Tag Archives: Brooklyn

Wordless Wednesday: Coney Island Blues

April 25, 2012 – 9:11 am

About a year ago I put up a bunch of photographs of one of the many trips to Coney Island Lotte and I had taken. That post was later selected to be Freshly Pressed on WordPress and brought in thousands of hits, which was really pretty thrilling. While Coney Island is a little decrepit- I like to call it well-loved- there’s something about its kitsch and charm that holds a special place in my heart.

Lotte’s former music teacher, who was like the Pied Piper of Park Slope, put out a phenomenal children’s album 2 years ago. Since the big move, every time the song Coney Island By the Sea pops up on shuffle, I have to turn away so LJ doesn’t see me nearly sobbing in the corner. As far as kid’s music goes, I highly recommend the entire album: it doesn’t make parents want to shoot themselves in the face, and I consider that a good thing.

This video though, that someone shared yesterday on Facebook, really struck a nerve. By nerve I mean it also made me cry. It’s called Coney Island Love Letter and was created by a Brooklyn based production house called The Land of Nod, Inc. It’s gritty, breathtaking and hauntingly beautiful, all wrapped up in 3 minutes. Swoon.

*****THIS IS POST #100!!! AH YEAH. BIG UPS TO OVERSHARING.*****

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Linking up with the Wordless Wednesday mamas over at Angry Julie Monday, By Word of Mouth Musings and Seven Clown Circus

Tags Brooklyn, Coney Island, Wordless Wednesday | Permalink | Comments (3)

NYC Livin'

LJ + NYC: The End of a Love Story

December 27, 2011 – 4:35 pm

A little more than a month ago, Pete went to a job interview in Boston.

“BOSTON?!”, we thought, “As if we would EVER move to BOSTON!”. I’m almost positive my exact words as I dropped him off at the airport were, “Get a grip on life. There is no WAY I’m moving. Nope. Enjoy your flight!”. A few weeks later they asked him to return for a second interview, and invited me along for the night. I mumbled and grumbled around the crooked sidewalks of South End like the Grinch of Beantown until I realized that it actually wasn’t *so* bad. In fact?

I started to think Boston was kind of cute. Like a teeny, tiny, REALLY CLEAN version of Park Slope. Kind of. So when we returned to Brooklyn, our cozy apartment now seemed claustrophobic and maddening. The impending cost of LJ’s preschool for next year seemed asinine. Some unhinged maniac kept setting off fireworks in the middle of the night that sounded like gunshots. Everything just seemed too loud, too crowded, and too expensive. We started to question our choices.

Weeks later, Pete received an amazing offer, I cried my eyes out, and the decision was made. One morning, when we told a sleepy LJ we were moving to a city called Boston where we could get a house with a yard she looked at us excitedly and shrieked,

WITH A SWIMMING POOL?!!

Uh, no, definitely not with a pool.

WITH A KITTY CAT?!!!

Sure, you can get a kitty.

YAY!! HOLD ON!! LET ME GET MY SHOES!!

So, that’s it. This chapter of our lives, with these playgrounds, friends, dance classes, brownstones, museums, subways, bus rides and stoop chats are over. All of my daughter’s favorite things, the ONLY things she knows, she probably won’t even remember.

So this post is for her, because I don’t want her to ever forget where her life began.

(Please excuse me while I go sob into my everything bagel with lox.)

Boston, here we come!

Tags Boston, Brooklyn, LJ, moving, NYC | Permalink | Comments (27)

NYC Livin'

Run, NYC, run!

November 7, 2011 – 9:36 am

Every year I stand on the curb of 4th Avenue and cry on one Sunday in November. I don’t cry because I’m sad, hurt or anxious. I cry because I’m so overwhelmingly impressed and inspired at the strength sprinting past me, as well as the comforting sense of community in the crowds that surround me. Cheering on the NYC marathon runners is one of my favorite things to do: I look forward to it every year.

My father ran the marathon a few times when I was younger, but I only have pictures to commemorate attending the race that day. I really don’t remember one second of it. The first marathon we watched after moving to Brooklyn, people dragged speakers onto their fire escape and blasted music out at the runners and the supporters below. They had put together a compilation of songs celebrating both New York, running and well… partying. Runners would slow down as they approached the booming speakers and dance a little while we all shouted cheers of encouragement. That day, dancing around and pumping my fist along with people of every nation in the world to the song, “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” remains one of my favorite NYC moments of all time.

Simply put, the NYC marathon is AWESOME. Runners: you all rock!

Tags Brooklyn, NYC marathon, running | Permalink | Comments (8)

NYC Livin' Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday: Shhhh

August 17, 2011 – 10:33 am

For the past few weeks, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning the Junebug has gone to camp and the dog has gone to playgroup: leaving me alone to ~~do laundry and scour the apartment~~ breathe. There’s something so calming about my Wednesday morning solo walks through the awakening neighborhood to the farmer’s market in the park. Camp is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

Now, please excuse me while I unapologetically suck down an ice coffee with my feet up while catching up on Real Housewives of New Jersey. All child-rearing and housekeeping and no play makes Tracy stabby.

Just ask my husband.

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For this Wordless Wednesday I linked up with the fab mamas at Live and Love… Out Loud, Project Alicia, Moms Own Words and Angry Julie Monday.

Tags Brooklyn, camp, farmer's market summer, Wordless Wednesday | Permalink | Comments (14)

NYC Livin'

Throat Punch Thursday: The Douchemobile

July 28, 2011 – 8:00 am

Dear owner of the nondescript beige car that was parked on my block yesterday,

What? Excuse me? There were many nondescript beige cars parked on that street yesterday? You’re right. I’m talking about this one:

Hey buddy, your car alarm went off between the hours of 12:45pm and 4:30pm. The. Entire. Time. Screeching. Honking. Eardrum-splitting decibels of noise all up in my face for FOUR HOURS.

Do you know what happens between the hours of approximately 1-4? It’s motherfucking nap time, my friend. NAP. TIME. Nap time of many small neighborhood children who, because we live in a dense urban environment, were unable to take a nap because of your stupid car. Nap time that was much, much-needed in many apartments so the harried, frazzled, sleep-deprived mothers could take at least one hour to catch up on the Housewives of NYC reunion. One precious hour to themselves. One precious hour where they don’t have to sing Trot Old Joe 9000 times.

I’m not even talking about me. I have a chill 3-year-old, but what about the people with tiny, scream-y infants? Do you have ANY idea how hard it is to get some scream-y infants to take good naps?! Have you ever tried to tiptoe through your apartment while avoiding certain creaky floorboards in the hardwood lest you wake up the scream-y infant? Have you ever put a baby in the tightest burrito swaddle on earth, borderline straightjacket-style and rock, bounce and loudly “SHHHH” said baby for two straight hours until they finally give in and you get a tiny moment of relaxation?

You know what REALLY fucks up said tiny moment of relaxation?

Your stupid car alarm.

And what about the writers? This is Brooklyn! How could you disturb the flashes of brilliance taking place behind laptops in coffee shops throughout the neighborhood? Isn’t anybody thinking about all the novelists?! The bloggers?! Shame on you!

Here’s the thing: it’s not a deterrent. I couldn’t. Care. Less if someone steals your car. Seriously. Nobody is calling the police. Nobody is jumping up from behind their MacBooks shouting “Oh my WORD! It sounds like crime is afoot! Come on everybody! Let’s form a community watch and stop the car thief!”. That’s not happening. I didn’t glance out the window until TWO WHOLE HOURS had passed, and only THEN did I peek out to see if anybody had placed any disparaging notes on your windshield. Somebody could have stripped your car down to the bare frame, and we would have all been like, “Meh. Just turn off the fucking alarm, ok robber? Thanks. XOXO.”.

Do you see what I’m getting at, Mr. Car Alarm Douchenozzle?

I did wonder, for a brief moment, if I was just being a jaded, lazy NYer, so I did a little googling. Did you know there are a gazillion blogs, websites, community groups and movements solely dedicated to trying to eradicate all car alarms in NYC? There are. It’s not just me. It’s everybody. Everybody hates you, Mr. Car Alarm Douchenozzle. EVERYBODY.

95% of the time your badass Viper alarm goes off when the fucking wind blows, or when a Fresh Direct truck rumbles by on their way to deliver someone’s case of Pampers and bundle of kale. It’s almost never an actual thief. Even if it is someone with malicious intentions, odds are nobody will help save your car. We’re too busy rummaging through junk drawers for a sharpie so we can scrawl an expletive-filled note for your windshield.

So, Mr. Car Alarm Douchenozzle, on behalf of all residents of NYC, be they mothers, fathers, infants, writers, acupuncturists, puppeteers or dog walkers: please shut your fucking car up right now. Everybody hates you.

XOXO,

Everyone