"And, having reflected a few minutes..." ~ Jane Eyre

I was tagged by Frumteacher( http://frumteacher.blogspot.com/) to write about eight random facts about myself! Thank you for the tag!
I tag all readers right now to do the same on their blogs. And away we go...

1) In addition to taking ballet classes, I took tap dance classes. I loved the sound of my tap shoes on the floor. As a child, I watched many Fred and Ginger movies with my grandmother, and the photo you see is from Swing Time - a favorite of mine. I shall always assert that Fred Astaire was a better hoofer than Gene Kelly.

2) I love making lists. I am very detail oriented, so I am always making lists that are both personal and professional. I have a very specific type of notepad that I use. It is a mini legal pad with that is college ruled and white in color. The pads come in yellow, but I prefer using the white.

3) I cannot sleep late. Sleeping late for me is 9am, and I hate the feeling I have when I get up at that hour. Thankfully, my boyfriend is also a morning person. On weekends, we are up drinking coffee together no later than 8am. I love having long weekend mornings because it makes the day more relaxed and filled with time in the afternoon to do lots of fun things.

4) I am five minutes apart from my fraternal twin sister, Robin. I was born five minutes before she, and at times I really do feel like I am the middle child! Having a twin is an amazing blessing, and I am fortunate that I am so close to both of my sisters. They are beautiful women.

5) My favorite toys and hobbies as a child were my ant farm, sea monkeys, microscope, and dinosaur models.

6) I used to draw all of the time as a child. I used to draw princesses and designed all kinds of gowns for them. My collection was at least 150 within a year. In high school, I took art classes and loved each moment of those experiences. I wish I had continued painting...perhaps one day I shall.

7) I could never date a man who didn't watch sports. That is a deal breaker for me. Baseball is too much a part of who I am, and football Sundays are romantic in my eyes. Thankfully my boyfriend loves baseball, football, and hockey. Lately we have lazy afternoons at Meade's in the city - a gorgeous open bar by Southstreet Seaport - and sit watching baseball as the breeze hits us, sipping Raison D'Etre beer (him) and pino grigio (me).

8) As gregarious as I am, I am someone who also needs alone time. I value that time for reflection and composure, and I like planning little adventures for myself, whether it is the beach, a park, or even seeing a movie. I really like going to movies by myself, as odd as that sounds! When I ski, I also prefer to do that alone. Riding the lift with someone is fine, but I do not like having to wait for a person or have a person wait for me on a slope - I like doing my own thing.

"Who talks of cadeaux?" ~ Jane Eyre

The woman looked at me with sympathy.

I had come from the Butter Cooky Bakery branch in Floral Park because they had no chocolate cupcakes this morning. It took me twenty minutes to get back to Manhasset to see if they had those thickly frosted chocolate cupcakes with a maraschino cherry on top that I know he would love for his birthday.

There were none here, either.

Missy always gets cupcakes from this bakery on special occasions, so I inquired as to why there were none, and the woman said they had not been made yet. I told her I had come from the other Butter Cooky and they, too, had none. I then told her I needed a moment to see what else I could get for the occasion and would get back to her in a minute or so.

I had my heart set on these cupcakes, not because they are the most amazing cupcakes in the world (but they are close), but because I have my heart set on him and making his birthday special with specific ideas in my head. I planned the cupcakes way in advance as part of the celebration after dinner tonight, so I suppose I looked quite crestfallen as I perused the delicious looking cakes and tortes.

Just as I was about to get the brownie torte, the woman said to me, "Have a cup of coffee. Stay a while and wait if you can, we will make them right now."

My face lit up and I thanked her profusely. I ordered a cappuccino instead and she gladly made one for me. I gave her a tip as I was paying but she didn't accept it. So I sat with my cappuccino and inhaled the scent of cake as I waited for these cupcakes - cupcakes that I knew were going to be perfect to light with candles and sing Happy Birthday to him as we also opened up a bottle of Prosecco for a midnight celebration.

As she handed the chocolate cupcakes to me twenty five minutes later, I smiled; it confirmed for me that, as always, food is one of the best ways to express one's love. This woman knew how much these cupcakes meant, and I love and appreciate that she went out of her way to help me express my own love.

"The air of the moors, the freedom of home, the dawn of prosperity..." ~ Jane Eyre

It is the first day of summer in my life.

My grade book has been turned in, my files have been cleared out, and I have put all books away. In a few hours I shall leave here and never return, and it feels as good as opening a window on a breezy summer morning and taking in a deep breath of the savory air.

I feel like a child swinging by a rope and about to dive into a lake...a little scared because I am not exactly sure where I am going to land, but quite excited because I know I am going to make a big splash wherever I do land.

"To my hot forehead..." ~ Jane Eyre

Summertime means listening to Latin jazz and pursing your lips as the tartness of the lime juice of a mojito rushes over your tongue until the sweetness of the rum and sugar ease your lips back to a faint smile, because no one frowns when drinking a mojito. Summertime means mojiotos on the rooftops of New York City bars and restaurants, cooling down as the smell of crushed mint permeates the hot and humid city air that you love to hate. Summertime means enjoying that moment when you enter a cold subway car after perspiring on a subway platform that might as well be a Turkish bath. Summertime means reading Gourmet magazine outside in the yard, anxious to try another Middle Eastern lamb recipe where grill marks on your meal are essential. Summertime means sipping cold beer with your boyfriend as you watch baseball together and argue the entire time about which New York team is better as you make bets on every inning. Summertime means an entire day at Nickerson Beach inhaling the unique sent of salt and sunblock as you nap on the shore. Summertime means fishing off the shore line and catching blue fish despite feelings of guilt. Summertime means Lobster Night Tuesdays at Louie's in Port Washington where you get a pound and a half of lobster served with clam chowder, corn, and dessert included and eat at one of the tables set up on the dock.

Summertime means a thin New York Times on Sundays, iced americanos from Starbucks (no water, just ice) , two showers a day, sprays from Bath and Body Works carried at all times (like Tropical Colada and Peach), pedicures every week and a half at Willis Nails, getting your nephew into shark swimmy trunks and playing in his kiddie pool, making homemade sangria, tying your hair back in ponytails by noontime, a constant stock of wheat beers in the fridge, avoiding the bees in your backyard despite the fact that you are so grateful to them because you love honey, making the curried chicken salad recipe that your best friend made you two summers ago when you were down and now eating it in bliss, wearing sundresses and long cotton skirts to keep cool, having way to many flip flops but buying them constantly because they are so cheap, going to see Shakespeare in Central Park, visits to Coney Island in Brooklyn, carrying cloth-based handbags during the day, reading at the beach, in the yard, or on the subway after visits to a frigid Barnes and Noble where there are so many good bargain books on sale, sleeping next to your boyfriend covered by one sheet that gets tossed away in the middle of the night, wearing no foundation but wearing bronzer, throwing away the pits of peaches and plums, making homemade mango lassis in your blender, tending to the flowers you planted in your backyard.

"After all, it's tough work..." ~ Jane Eyre


One of my favorite movie heroines is "Hildy" from His Girl Friday. She is smart, witty, sweet, and tenacious. She also keeps her eyes on the prize and, in the end, never compromises herself in terms of her career as a reporter. (Of course its not really hard to understand why a woman would not leave Cary Grant)

This career change is slow and steady. Slow in that it has taken time to fully grasp where I want to go (publishing? not-for-profit?) Steady in that now that I know the path I want to take, there are many openings in the field.

Hildy always keeps her eye on the prize: her story. I have my eye on the prize to create a new story of my life, not just a new chapter.

This year I feel like one of the seniors at the high school. I, too, am off to college. I do not want to leave education, and entering academia as an administrator is, in the end, the most exciting story there could be. In the past month I have been sending my resume to colleges and universities in the area; I think being in an administrative role in academia is a perfect fit for me.

Its fun, exciting, scary, and nerve-wrecking all at the same time. I think my silence here has been due to serious introspection about career changing. Hildy struggled with her decision to leave the newspaper and her writing fell silent during that time. I look forward to sharing my career change experiences here; who knows what story is next. I can't wait to write it and I can't wait for you to read it.

"And made a great deal of mischief..." ~ Jane Eyre

Dear Bloggers O'The World,

I, Jack Krikor, aged one year and 9 months, would like to say that I missed my adoring public! I am here with a Jack attack on my "Maaaamie's" blog. Some days I call her "AaaantAaaantAaaant" and other days its "Maaaamie." Anywho, I am back to fill you in on all the great explorations I have been having lately!

As you can see, I have discovered TP. It is great for pulling all over the house and leaving a trail behind me so everyone knows where I am! I have discovered my Aunt Mamie's "keeeth" (keys) and reach into her bag to press the panic button; its fun hearing the alarm go off on her car in the driveway, though my mommy scowls at my aunty for getting me into this habit. I am a hoopster and love throwing my basketball and I also love making everyone throw the basketball, too. Of course when my family is not doing what I ask of them, I throw the basketball at their heads.

I am very excited about this summer! I am all set for my kiddie pool and "Q"'s. We are having a big "Q" on Father's day for my "dada" and "grandPAH"'s. Mamie is going to make it Margaritaville style with shrimp on the "Q", cheeseburgers in paradise, and margaritas. I love hamburgers and hot dogs and she said she will make those for me, too. She also says that she will make french fries for her little fry, but I don't get it.

I hope everyone is having a nice day! I am off to my baby sign language class!

ByeBye!

Love,
Jack Krikor, Toddler Extraordinaire

I heard the rain still beating continuously on the staircase window..." ~ Jane Eyre

Vignettes from New York City...

I pause at the landing at his gray-colored apartment door. Chords from an electric bass resonate from within; this is the first time I hear him play. I hesitate knocking because I am unsure if he will play for me. New lovers are always vulnerable about their artistry. (Hence, he has yet to read my words on this blog.) Within ten minutes of my standing at his threshold, I am lounging on his Scotch plaid couch with his orange cat beside me, one of us literally purring and the other metaphorically so. Mesmerized, my eyes follow his fingers as he strums his new bass. My irises shift back and forth between his profile and his fingers. He hands me the instrument and I feel vulnerable and unsure what to do. He is a patient teacher, but I am an unfocused student. He asks me a question. I do not hear him. He asks again - where do you want to have dinner? I do not know the answer, nor do I care to give one. I listen to him play again until I tell him to stop. He and I leave to have dinner an hour later.

He wants to take me to an Italian restaurant up on 88th. As we walk up the avenue, I take his hand. I know he is not one for PDA, but I cannot resist. At one point he pulls his hand away to button his polo. I grow sad, wondering if it was an excuse he had to take his hand away - he does not like being affectionate in public. Moments later, he reaches towards my left arm and takes my hand.

I love it when he orders for me. I know that is so anti-feminist ideology, but I cannot help that I enjoy him telling the waiter that we will drink a bottle of a red Barbaresco and that she will have the shrimp and scallops. Later on after we eat, he takes the bottle and pours into my glass: "Drink up, kid."

It is pouring and the sound of the water hitting the pavement is loud in a cacophony of pelting drops. I stand under the awning and watch him dart out into the street without an umbrella. His only protection from the rain is a baseball hat and hoodie, and he whistles sharply as he runs into the thick puddles on the street. The yellow cab stops and the window rolls down; he hands fare to the driver. He motions for me to come as he opens the door for me, but all I want to do is go back upstairs. I run over to him and the cab. We kiss in the rain, hard but not long, and he tells me that he is not going to sleep until I have called him to let him know I was home safe and in bed.

An hour later I expect him to have fallen asleep, but he answers and is wide awake. True to his word...so far he is nothing but true to his word. I fall asleep listening to the rain.