We will never forget

I've more fully felt the tragedy of 9/11 since moving to the city where it all happened.

There are memorials set up all around the city. Some are small clusters of candles and flowers around a photo that any passers-by can see. Others make a huge statement to those who don't even need to be in the immediate vicinity.

For the past nine years, the Municipal Art Society has paid tribute to those who died on 9/11 by projecting two beams of light into the sky where the Twin Towers once stood.

I live four miles away from downtown, yet was still able to clearly see the rays from my rooftop, which, according to Time Out New York magazine, are the strongest shafts of light ever projected from Earth into the night sky. The beams are illuminated by more than 40 xenon light bulbs and evoke the shape and orientation of the towers that were a prominent part of lower Manhattan.

Also in the photo, you'll see the Empire State Building to the left, which changes color every night and is appropriately lit up in red, white, and blue.

With all these amazing commemorations, we can never forget.

Yep - I train my dog to bite anything wearing scarlett or gray

Anyone who knows me well - or knows me at all, really - knows that I love my T-shirts.

I have an entire drawer that, when opened, throws up T-shirts that I wear regularly. There's also another drawer for T-shirts that I don't generally wear unless it's to bed or the gym, but yet can't get rid of, like my high school honor society T-shirt (with the slogan "Don't sweat the petty things, don't pet the sweaty things" on the back. Advice still applicable today.), my too-big Race For The Cure T-shirt, and my Blade Blazers T-shirt from my time on The Blade's volleyball team (yes, there was one for a very short, yet significant, time).

There are two blue T-shirts and one gray one in particular that are in the "wear regularly" drawer, but are about to get demoted to the "wear to bed or only at home" drawer. They are, unfortunately, three of my most favorite T-shirts because they're comfy, I love the colors, and they remind me of home.

They're my Michigan shirts.

One navy blue shirt has the yellow words "Michigan" splashed across the chest, the second has a big block M on the front and the gray one has the words "Michigan Wrestling" on the front and "Big Ten" on the back (I dated a wrestler for awhile).

And it's by sheer annoyance that I am thinking of retiring these shirts from my regular rotation. And that's because I get harassed Every. Single. Time. I wear these shirts. Literally harassed.

Here's a sample of the things I've heard in the past few weeks:

"Michigan SUCKS!"

"We'll see if you love Michigan in November."


"Michigan SUCKS!"

"Michigan? Really? Yuck."

"Ohio State, baby!"


"MICHIGAN SUCKS!!!"

Keep in mind that I am not wearing this shirt in Columbus, Ohio, where I would actually expect to get harassed (and have beer bottles thrown at my head, which is what happened the one and only time I went to the Ohio State/Michigan game at The Horseshoe).

I am wearing this shirt when running errands or going to work or hanging out with my friends in New York City. Why must Ohio State fans feel the need to comment on the fabric I choose to put over my head that makes me comfortable and happy? It's not like I am wearing a pro-KKK or terrorist T-shirt or something equally as offensive against Americans or a particular race or religion. It's just a particular football team I happen to like.

When this happens, I generally ignore the comments, because there is no use shouting a comeback to a complete stranger just because he or she (I've gotten it from both) doesn't like the emblem on my chest.

Besides, I'm better than that. Why should it be any of my business if Joe Schmo off the street chooses to spend his Saturday afternoons cheering for Ohio State or Michigan State or [insert college football team here]? And why do these Ohio State fans feel the need to make the college football team that I cheer for their business?

But this trend really took a weird turn on Saturday. Before the first Michigan game of the season, Brent took one look at Chloe and asked why in the world she was wearing a pink bandanna when she has a Michigan one. So because Michigan college football is probably one of Brent's top five favorite things of all time, I of course dug it out and put it on her so our Michigan dog could sit on the couch with us and watch Michigan trounce Connecticut.

And of course I thought nothing of the bandanna that I chose to put on my dog when I hooked her to her leash and took her outside to pee.

As we were coming back to the building, we passed a couple and the woman took one look at Chloe and said, "Michigan... really? Groooooooooss."

My usual response was to ignore this comment as we walked past this couple toward our two sets of elevators. They walked into one elevator as the one nearest to me was opening, so I stepped into this second elevator with Chloe.

Apparently, they didn't realize that their elevator was going down instead of up, so they stepped out of the elevator and the guy walked into the one I was in with Chloe. Just before the doors closed, he poked his head out of the elevator, said "Are you coming?" to his companion and started laughing as he stepped back into the elevator.

It was then that he turned to me and said, "Sorry. Ohio State fans... you know."

Yes, I do know that die-hard fans of any kind can be ridiculous, but REALLY? You seriously didn't want to even SHARE AN ELEVATOR FOR FIVE SECONDS WITH A MICHIGAN FAN??? What was I going to do - sick my dog on you for cheering for a different team than me??? Come on.

I guess Michigan fans are just more rational... and definitely more classy. Or maybe that's just me.

Laughing so hard no sound comes out

My stomach hurts... I mean really hurts.

But it's not a miserable pain.

It's that "good" pain that plagues your abs after a tough, sweaty workout... though I didn't spend any time in the gym tonight.

Don't get me wrong; I had planned on going to the gym, but on my walk home, I saw that my friend and former coffee shop colleague, Amanda, was still at work near the coffee shop we both worked at together. So, since I hadn't really gotten an opportunity to talk to her in a few months, I stopped in to see how she was doing.

After sharing a few laughs with her for nearly a half an hour, she was finally free from work, and I informed her we were going to continue our conversation on my rooftop. Though I only anticipated sharing a drink and maybe two with her, two and a half hours later, my husband called me asking me where the heck I was, since I told him I'd be home after work.

It was then that I caught my breath long enough to inform him that I was, in fact, at home, just not in the apartment. It was nearly 10 p.m. and I had just spent nearly three hours laughing until my eyes teared up and my stomach screamed "no more jokes!" with Amanda.

We reminisced about former colleagues, current flames, and the ridiculousness that comes with our jobs. We bitched about our bosses and mutual strange friends, and took turns telling old inside jokes that I had long forgotten.

It was one of those conversations that I wouldn't even be able to choke out a sentence before we were both in the throes of laughter, which lasted for several seconds before she was able to respond, and vice versa. Both of us repeatedly experienced that moment where you're laughing so hard that no sound comes out for several seconds, then you take a breath and the laughter just explodes.

I had thought I was having a good day, but it wasn't until I was rolling with Amanda about "Can-I-Get-My-Tips" Tim; the butter croissant a.m. pastry; Dan, who could kill us five ways with a plastic straw; and the guy she had not been dating who thought they were dating, and going dancing with a mutual, probably gay friend, that I knew that today had turned into a great day.

I can't remember a time I laughed at Every. Single. Thing. that was said between myself and one friend for several hours, but I can't imagine I'll forget tonight anytime soon.

Sometimes it's the simple things that count... like a great conversation with a great girlfriend.

Love you girl!

Definitely not the nicest person

I was actually offended one day while a student at The University of Toledo because one of my colleagues at the student newspaper immediately refuted my claim of being the nicest person he’s met.

Not only did he quickly disagree with me, but he took it one step further and pointed to our mutual colleague, a girl named Jenny, and said she was the reason I wasn’t the nicest person he’s met.

Now granted, the meanest I had ever seen Jenny was when she once hurled a plastic cup of cigarette ash out of frustration, but I remember being pretty upset that in one person’s eyes, I was not the absolute nicest person.


Now I wouldn’t even think twice about someone saying that I’m not the nicest person. One, because I have met the nicest person in probably the entire world (he’s a guy on my basketball team and I’d bet on him every time) and two, because I can’t seem to stop word tease vomiting toward my guy friends.

Let me explain: I have started to find that the more I get to know someone and the more I like one of my guy friends, the more I tease him. And sometimes it gets to the point where I actually feel like I’m being mean, even though that’s absolutely not my intention. I never set out to actually hit below the belt, I just think teasing someone is my weird way of friend-flirting. Even though I know the guy can take it, I just can’t seem to stop pushing, and it has lately kinda started to bug me.

Why do I have to tease whom I hope will eventually be a good friend about his “lame” choice of car or shirt? Why can’t I just compliment him on something I do admire instead of pointing out (completely untrue) flaws of him?


I’m pretty sure that I push the envelope, so to speak, because I really like the idea that I can say virtually anything to my good friends, and it’s OK. I like that I can trade barbs with one of my African-American friends about racial stereotypes, for example, because it’s obviously not something I’d be able to do with just anyone. Teasing is my way of saying, “I really like you and I like how close of a friendship we’ve established.” I guess it just kinda irks me that guys respond to teasing and emotional punches in the arm over my simply going up to them and saying, “I really like you and I like how close of a friendship we’ve established.”


What makes it worse is that I have a friend who is exactly like me in this way, and while he knows I can take it – and I can – and it’s funny, I'm wondering if it can last. I mean, would it be so difficult to simply say something nice? Truthfully, and sadly, even if he did, I might think he was joking. I don’t want my friends to think of me in this way at all.


In fact, my high school self would absolutely be appalled that I’m behaving in this way because back then, I was teased… a lot. Granted, I was teased maliciously, but why would I then turn around and do the same thing years later, even after taking steps to ensure that the person I’m teasing doesn’t take it badly?

Maybe it's a guy thing and maybe because I'm a girl I just don't understand how it works. But because I'm a girl, maybe it's my job to change it.

I feel like this was a really stupid idea...

FOR SALE: Used, crappy, windowless van.

Did not need paint job until went up for sale.

Call 917-731-1086 to tell him he's an idiot for using permanent marker.

Hugs in Ohio, kisses in New York

I grew up in the Midwest, where if you were greeting or saying goodbye to a friend, you wouldn't think twice about reaching out and giving them a hug.

Here in New York, I've noticed that some of my friends are taken aback when I stretch my arms toward them for a friendly squeeze. It's not that they're uncomfortable giving hugs or anything; I can tell it's just unexpected.

Here in New York, it's customary to give a friend - girl or guy - a quick peck on the cheek more so when you say goodbye than when you say hello.

I was first taken aback by this custom back in Ohio when a friend of mine who grew up in New York gave me a kiss on the cheek as he said goodbye. At the time, I thought it was just something he did, but now that I've spent two and a half years in New York, I know it's not just him - it's a New Yorker thing.

Although it seems much more personal than a hug, I actually prefer it. Maybe it's because it's novel, but I think it's simply because a kiss is so much more intimate and it makes me feel closer to my friends. Regardless of the reason, this is for all my Midwestern friends:

MWAH from New York!

Only one with the ring

One of the toughest aspects about living in New York is being away from my family. Luckily, I was able to move here with my family - my husband, who is also my rock.

While I have a significant other here... hardly any of my friends do. Sure, there's that small minority of my friends who've been with their significant other for more than a year, but the overwhelming majority are either casually dating someone (the person of which changes every few weeks) or one hundred percent single.

I don't have a single New York friend who is married.

While it may not seem like that big of a deal, it is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Back in January, it actually hit me hard at a bar and still crops up every now and again.

My friends are up for anything any time.

I'm up for many things, as long as it's before midnight and generally not on a weekend.

My friends like going to bars to drink, dance, and meet people they might potentially want to date. (Oh, who am I kidding. They go to bars to meet people they might potentially like to either go home with or take home that night.)

I go to bars to drink, dance, and meet people who are nice and fun to talk to while we're at the bar.

My friends like to drink. A LOT. And they pride themselves on being the ones to close down the bar, regardless of the day of the week. (Bars close at 4 a.m. here, and closing down the bar was a regular occurrence especially for those on my flag football team. We played on Sundays.)

I wasn't much of a drinker when we moved here, but when in Rome with no worries about having to drive...

While I'm very much in love with my husband, hanging around my friends sometimes makes me miss my single days when I didn't have to worry about constantly texting my whereabouts, checking the time to make sure I'm not out too late, or leading anyone on. I mean it's fun to (briefly) relive the crazy college days - flip cup included.

But I am married and enjoy spending time with my husband on the weekends, which is (also) when my friends go out, so it's hard sometimes to have to say no to something fun and then know that I'm missing something with them. It's a juggling act that I'm trying very hard to master, but feel like I'm always coming up short.

Hopefully it'll be easier in 10 years when half of my New York friends have settled down and we can hang out earlier and I won't have to know I'm missing something by leaving before midnight. Although knowing most of them, 10 years may not be enough time, and I may have to wait a bit longer.