Coney Island

So it is deeeezguuuzting in NYC today (Sunday). Roughly 90 degrees out and the only thing to be done is to hide in the living room watching movies with the AC cranked. Thankfully I convinced the hubs to help me install the AC in our living room window on Thursday night, so we are camping out on the couch until the temperature breaks.

(Seriously, Mother Nature, it is only JUNE and you have been cranking the heat for weeks. Please remember how lovely the mid 60-70º weather can be and give us a little break... at this rate August will either be 105º or 60º...)

We did venture out yesterday tho, as it was the 30th birthday of a good friend of mine from college and she decided the best way to celebrate was to go to Coney Island.
She was at least partially right. I think the correct sentiment is: The best way to go to Coney Island is on your birthday, because then everyone gives you all the tickets they win at Skeeball and every other game they play.

Skeeball crew

And once you trade in the 750 tickets your friends have won for you, you can get a fantastically hideous peacock candlestick to always remember your 30th birthday by. 

(You know that thing will be priceless to you by the time you're 50...)

 They'll also give you any stuffed toys they win in the claw machine, and the hubs let her pick the giant prize when we all played the water-gun race game thing and he won, as he rightly should have. 

(Note: he has never won me anything.) 

She got a giant Hello Kitty. 

(I believe she gave away Hello Kitty around 11PM to someone at the Brooklyn Museum Dance Party. I hope they appreciate their prize.)

And of course, when in Coney Island, you must eat at the Original Nathan's hot dog joint.
 Note: that is not the one actually on the boardwalk, but one block inland.

(Another note: never order their lobster roll. It is vile. Stick w/ the hot dogs and fries.)

My favorite thing by far that I had to eat was a soft-serve chocolate ice cream that actually had flecks of chocolate throughout it. 
It was perfection on a hot day. 

Before we really got to the boardwalk portion of Coney Island, we started the birthday jaunt off with a ride on the historic wooden roller coaster The Cyclone, which will be 83 years old at the end of June. 

I had not ridden a roller coaster in the last decade. Growing up I rode many roller coasters, from little ones on NJ boardwalks, to Disney world rides, to Six Flags super coasters, but I think I actually went through the whole of my twenties without riding one. 

And now, at 30, I may never ride another roller coaster so long as I live.

Don't get me wrong, the ride itself was exhilarating and fun. However, an 83 year old wooden roller coaster seems to have a grudge against the humans riding it. Especially if you have neck or spinal injuries/issues. (I have had bad whiplash twice, and the vertebrae in my neck grew arching the wrong way, causing regular back pain and headaches, shoulder issues, etc.. However, none of this kept me off roller coasters when younger. I always came out perfectly fine.)

This coaster actually tried to crush my head straight down through and into my sternum, making me about 5 inches shorter than usual. I do not remember ANY coaster doing this to me in the past, but I am typing this blog post from traction. Or at least I should be, as there is only one standing position that does not cause me pain today.

So, kiddies, learn from me. If you have any kind of back or neck issues, just be the nice friend who takes the pictures and holds the purses while everyone else has fun on The Cyclone.

(I'm 30 and I sound like I'm 80. Le sigh.)

I did not have any issues with the Wonder Wheel though, which is that bright thing I was trying to take a picture of from the subway on our way home.

And if you ride on it, I suggest riding in the swinging cages, rather than the stationary ones. Much more exciting. See?

As with so many rides, it's kind of a rip off to just ride a slow wheel around once w/ stops and once all the way around, but now I can say I have ridden on two historical monuments in Coney Island. 

Can you say that?

Well I know you can, I wasn't talking to you.

But you, in the blue top.

You know you can't say that, so don't even try.

Anyway, Summer is clearly upon us, and the world is flocking to waterfronts to beat the heat.

But today, I'm sticking with AC so I don't stick to the couch.

At least until whatever tornado (yes, there is a tornado watch in effect in NYC right now) or thunder storm comes through to break the heat.

Inadvertent Date Night

I can barely type as I am in a post-sunny-day/food coma, but I'mma gonna try.

Today (Sat) was the first day of Spring, or so the calendars told us. Frankly, I think NYC having a sunny day with a high of 75 was evidence enough that winter has crawled back into its hole for another year. It was a fantastic day, and Mike and I spent it going to the library, running a few small errands, but mostly sitting on a bench in Riverside Park reading the aforementioned library books and soaking up the sunshine.
Once more I applied sunblock before heading out, and I'm glad I did, because I think today I would have come home burned otherwise.

But today was also excellent aside from weather and people/dog watching because Mike and I actually went out to dinner. We never do this, and there are many reasons why, but the most obvious is simply that NYC prices in general are prohibitive. My cooking dinner is a much more reasonable solution, even if I end up buying from a slightly overpriced store.
Additionally, since we moved above 96th street it's hard to find a place to dine at that's worth the cost. Ordering-in is even more of a pain because 90% of deliveries shut down at the 96th street border. So living north of there is something of a convenience challenge.
But now I'm bitching instead of talking about the happy.

Tonight I was talking about going to this new bio-dynamic/organic wine bar that opened about 15 blocks south of us, but right before leaving I thought, "Hmm... Saturday, gorgeous weather... the world will be out in that part of town. No freakin' way." So instead we opted for a small Italian place about 2 blocks from us that I had ordered from many times, but at which we had never actually dined in.
The reason we never dined-in before was evident in the end cheque. Mike tried to say something to the effect of, "Maybe we just won't drink anything beyond water at dinner out in the future." to which I looked at him askance, meaning "have we met" and said, "Did you just tell me I can't have wine with my dinner?"
"Well... maybe just keep it to two glasses."
"I did!"
"Ok then."
Problem solved.

But the food! The food being the point of the post.
We started with two things I had ordered-in before and decided were very tasty: shrimp wrapped in pancetta (with side salad) and short ribs with fried polenta (with side salad). Both were delicious. The shrimp was deliciously wrapped in bacon, so really, shy of forgetting to cook it, that was going to be a hit no matter what. The short ribs were fork-tender and had a lovely rich beefy sauce around them, and the fried polenta could substitute for french fries any day. In other words, I was already doing my little happy dance in my chair by the end of appetizers.
For the main courses Mike had gnocchi (surprise!) in a beef ragú, which I thought was a little salty, but still very tasty. I had one of the day's specials, which was a wide, smooth "rigatoni" with oxtail ragú, which was also delicious. Could have done without the parsley tho...
Many times when I have ordered pasta dishes from this place, I have felt the need to "doctor" them a bit. One dish with eggplant and ricotta salata I always adjust by sautéing an extra clove of garlic in oil, tossing the take-out into the pan, and then adding a splash of white wine and cooking it down a bit. It makes for a much more flavorful dish. But happily, tonight's dishes were perfect the way they arrived, and I was doing a happy dance all the way home.

Unfortunately, I was in such a happy food-bliss-coma that I left the kindly wrapped other half of my oxtail rigatoni sitting right on the table. I had made it home delightfully unaware, and was halfway into pajamas when I realized what I'd done. (And sadly, this is not the first, or even fourth time that I have left food behind when I asked for it to be wrapped... their fault for putting me in a such a happy food-coma state! Right...)
I quickly called the restaurant, and they had held on to the doggie bag just in case (it had only been about 7 minutes after all). The kind server even said she tried to run after us but didn't see us in the street. Well, that's because we live so close by that we'd already turned the corner. But throwing a clean shirt and my sneakers back on, I ran back up to the restaurant and retrieved my bag of leftover goodies! So, lunch tomorrow will probably put me in yet another happy food coma. Unless of course I have devoured the leftovers before I go to bed tonight.

It's entirely possible that that will happen. I'm just that kind of eater.
I can't eat much of anything early in the day without feeling ill, so I graze on lighter fare and then I'm just living for dinner and eating the rest of the night.
Mike is the other way around. He wants to get up and have a massive brunch of breakfast foods (which would all make me rapidly hurl), and then doesn't need to eat again until the next day. It's not the most perfect mix of foodie-types, but we make do.
Besides, I'm happy with my type of eating. Grazing all day, and then eating the really good stuff for dinner, followed by more grazing on cheeses and nuts and chocolate. Maybe with a glass of port.
I can theoretically understand why people like brunch, but considering my body just will not adapt to that style of eating, I will never truly understand it.
I know I'm in the minority, but for me, the whole day is just waiting for dinner.
And if you try to feed me "brinner" (breakfast for dinner) you will end up with a fork in the eye. Count on it.
Now, must oblige the put-off food-coma and collapse next to the sleepy smiling hubby.
Mmmmm... :)

Saturday In The Park

You'd think it was the fourth of July...

It is a gorgeous NYC Saturday with May weather in March.

I am taking the day off to be outside with my hubby.

The cherry blossoms are not actually in bloom yet, but you get the idea.
If you need a moments entertainment, you can always watch this again.
Toodles.

70 x 3 = Park

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and I'm going to get my butt outside as much as possible.

They have predicted three days in a row with 70 degrees as the high. Not only is that amazing for March, but if you consider that  last weekend consisted of a Nor'easter that took out power in NJ and NY, as well as flooding and destroying a huge portion of the shore, (and my personal pain of having a sinus infection) I am going to make an extra effort to make this weekend not suck.

To that effect I shall be sitting in Riverside Park with a book as soon as I can get down there. But I will do so sensibly, after slathering myself in sunblock. St. Patrick's Day may have come and gone for another year, but my skin remains Irish.
My husband mocks me all the time as to how delicate my skin is. To which I reply that not all of us can be blessed w/ rough hides covered in freckles. This, however, is just yet another reason I wish I had some Italian blood in me. Freckle-then-burn for 2 weeks-to-a month before tanning is just NOT a fun way to live.

I grew up sailing, and later became a sailing instructor, and I was always a lobster for the first two weeks. 45 waterproof means nothing to my skin. Especially if a life-jacket has been able to rub at my shoulders.  I remember one parent actually turned open-mouthed to look at me the first day of the Summer, because I was so pale. He did not understand how it was possible to be that pale. Then again, he lived down the shore all year round and had that perma-tan and accompanying squint.
Well, Mr. Chance, all I can say is I'm still winter-pale as ever, but I just turned 30 and I don't have crows feet yet. So there!

Another sun-related anomaly I do not understand is the removal of sunglasses. Personally, I wear them year-round because I have very sensitive eyes (along with the skin. You'd never know I grew up a tomboy to look at me now.) But I'm not getting at general wearing. I don't know if it happens as much in real life as it does in the movies, but why do people remove their sunglasses to see someone better in the middle of the day?
You know the scene I'm talking about. Person stops, looks more closely, and then lifts their sunglasses off their face and says recognized-person's name inquiringly. It has NEVER made sense to me. Surely you are wearing your shades because it is bright out, and they assist you in being able to see without glare or squinting. (Or in my case, slightly less glare and squinting.) So doesn't it follow that if you remove your sunglasses while trying to recognize a person, they would become HARDER to see?
I don't get it.
I'm sticking with my book and my shades are staying on.

*end note - while sitting on this bench, a very small child, sitting in an interesting contraption on the front of her daddy's bicycle, pointed at me and said, "Mommy" as they rode by. Oh my, no, little one. Not even close.