 p.m. Soon thereafter, Mom M and I were asked to retrieve Brent's personal items from a locker because the pre-op area was closing.

I didn't even know hospitals closed!

But after about two hours, Brent came out of the surgery asking to go to Chipotle for some tacos (he wasn't able to eat all day) and spent less than an hour in recovery because he wasn't put completely under anesthetic.

Even though he wasn't staying overnight at the hospital, they still had a completely incompetent nurse wheel him to a hospital room. After she missed several doorways - thus slamming the gurney into walls and jarring the patient who just came out of surgery - we were left wondering why Brent wasn't just discharged after he was done in recovery.

But after less than an hour, they had him sign a piece of paper and told him he was free to leave. We looked at each other, puzzled, because in Toledo, patients are not allowed to leave the hospital unless they're wheeled to the curb in a wheelchair. But in New York, apparently, you walk out when you're done with surgery.

Now don't get me wrong - the hospital was fine and Brent's doctor was stellar, but the hospital was just too different than what I've been used to. And one of the big pluses at this hospital was that when we were ready to leave, all I had to do was pick up a phone receiver at the desk in the main lobby and, two minutes later, a town car was waiting to take us back to our apartment - all for less than 20 bucks! Score!

Now I have six weeks of doing all the housework myself to look forward to - including the job I loathe the most - ironing - which no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot do. So Brent will have to settle going to work with collars that slightly flip on on each end and more wrinkles in his shirt than were there when they came out of the dryer. But hey - I'll try.

I'll never look at food the same way again

Because I'm a supervisor at my coffee shop job, and we serve food and drinks there, I was required to attend a two-day health class to learn about the dangers that food can pose so I can help keep our customers safe.

I have never been somewhere where the words "diarrhea," and "vomit" were used so frequently.

After 16 hours of learning about all the disgusting bacteria that can grow on food, and what can happen to a human body after consuming said food, I have not been able to look at anything edible the same way since.

I now know that 93 percent of food borne outbreaks comes from bacteria, and that populations can double every 20 to 30 MINUTES. Yikes. Plus, you can't see, taste, or smell bacteria, which is where it gets really scary because all food within 41 degrees to 140 degrees is considered to be in the food temperature danger zone, which is the prime temperature for bacteria reproduction. Yuck!

And since my instructor used real-life examples, like why you should think twice about using the soft butter that comes with the bread basket at a restaurant, (if the butter is soft, it's been sitting at room temperature - 70 degrees or so - and therefore in the danger zone) I've been constantly thinking about every single bite.

I almost threw out what turned out to be a perfectly good serving of sweet potato and turkey sausage stew that had been sitting in the refrigerator for six days because, in class, I learned that the fridge merely SLOWS down bacterial growth (the freezer stops it). Even though it still tasted good, I couldn't help but think about all the bacteria that was swarming in every spoonful.

Some good did come out of the class, though, not only for my job but also for myself at home. I learned the safe internal cooking temperatures for poultry (165 degrees), ground meat (158 degrees), and other protein (145 degrees) to kill any harmful bacteria, and learned how to cool large amounts of food - like the leftovers from my crock pot - so there aren't pockets of hot food that create a breeding ground for bacteria.

Yet, there were some aspects of the class that were just downright annoying. The instructor actually told us to simulate WASHING OUR HANDS. That's right. He sat there while we PRETENDED we were standing at a sink with soap and water, then showed us the areas of our hands that are sometimes missed, like the tips. We spent, like, an hour on this. Sigh. But hey, I was being paid to be bored.


And I actually had to pay attention the whole time because we not only had to take four quizzes over two days, but we also had to retain the information to take the New York City Food Safety Certification exam. All food-service establishments in the city - from the fruit carts scattered around the city to the five-star restaurants - need to have an on-duty certified food safety manager present at all times.

If I pass the test, I can legally run my own shifts at the coffee shop job without a manager present (even though I've been doing it for months already).


If I don't pass, I'll have to take the class again: something I'm NOT going to do. So I'm going to dust off those college study skills and kick some ass - minus the diarrhea - the first time!

My feet hurt

I honestly didn't know how "safe" my Toledo newspaper job was until I started working at the New York coffeehouse.

Along with being on my feet up to eight hours a day, I also have a number of ways to hurt myself right within reach. Since I'm a klutz, this happens a lot.

But I didn't burn myself today! Score one for me!

Instead, I dropped the gigantic ice machine lid on my right big toe.

Then, because my left big toe was feeling left out, that one got the rim of one of our metal garbage cans.

Both of those hurt way more than the paper cuts I was prone to when working at the newspaper. This is how I know I was made to be a writer - and not a construction worker, police officer, firefighter or anything else that comes into contact with any REAL danger.

And of course my fiance has a (legitimate, though annoying) foot phobia, so it takes hours of pleading for a few-minute foot rub.

But for those few minutes, I'm in H-E-A-V-E-N!

It was puuuuurty, so I THOUGHT it was a good idea

I tied a ribbon today.

Then another one.

Then I tied 123 more.

Seriously.

And it took F-O-R-E-V-E-R!!!

When I ordered my wedding invitations, I obviously chose the most beautiful ones. They're a perfect square and the silver fancy letters are on a white background with a silver border. Then there's a see-through sheet with a monogrammed "M" on it that goes on top of the invitations. They are attached together with a ribbon that goes through a hole in both sheets.

Since I ordered the invitations online, so I had to put them together myself - which seemed like a good idea until I was actually sitting on the couch putting them together myself.

If only I didn't live hundreds of miles away from my bridesmaids!!