These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

I'm pretty sure that for as long as I've been able to eat solid food it has been safe to say that my favorite dish is easily "Hamburgers and french fries."

I'm proud to say, almost 27 years later, my taste buds have not changed. Living in NYC I have had the opportunity to sample some of the world's best hamburgers. I've savored them, written about them, talked about them and dragged my friends and family high and low across this city to try all the "it" burgers of the moment. I have never really set out, however, to try specific french fries at other establishments. What's funny about this is that I truly love french fries. Maybe even more than hamburgers. I would eat them every day if I could. I think I've been so concerned about finding the best burger, that I'm not paying enough attention to the fries. They just seem like an added bonus to my meal.

This is all going to change.

I read an article today in New York Magazine about Alain Ducasse sampling and judging some NYC fries, and now I feel like I need to do the same. I owe it to..somebody.

I've had a few of his top picks, and he's very much right on his descriptions of the ones I've tried. I think some of my favorites come from Pomme Frites -- a place where I have in fact made the journey just to sample some fried-potato goodness.

From his list, I do see that I need to try a few more restaurants in the city. I don't think that will be too much of a problem.

Halloween Dog Parade

I will be attending the Halloween Dog Parade in Tompkins Square Park this Sunday, October 25th at 12 noon.

I have been waiting to attend this event for YEARS. For some reason every year I'm away from the city the weekend of the Parade and I am always resigned to look at photos of the event in my office on the following Monday. There was never a sadder sight.

I would like to dress up Rozie, but she hates costumes, so we might have to bring her as she is -- a little package of pancake mix.

A Single Soul Dwelling in Two Bodies

My mom wrote a beautiful article for my Aunt's new website, Not Done Yet, clothing line she started for the "generation that dreams big, works hard and lives a spirited and healthy lifestyle." My mom's contributed a piece on why she is "not done yet" and chose to write about her dear friend, Carla, who passed away this year after a long, hard battle with cancer. We all miss her terribly -- and I think my mom does a wonderful job explaining why Carla was so important to her and my family:

Carla was my best friend for almost 32 years.

When asked of Aristotle, “What is a friend?” he replied, “A single soul dwelling in two bodies.” This defined the friendship between Carla and me, one that was true, deep and rare.

Carla and I met, fittingly, at childbirth classes. She was the teacher; I was her student. She coached me through the labor of my first child, and her husband, our family doctor, delivered my daughter, and later delivered my son and another daughter. Thus began a beautiful and lasting friendship between our families, and a relationship between Carla and me that became so much more than just a friendship.

Carla and I were, in almost every sense of the word, sisters. Both of us raised three children (supporting each other all the way), we taught in the same school (even walked to work together every day), shared a love of the outdoors and a passion for cooking (and eating!).

Carla and I were inseparable exercise partners. We walked between three and five miles, six days a week, and made a stop along the way at our local gym four days a week. Living in upstate New York means that we walked in rain, shine, cold (below zero!) or snow. Mother Nature couldn’t stop us.

Carla died in May, losing a long and hard fought battle against cancer.

Her absence has left a hole in my heart and a void in my life. But, I am NOT DONE walking. I continue to walk every day, but where there was one partner for me, there are now three. Her daughters relocated here two years ago so they could be close to their ailing mother. They have taken their place beside me. We need each other now, and our daily walks have helped us begin to heal. We laugh, we cry, we talk about Carla, we talk about the young children they are now raising in the same small town Carla and I raised our families. Being with these young women keeps me close to Carla. As it was once said, “When it hurts to look back, and you’re scared to look ahead, you can look beside you and your best friend will be there.”

Carla, and now her three beautiful daughters, will always be there, right beside me.

Things That Go "Bump" In the Night

Last night I learned two things about myself.

1. I am really afraid of the dark.
2. I still believe that my bed will protect me from everything that is evil.

I woke up around 4am to a very large crash in my apartment. My heart was racing, I started sweating -- but still, I sat in my bed. I felt like I was 8 years old again, where the bed was a safe haven from the snakes underneath it and the monsters outside the blankets. I honestly believed last night if a burglar was in my house, somehow I would be just fine as long as I stayed under the covers in my bed, pretending to be asleep. Just like I did when I was a kid.

Obviously, my bed kept me safe as I am sitting here today, typing this post. It turns out that no one was breaking into my apartment through the front door (or the balcony.) What actually happened was that I packed my poor little NYC closet so full, that the entire thing came crashing down. At 4am.

I lived to tell the tale -- thank you bed, for always being there to protect me.

New York, I Love You

I will definitely be seeing New York, I Love You -- you just can't beat the scenery in a flick like this.

I will probably cry like I do when I watch Love Actually. Maybe I'll even have a moment.

Watch the trailer.

Pretty Sure That's Not Ok

It's been reported over the past week that David Letterman was blackmailed for $2 million dollars because of multiple sexual affairs he had with his staff over the years. We've heard this story many times before -- with politicians, actors and businessmen. It's another high-powered man who took advantage of the women working around him. What I find strange about this story, however, is that so many people are extremely quick to forgive David and defend his honor.

Craig Ferguson defended Letterman on his late night show. He said, "If we are now holding late-night talk show hosts to the same moral accountability as we hold politicians or clergymen, I'm out," he said. "I'm gone."

If I understand this correctly, if you are not a politician or a clergyman, it's cool for you to have an affair?

Letterman's guests are also making an attempt to show some sympathy. On his show last night, Steve Martin told Letterman that the incident "proves that you're a human being. And we weren't really that sure before." Sure, it's a joke -- but why does taking advantage of women and cheating on your wife and family prove that you're a "human being"?

Last time I checked, it proved that you were a schmuck.

“When it's three o'clock in New York, it's still 1938 in London.”

Living in New York City, I find that at the strangest times I feel so lucky to have made it my home. I'm sure other people feel the same sense of happiness about where they chose to live -- particularly people who live in beautiful places. I'm sure people in Colorado walk out of their house and stare up at gorgeous mountains and say, "Man, I love living here." They're right -- but that's obvious. Of course it's great to look at something beautiful and feel lucky.

The other day I was walking out of the subway. I took a really crowded 4 train to Union Square, and while anchovied between 100 other people, tried to climb a very narrow staircase to the daylight. At that moment, I was like "Man, I can't believe I live here!" What's funny is I actually laughed at myself for choosing that exact moment to think about how much I loved New York. If using dirty, overcrowded and abused public transportation makes me feel great, then so be it.

A week later I felt the same sense of luckiness when I was biking up the West Side Highway. Granted, this is "beautiful" in a sense -- at least to New Yorkers. If we see a patch of pavement dedicated to doing activity and not to be used by cars, we consider this our "Rocky Mountain." Regardless, as I shared the path with the other bikers and runners, and inhaled the exhaust from the rush hour traffic, I felt great.

I think that's what makes New York so unique. If anything, it's hard to not have a sense of pride about living in it, regardless about how lucky you feel about taking the subway.