Stoop, collaborate and listen...

I'm gearing up for a stoop sale. I'm so jazzed about it. I've wanted to do one for awhile now, but haven't gotten around to it yet. A friend and I were talking this morning and we're going to do a joint one. Sometime next month we're going to get rid of loads of stuff and hopefully make a little extra scratch in the process. Extra room in our apartments and a bit of cash in our pockets - I'd say that's a fantastic scenario.

Stoop sales are such a New York institution. Brooklyn wouldn't be Brooklyn without them, that's for sure. They're the NYC equivalent of the suburban garage sales of my youth. I always loved it when my mom and I would gather up all our unwanted/unused stuff and cart it out to the driveway. We'd put up signs in the neighborhood and set everything up on tables. Loads of fun. This is going to be the same, except a bit more compact and I don't think I'll have a juicer to sell. It always seemed like my mom had a random juicer in the garage sale. Where the hell did those things come from? I never remember her buying them, but there was one at every sale. Weird. No juicers this time.

Stoop sales are the great equalizer. Everyone in the neighborhood shops them. The rich folks, the poor folks, the trendy folks, the stalwarts. It's a microcosm of the borough. I think I'll have to take lots of pictures.

Second thoughts...

We frequent a place in our neighborhood for breakfast on Saturday mornings. Most people in New York do brunch. We do breakfast. The place we go to does not do brunch, they do breakfast. And they do it so well and so old school that you can't help but go back again and again. Best pancakes in the world. The place is so good that as you wait in line (and you do wait in line) servers come out with trays of cookies and mugs of coffee and orange wedges. The guy who owns it (the son of the guy who started it in 1936) figures if you want to come to his place so bad that you'll wait in line he'll at least make the wait as pleasant as possible. Gus is his name. He's fantastic. He remembers you after the very first meeting. He jokes with MT that he's going to steal me away from him, so don't slip up. He once told MT, "She's real pretty. Like that Britney Spears." The thing is - he meant it as a compliment. This was before she was certifiably nuts.

There's a woman who works there who's the only one who never smiles. I usually make a snide comment about her to MT. Something like, "Would it kill her to smile once in awhile?" I always wonder what the hell is so bad that she's so sour all the time. The rest of the staff is so friendly and outgoing. She sticks to herself and scowls.

Yesterday I was walking home from the market. I stopped after work to get some things for dinner. The custom in my neighborhood is to leave cans out the night before recycling so that folks who need some extra cash can collect them and get the 5 cent deposits from the recycling machine near the market. Sometimes they're homeless, sometimes they're just trying to make ends meet.

I rounded the corner and saw the pushcart piled with big, black garbage bags of cans. I moved over to the edge of the sidewalk so the person behind it could push past with room. As we passed each other I saw that the person was the woman from our breakfast spot. The scowling woman. In an instant I realized that the scowl isn't a scowl, it's just the look of defeat. She's exhausted, she's not mean. I don't know that I have ever felt so sheepish in my life.

Life is full of lessons, friends. I'm learning new ones every day.

The apple doesn't fall far...

I love my mom. I do. She's great. She's neurotic, which is where I get most of it, but she's great. I'm watching Terms of Endearment and I can't help but laugh and cry because Shirley MacLaine and Debra Winger are so real and funny and heartbreaking and nuts. They remind me of my mom and me, and then again they are nothing like us. It's fantastic. I can't wait to have kids and drive her crazy. She's going to love it.

No, this was not a veiled announcement. It's not time yet. But someday...

Random happenstance chances of circumstance

I think Cheney might get himself impeached over this little identity crisis. Am I part of the executive or legislative? Hmm. Neither? Both? Jackass? I'd say he's definitely a member of that last branch.

I really like no-bake cookies. I mean, I really like them. I made a batch on Friday night, but I didn't add enough peanut butter. This, as any no-bake aficionado knows, is the cardinal sin of no-bake cookie ba... erm... uh, cooking. No-bake cookie cooking. A lack of peanut butter in the no-bake cookie results in a lack of deliciousness. Duh. Remedy? Remake the cookies with loads of peanut butter tonight. Which is exactly what I did. Situation rectified. Awesome.

MT's sister is fantastic. She's a good friend and it's so great to have an almost sister in law who you genuinely like. She was here for the weekend and we had a blast. She had a bachelorette party to go to Saturday night so we made penis shaped cupcakes that afternoon. The whole time we talked about how ridiculous it was and how neither of us want anything like that when we get married. And then we ate a couple dicks. They were tasty.


Kristie's in love. She sometimes gets close to admitting it, but then she stops short. But it's true. She is. It's wonderful. It makes me so happy to see her happy.


I've lived in Brooklyn for almost 3 years. This weekend was my inaugural visit to Katz's Deli. You may think you don't know Katz's, but if you've seen When Harry Met Sally you know it. You know it well. Fake orgasm ring a bell? "I'll have what she's having." Katz's. Mmm hmm. Been there. Ate the pastrami. It is crazy delicious.

MT had an audition. It went very well. I have high hopes for him. So does he. He really deserves this.

I wonder if the no-bakes are cool enough to eat...