Category Archives: New York

This was the conversation in my head this morning:

Voice #1: You look slightly Pillsbury Dough Boyish. You need to start running again.

Voice #2: You should enter a race.

Voice #3: Don’t be stupid. You’re too slow. You’ll look like a fool.

Voice #1: It’s 2 against 1. You lose.

So I entered my first 5K in New York City on October 14th at LaGuardia Airport. Yes, I get to run on the runway at LaGuardia which is pretty darn awesome, but I may finish last, which will be pretty darn humiliating. But I drafted two of my sisters to run with me so at least we will all be humiliated together. What’s that saying? Humiliation loves company… or something like that.

Plus, my registration fee goes to support the Wounded Warrior Project, so really, my imminent humiliation isn’t that big of a deal. Check it out here.

I’ve Entered My First Race


The Boyfriend and I like taking long walks. Like eight to ten mile walks. And The Boyfriend is OBSESSED with tall buildings. Like there should be a fancy medical term for people like him. Next time I’m in town, he wants to walk to the 30 tallest buildings in Manhattan. So, being the amazing girlfriend that I am, I made us a map.

Some notes: I limited the skyscrapers to above 800 feet because I’m lazy. Blue is completed buildings. Pink is buildings under construction. The map is interactive so click away.

The Freedom Tower From 46th Street – Compliments Of The Boyfriend

This picture comes compliments of The Boyfriend who has little interest in travel blogs but lots of interest in the ongoing progress of the Freedom Tower. This is the view of the Freedom Town in progress from his office on 46th Street.

Freedom Tower


Remembering 9/11

My memory is weird. I don’t remember the important things, but I have no trouble recalling the trivial, tiny details that no sane person should remember. Like I won’t remember your name or where we met but I’ll remember what you were wearing when we met and that you casually mentioned you like pineapple on your pizza.

Eleven years after 9/11, I should remember the big things because it was one of those world-altering Big events, especially since I was a student living in New York City at the time on the corner of Lexington and 32nd street, about 3 miles north of the World Trade Center (see map below). But I don’t. I remember the small things.

Remember 9/11

My apartment in purple. The World Trade Center in red.

I remember someone running into the library announcing that a plane had hit one of the towers.

I don’t remember what I felt. I don’t remember if I was sad or angry or scared, although I hope I was all three of those things because if not, that would make me a rather terrible person.

I don’t remember if we had class that day. In fact I remember very little of the day itself until I went outside to get dinner around 7 pm at night.

I remember the thick, smoky greyness filling the eerie sky.

I remember the other-worldly emptiness haunting 34th Street.

I remember I got a soup for dinner at a little café on 34th street. (Why do I remember that?)

I remember a friend called my parents who lived in Chicago at the time to let them know that I was all right, because back then I didn’t have a cellphone and for some reason it didn’t occur to me to call them from a payphone.

I remember the same friend was supposed to take the train down to the World Trade Center in the morning for work but she overslept.

I remember an old lady slept in our Lexington apartment that night. I don’t remember exactly how that came to be except that she was stranded in the city like so many other folks and my roommate who has a heart larger than the universe brought her home and gave the old lady her bed. I remember her name was Pearl.

I remember the same roommate crawling into my bed at night, which sounds weird, but is totally normal if you know her.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night listening to the sound of sirens piercing the darkness.

I don’t remember September 12th or September 13th.

I remember taking a plane a week later to visit my family. I remember LaGuardia Airport felt like a ghost town.

I remember being scared to fly.

I remember causing a bit of a scene on the flight because the man in front of me looked awfully suspicious and was hoarding an odd-shaped object under his over-sized sweatshirt and I was determined not to die that day. I remember the item turned out to be a large camera, and I remember thinking, who hides a camera under their sweatshirt?

Those are my memories of 9/11. What are yours?

Five Random Things I Like About NYC

I visit New York City so often, I don’t think of my trips north as a TRIP, but it occurred to me this weekend that New York is always a trip. Just because I don’t feel like a tourist in New York City, doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty to say. New York is one of the most interesting and dynamic cities in the world, and besides, I always have plenty to say.

So here are some of the unique sights I enjoyed over my short trip to the land of The Boyfriend and other fun things. You won’t find any classic tourist shots, just odds and ends that caught my eye and continuously remind me that this city is full of suprises.

1. Street Art.



2. The High Line. The High Line is a public park bulilt on an old elevated rail line on Manhattan’s west side from 30th Street down to Gansevoort Street in the Meatpacking District.




3. Signs that Make No Sense At All.


Well, if Anonymous says it’s the best, it must be true.



4. Frozen Yogurt on the Go. I am a froyo fanatic. I’m convinced heaven will constitute an unlimited supply of frozen yogurt and diet coke. And if you’re one of those people who like to remind people like me that frozen yogurt is a pathetic replacement for ice cream and can’t possibly be fat-free, then you are officially banished from this site. Okay, I take that back. I cannot afford to banish anyone from this site, even evil frozen yogurt haters. I reluctantly welcome you back into the fold. Anywhoo, I thought this was kind of awesome. I’d like one parked right outside my apartment please.

5. High Fashion.


Seriously? Seriously? It’s 80 degrees outside. Seriously?


At least she’s patriotic. I’ll give her that.

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