The King's Speech

I finally joined the rest of the country this weekend, and saw "The King's Speech" - a flick which, I must say, I very much enjoyed. Granted, I'm a sucker for English accents, love visits to London, and am a general Anglophile, but all that said this was a truly enjoyable movie. Having ever-endearing Colin Firth in the cast was a bonus, watching the ever-talented Geoffrey Rush was as mesmerizing as ever, and seeing Helena Bonham Carter play so loving and dedicated of a wife just made for a terrific afternoon spent ensconced away from the cold and damp outside. If you haven't seen it yet, I definitely recommend you do so. Happy Monday!

Snow Day!

No I didn't really get a snow day. Come on people, this is New York City. My office didn't close for an actual blizzard, you think they're going to close for a few measly inches of snow? Rather, I took yesterday off from work in order to play host to a friend visiting from San Francisco, and what fun we had!

 Wednesday night we watched the snow fall in ever-increasing amounts, it really was incredible and I was so happy that I didn't have to get into bed at a reasonable hour, and instead could just watch the snow fall, fall, fall. Thursday we roused ourselves and went for pork soup dumplings and a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge - made significantly more exhaustive by the inches of snow packed all across the bridge. All said, 19 inches of snowfall (if that is the accurate amount...hard to tell, really) is nothing to scoff at, but it was fun to wander through for a time. And now, Happy Friday, and may everyone have a cozy, dry weekend!

The Dead Poet

I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never seen "The Dead Poet's Society" - I feel like I always intended to watch it, but I'm very unreliable when it comes to flicks and generally unless I'm spontaneously seized by a decision to rent or go to a movie, I'm not going to actually tick any "must-sees" off a list. However, last night I experienced (for the second time, it turns out) the wonders of a bar by the name of The Dead Poet on the Upper West Side.

I met up with some newbie-friends - this city is just full of people eager to get to know each other, so long as you're willing to go the distance, get up off the couch, and into the snowy nights - at this bar, and loved it. Or, I should say, loved it even more after recognizing that I'd been there once before. This bar is a lovely excuse to head up to the UWS - with quotes by poets lining the walls, televisions for those who are sports-inclined and an amazing selection of beers, this is a fun bar with a casual vibe that I will be happy to return to!

 {Photos via Yelp}

The Dead Poet is located at 450 Amsterdam, New York, NY 10024

71 Irving Place

When I told a friend of mine about my New York move, she mentioned her love of finding a New York coffee shop in which to squirrel away for hours, reading. Personally, I'm not much for this - I am well aware that patrons who take up a table and chair for hours while purchasing only a cup of tea, can very easily be the death of an independent coffee shop. Add to this the fact that I cannot spend $50 for an afternoon of reading and drinking coffee, and I assumed I would never follow in her footsteps. Or so I thought.

All that nay-saying changed last night when a friend and I popped in to 71 Irving Street for a hot beverage and sweet treat. I instantly swooned, this space is so charismatic and inviting - perhaps not moreso than on a particularly frigid winters night - and the hot cider and carrot cake we got were delicious (although the hot cider was much closer to tepid warmth...I can only hope it's because we arrived a mere hour prior to closing?) Even better? This is an independent coffee shop. Hallelujah!

 The space was pretty packed, and I can definitely see myself returning, book in hand, to happily spend some hard earned money and some well-earned time off to enjoy a cozy afternoon in this space. New York, with each of these little stumbled-upon-treasures, you just keep making fall deeper and deeper in love.

{Read about the space, and all photos credited, here}

Magic Tee-eeth!

Yes, that title was a play off "Magic Foot" from "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee." Anybody out there get it?

Anyway, I have found my New York dentist, and the office was a hoot. Straight out of the 60's, the utilitarian chic of every dentist's office all across America was punctuated with clear acrylic tables, and round "futuristic" gray pleather couches and chairs in the waiting room. Sort of shabbily psychaedelic - or at least I could see how at one time it would have been quite in line with the aesthetic of the patients streaming through the doors. Yet, it was a little stack of pamphlets that truly caught my attention.

It would seem my dentist fancies himself a magician. Enough so that, when his practice opened up, he surely wanted to present to the children of Manhattan, the amazing, magical ways one could care for their teeth, and as an added bonus, I wonder if these same children, beaming with whiter smiles and healthier gums upon leaving their appointment, were handed these pamphlets as a means to show off to their friends at school the next day. Truly, these pamphlets tickled me pink, and I just had to take one.

My apologies that these pictures are rotating themselves incorrectly...

Oh New York

I've decided I don't want to keep anything from you guys: New York and I had a little tiff this weekend. Basically, I hit a point where I could no longer handle the cold and The City refused to warm up for me. I lamented that if I were still in California, I could be lying out on a beach, soaking up imperative Vitamin D and delicious warmth rather than the frigid temperatures presented to me here. The City simply shrugged its shoulders and continued to shine weak winter sun, and send cold breezes whipping down the Avenues. The weather wasn't it's fault, that's just the way things were at the moment. It would change, things would warm, eventually. I had to give it time. I still refused to be cooperative and The City and I (with whom I have been nearly inseparable for a full 5 months) did not see each other for almost a full 24 hours. Finally, at 5 pm I was coaxed outside by the invitation of a friend, and The City was there, waiting for me patiently as ever. It refreshed my heater-flushed face with a cold wind, pinked my cheeks by the same, provided all levels of human neighbor on the subway, and presented a convenient bodega from which to purchase chocolate chip cookies to bake with friends. And I admitted my annoyances, and The City brushed aside my disgruntled morning and kept me company as I walked home that night. And now, we're good again. Today, because I am a lucky, lucky girl, The City decided to give a little snow again last night, and walking in to work this morning, I saw a lovely cluster of balloons snagged in the bare branches of a newly snow-covered tree. The City always gives the best gifts.

PS - Sorry Mom and Dad, I know the thought of helium-filled balloons slated to drift into the atmosphere and further destroy our already-quickly-weakening environment, is infuriating. I too am torn between my own irritation with the carelessness of things like non-biodegradable balloons, and the fact that I really did find the sight very pretty. I guess, if they're already up there, already set to do what harm they can, then at least I can see something more positive than only the disheartening side of the situation? It's a rather tricky struggle...

Mike the Knife Guy

I had seen this truck once before, whilst passing through Brooklyn with a friend of mine, but when I saw it again this past weekend after taking in the Norman Rockwell exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, I became newly enthralled. It just seems so quaint to have a knife-sharpening truck, should it not consistently be followed by the milkman and the ice truck?

Thankfully, as is ever the case in the world of blogs, the back story of the Knife Truck can be found, thanks to Hither and Tither. A family business of sorts, Mike's son took over the route and has driven through Brooklyn for 50 years, clanging his bell and sharpening the knives and scissors of chefs and barbers who come running for his services. Fabulous, no?

These are the little things about New York that I'm slowly beginning to see as I settle more and more into the realization that I do indeed live here. And I just love it.