Welcome to New York

Ski Bunny

 

Homeslice

A few scenic pics from the visit to the 'hood last weekend.      

Deep Throat

It’s probably safe to say that anyone in journalism or an interest in dirty politics would jump at the chance to talk to someone connected to the Watergate scandal. It’s also safe to add that many of the characters have either kicked the bucket or are close. So when I had the opportunity to sit next to this guy

—an editor in the 1970s at the Washington Post—at a dinner party Wednesday night, you can bet I wasn’t chit chatting about the crab cakes. Trying not to bombard him with too many questions, it was right around the time I finished my filet that I asked, “When all this was going on, did you know Deep Throat’s identity?” Not too surprisingly, the answer was no. What surprised me, however, was that his response—the same response he gave his reporter Bob Woodward—was that he just flat out, no-qualms-about-it didn’t want to know. Fascinated, I wondered if had any idea the “Who is deep throat?” phenomenon would become one of the biggest mysteries of the 20^th Century. But alas, then it was on to the cheesecake.

Separated at Birth?

Separated at birth? Sasquatch and the hairy guy I stood behind in line at the grocery store.  

Decade

The other day it dawned on me it’s been a decade since we moved from Washington state. Just days into the new millennium we up and moved to Phoenix, leaving the place I had lived most of my 32 years. Now 2010 and five houses and five states later, here we are on the East Coast, a place I never in a million years imagined I would live. And despite the craziness of the past 10 years, I’ve somehow developed a sort of a tolerance for change, for new things and somehow just “going with the flow” when otherwise I should be damn scared about what is happening around me.

 It began in 2000, with me flying to Phoenix alone with a 2-½-year old and a 5-week-old. Passengers and crew avoided me like the plague as I struggled with two babies and all their paraphernalia, all the while tears rolling down my face as I wondered if I was really leaving Seattle and all my friends and family forever. Things only got worse when one kid pooped her pants and the other puked all over me. I was in full-blown tears by the time Dan met me at the gate in Phoenix.

But lo and behold Arizona, although crazy hot at times, was new and exciting and I even learned to appreciate rain. It was an event the few times a year it actually rained. Even better, I met one of my best friends, Kelli, who taught me that it’s OK to drink the occasional Corona or four in the afternoon, but on her side of the street, because that’s where the shade is. We’d let the kids play in the driveway and wave to everyone who drove by as we sucked down our cold ones. Kelli even helped me break the living room window (I think it took three tries of throwing a huge rock at the window) when Annika locked me out of the house. And it’s been nothing but good times since. Fortunately we both moved to California at the same time, so it wasn’t so hard to leave.

As for California, I loved the house and neighborhood but leaving was one of the hardest things I ever did. The clan of Coutos, McMahons and Dalys owned the cul de sac and the entire neighborhood envied our fun. I could go on, but then that’s when, well, tears develop in my eyes.

As for Wisconsin, I think I lamented enough the past few years; I still find the upper-Midwest culture--if you can call diehard Packer fans, John Deere fanatics and Miller-beer swigging Wisconsonites culture (OK fine, there’s more to it than that)--a little twisted. Always known as the “people from California,” it seemed like Dan and I were only accepted by those like us who were not natives of the cheesehead state (a few exceptions, of course). So nonetheless saying “sayonara” wasn’t hard. Neither was flipping the bird to the entire state as I crossed into Illinois on my way to New York.

Needless to say, the move to New York was inviting; however the unknown was a little daunting. And now that we’ve been here a year-and-a-half, that 2-1/2-half-year-old is now 12 and taller than me and that 5-week-old is 10 and somehow knows more than me.

I do believe the girls are better off because of this geographical journey. They’ve seen many major cities in the country—New York, Chicago, San Francisco, LA, Phoenix, Boston, Seattle, Nashville to name a few, even exploring states to the south between Wisconsin and Florida (that was the “let’s-escape-the-snowstorm-roadtrip to Florida of 2008”). Most importantly we are all probably much more adaptable to new situations, flexible to what life holds and open to doing and seeing new things than we otherwise would have been. I can only anticipate what the next decade holds...yikes.
 

Miss America

Milwaukee's Best

Happy that Brett Favre gave me lots of fantasy football points on Sunday in the Minnesota-Green Bay matchup, I decided to check out the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel’s Web site to see how sad and upset Packers fans were after the game. And in my quest to somehow rub the loss in the faces of the 71,000 green and gold-clad Miller-drinking fans at Lambeau Field who booed my starting quarterback, I stumbled upon a few other interesting stories, uniquely Wisconsin, of course.

 

A Sheboygan man with a fourth drunken driving charge pending is facing a new charge after failing a breathalyzer test, then claiming the test result was from eating a Jack Daniels steak, according to a criminal complaint.

 

And this,

A 49-year-old Sheboygan man who went out drinking to celebrate finding his lost wallet is facing up to three years in prison for his fifth DWI. The man showed the police officer his driver’s license and explained he’d been celebrating finding his wallet, which had been lost for about 10 days.

 

And lastly, one about our favorite hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant:

El Rey Market, the popular south side grocery and Mexican restaurant, recently received 10 critical health violations, making it Milwaukee’s most-cited spot in the past month.

 

Following the article, in the comments area where readers were suggesting not eating there or closing the place down, I posted this:

 

Wash your taco down with a 6-pack of Miller and it will kill all the germs.

 

A simple solution, and appropriately Milwaukee.

Yankees or Phillies?

Quizzes by Quibblo.com

Halloween Hijinx

There won't be any Grey Goose Jell-O shots given out as treats this Halloween at our house, but we did celebrate a little bit early last weekend, paying homage to Giants' football player Plaxico Burress, who shot himself in the leg and is now in jail (me); Dan, the guy "breaking wind;" and Brad the doctor, who looks like he could actually be a real doctor even though he's not.