January 21, 2007

Post-Fire Update

I realized that I never really gave an accounting of the post-fire changes in our building. The fire resulted in at least one eviction. The (rather loud) neighbors living next-door to the apartment with the fire were evicted. Why, I don't know, but I'm guessing something our landlord didn't like was discovered when the firemen went in there. One morning not long after the fire, there was a Marshall's notice and a padlock on the door.

The tenant in the apartment with the fire was forced out for having too many people living in there, or for some other reason -- possibly the fire itself, we don't know. Then, finally, our next door neighbor got frustrated with the pace of the fixes to her place, and left. So we have three new couples living here now: all paying more than us instead of way less than us. Six months ago, we didn't think anything would cause the rent stabilized tenants to leave -- now nearly all of them are gone. I'm sure our landlords are thrilled, but the whole thing feels weird. I'm also wondering if our landlords will raise our rent this summer. After a year with a fire, one month of soggy soot, holes in our walls, two months of construction downstairs, and related unpleasantness in the stairwell, I'd be pretty upset if they tried to do that.

Posted by csageday at 03:53 PM | Comments (2)

November 16, 2006

Corduroy Rules

Last Saturday (11/11, the date which most closely resembles corduroy), D and I donned at least two items of corduroy (each) and took ourselves to Park Slope's Montauk Club for the annual meeting of the Corduroy Appreciation Club.

I love corduroy. I suppose this goes without saying. A quick count reveals that I own upwards of a dozen pairs of corduroy pants. If corduroy were ever to become unavailable due to some horrible denim or wool pant fashion trend, I would be in need of a support group to help me survive those desperate times.

I also quite enjoy the concept of a (tounge-in-cheek) social club that meets for a such a dignified, worthy cause, and promotes that cause tirelessly whist imbibing cocktails in wood-panelled halls with stained glass windows and a waitstaff. Park Slope is the perfect location for such a gathering, too -- how many corduroy-jacket wearing men have passed through here over the decades? And the Montauk Club? Brilliant.

And wouldn't you enjoy a scholarly lecture or two on a this fabulous, textured textile? Wouldn't you enjoy donning your elitist, pseudo-intellectual alter-ego to revel in the opportunity to vocally deplore any competing cause? Wouldn't you rejoice in chanting, "Down with denim," and "Hail the wale!"?

Miles Rohan, founder and president of the CAC, did an admirable job leading the annual meeting. He made judicious use of the gavel and graciously handled a shouting match during the contentious mascot-naming session (Roy! Moby! Dick! Richard! (my personal favorite)). He is the perfect person to lead such an effort, and I have great faith in his corduroy-promoting abilities.

I am proud to say that I am now a corduroy-trimmed CAC card holder. If you share my love of corduroy and can appropriately demonstrate this devotion, I'll show you the secret handshake...

Posted by csageday at 11:10 PM | Comments (1)

The Brooklyn Museum & Flickr

The Brooklyn Museum seems to be doing things particularly right lately. I love the museum anyway -- I love the first Saturdays, and they've had some great exhibits in the past few years. They've recently started doing a bit of smart marketing via Flickr. The museum has a Flickr account, and they add Flickr users who have posted bklyn photos. Good thinking. Via this connection, I recently got a Flickrmail pointing me to this set, and I absolutely must go and see the Ron Mueck show now. Looks brilliant. The big baby reminds me of the fever-induced dreams I used to have as a kid. Huge, grotesque, nauseating, surreal.

I'm psyched for two other bklyn museum happenings, too: the current Annie Leibovitz exhibition, and the upcoming (I know, it's silly, but I like shopping in a museum) members-only holiday sale. The holidays already seem to be creeping up on my schedule, so I should probably head over there soon.

Posted by csageday at 10:23 PM | Comments (0)

October 05, 2006

Spain Spree

Remember that little spending spree at C.O. Bigelow that I mentioned? The one where I spent $12 on a piece of fabric for my hair? That was just the very tip of the iceberg. I have since swiped my credit card at far too many small, tastefully decorated Park Slope boutiques in exchange for questionable purchases wrapped in colorful tissue paper. I'm consoling myself by saying I'm supporting the local economy (choke).

I visited them ostensibly to buy gifts for my hosts. Instead, I spent untold amounts on clothes I'm not really sure I need or want but that I've spend twenty minutes discussing with the very attentive boutique staff.

It goes like this. I walk through the door, and friendly greetings are exchanged. An inquiry is made concerning my shopping needs. I say I'm just browsing. Then I find the most inexpensive item in the store (usually around $50) after combing through $267 cashmere hoodies and such, and am escorted to a fitting room. While trying on my chosen affordable item, which never works out, helpful salespeople offer to bring me items I might have missed.

Extremely cute tops and bottoms are handed to me in my tiny enclave. My alter ego -- a well-to-do, chic hotel-visiting, jet-setting European sophisticate -- takes over. She has an interest in such things and understands that one shouldn't be bothered by the concept of cost while considering the art of fashion. She tries them all on, nonchalantly chooses a few items, and hands my poor credit card over to the helpful handmaidens.

While I'd advise caution when entering any one-word boutiques in the Slope (loom, otto, bird, kiwi, etc), I do have to recommend one place: E Lingerie by Enelra (you can tell it's different just by the name: four words instead of one, and they use uppercase AND lowercase letters!). My money there was well spent, I think, and there's a good selection. It's on 5th Ave, just south of the Key Food parking lot.

Prepping for Spain is an adventure all to itself. I have an aversion to booking accommodations. Organization in the packing arena is not my forte (the shopping spree is my panickey response to the packing dilemma). I've decided to knit gifts, which means that I have engineered a little mini marathon of knitting for myself at the same time that I need to focus on other, more pressing matters. For the scarf, I'm just doing ribbing all the way. It shows off the yarn nicely. The pattern is thanks to Old Navy, where I saw a skinny scarf knit that way.

Our trip looks something like this.: Madrid (tapas!) -> Barcelona (nostalgia!) -> Zaragoza (festival!) -> ??(somewhere in the car on the way to the northern coast, hopefully involving cheese country)?? -> San Sebastian (seaside!) or Bilbao (shiny!) -> Santander (churros!). Sounds exhausting.

Posted by csageday at 02:38 AM | Comments (1)

October 03, 2006

Where the Wild Things Are

There is a bird in our apartment. The bird has been with us since yesterday. The bird is with us because our landlord has neglected, for a month, to do anything about the many holes we have in our apartment walls.

Having a bird in our apartment is all fine and good except that it also means we have bird shit in the apartment. On the walls, on our mail, and on the window. Derek came home yesterday to find a piles of ceiling debris on the hallway floor, and the aforementioned shit. Since no animal was in sight, we weren't exactly sure whether it was a bird, a bat or, god forbid, some four-legged creature that might attack us in the night (we had a very impertinent, candy-hoarding squirrel at our last place). After further inspection we settled on bird or bat and went to sleep hoping it wouldn't appear in the night and peck our eyes out.

This morning, Derek found the bird in the hallway again. It has since gone back into the ceiling in the kitchen, where it seems to be doing serious construction (inch-wide pieces of plaster fly out of the hole every once in a while and there's lots of scratching). It has only popped out once to look around, so I've seen it. Derek described it as "you know, just a bird", but it's kind of big bird -- with a long beak and gray and fascinating. I wish I hadn't left my bird guide upstate.

Must get to work -- we'll leave the windows partly open (even though it's supposed to rain), and see what happens. Hopefully we haven't landed ourselves a very messy roommate.

Posted by csageday at 09:13 AM | Comments (1)

August 29, 2006

Craziness

So a tree fell on a car a couple blocks away. Someone must have put a curse on the neighborhood. We just spoke to our downstairs neighbor -- he seems to be holding up okay. Some updates to the fire post are below. Also, a friendly reminder: don't use extension cords with air conditioners, k?

Posted by csageday at 12:42 AM | Comments (0)

August 27, 2006

Unsettling, to Say the Least

Usually I structure blog posts around some sort of theme, like, Figs and Date are Good, or Eat Tomatoes Now, or somesuch. Recent events don't fall into an easy category. The only word I can think of to describe what we found on coming home from upstate is "unsettling".

We had a great week in the woods, doing the same woodsy and watery things we usually do, but with a good dose of baking thrown in this year, since I was in a baking mood. I was a little worried about our place, in my little paranoid way, but that's normal. The weather upstate had been wonderful (except for a rainy weekend), so we'd been able to do lots of lake swimming and some hiking and boating. We came home Monday night at about 11 p.m., feeling ready to unpack the car and go directly to bed.

As we were hauling bags up the stoop, our neighbor met us at the door. "There's been a fire," she said, "and your apartment is damaged." I think we stared at her blankly -- there's really no way to know from that sentence exactly how to respond -- I just wanted more information. I also felt one of those "I knew it," feelings -- not about the fire specifically, but about having things too good.

No one had been hurt, but there had been a fire in the apartment below ours, and everything in that apartment, she said, had been destroyed. In ours, they had to make holes in the wall to see if the fire was climbing up the beams, but the fire miraculously hadn't made it up there. She also said there was no power, and we should leave our stuff in the hallway before bringing it upstairs. I don't think all of the information she gave us really sank in one way or another, because it really wasn't clear what state our apartment was in. I'm very attached to my home -- I feel reassured when I'm there -- calm and settled. I've finally created a living space that's comfortable and comforting -- having that suddenly in jeopardy would be like losing my grip on reality for a bit. As I've been explaining to people this week, my stuff is my home, and it grounds me. Furniture from my great aunt's house, or the nicer-than-usual futon, or my computer with all of my photos, or the one nice piece of artwork we own, given to me by my mother for my 25th birthday... all of these things help convey who I am, or who I'd like to be. It has taken years to assemble a living space that feels like a real home and not a dorm room, too.

Still a little bit shocked by the whole thing, we followed my neighbor and her flashlight up the stairs. There was a sooty black mess all along one wall, and the door to the apartment with the fire looked like this:

The whole building smelled of smoke. Our door and our next-door neighbor's door both had new locks, since the doors had been forced open by firefighters. Inside, we saw this:

Which freaked me out a little, because I didn't understand at first that the table that's usually there was just moved to another room (it seemed like furniture might somehow have been reduced to rubble or something). Once we had walked around a bit, we realized that while there was a lot of plaster on the floor and some unsightly holes, we hadn't lost anything. The firefighers had carefully moved stuff out of the way before opening up the walls.

We were extremely, extremely lucky. Lucky that neighbors were home to call the fire department, lucky that the fire didn't get hot enough to climb up into our place, lucky not to have any water damage, etc. Five more minutes, and our apartment would have looked more like the one downstairs.

We also found that we had electricity and running water, so it seemed more feasible that we could stay there. Once we had figured all of this out, we got the rest of the story from our neighbor -- thank goodness she was there to explain it all.

The fire started at about 10 a.m. that morning. It allegedly started because an air conditioner was using a regular extension cord, and that cord ran underneath a mat and a box of kitty litter. A substandard extension cord for an air conditioner is unsafe to begin with, but the added insulation of the stuff on top of it meant the heat had nowhere to go. No one, aside from three cats, was in the apartment when the fire started. Our downstairs neighbor heard noises in the backyard and thought someone was throwing stuff out the window. When she went out to see what was going on, she saw a red-hot beam of wood upstairs. She called the fire department, which had just received a call from another neighbor, and then ran to get everyone out of the building.

The fire department arrived in three minutes (three minutes, god bless them). I don't have many details from this part of the story, but I know they hosed down the place and then went all over the rest of the building to make sure the fire hadn't spread. They had to knock out our bathroom window, and they brought out one of the cats from the apartment where the fire started. They went up to the roof, and they kept people outside of the building until it was safe.

It must have been terrifying to watch, especially for those with pets still inside. I'm not sure when the owner of the apartment with the fire came home, but I'm sure he was devastated -- he's a nice guy, and he's lost what we came so close to losing. Apparently he had a roommate, too, so he's also lost stuff. They were able to salvage some things, I think, but I don't think it could have been much. [Update: We just talked to the guy, and he seems to be coping pretty well. Some important things, like photography and artwork, were salvaged from a room that wasn't too damaged. The microwave and light switches "melted," though, and it seems like work on the place will take quite a while.]

Of the three cats, I know that the one rescued got attention immediately -- they had a pet-sized oxygen mask -- but died soon after. Another cat was outside of the apartment and was under a car on the street, but was foaming at the mouth and wouldn't drink or eat. At 6 p.m., the owner was convinced to go back upstairs to look for the third, and found him burned badly. The two that were found alive were taken to the vet, but I don't think either made it [Update: The two taken away might be okay]. For me, the loss of pets -- and the trauma they endured -- seems horribly depressing.

Our downstairs neighbors didn't have power afterward because the water damage made it too risky to turn on. She got power back 24 hours later, but it sounds like the ceiling is a mess and is probably making things very difficult for them.

This all happened a week ago. Since then, insurance assessors have been through, and our landlord kindly cleaned up the plaster mess. It was still pretty gritty, so D and I have been giving the place a good scrubbing. I've also been introduced to the miraculous Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Our friends, who have two great danes with projectile drool, told us months ago that it was great for cleaning stuff off the walls. Since seeing the black mess on our hallway wall was depressing to come home, to, I finally picked up the stuff. Those black streaks in the photo above -- they're pretty much gone. It's been cathartic, cleaning everything up.

I'm still feeling unsettled -- it's odd to have your private space suddenly seem so fragile. For the first few days I felt like I was in the twilight zone.

It still smells like smoke, and we have a boarded-up bathroom window and some holes in the walls, but in general, the place is feeling like it's back to normal. That will probably change when we start to have contractors in here working on the place, but that I can deal with.

Fires happen with much greater frequency than I'd understood. We're all packed into small spaces in the city, so fires in other places are more likely to affect more living space than one. The fact that we live in a brick building saved us, too -- a frame would have been a different story.

I felt like sharing the story with people right after it happened, mainly so that I could understand it in a larger context, because I was having a little trouble coming to terms with how close we came to a disaster. It just felt strange, especially when our landlord reminded me that five minutes more of that fire would have burned our place. Sharing it here also seems like a helpful thing to do, since it's a good cautionary tale about air conditioners and extension cords.

And just so you're not traumatized by the photo above and worried about us, here's a photo of that same spot today:

I'll be posting more uplifting stories about kayaking on secluded lakes and learning how to bake good sandwich bread soon, I promise.

Posted by csageday at 03:46 PM | Comments (4)

July 09, 2006

All Better Now

I'm such a spoiled brat. I've just been treated to a lovely dinner at 360 in Red Hook (great food, authentic French service) for my birthday, and I've opened various presents of which I am clearly undeserving, and now I feel just fine about turning 29 (I just needed some new toys to play with). The dinner included a walk along the pier at the end of Van Brundt, and although I had neglected to bring my camera, my mother let me borrow hers and I got some nice nighttime shots.

Posted by csageday at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)

June 25, 2006

Rainy Red Hook

Red Hook is pretty close to south Park Slope, so it's somewhat embarrassing that we hadn't been there until today. We had read and heard about Sunny's, Hope & Anchor, the Fairway, the barge, the arty things going on, and the crusade to bring back the trolly. We had been invited to hear someone's band play. But there never seemed to be an easy way to get there, so we never made the trip.

Finally, since we had nothing else to do, we drove there today. The recent Time Out article for Red Hook newbies was very helpful. The rain made things wet and deserted, but I was still very happy with what we found.

We started at Hope & Anchor, where the food took forever to come but was good. Next, we walked down Van Brundt and noticed signs of neighborhood yuppification. First, we saw "baked", an upscale looking bakery. Next, there was "The Good Fork", which reminds me of a Smith Street restaurant. In between, there was torn-up pavement, a Mexican deli, an empty lot or two, some sort of ramshackle outdoor market, a cool vintage furniture shop, and a variety of newish and falling-apart-old buildings. It reminded Derek of old Williamsburg. There are also old red brick warehouse buildings, which would have made for great photo subjects on a sunnier day.

As you get closer to the water, there are warehouses to each side, with endlessly repeating double doors -- these are in good shape, and the one to the right houses Fairway. You can walk past that and directly onto a pier, or to the Water Taxi station. Behind the warehouse to the left is a falling-down assortment of shipping and storage buildings. Rusting contraptions meant to unload ships, and two masts from an actual sunken ship, sit around as if their operators simply left one day and never came back. It's fascinating. I love old things, and these are huge, complicated, hulking old things. They're like the largest antiques in the world. I'm very jealous of the people who work in the studios in one of the warehouses -- they're right on the water, and they have this other-worldly landscape of 1860s industrial works to look at when they get bored. They can also see the remains of the trolly -- three cars are parked right on the water, on what seems to be a well-preserved track. The electrical wiring above the track is even in place. I can see why someone wants to get it working again -- I would LOVE to ride a trolly. I'm kind of pissed all the trollies that ran in the city are gone. They're so much more stylish than diesel busses.

Our feet were soaked, so we headed to Fairway, expecting a wide variety of food to make us feel better. It was a disappointment -- I'm not sure why. It was freezing, I couldn't seem to get a good recommendation from the cheese guy, and the produce isn't that great (the co-op has spoiled me). The little cafe has a very nice outdoor sitting area, though.

Finally, on our way home, we hit two more Red Hook landmarks. We visited the Valentino pier (launching area of the Gowanus Dredgers), where I saw a guy catch a humungous fish, and we got some tortillas and corn con crema (so good) at the stands set up at Red Hook Park. Next time, I'll go on a sunny day so I can catch some photos of those massive loading docks before Corcoran bulldozes it to make way for luxury condos.

Posted by csageday at 02:40 AM | Comments (0)

May 24, 2006

Celebrate Brooklyn

The new Celebrate Brooklyn schedule is up and it looks great -- can't wait to pack a picnic and see TV on the Radio, or Dracula with Phillip Glass.

Posted by csageday at 01:09 AM | Comments (0)

May 15, 2006

Mother's Day

We were whisked into the alternate universe of babyland (again) this past weekend. First, we saw the ever-taller Xander at his first Yankee game. He's walking around at a good clip and exhibiting signs of finding things not always exactly up to his standards (as a good Yankees fan will).

He's still completely adorable.

Next, we played host to the just-six-months-old-and-entirely-edible-Asher, who entertained us for an entire day with his facial expressions. He's a handsome, happy baby and a perfect size for holding. He was quite interested in all of the sights and sounds of our apartment. We were glad to oblige his taste for bananas and socks.

I got to hold him while his mom was shopping, and it was like stepping into a different Park Slope: the one where everyone has a kid and you're all part of this parenting cult. Random people compliment you on the baby, and you get to act as if you're a long-suffering, put-upon mother of an infant.

We used the changing table at child care in the Co-op, and I felt like I had a one-day pass to the secret parents-only version of the Slope, where Ferberizing and daycare are hot topics. It was a bit scary, actually. I think I'll stick to the childless, restaurant-frequenting, non-diaper-changing, aimless 20-something version for a while longer. With occasional baby-sitting privileges (because have you see those chubby legs??? Now I understand all the expressions about wanting to eat your baby).

Posted by csageday at 10:55 PM | Comments (4)

May 08, 2006

The Park Slope Flea Market

Here's one of the reasons I love Park Slope: There is a centrally located flea market on the weekends. Since it's on the way to the co-op, I walk through it nearly every reasonably-warm weekend. There are brooches and table runners and hats, there are clothes and collectible plates and old cameras, and there is furniture. Last week, I found a vintage tablecloth for $12. The desk my computer is sitting on came from the market. Derek found a bedside table. It's a gold mine.

It's also a mini-museum of twentieth century kitsch, and I always feel as if I could spend hours just looking at the stuff. It's very photo-friendly. I felt a bit nervous about taking pictures there, but I got a couple of good shots. I'll have to find the courage to take a few more next time.

Posted by csageday at 01:02 AM | Comments (2)

April 02, 2006

Spring

This weekend, Park Slope was full of flowering dogwoods, forsythia, and Little Leaguers (Saturday was opening day). Miraculously, we got out of the apartment before noon each day.

We meant to do something active and impressive on Saturday -- we planned to walk the loop in Prospect Park -- but we ended up visiting La Bagel Delight and sitting down to breakfast at the first picnic table we found instead. Too full after that for a walk, we spread out on a blanket and dozed. Then, more in the mood for more food than exercise, we visited the farmer's market (picked up some wonderful bacon from Flying Pigs Farm) and the Coop.

Today, we managed to walk the loop but then ran into some friends and immediately counteracted any health benefits received from walking by eating at Cafe Steinhoff. Here are a few photos from the park:

Posted by csageday at 11:36 PM | Comments (2)

March 12, 2006

Sunset Park

Since yesterday's weather was gorgeous (Spring is coming!), we took the bus to Sunset Park and wandered around 5th Avenue (great for Mexican street food) and then 8th Avenue (Brooklyn's Chinatown). I think we started at 39th street, crossed over in the 50s and ended at 61st (the N/R stop). Each neighborhood is so ethnically distinctive that you feel like you're visiting another country. On 5th, nearly everyone speaks Spanish. On 8th, it's Chinese (I think). And of course, the best part of being in each is the opportunity to try the food.

On 5th, we started out with wonderful corn on the cob from a street vendor -- with crema and queso blanco and chile powder -- and then had a great tamale and some horchata. One particular tacqueria on a side street was packed and looked really good, but we didn't quite have the courage to be the only gringos in the whole place. On 8th, we shopped. I wandered around one store forever, wishing I knew what to do with the unidentifiable ingredients in bins at my feet. There were all kinds of ginseng and dried fish and buns (the same assortment you find in Chinatown, but cheaper). I finally bought a few things with English labeling: buns with red bean paste (you only need to pop them in the microwave for 2 minutes -- they make a great breakfast), dumpling wrappers (we made dumplings tonight), and fish crackers. I obviously need to rent old episodes of Yan Can Cook so I can take better advantage of the variety (and prices) there. Finally, we hit a bakery for fresh sweet (coconut cream) and savory (shredded pork) buns.

Posted by csageday at 09:54 PM | Comments (0)

January 22, 2006

Ice Skating

On Saturday, when it was absurdly warm for a January day, Derek and I went ice skating at the Wollman Rink in Prospect Park. The Wollman Rink is so retro it could easily be converted into a Williamsburg themed-bar-of-the-moment. The architecture is from the 60s, and the snack bar really doesn't seem to have changed much since it opened. There's fabulous greasy food -- fries, pizza, hot dogs, etc. -- and of course, there's a "party room" for kids' birthday parties (there's always one going on). The rental area and the lockers and the picnic tables look exactly like the ones that would have been at any ice skating rink in the 80s. I always have a range of childhood flashbacks when I go there. The gazillion 8-10 year-old kids running around probably has something to do with this.

We stood in line, got crappy rental skates, and then joined throngs of skaters of all levels in circling around and around the ice. At first, it took a little courage to cross over from the rubber floor to the ice at the edge of the rink (if you haven't skated in a while you'll be a bit wobbly, especially if you are a grown-up) but it's so much fun once you get going. It's like Frogger -- the ice is packed with people who might fall on their faces at any moment or skate right in front of you, so you have to maneuver your way around. Various pop classics (Elton John, songs from Grease) play on the speakers, and little girls in various figure skating outfits abound. It's like morphing back to your life as an eight-year-old for a few hours, only when the Zamboni comes on and you get to go to the snack bar, you can buy whatever you want.

Posted by csageday at 10:13 PM | Comments (1)

December 11, 2005

Macy's vs. the Brooklyn Museum

Last Tuesday I spent a harrowing two hours lost in the Macy's Maze looking for women's socks. Socks! Frigging socks! How is it that not a single employee knew where they were?? I walked for miles, got disoriented and dehydrated and confused (this always happens to me in Macy's), was told to go to four distinct locations to find socks, breathed in at least a pint of noxious perfume, was distracted by countless departments I didn't know existed, and guiltily ate a mall pretzel. When I finally found the socks (by asking a fellow customer with socks in her hand) and figured out what to buy after nearly collapsing from the mall-walking and mall-air and mall-distractions, the cashier couldn't ring things up right and I had to return them and re-buy them somewhere else. I'm never going back. I hate Macy's.

Thank goodness for the Brooklyn Museum. The point of my taking a half-day of vacation on Tuesday was to visit the museum during the holiday members-only 20% discount sale. The Macy's visit was meant to be a quick stop, not a sanity-threatening nightmare. I wish I'd gotten to the museum earlier. The new entrance is such a welcoming sight at night when you're walking out of the train station. And the shopping environment was the opposite of the pandemonium at Herald's Square -- it was more like an antidote to the holiday shopping frenzy elsewhere. First, it's quiet. Second, there was a little area for sitting down and relaxing, which Derek convinced me to do over the phone after I explained the Macy's episode. Third, in the little area-of-relaxation there were free hot drinks (cider, coffee) and FREE COOKIES. It was very nice. And then, of course, the store is great and I bought a whole bunch of gifts there. Volunteers were even stationed outside of the store to wrap them.

Speaking of the Brooklyn Museum, we went to First Saturday last weekend and saw a fantastic Flamenco performance and the Edward Burtynsky exhibit. I absolutely loved the Burtynsky photos -- the exhibit is called "Manufactured Landscapes" and it's only running until January 15. If you like photography I highly recommend it. Burtynsky (that site has some representative images) takes beautiful large-format pictures of industrial landscapes -- marble mines, oil-processing plants, Chinese factories, etc. The images are arresting -- usually the scale places emphasis on the immensity of industrial undertakings and how tiny their human instigators look next to them. The industrial landscapes themselves are beautiful. There's something fundamentally appealing to me about a landscape full of non-natural geometric shapes, like the endless cubes of marble with rust stains in a mine, or a complex system of pipes in an industrial plant. There is beauty in efficiency. Because of this, the photos are also quite disturbing -- these immense industrial undertakings are clearly unnatural, and the viewer becomes aware of the scale of the damage done. There is one picture of masses of Chinese factory workers pouring out of buildings during a shift change. It's eerily similar to a very dark shift-change scene at the beginning of the movie Metropolis. Industrial coordination is eerie. There's a sadness to the photos. Huge oil rigs, for instance, look like tremendous, domineering monuments in one set of photos -- but the photos document the process of taking these rigs apart to reuse the materials.

Posted by csageday at 11:19 PM | Comments (0)

November 30, 2005

Missed Connections

D and I spent a few minutes looking through Missed Connections on Craigslist (Brooklyn) tonight for kicks. Every once in a while I can't resist clicking on it -- and it's clear that some people are addicts.

There were the usual entries, starting with "you were wearing [describe outfit] and I thought you smiled at me as I held the door open for you at [location]" or "we sat together on the F train from [stop] to [stop] and I was too shy to say hello." We also found lots of bad poetry, a few not-possibly-real entries, and some long, extremely personal rants about life and relationships in general. MC is a little like blogging -- it's a public outlet for small private thoughts, disappointments, longings. It's also a warped social history of the city (see this entry about a fake blind man -- real or no?). Some people are exploiting the service to practice their creative writing exercises, though, which is annoying. Still, the variety is entertaining. And I'm glad it exists.

Sappy quote of the day: "check your heart mail, there should be a message there from mine...xxx".

Question of the day: Does anyone "missed" every catch up with anyone who has posted? Is anyone tracking successes?

Note: More Disney photos are on Flickr (Disney set is here).

Posted by csageday at 11:33 PM | Comments (0)

October 31, 2005

Happy Halloween

Here's a recipe for appropriately orange and black candied orange peel dipped in chocolate.

And if you don't have plans this evening, I highly recommend the Park Slope halloween parade. OTBKB says it starts at 6:30pm and forms at Seventh Avenue and 12th Street. The over-achieving parents in the neighborhood never disappoint.

Posted by csageday at 12:26 PM | Comments (0)

September 30, 2005

Super 8 Night at Barbes

We just went to Barbes to see a monthly show of Super 8 film reels. Anyone can bring one and the guy in charge of the projector will show it. Two people provided sound for the silent films with a piano and a sci-fi sounding theramin, of all things. Despite the seriousness of it all (it felt a tad pretentious), we saw some great little three minute films of hipsters back when they were three years old and playing in the bathtub. One person brought in a 50s era film with shots of highways full of old cars and family members clowning around in their Sunday best. There was a recent film of a river in the Adirondacks which had nice shots of moving water with reflections of trees and some nice contrast. In the vintage reels, the close-ups of kids' facial expressions were fantastic. The sometimes odd choices of what to film are revealing, too. Derek has tons of old home movies that would fit right in, but I think we'll have to insist that Derek do the accompaniment, so he can play things like the Psycho soundrack in bathroom scenes, etc., and liven things up a little.

Posted by csageday at 01:00 AM | Comments (0)

September 22, 2005

Hey, Brooklynites...

The Atlantic Antic is this Saturday Sunday. Go, eat, and frolic in the street.

While you're there, visit Sahadi's for hummus, babaghanoush, feta, and olives (take a number and wait your turn), then pick up baklava (and whatever other pastries they offer you) and pita bread at Damascus.

Posted by csageday at 02:43 PM | Comments (0)

August 04, 2005

So Much to Blog About; So Little Motivation

I've had to put blogging completely on hold lately for various reasons. We've been doing summery things, like going sailing and going to the shore, and I've also been working on this site for a friend pretty much every weeknight (warning: I'm a terrible designer), so my blogging time is cut short. Here are some quick catch-up things, since I'm away this weekend and the next and the next and so on until September (and where I'm going, there's NO INTERNET).

First, Francis blogged about this ages ago because he is a responsible, dependable blogger, but we saw Brian Dewan at Barbes and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I knew nothing about Dewan's music (although we had caught him showing film strips a while back at the Brooklyn Museum) so I was happily surprised. It was a one man show, except for the hilarious barbershop trio performance of The Beatles' "Revolution #9" at the end. Think about that for a minute. Imagine one guy saying "number 9" over and over, and all of the other discordant sounds on that loooong track being reproduced a capella by the other two. The added a little choreography, too, jumping to face the same direction, etc. All with straight faces. Anyway, Dewan plays various throwback instruments -- an autoharp, a zither, and an accordion. His lyrics are clever and wacky and his straight-faced, intense delivery is a hit with the audience. It reminded me a bit of TMBG even before he played "The Edison Museum" -- a track that is on TMBG's "No!" He did an amusing heavy-metalish parody on the zither ("Loathsome Idols") and some vintage-sounding, tamer pieces on the autoharp and accordion. Lyrics to one upbeat song played on the accordion go like this: "Put your money where your mouth is. [pause] Put your money in your mouth. [pause, silence] Eat it [pause] it's the principle of the thing ... eat that dirty salad ... eat it ... now." I'm doing a terrible job of describing this, but please go and see Dewan next time he's playing something. Anything. It'll be worth it. Or go buy a CD or listen to the clips on Amazon or iTunes. I laughed my ass off and I wasn't even drunk.

That same day, at an obscenely early hour for a Saturday (8AM), Derek joined me for a Sebago sail for the first time. Because the wind was strong but shifty, we spent the morning screaming (not at each other), getting wet, hanging off one side of the the boat, scrambling over to the other side of the boat when the wind suddenly shifted, and barely managing to keep the boat (a Laser) upright and ourselves out of the bay. It was crazy. We were sore for a week. Hopefully it didn't completely spoil sailing for D.

What else? Last Saturday, we were extremely lucky. We went to visit my sister and her family at the Jersey shore. The traffic was good (amazing), the weather was good, and we found fantastic lobster rolls. Both Derek and I, like idiots, wore our prescription sunglasses in the ocean and lost them in the waves. I searched for mine for a while since they're biggish and expensive, but eventually gave up and taught my nine-year-old nephew to knit instead (he wanted to learn! how cool is that?). About half-an-hour later, my-brother-and-law showed up with my sunglasses dangling off the end of his fishing pole (the tide had washed them up over where he was fishing -- no, he didn't actually catch them when he was fishing). Later on, Derek managed to find his pair around the same spot (after diving into the muck a few times). The waves were rough enough to have sandblasted all the paint off his frames, but the lenses were fine. It's kind of eerie that we found them both.

Okay, I'm clearly depriving myself of far too much sleep. And blogging about mundane things. I'll pick this up again when I have something interesting to say. (Did I mention that it's hot in our apartment? And muggy? And sticky? These are not ideal blogging conditions.)

Posted by csageday at 02:34 AM | Comments (1)

July 27, 2005

Awwwwwww

First, I found what I thought looked like mouse droppings in one of our moving boxes. Derek convinced me they were black sesame seeds (I'm gullible; he's optimistic to a fault). Then, when I was getting a glass of water late one night, I caught a very cute, very small little mouse scurrying behind the sink and down one of the burner holes in the stove. My first thought was, "Awwww!" My second thought was, "damn, I need to clean those crumbs up from under the toaster," which I did. Since we have a whole colony of mice living in our house upstate, I wasn't fazed by one single mouse, although I should known better (where there's one, there are many, D reminded me).

We vowed to be better about cleaning things up, but we're lazy about dishes -- at least I am. Apparently the mouse is familiar with this tendency because he's been getting a bit more bold. I was on the phone last night in the kitchen when I caught him running from behind the microwave to the stove at a somewhat less-than-scared pace. It was more of an okay-I'm-done-now pace, actually. I wished for a minute that he'd stick around so I could get a picture, but then reminded myself that a rodent infestation, on top of the ant infestation we already have, is NOT a good thing, for many, many reasons.

Tonight, both Derek and I were in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner when Mr. Mouse (could be a she, but I'm not going through the whole "he or she" routine in this text) poked his head out from under a dishtowel and then disappeared again. We both stopped what we were doing and tried to figure out exactly where the little bastard was. I slowly picked up the dishtowel and shook it. Nothing. We gingerly moved a water bottle. I was convinced he was underneath the toaster. Derek thought he was behind the jar of flour. Slowly and a bit timidly (I'm not exactly sure what we were afraid of, ahem) we moved things around looking for him. No mouse. I was impressed. He's a devious, tricky little animal. Finally, I figured he'd snuck behind the microwave when we weren't looking and I started moving the cookbooks leaning up against it. He shot out from behind it for a second, we both jumped, and then he disappeared again.

I was about to give up and let him hide so we could finish cleaning up. My strategy was something like: "Do the dishes and pretend this never happened and there isn't actually a mouse somewhere on the countertop." Derek wasn't giving up, though -- he started moving each cookbook back and forth and rattling the microwave again. Suddenly, he drew back his hand quickly and said something like "Ah!" I looked where he was looking and screamed. This is what we saw.

I wasn't scared, just sort of freaked out by the mouse making a bold appearance and clearly looking right at us. It was almost as if he got fed up and came out to see what we were up to. He stayed that way long enough for me to run and get my camera and take a picture. Maybe he knows I have a blog. It was a pretty good plan of his, too. We stopped moving stuff around, took a picture, and then went back to cleaning the kitchen when he snuck behind the cookbooks again. He clearly knows how to handle people. I'm thinking of giving him a name and considering him a member of the family. Bartholemew? Grayer? Tiny Tim? I'm open to suggestions.

Posted by csageday at 11:40 PM | Comments (2)

July 26, 2005

Grillin

Urban apartment-dwellers that we are, Derek and I are not experts with a grill. We know the basics and we've done our fair share of holding a spatula and getting smoke in our eyes while we watch over someone else's grill, but we've never actually grilled anything on our own in Brooklyn. Derek kept a bag of charcoal in the trunk all last summer in the hope that we would get something together in Prospect Park, but I was always wary of the particular park etiquette and reserving technique that seems required. One weekend morning last summer, I got up early to head to Sebago and saw determined people (with large coolers) staking out grills and picnic tables around 8 a.m. -- I figured we didn't stand a chance if stuff like that was going on. Besides, I wouldn't have known what to do with one of the Prospect Park grills if I got one. I barely understand how charcoal works, much less how to use a chimney starter.

God bless roof access. First, it's cool and breezy on the roof when it's steamy inside; second, it's got a beautiful (albeit somewhat obstructed) view of the city and the moon on a clear night; and finally, there are about three communal charcoal grills up there (and a smoker!) for us to use. We had a very impromptu get-together last night and tried out some grilled kielbasa (first time I've ever bought meat at the Coop -- it's always hard to stick to the vegetarianism in grilling season -- but it's kielbasa, okay? I love that stuff.) and veggies and corn. Derek valiantly eschewed lighter fluid or matchlight of any kind and used paper to get the coals going (a degree in thermodynamic somethingorother may or may not have helped). We had planned to try out the grill on our own so we could experiment without humiliating ourselves, but last minute plans were made and having people over made it even better. The veggies were great -- we used zucchini squash, portobello mushrooms, and red onions marinated in balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Derek sliced open the kielbasa, which helped it cook a little faster. The corn, unfortunately, didn't cook as well as it should have because the coals were dying down, but we can plan better for that next time. With a little wine and homemade iced tea and tziziki, it made for a respectable Brooklyn rooftop cookout. Plus, we finally got to use all of the grill accessories that we've been moving from place to place but have never used -- and the fireplace tools came in handy, too (I've been refusing to put them in storage even though we no longer have a fireplace).

Posted by csageday at 12:14 AM | Comments (0)

July 20, 2005

Good Lord It Is Hot

It is stinky, steamy, soupy hot. My hair is sticking to my head. Every cold drink I take out of the fridge develops a lake of condensation at its base within minutes. I feel bad about opening the fridge because all the cold air escapes and it has to run for five hours to bring the temperature down again. I just got an ice pop out of the freezer and it melted by the time I found the scissors to open it.

It's so hot I really don't feel like blogging or maintaining my Flickr obsession (that is saying something). And I can't bear the thought of eating anything hot. We went to Sette on 7th Avenue tonight (totally unplanned, impulsive, irresponsible, expensive extravagance) and although the fritto misto and pasta dishes were good, warm food on a night like tonight -- no matter how good -- just doesn't seem right. I hadn't really felt like dinner, but I've been very stressed out lately and the idea of a snack with some wine sounded like a good idea. Once inside, Derek realized he was famished, so we got a regular dinner. I could barely walk home after we finished.

For wine, we ordered a "quarto" (little mini carafe) of rosetto (rosé) to get something cold on the table. Either the waitstaff was confused or the host decided to choose a wine for us, because a quarto of white arrived. Whatever, it was cold, so we drank it and got it on the house to boot (they said it was free because we had changed tables earlier to make room for a group). The rosé, when it finally arrived, was fantastic. I have no idea what kind of rosé it was -- meant to write it down but forgot. Regardless, rosé is a good summer evening wine. As for food, the gnocchi was good (not quite up to par with Al di La), and the tagliatelle was wonderfully thin, but I kept feeling like I would rather have been in a pool. A pool with some ice in it. For dessert (I know, why????) we ordered the custard with fresh fruit and got the ricotta cake delivered to us instead. We tried out the ricotta cake while we were trying to flag down the waiter (just in case, you know, it was actually the custard is some strange form) and it wasn't that good. The custard was very nice, though.

I'm trying to figure out what exactly is stressing me out so much lately -- enough to feel a need for wine, or coffee, or anything that might change my mood. I wonder if this is seasonal or related to the various stress-inducing pressures -- my work situation, the move, uncertainty about summer plans, a very long to-do list, etc. Whatever it is, the heat is exasperating it (incidentally, if you're reading the new Harry Potter, could this be the effect of countless dementors breeding in our midst?). We have air conditioning in our bedroom, but for some reason any air conditioning, if it's actively blowing in my direction, drives me crazy when I'm trying to get to sleep. So maybe lack of sleep is making me crabby. Which means I should probably get to bed.

On the unpacking front, there is great progress. Somehow, over the weekend, I managed to get rid of all of my boxes. Derek has also found some used (and nice, Cindy-approved) bookshelves to buy so he'll be box-free, soon, too. The kitchen looks fantastic -- the counters are clear, the cookbooks have a home, and I'm loving the multitudes of cabinets and drawers. The living room doesn't quite feel right, yet, but it's too hot to spend any time in there anyway so I'm not worried. My bookshelf, which is made of unfinished wood, got a rub down with orange oil and looks very happy about that. It found a home in the little room with my desk and is full of books.

In general, it's coming together, but I occasionally feel detached from the whole process and from the new place. Our stuff is here, and we're here, but it doesn't feel like home yet. It's a nice place and the extra space is great, but it all feels a bit surreal. It's like one of those dreams where things are almost normal but not quite -- last night I dreamt we had a new cat (I'm not a cat person) and I knew I had to get kitty litter and do something but the whole thing was off. Familiar details, like our old bathroom, were in the dream, but we lived on a different street and I felt like an impostor. I'm feeling a little of that displacement, like it's not permanent or real. Wish I could explain it a little better.

In less depressing news, we saw the Brooklyn Philharmonic perform at the Prospect Park bandshell on Saturday with some friends. It was a nice night (no rain), and the program included Tchaikovsky, Dvoräk, Offenbach, and Gershwin. The Gershwin piece was "An American in Paris" -- a great, uplifting piece of music for a warm summer night. On Sunday, we went to Applewood for brunch with the family, but I think we must have waited a full hour to get seated (understandable for a party of 5 at a great, small, place but ARGH). Each time the wait was extended we considered something else but decided against it simply because of the applewood smoked bacon. And the biscuits. And the grits and coffee. All fantastic at Applewood (next to Rosewater, our favorite brunch place). The brioche french toast was good but not phenomenal. Comments from the lobster-omlette eaters were that each ingredient was superb but that the whole package didn't really come together well. Dad says the bloody mary was bloody good. THE BEST. He could have been swayed by finally getting one after an hour of forced 7th Ave shopping (while we were waiting), but it looked pretty good to me. (Note: We hear that the best bloody marys are at Superfine in Dumbo so we'll have to go try those before giving out any prizes.)

Posted by csageday at 01:00 AM | Comments (0)

July 14, 2005

Duplicitous Real Estate Agents

I just dropped off the keys to our old apartment. Our landlord was nice, so I was looking forward to seeing her and getting some gossip about the buyers' impending luxury renovation flip, but no. Opening the door and grinning ear to ear was the Corcoran broker. I tried to be friendly. The landlord was there, too, so we chatted, but seeing the old place and the enabler-of-real-estate-madness dampened my mood.

To make it even worse, the broker casually mentioned (smiling nonchalantly all the while) that, oh, the place actually isn't being renovated. In fact, the buyer is probably going to put on a coat of paint and rent it.

I probably should have tried to get more information, but I was a little pissed (I mean, it's not like we're going to move AGAIN to get it back). I'm guessing there's more to the story. It probably sells a little better if you don't have to worry about accommodating an existing tenant, or something. Or the buyer just didn't want a tenant, even though we're "dream tenants" according to our old landlord. (The broker and landlord had said they'd tell buyers that we were good tenants and were interested in staying there.) Whatever. The whole move/uprooting thing has wreaked havoc in our lives, so the possibility that the move could have been avoided made me really mad. I left and walked down the street cursing silently, envisioning various violent episodes with real estate broker windows and baseball bats.

To get over it I called D and asked him to meet me at any place that had alcohol. We went to the newish Bar Minnow (spinoff of the very nice Minnow seafood restaurant around the corner). Cold muscadet and dinner eventually calmed me down. It was our first time there and I really liked the relaxed, bar/seafood shack feel -- it's a good summer place. It smells like seafood inside and there's a good selection of beer on tap (I liked Derek's unpronounceable wheat beer -- something with "heifer"?). Derek's lobster roll was a bit citrusy, and my seafood salad was decent (good calamari, iffy everything else). I think I'll stop by and sit at the bar for some wine and oysters or clams the next time I have a bad work day (or bad real estate experience) and need to unwind.

Posted by csageday at 12:11 AM | Comments (1)

July 05, 2005

The 5-In-One Uber Blog Post (Since I Won't Get It Together Enough to Post Again This Week)

Apparently we've moved into a building that's half old-school/Latino Brooklyn and half Hipsterville. Tweens speaking Spanish hang out on the stoop, and young creative types with retro designer shoes have parties on the roof. Latin music plays in the cars going up the street; techno plays LOUDly nextdoor around midnight. Quite an adjustment from BugabooVille a couple of avenues up. In some ways, it's a welcome change, as long as I can manage to get to sleep with all the boom boom booming going on.

The place is nice but we can't move around much with all the boxes piled up everywhere. Our ficus tree is in the kitchen (no room anywhere else), which means we're not cooking anytime soon. My desk doesn't fit in the room meant to be an office, so our living room has a wall-to-wall furniture problem. Water glasses aren't unpacked so we're drinking water from wine glasses. The bathroom can't fit two people in it at the same time. I can see us trying to squeeze in there one morning and having one of us (probably me) fall in the tub. Oh, and even if I did have an internet connection at home, I was so wiped out from helping the (low budget) movers carry stuff up and down stairs I probably couldn't have found the energy to blog about all this. Much less the computer. From Friday to Monday I was without an internet connection. I experienced gmail withdrawl, blogging universe withdrawl, and Flickr withdrawl. I also had a headache for five days straight, possibly from all the dust from packing. I'm still not completely back to normal.

We spent the long weekend upstate getting all the stress out of our systems and having our annual extended family joint birthday party (D's was Friday, mine's next Friday). We swam, we vegged, we kayaked, we played tennis, and we barbequed like good patriots (of the liberal, environmentalist, non-righteous-flag-waving sort).

Somehow I completely blocked out Live 8. Very retro eighties. I had no idea it was going on until I caught up on my news today. And then, since someone gave us a Live Aid DVD last Christmas, I was like -- huh? It's been done and it didn't really work!? Has everyone gone mad? I'm still not exactly sure how I ignored the media long enough to miss the coverage. Or maybe everyone else ignored it, too?

Hmmm. Here's a design for the new Nets stadium thing. Looks like some building blocks shoved in crumpled paper. Or a shape sorter accident. Actually, could be a pile of garbage. Hey, let's build something that looks like what's in the recycling container! I'm not an expert, and I like some of the stuff Gehry's done, so I'll stop there. Just for the record, though, the whole put-a-stadium-near-my-neighborhood project isn't something I support. Development isn't always bad, but stadiums are not community-friendly. They don't make for nice residential neighborhoods. And I never liked the Nets. Can't we just bring the Dodgers back if we're building a stadium?

Was thinking of going to the David Sedaris 826 thing at Cooper tonight but decided I had too much to do. I went to Downtown 4 Democracy's reading back before the election at the same venue -- The Great Hall at Cooper Union -- and it was an English major's dream. Salmon Rushnie, Jonathan Franzen, Michael Chabon, Jonathan Safran Foer, Dave Eggers, Lou Reed, and others. Of course, I'm blogging instead and procrastinating. How productive.

Entirely unrelated: I got D Freakonomics and some CDs for his birthday -- not exactly thrilled with the New Porographers CD (Mass Romantic) or the Decemberists (Picaresque). LOVED They Might Be Giants' No!, though. D and I giggled at it all the way down from Albany, while my mother and brother were probably rolling their eyes in the backseat.

This will probably be it in the way of blogging this week, since I'm cooping tomorrow and we're going away for another long weekend this weekend (I know, we're spoiled). Hence the very disorganized and rambling post. I'll post some Flickr photos when I get everything set up at home, but till then go look at the Everyone's page -- the weirdest stuff shows up there.

Posted by csageday at 10:07 PM | Comments (3)

June 28, 2005

The Met, Sailing, and Hipster Heaven

To balance out the rant I just posted about the move and the toll it's taken on my sanity, here's a recap of my packed weekend. Clay, Lloyd, and I finished off a bottle of Prosecco at the Met on Friday, on the balcony overlooking the main hall. We were planning on heading to the roof but noticed a little sit down bar area up there and took a look. It reminded me of a posh event full of society people -- we found tablecloths, live music, a well-dressed waitstaff, and a tasteful menu of finger food and alcohol. It's called the Great Hall Balcony Bar and it's only open on Friday and Saturday evenings. I think some of the elder museumfolk sitting near us may have been wearing Chanel suits in honor of the Chanel exhibit. It all made us feel very sophisticated and proper. At least that's how I felt. It might also have had to do with the Prosecco, or the Brooklyn Lager we finished it off with (scandalous!).

Speaking of the Met, it's a great time of the year to head up to the Cloisters with a picnic, or hike along the Palisades.

Saturday and Sunday morning, I dragged myself out of bed for the Sebago sailing class. Holly and Jim -- longtime Sebago sailors -- did the teaching and Tracy and I helped out. This year's class was fantastic. We had five students and five suitable boats for them to use -- three Sunfishes, a Laser, and Dad's old Phantom. By Sunday, each student had capsized (more than once) and righted the boat successfully and everyone had tried sailing solo. We even set up bouys out by Canarsie Pol and did figure eights (very fun). I was kicking myself for not bringing my camera out there -- would have made for some great photos with all the boats sailing so close together (no collisions, either!). I got a little beach time, too, since the sailors were doing so well on their own. (By the way, found photos of an actual Sunfish (the animal) when looking for photos of the boat. Strange looking thing.)

Saturday night, we met Melissa, Steve, Liz, and Matt for the Sadies/Stars/New Pornographers concert in Prospect Park. It was a hipster magnet -- I spend nearly an hour looking for parking because so many Williamsburg twenty-somethings were taking up all the spaces. The place was packed and our view was somewhat obstructed by a monster stroller, but it was a good show. If my plan of getting their early to get a good blanket spot had worked out it would have been more enjoyable, but it was great to see everyone.

Posted by csageday at 01:08 AM | Comments (0)

June 27, 2005

Moving, Again

Moving is driving me nuts. It's hot and I'm sitting in a room full of boxes. It's raining. At the moment, I don't feel like I have a home. I'm cranky and pissed off at real estate investors for forcing me to move. I'm mad at brokers for getting a broker fee out of us twice in two years. I'm mad at Derek for no particular reason. I hope this real estate bubble bursts and all the speculators lose lots of money.

I think the problem is that I don't have a knitting project. Plus, all the yarn is moved already so I can't start one and do something mindless for a while.

This evening got off to a promising start. I picked up a pizza on the way home -- I've been craving pizza for weeks -- and we drank soda and ate before packing. Then, stuffed, we packed up glasses and clothes and musical instruments and made two trips to the new place. We're trying to move the breakables ourselves so we don't have to worry about packing them properly for the movers (they're coming Wednesday).

I think the lifting and the two flights of stairs in the new building went a long way toward dampening my mood. Plus, people kept beeping when passing our double-parked car, even though they had plenty of room to pass. And there was a particularly stressful Fresh Direct incident, where the truck just barely squeezed by within about half an inch of the side mirror. Oh, and it was drizzling. And did I mention that it was hot and we were wearing jeans? And our new place feels like it's five miles from Prospect Park or anything familiar.

I'm trying to cheer myself up with purple Kool-Aid. A nagging voice in my head is telling me we should have bought our place.

Which reminds me. I have a whole new plumbing story to tell. On my way down the hall yesterday evening, just as we were about to leave to get dinner and check out our new digs, I felt a drop of something on my foot. I mentioned it to Derek. After inspecting my foot and a damp spot in the luggage in the hallway, we looked up. The lighting fixture was dripping. This has happened once before -- when there's some sort of water-related problem upstairs, the water finds its way to the lights in our hallway. So we postponed dinner, called the building people and the landlord, and enlisted a bucket. Pretty soon we had three buckets -- one under each light -- and had noticed that the water was kind of ... brown. It didn't smell bad, though, so we figured it was probably just dirty water from a burst pipe.

The drip was steady, but slow, so we eventually went out for dinner. I bit my nails the entire time and kept imagining all my books getting soaked. When we came back, it was still dripping slowly but it smelled faintly (to me anyway -- and my sense of smell is acute) like I imagine that bathroom smelling in that scene in Pulp Fiction Trainspotting (you know the scene I mean?). It was basically raining sewage in our hallway.

It dripped on and off through the night. We shut ourselves up in our air-conditioned (and non-smelly) bedroom and tried not to think about how "opening up the ceiling" -- one of the possibilities our neighbor had suggested -- would affect our move. I mean, the timing of this particular plumbing adventure -- and we've had four this year by my count -- could not have been worse. Well, unless the buyers decide they don't want the place as a result and we can snap it up for half the price (riiiiight).

We still have the buckets out but at the moment there's no dripping, which is why we were able to do the moving we did tonight. The landlord has been coordinating with the owners of the apartments above us, so maybe they worked something out. We're thinking the dripping has to do with someone's toilet upstairs. Hopefully this was a fluke and we can get rid of the obstacle course of buckets in the hall before the movers show up. It would really suck if we had to rig some sort of tarp over there or have emergency plumbers milling around.

Okay, maybe that wasn't as exciting as the clog, or the time I used dish soap for the dishwasher and ended up with four inches of white soap bubbles in the kitchen (exactly like that I Love Lucy episode). It made us feel a tiny bit better about moving and not buying -- I mean, it'll be nice to live on the top floor, without any chance of a flood from someone else's toilet coming through our ceiling. And on a clear day we'll be able to see the Empire State building from our bedroom window. If we squint. So it's not all that bad.

Posted by csageday at 10:36 PM | Comments (3)

June 23, 2005

Tost

We tried out Tost on Tuesday night -- the new panini place in Park Slope. The wine list is pretty decent and the menu is simple enough: bruscetta for $2 apiece, salads, panini for $7 each, and some great desserts. We ordered two pieces of bruscetta and a panino each -- ham, fontina, mustard and pickles (ew) for D and portobello, caponata, fontina and arugula for me. We thought that would tide us over -- sounds like a good amount, right? Except the bruscetta was actually half a slice -- piled high with interesting ingredients -- but still, not a whole slice. D almost asked if they were bringing out the rest of the appetizer later. I felt like we were in that room in the Willy Wonka film where everything is cut in half.

Everything was really, really good, though. The bruscetta, though small, was perfectly made -- it had just the right balance of toasted bread and topping. The panini was tasty. For dessert, we had the panna cotta with a fig and biscotti. My God that was good. Decadent. And the fact that all the breads are made with organic flour made us feel better about the bill.

In other news, Gothamist says the new IFC Center has some good food, and everyone recommends the documentary Mad Hot Ballroom (Stay Free has an article about the film's copyright hurdles). A line-up of indie rockers will probably draw record crowds to Celebrate Brooklyn this Saturday.

And finally, if you want to learn how to sail, there's a two-day sailing instruction workshop at Sebago this weekend that still has some open slots. I'll be helping out both days -- email me if you're interested.

Posted by csageday at 09:00 PM | Comments (1)

June 21, 2005

Dad's New Toy, Our New Lease, My New Book

There is a new Jaguar in the family. Dad recently sold his 1950 yellow convertible Jag in order to buy a more sedate, family-friendly sedan in beautiful shape. He also made it up to New Hampshire and back in the new Jag with only one minor -- well, major -- mechanical mishap. Something to do with the alternator. Or a flat tire (true to form, he had some Providence, RI kids give him a push backwards down a hill to get going at one point). The whole trip makes for a good story but I have to run the corporate challenge this week so I should get to bed. Enjoy the photos from the quick ride I got in it for Father's Day.

Oh, and by the way, we signed a lease this evening. We paid the ghastly broker fee but will have a nice place on 12th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues to move into before our lease is up here. (Sigh of relief.)

One last thing. We walked over to the Society of Ethical Culture after signing the lease to hear some excerpts from a new book, The Friend Who Got Away. It's a collection of 20 essays about lost friendships. The bits we heard were pretty impressive, if sad at points, so I ended up with a signed copy. Definitely worth checking out.

Posted by csageday at 12:09 AM | Comments (0)

June 19, 2005

Coney Island

I don't know whether this happens every summer or Coney Island is experiencing some sort of rejuvination, but it's getting tons of press these days (at least of the online sort). The NYT, Gothamist and BrooklynVegan have posts about some new signs and this summer's goings-on, and Banterist played Grammar Cop for old, grammatically-incorrect signs (I can only imagine what Grammer Cop would find on Blue Sage). Unfortunately I'll miss the mermaid parade next Saturday, which I've never seen. We'll have to make the trip to Coney Island sometime this summer, maybe for a film or for a Cyclones game with the family. We went about five years ago and saw the real, live Freak Show, rode the Cyclone, and ate some fried beach food. The Freak Show was a throwback (to approximately 1890, which is freaky all on its own) and the Cyclone was a great ride -- although I think the wooden track rattled my brain around a bit. The place was a bit deserted then -- it felt abandoned and depressing and not worth the endless local train ride we took to get there. Maybe the new signs and hipster attendance will liven things up a bit.

Posted by csageday at 01:45 PM | Comments (0)

June 12, 2005

Stoop Sale

Thanks to help from Dad, Mom, Derek and Nick, the stoop sale was a success. Dad did us a huge favor and drove in the minivan-full of dumpster rescues and junk from the attic. My brother Nick contributed board games, DVDs, baseball equipment, and Star Trek paraphernalia. That, along with a sizable collection of leftover items from my childhood and Mom and Dad's gadget-collecting past, meant we pretty much had something for everyone.

Derek swears that the same people showed up today that showed up at the last stoop sale we had a year and a half ago. They are probably eBay resellers and stoop sale regulars (they come in cars and know how to bargain). They come early and find the good stuff that's priced cheap, then they come later to clean up on the stuff we've marked down.

There are also the pointless hagglers -- they look over everything with disdain and bargain endlessly over 50 cents (they also criticize things loudly -- one woman said about a TV five times, "It's not even color, right?" when I had explained that it was color and worked fine). I had to pretend to be doing something else to avoid them, since they never seemed to actually want to buy anything.

Plenty of nice people from the neighborhood showed up and bought DVDs and toys and board games. That makes the whole thing a bit more pleasurable -- they're happy to find cheap used things, you're happy your junk didn't go to waste. Some kids actually got excited about stuffed animals and games we gave up on decades ago. Other people just have a weak spot for stuff -- one guy kept picking up things long after he said he was leaving.

Then there was the Ukrainian woman who spent at least an hour going over a set of china that we were selling for $5. She inspected every single piece, talking my ear off the entire time, and rejected anything with so much as a scratch. I kept explaining that it was used, hence the really cheap price tag for an 8 piece set with platters and whatnot. To pack it up she wasn't satisfied with any old bag or box, or even free luggage. Instead, she had me wrap everything up (okay, I'm a sucker) and put it in just the right box and wrap that up with string. When the string was too hard to hold on to, she got some free clothes to use for padding. Oh, and did I mention that she wanted to get me down to $2 for the good stuff she was taking???? I said $3. I really didn't give a damn but there was no way she was taking it for free with all the manual labour involved. Just when we thought we were finally rid of her, she came back, having only made it halfway to the corner. She asked if we had a cart she could use. So I gave her a crappy granny cart that's been sitting in our closet for ages. It's amazing how she pulled off the nice wacky grandmother act just enough to get me to be her personal slave for an hour.

One strange thing is that people are really suspicious of free stuff. Someone had left a wine rack in front of the building the day before. Since it was in the garbage area I moved it to the free pile but no one was interested. Later, Derek stuck a $6 price tag on it and someone bought it 20 minutes later.

The books didn't sell as well as last time (I ended up with an $18 credit when I took them to the used book store later), but the electronics went pretty fast -- TVs, games, stereos, speakers, etc. With all of the stuff and the initial chaos of people, I didn't do a great job of pricing or keeping track of things, but the main point was to distribute the stuff so it gets used again. Typewriters, the overhead projectors, speakers in need of TLC -- all of those found new homes. We both feel pretty good about having spent the day the way we did. I have a sunburn and am completely exhausted, and we still don't have a place to move to, but I turned half a dumpster's worth of stuff into a profitable recycling project, right?

The Chinese wedding we went to Saturday in Flushing was really interesting -- mainly for the 10 course meal of unusual food involved, and I will eventually post about the 10th year high school reunion, I promise -- I have to go to bed now, though, before I fall asleep on my desk.

Posted by csageday at 11:52 PM | Comments (0)

June 09, 2005

Sebago Open House This Saturday

Two years ago I found out about Sebago Canoe Club in Canarsie, Brooklyn (right next to Diamond Point Yachting on the Google map -- it's the little dock without any monster boats attached). D and I were on a Ditmas Park house tour and came across a Sebago member with a bunch of photos of people in kayaks, canoes, and Sunfishes -- all apparently on a body of water in Brooklyn.

I was amazed that the club existed and was interested since I love being on the water in any small boat. I went to their open house a few weeks later (which was an adventure all to its own, with the train-to-the-bus maneuvering) and was thrilled to find a bunch of laid back people who all loved the same thing. One of the sailors took me out in a Sunfish and I went out with a group in a kayak. I was hooked. First, there's a completely friendly, no-pressure environment and second, there is access to a bunch of boats, a dock, and open water within reach of public transportation. It's not perfect (I use a car to get there now and I still don't get out there as much as I'd like), but it was enough to get me to sign up.

Sebago members are a diverse and friendly group, and there are plenty of long-time members willing to teach you whatever you want to know. The club is a no-frills collection of shipping containers and small buildings on a grassy piece of land between two yachting clubs. Activities include rowing, canoeing, kayaking (most popular), sailing, and some kayak fishing (you can attach a rod to the tip of your kayak or something -- greek to me). Sebago owns a bunch of boats for general use and organizes plenty of paddles, sailing cruises, rowing clinics, etc. At the moment the club is undergoing some major renovations since it became part of the NYC parks dept last year, but this means it will eventually graduate from a Port-a-Potty to actual plumbing.

The dock is on a basin that feeds into Jamaica Bay, which has a couple of small islands (good for picnics) and is full of interesting birds. There's an inlet to a little pond on one island that's only accessible via kayak. On the water out there on a nice day, you'd never know you were in Brooklyn. Sailing in the bay took some adjusting for me since I'm used to lake sailing, but it's lots of fun. Sebago also has a cabin at Lake Sebago in upstate New York, where I'm taking a weekend kayak course this month (I'm in denial about the apartment search. I'm going to pack on weeknights and hope D finds a great place. That's the plan.). Sebago actually started way back in 1933 -- there's some history and some good old photos here.

There are Saturday morning paddles each week that are open to the public, but if you're at all interested in Sebago, visit their open house this Saturday (directions here). There's a reasonable annual fee and a work requirement (it's all volunteer and pretty low budget) -- if you don't mind trekking out there it's a great club to be a part of.

Posted by csageday at 12:56 AM | Comments (0)

May 17, 2005

Parking is a Nightmare in Park Slope

I brought my car into the city last week and have been reacquainted with the ordeal of Parking The Damn Car. The car spends its winters in New Jersey, in a nice secluded driveway where there are no street cleanings, no traffic cops, no drive-by sideswipes, and no auto thefts, and where my father -- a True Friend to All Automobiles -- keeps it from falling apart. In the summer, I keep it in the city so I can go upstate and get to Sebago without taking three trains and a bus.

When I first started keeping my car in the city I was happy to have it but astounded by the ritual of parking -- and the incredible lengths that people take to park their cars. I have watched someone drive FOUR BLOCKS in reverse, slowly, following some movie-goers leaving the theater and heading to their car. I have see people "steal" spots by squeezing into a spot from behind while someone else who has been waiting, with their turn signal on, to parallel park (this usually results in a loud confrontation). I have ripped my own side mirror off my car while backing up too quickly to grab a spot that opened up half a block behind me. I have scotch-taped a car-shaped note "Park me!" note to Derek's toothbrush. I've been in bed, lights out, when I've remembered that I need to park the car that night or the following morning. We have an iPhoto Album called "Parking Ticket" from an unsuccessful attempt to fight a ticket with evidence. And last but not least, my car was pretty badly sideswiped while parked in Windsor Terrace. I like to think that the residents knew I was using their neighborhood for parking and decided to send me a message. It was probably a renegade car service, but the aura of a very competitive, possibly Mafia-controlled parking hierarchy persists in my mind.

Anyway, my first summer of parking was 2003, and I was so frustrated and amazed that I wrote up what I was going through. It was a pre-blog blog entry. If you're a parking junkie and want to share my pain, read on. If you have any insider advice, share it, will you? It's pretty long, though -- I'll forgive you if you skip this one.

Parking, from September 2003

I have just returned from moving my car to a new parking spot, 3 avenues and 3 blocks away from my apartment. Finding the spot took a half an hour, since I am a novice and don't know this business well enough to scout quickly. I still have to squint at the signs on each block to see which day they have to be cleaned. I know the basics now, which is much more than I knew a few months ago.

I know here is a charmed time -- the early evening, in which prime spots can be had right on my block. There are other charmed times that are unpredictable, unless you're really good, and always seem to happen just after you've parked your car a mile away and walked uphill for a good ten minutes.

I know that summer is easier than any other season, and that parking at night at the end of a long weekend can be impossible. I know that if I'm too close to a hydrant, or do anything else wrong, I will get a ticket. I know how expensive these violations are. I know where the hydrants and driveways are on my block, and a couple of neighboring ones.

I know to go directly to the Mon/Tues areas if I need something on Thursday night. I know where spots can be found on Friday morning, and I know to look around the corner for garbage trucks on narrow blocks before turning into them in the morning. I know a little about etiquette -- if you see someone leaving, turn the blinker on and get behind the spot, leaving them room to exit. Grab it as soon as possible. Park close to the curb. Lock the club onto the back of the steering wheel, because it's harder to saw that way (possibly a novice habit, as I've already stopped doing that). Don't park near to auto mechanic garages. Avoid: the park, questionable blocks, below 4th avenue. Go south if you're in a pickle.

If you're hopeless, there's a parking garage on 11th and 8th Ave. I have not used that yet and would probably consider parking in a completely different neighborhood and taking the train home, or parking in a spot that's only good for a few hours, before forking over the cash they ask for. I can't say that for sure, though. If I were tired enough I might do anything. Looking for parking is such a monotonous, frustrating, pointless, mind-numbing task.

Another bit of knowledge I've gained: There is an elite force of parking veterans in each Brooklyn neighborhood. The owners of brownstones, if they don't have their own driveway, seem to have a secret system that I have not cracked. First, they always have spots on their block. Second, someone will double-park their car while the street-cleaner goes by, so they can grab the space as soon as it's legal again. I don't know yet whether the owners themselves do this or whether they hire a parking guru that only owners know about, but I have a feeling that know-how and money are involved. They're all in on it together, somehow. Perhaps there are parking posses -- a group on my block, for instance. The grumpy men in the building across the street have probably been doing this for decades. A few long-time resident families probably control most of the spaces on the block.

For a while, there was a deep hole in the pavement across the street, toward 7th Avenue, which I guessed was related to plumbing reconstruction. It was surrounded by flimsy sawhorse-things, and I normally wouldn't have given it any thought, except that a parking space opened up just behind it while I was waiting for one (another tactic I've developed -- double park and be patient until something opens up -- which can be infuriating because you can't read or you'll miss it, and you can't listen to the radio or the battery might go dead, and if you're in a rush, the block will show no sign of movement). Suddenly, as I pulled into position, close to the hole, I realized that I could easily lodge a tire in the hole if I misjudged the delicate art of pulling the front end in while parallel parking. So I let Derek do it, and he parked rather far away from the actual hole, which was fine my me. I checked the car a couple of times during that week and noticed that space had opened up behind the car as well. I thought of moving the car on the way to work one morning, but decided against it because I'd have to undo the Club and I was in a rush. A bad decision, apparently. When I finally got into the car to move it, I noticed a little white, handwritten note on my windshield. It started with "Please", but the handwriting seemed to suggest that it wasn't meant to be all that polite. It said "Please be kind enough not to take up 2 parking spaces!!" I felt miserable, as if I had been banished forever from the club of savvy parkers. I wanted to explain about the chasm that prevented parking too close, or explain that I wasn't the one who parked it, so it wasn't really my fault ... but I knew my excuses were pathetic. Especially when I saw cars parked up right against the barrier around the hole for the rest of the week.

When I first kept my car in the city for a week, I was thrilled. A car meant that we could go anywhere -- upstate, cross-country, to parts of Brooklyn not listed on the subway map. It meant I could buy furniture and transport it home myself -- or take laundry to someplace other than the godawful Russian establishment nearby, or go that big Queens shopping center for kicks. At first, it was an illicit pleasure, something that my father didn't want me to do because, as he explained to me in detail, the car was insured as a "garage car" in New Jersey that was only used during weekends and vacations (it had Jersey plates). If it got stolen or into an accident, the insurance company might somehow find out (how?) that it had been staying in Brooklyn and they could refuse coverage. I heard this argument constantly while I kept the car in the city over the summer (easy parking season) and finally got my act together to get it registered in New York (quite an ordeal). The plates were switched upstate, where we submitted all the paperwork (easier than doing it in the city) and I felt duly proud of my New York plates. Now maybe the traffic cops would treat me differently! Now maybe I wouldn't get those notes from my neighbors! Now my aggressive driving would seem authentic.

I'm still clueless about the nuts and bolts of owning a car, but I did get the thing inspected and made sure the sticker was in the windshield where it was supposed to be. At least I thought I did. I didn't realize there were supposed to be two stickers, so I got a nice $55 ticket less than a week after changing the plates. Nice little welcome-to-the-club gesture from the traffic cops.

I'm not sure this romance with having a car in the city will work out. I cannot seem to remember when I need to repark the car. I'm not used to having this extra member of the family. I need freedom but it might end up making me feel a little less free in the long run. Right now, I rely on Derek to remind me to repark -- if it weren't for him it would have been towed last week. And would be tomorrow. I have "MOVE CAR" stickies on my alarm clock and mirror, but they have lost their urgency. I need a method. This may get easier with time and it may not. We'll have to wait and see.

Posted by csageday at 01:07 AM | Comments (1)

May 12, 2005

Dean Sage House

My great-great-grandfather's house showed up on Brownstoner today. I was so excited that I posted a gushy, self-indulgent comment immediately. It's very cool that I have ancestors who lived in the same borough, though. Don't know too much about them, but isn't that house gorgeous? I know Henry Sage (father of Dean) grew up in boarding houses, made a ton of money on lumber in Albany, and gave a lot of money to Cornell to start a women's college and build a chapel. I should probably do some due diligence and find out what Dean did in Brooklyn.

Update: Henry Sage moved to Brooklyn because of "constantly expanding business interests...in 1857". There's a biography of him collecting dust somewhere. Another descendent actually went to Cornell for undergrad and asked a question about Henry on the Cornell website. Also, "Henry W. Sage was a 'warm friend' of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher at Plymouth Church in Brooklyn." My liberal roots run deep!

Posted by csageday at 05:23 PM | Comments (0)

May 03, 2005

Sakura Matsuri

The Sakura Matsuri (Cherry Blossom Festival) was held at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden this past weekend and it was gorgeous. The Garden is always perfectly maintained and full of interesting finds, although I always feel a little bitter about not being able to bring a picnic in and enjoy it while sitting on the grass. They're very particular about things and have lots of rules. But as a result the place looks like a royal estate garden and the plants take center stage. If you missed it, take a look at our photos.

Since Saturday was rainy the place was packed on Sunday and there was a bit of a line to get in. True to form, my allergies exploded the moment we were reached the Cherry Esplanade. Sneezing, watery eyes, snot everywhere -- and no Claritin in sight because I had practically no warning (not that it works anyway). They catch me by surprise every year, and every year they get a tiny bit worse. I place all blame squarely on the air quality in the city. Days like today make me think seriously about Derek's preferred solution of eliminating traffic completely from Manhattan.

Anyway, the cherry blossoms were something else -- you can sit underneath them and be completely surrounded by plump pink bouquets. And since the lines for food or beer were ridiculously long and the stage was pretty hard to get to, that's pretty much all we did. I worked on my shawl, Derek read about Argentina and we both sat back and tried to enjoy the sun and assault of pink without succumbing to the floating masses of sneeze-inducing pollen. Dinner at Scottaditto made us feel better afterward -- the $15 prix fix there feels like a steal. The $20 we spent on drinks kind of evened out the price, but it was still a fantastic meal, complete with good coffee and a glass of porto at the end.

Posted by csageday at 12:38 AM | Comments (0)

April 19, 2005

Keeping the place this clean is just not natural...

Excuse me while I use this post to rant about our aparment being sold. Again. I'll try to write about something that appeals to more than two people tomorrow.

We've really liked reading this revenge-against-the-real-estate-broker prank for obvious reasons. Our brokers aren't nuts, but they're super nice in that bright, happy, Corcoran way. They never fail to ask us how we are when they call to schedule times to show the place. They ask in a concerned tone which means you can't really get away with not having a civil conversation when you really want to be extremely bitchy and bothered. I mean, keeping the place clean is a pain and we're not gaining anything from this arrangement (seems like they could at least pay for brunch during the open houses). When they call, they call D at work and then on his cell (he ignores all communication unless absolutely necessary), then my cell, then my work AND they email. The assault makes you want to scream but they're just so DELIGHTFUL on the phone you don't have a choice.

We have little victories, though. A deal fell through for the place (sigh), and the light went out above our door just before an open house. Last night, we cleaned out the fridge but were too lazy to take the trash out this morning, so the entire place smells exactly like the back of a garbage truck. It was so bad it woke D up at 5am this morning. I think garbage slime seeped into the floor or something -- we've Lysoled and cleaned but it's lingering. I have an ozone-air-purifying thing going now. These things make me happy because, like an idiot, I think it might push the price down. But our lease will be up long before that happens. And not selling the place means we'll have 10 more open houses. I just found a very long piece of dark brown hair on the floor -- probably from an open house visitor. UGH.

Posted by csageday at 01:47 AM | Comments (0)

April 11, 2005

Real Estate Closure

As for the real estate bind we're in, we've argued and calculated and we've spent hours staring at the floor with anguished expressions and ... we've decided not to buy our place. Key phrase: "Too much of a financial burden." I repeat this when I start to get upset about leaving and it doesn't really help, but whenever we sit down to go over exactly what type of committment would be expected of us we end up with a decision to rent for a while longer. If we could be sure the market would continute to rise like it's on crack it wouldn't be such a struggle. But dig into the history of New York real estate a few decades and you'll find this lovely chart:

Which goes to show that, despite what our realtors and neighbors say ... the real estate market CAN go down. Yes, Corcoran devotees, it's possible. Rising interest rates and speculation don't help. And although I'm not dead set against staying here for ten years (the amount of time it would have taken to recover a condo purchase in 1989) I'm not sure I'll feel the same way in five years. Plus, our careers need attention, and we're not ruling out a move to a place that's a little quieter and greener. So "Adventures with Cindy and Derek in Brooklyn Real Estate" comes to a close, for now.

Posted by csageday at 01:06 AM | Comments (0)

April 03, 2005

Marilyn Monroe and Basquiat

We made it to the Brooklyn Museum despite the torrential downpour and caught both the Marilyn Monroe show and the very popular (and packed) Basquiat show. The lines for everything were long (the coat check line was endless) and I had an embarrassing run-in with the membership people, who were skeptical about my "I thought I renewed my membership in December" argument. The whole thing was exhausting and we left before the dance-party social scene picked up -- hard museum floors and big, quiet museum galleries make me sleepy -- but I'm glad we went.

There are some gorgeous shots in the Marilyn show, but there's an aura of sadness over the whole thing. She clearly found a successful character to play early on -- the glamorous, sexy, suggestive, blond model -- and then got stuck with it. In some video clips you can see her playing to the camera, changing her expression constantly for photographers, never really breaking from the photo-shoot persona. It reminded me a bit of Klaus Nomi and of Andy Kaufman, who similarly adopted fictional characters that the public latched on to and forever associated them with. Having to play that character out for years and years without moving on to something new takes its toll -- you become very good at that character but you lose your sense of self (and your self-confidence, in Marilyn's case) in the process.

For the Basquiat show we took a tour with a group, which gave us a good overview of the work. Looking at Basquiat is like learning a language -- phrases, words, and symbols are repeated on different canvases, and the same images appear in different contexts. Our tour guide gave us some clues about some of these symbols and repeated words and also helped put things in context a bit. Still, we both felt like we'd have to take a day off from work and come back to make sense of it all.

The influence of Gray's Anatomy is apparent in the skeletal figures and detached limbs -- there's a nightmarish, dislocated feel to the figures that you sometimes sense when looking at anatomical drawings. There's a lot of anger and distortion and energy. In some cases, the process of thought seems to be represented by the collage of images and words and color on the canvas. Sometimes a large head with a black outline and bared teeth and a hodgepodge of images and words inside the skull gives the impression of the burden of too much thought/anger/knowledge. The bright colors make things even more intense. There's a good deal of cynicism -- a lot of references to racial inequality and corporate exploitation of individuals. Because some of the work is so complex -- hundreds of little illustrations or words make up a piece, standing in front of it for a while pays off. The words also help set things moving for me -- possibly because I'm more comfortable with language than art. Hopefully we'll find the time to go back for a second look.

Posted by csageday at 10:20 PM | Comments (0)

April 01, 2005

Buy v. Rent Saga Continues

God I wish our real estate decision could be as easy (and as well documented) as finslippy's: They got home from suburb-shopping and realized that -- oops! -- it's just too expensive. End of suburb v. city decision-making agony.

Not so for us. Yesterday I was all set to buy. I played around with our financial data in Excel and we made fun of the mortgage broker guy's super clean-cut photo (which appears on the cover of a little guide-to-real-estate book, an about-the-firm sheet, AND on the actual CD that came with the whole package -- he looks earnest in the photo and the photo is EVERYWHERE).

Today I was rent, rent, rent all the way. No way are we buying anything. What if we want to move to Vermont and grow asparagus? What if we want to spend six months upstate doing nothing? Plus, a friend sent a way-too-charming photo of a house in Portland, OR. On top of that, NPR mentioned something about gardening this morning and after the Macy's show I have garden-envy. So today I'm all about saving oodles of cash while renting a one-bedroom in the Slope for another year. The closing costs alone would be 20k if we bought. I mean, what moron would pay that?

Tomorrow I'll probably be gung-ho about buying again. Everyone with advice says to buy, but all the research we've done suggests renting. I read an article somewhere recently about people who are missing the little part of the brain (something right behind your nose) responsible for decision making. Clearly, that part of my brain is damaged, or was never there in the first place. We'll see whether this weekend's open house generates offers, as our brokers promise, and we're forced to make up our minds.

Posted by csageday at 12:31 AM | Comments (0)

March 30, 2005

Brooklyn Museum

There's just no reason NOT to go to the Brooklyn Museum this weekend.

Marilyn's exhibit has been extended, Basquiat is there (seems to be drawing a crowd), and it's First Saturday. Plus, we have a membership so we get in free. And if we go on Sunday maybe it'll take our minds off the strangers wandering through our place at the open house.

Posted by csageday at 02:34 PM | Comments (0)

March 25, 2005

That's It. We're Renting. Maybe.

Everything we've read points to a real estate market with inflated prices, propped up by low interest rates, and glutted with investors. Prices are rising higher than incomes and inflation, and buyers are overextending themselves with short-term adjustable-rate loans. It's also cheaper to rent.

Curbed and Brownstoner -- good real estate blogs -- have funny stories about crazy eager buyers and the innovative ways that brokers are taking advantage of them. At one open house, the roof caved in DURING the open house and the place still went for above asking.

Today, the entire American press corps seems to have taken up the story and "real estate bubble" is the catch-phrase. AP has an article suggesting a cooling market and a The New York Times piece likens the current real estate shenanigans to the dot com boom. Last week, The Economist recommended renting over buying last week in an article titled "To Buy or Not to Buy?" (same as my blog post title except with correct punctuation!)

There may not be an overnight panic or crash, as there was in the stock market, but things could even out a bit over the next few years. Prices could stay flat, and if we still want to buy later we'll be in a better financial position to do so.

I just spent my day cleaning up our apartment so an evil, scheming Corcoran broker can come over and case the place, calculate his commission, drool, and take pictures. I feel awful. I become very attached to places I live in, so I have a feeling that this process is going to be difficult. I keep thinking that we should just ignore all the boring details mentioned above and buy the place anyway. As D says, damned if you do, damned if you don't.

On the up side, a clean apartment and a limited lease means we'll have a party soon. But no ogling the place and no offers, please. We'll tell the broker you have bad credit and are using a stolen identity.

My brief adventure in real estate has led me to a few good blogs/sites -- some I like, some I do not -- here's a beginner's list, for interested readers.

• This person is debating a move from the city (Park Slope) to the suburbs (possibly Montclair, NJ?) and has asked for feedback. TONS of people have posted useful comments about the pros and cons of each.
• Brownstoner -- documents an ongoing restoration of a brownstone and has regular NYC real estate related posts
• Curbed -- the most entertaining of the RE blogs. Great info, good gossip, too.
• The NYT real estate page (no brainer) -- where to go first.
• Corcoran -- evil bloodsucking brokerage with good website design and information about sales over the past few years. Probably all lies, lies, lies, as D would say. Lots of pictures, floor plans, etc. Obscene prices. Sales geniuses. Browse with caution.
• Aguayo & Huebner -- bkyln broker, good finds.
• Mary Kay Gallagher -- queen of Ditmas Park real estate

(graphic above by Rick LaForce via Inman Blog via Curbed)

Posted by csageday at 06:01 PM | Comments (0)

March 20, 2005

Open House Hopping

We went to eight open houses in three neighborhoods today, and to squeeze them all in we must have speed-walked several miles and climbed 20 flights of stairs. Getting to each place, asking the right questions, gauging it's value-to-price ratio, and then running to the next place completely wore us out. We have a better idea of what's out there and what's important to us (and I now share D's distrust of real estate brokers), but we're not much closer to answering the question of buying vs. renting for another year.

We started in Prospect Heights, which we had walked through yesterday. The Brooklyn Museum is nearby, Park Slope is within walking distance, Vanderbilt Ave. has some nice shops, and there are some pretty blocks. Some buildings are not in great shape, though, and the neighborhood doesn't have the same feel as the Slope. It's a mix of big pre-war apartment buildings -- some with serious security grating on the doors -- more modern apartment buildings, frame houses, and brownstones. We started with a nice 2 BR coop with high ceilings and details on St. John's Place, then moved to a not-so-nice 3 BR co-op on Lincoln Place. The difference between those two was an important one -- the first had original details and floors, and the second was renovated in 1989 and had some pretty ugly modern touches. In one of Derek's old apartments, I used to think the old moldings were annoying because you can never get rid of the layers of paint and all the missing parts and dents and whatnot. Modern renovations, if done decently enough, haven't bothered me in the past. Today, though, I preferred the places with the details -- an old fireplace mantle or window casement -- to the modern ones.

We also took a look at a smallish place on Park Place in a brownstone. It was close enough to Flatbush to make trips to the food coop easy, but it wasn't quite big enough. There was clever use of the space in the kitchen, though -- they built the counter under the stairs to get more counter space.

Since there was no bus in sight, we walked as quickly as we could to 12th street (passing the tail end of the St. Patrick's Day parade on the way -- we always miss that one!). Corcoran had completely renovated one building and had four condos for sale. They were all floor-throughs billed as two bedrooms, but where the second bedroom would fit is a bit of a mystery. Everything was brand-spanking new -- the floors, the granite countertops, the white bathrooms -- even the brokers on each floor looked fresh (argh). Appliances weren't in yet, but I assume various stainless-steel refrigerators, stoves, and dishwashers will appear soon. The whole place was a bit sterile for my taste although the location was great.

With one major exception, the places we saw after that got better and better. The coop across the street was a fourth floor walk-up, but it was really nice. It had a modern kitchen (blue tile, stainless steel appliances) opening up to a living room with a working fireplace. There were 1.5 bathrooms and 3 smallish bedrooms tucked into the back, and there's a roof deck. Plusses: layout, space, location, kitchen. Drawbacks: Four-floor walk-up, far from park, co-op (and peppy Corcoran brokers, but thankfully they don't come with the apartment). After talking things through, I decided this was the one I'd buy today if price weren't an issue and we had to make a decision.

We stopped at home for a quick lunch and change of shoes (it was raining lightly all day), then took the F two stops to Windsor Terrace. WT is a more working-class neighborhood with flag-flying two story houses and some apartment buildings near PPSW (Prospect Park Southwest). For kicks, we started with a house on Vanderbilt near Greenwood Cemetery. It was affordable, but for good reason -- half of the bathroom floor and a chunk of the dining room ceiling had gone missing, and pretty much everything needed work. The basement was finished (once) but D couldn't stand up in it. Next, we saw a place on PPSW. The details were great -- especially the oak beams in the dining room ceiling and the arched doorways. It wasn't in perfect shape though, the kitchen was a bit outdated, and there was no w/d.

Finally, we saw a gorgeous two bedroom co-op on Windsor Place. The owners were doing the selling and they had obviously done a great job with the place. It has a very open feel -- a living room, dining room, and kitchen all connect to each other. They redid the electrical, phone, and cable wiring and ripped out a few walls. The kitchen is new and tastefully done and has tons of cabinet space. The dining room and living rooms have views of the park (and the lake). Near the door, a wall was removed to make a little home-office nook. A hallway connects the living/dining/kitchen area to two bedrooms and the bathroom.

Of the places we saw, my two favorites are the 12th street and Windsor Place coops. They're both a bit more expensive than our condo, and both have more space and light and are in better overall condition. On the other hand, I'm starting to see the wisdom of buying something in a great location -- though we can't get more space and light into our current condo, we could put in the work to make ours look better over time. And given the prices of places we saw, it's clear that ours is priced according to the market. The market's just on speed.

Posted by csageday at 11:51 PM | Comments (1)