Ayuda me!

Watching a two year old eat is pretty entertaining. Yesterday as part of his lunch I gave little man some sliced apple and peanut butter. He would scoop up the peanut butter on the apple and then eat the pb using the apple only as a spoon. It was pretty funny considering the whole reason for giving him apples and peanut butter is that the two flavors go good together. He also spears his pesto-covered tortellini with his little fork and then grabs the nugget with his other hand and shoves it in his mouth. It's pretty adorable except you have to wipe his pesto and oil covered hand for like twenty minutes after he's done.
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Most people will feel rejuvenated by spring's arrival but I feel a big case of the blahs approaching. I'm starting to burn out on some of my babysitting and I'm sleeping a lot less because I lay there and just think about how my work future is looking more and more bleak. There's nothing special about me. I'm not a lawyer taking time off. I'm not some math genius who can go into accounting. I'm not getting anywhere taking care of these kids and I'm not feeling inspired by anything. Nothing makes me want to really go out and fight for it. Let's face it, the only job I can do can be done even better by 21 year olds getting out of college with loads of internships under their belts.
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I'm sitting around hoping that my super will show up today to examine what the heck is going on with our toilet. We've always had a pretty strong flush. So strong you had to flush with the lid down for fear of your deposit flying across the bathroom on a giant rush of water. But a few weeks ago it became harder to push the plunger down and when you release it the pipe makes a crazy clang noise. It sounds like something is going to burst through the wall. You could hear it in all the other bathrooms on our line too. But recently I feel it's gotten even harder, I've noticed the other bathrooms aren't so audible anymore, and the clang is so hard it's waking me up in the morning when Mark is getting ready for work. So I mentioned it to the super who is very nice but pretty busy and the language barrier is pretty strong so I always feel embarrassed speaking to him because I should know how to tell him in Spanish but we all know the bitter story behind that...

I Walk These Rubber Streets

Ah, spring is here and love must be in the air because everywhere I go used condoms litter the ground. Oh, Inwood. How you continue to do me proud.
Anyway, I suppose that if you're the type of person who throws a used condom on the ground then I should be happy that you're using a condom and not creating a smaller version of you to join our society. Of course this leads to me thinking of reasons why there might be used condoms on the sidewalks.

*You live with your parents and don't want them to discover this item in the garbage and then you'll never be able to have what's-her-name over to the house again.

*If the Honda is a rockin' don't come a knockin'. And if you throw your soda bottles out of your car door then why not a condom?

*School kids are just playing with them to see what one looks like and then just tossing them aside after they are done giggling about how gooey it is. If this is the case that means I have to look closer to see if it really is used. But I'm not going to do that. Isn't it enough that I've thought about it this much?

So this obsession started when I was doing my babysitting. I got the girls dressed for school, gave them breakfast, bundled them up, and headed out the door with them. And as soon as we stepped out of the apartment building there was a bright pink condom right in our path.
I panicked. Why?
Because even though I was able to non-verbally and gently move the older one out of the way so she wouldn't step on it I cringed to think that any minute she was going to ask what it was...why was it there...who put it there...why is it pink...what do you use it for, can I touch it...etc.
Not only was I totally stumped at what I would say (if it was my kid I would probably just answer "It's a condom." and then just not elaborate) But with this kid there is never just one question. She is QUEEN of the Thousand Questions. I mean...she just goes on and on and on and on and on to where you just want to shake her. Plus, I feel it's not my place to give her a 5 year old version of a sex talk. And it was only 8 o'clock in the morning, I hadn't had breakfast and I wasn't ready to deal with it.

So since then the fluorescent condoms have been a no-show which I'm grateful for. The standard issue ones are still around but those are harder for her to spot. I'm all for people having safe sex. I'd just rather they keep everyone else out of it. Between the condoms and all the people who aren't picking up after their dogs we're running out of space to walk.

Mini-Escape

Happy March!
People across New York City mourned the end of mid-winter recess as children went back to school. Well by people I mean teachers and students. Parents on the other hand are probably thrilled to get the kids out of the house.
This means I'm back to work shuttling two sisters to and from school and other various babysitting gigs. Oh gee golly!

Some of my charges did not need me last week due to the lack of school and so Mark and I decided to take that opportunity to hightail it out of the city. We considered Savannah, GA, I dreamed of Florida, and even for one second of madness I imagined an island easily hopped to from JFK. So we booked our trip and headed off last Thursday to...Philadelphia, PA! WoooHooo.
It got to the point where we realized everything was either too far by train or too expensive by faster airplane. I discovered that Megabus was giving away free tickets, which when full price aren't very expensive anyway, and so I booked a round trip to Philly, found a hotel room in the Center City area and away we went. Mind you, a semi-warm beach would have been great but when it came down to it we just wanted to wake up and not be in our own apartment with a parrot screaming in the living room.

Hmmm. Philadelphia. What can I say? Strangely sketch and quaint all at the same time. Of course there is beautiful, colonial architecture everywhere. That's always fun if you like that sort of stuff (not total sarcasm, I do find enjoyment in lovely structures). In Center City, where we stayed, there are restaurant options aplenty. We had vegetarian Chinese, food court Indian, trendy Mexican, convenience store 'hoagies' (aka best sandwich EVER), amazing soft pretzels, artful chocolate, nice wine bars. Etc. Etc. Even the breakfast at the hotel was a shade better than breakfasts I've had at other hotels.
However, wander around the tiny sidewalks or hop aboard a bus or subway and if you're not blind and have any sort of social conscience at all you'll realize there is a serious problem with race and poverty. I'm not claiming to know anything about Philadelphia but it was quite clear that people of color do not have it easy there. And that's coming from someone who grew up and lives in a neighborhood where the majority is considered a minority and public services help make ends meet for most of the households.

But anyway-it was nice to get away. So now we're back. We're busy. We're already exhausted.

Literary Woe

I've been reading Brick Lane by Monica Ali for what feels like eternity. I had requested it from the NYPL and eagerly awaited its arrival. I started reading it and didn't quickly dive in. I like it but I don't loooove it. But then one day after starting it I made the mistake of looking at the New Arrivals shelf and spotted Claude & Camille which is a novel based on Claude Monet and his longtime model/lover/wife.

Because it was considered "new" (some of their new books are actually old news) I'm not allowed to renew it (I think) and it has a shorter lending period so I put aside Brick Lane and dove into the Claude & Camille which was easy because I did really like it.
But then I was done and it was time to finish Brick Lane which was starting to grow on me. I wanted to finish it so I could pick up my new book just in time for our little trip to Philadelphia (we're dying to get out of the city so we end up going to another city...all the beaches are too far away and expensive) So here I am on a lazy President's Day reading, reading, reading away. Something happens and the story gets a little more interesting and I'm thinking "Wow, I'm near the end...what a peculiar way to end the story." Reading, reading, reading and then I get to the end and realize that a giant chunk of the novel is missing. W-T-F.

I was so annoyed. I was annoyed that I won't be able to scratch it off my list. I was annoyed for the last however many persons used the book and failed to alert the library they returned it to that a chunk of the book was missing. I mean...the only excuse really is that you're the one who was in possession of the book when the pages fell out and now you're afraid that you'll be responsible for paying for it. Which is still just crap. These books get handled by so many people I'm sure you wouldn't have to pay for it.
Anyway, the guy who checks out my books most of the time is this very friendly, puppy dog, kinda guy (there's one cantankerous grumpster I try to avoid) and I told him and he had a deep sigh and shook his head. He signed me up to get the book again and so now I wait...

Meanwhile, I'm reading Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth which apparently is a ginormous bestseller and is getting refreshed attention because they made a miniseries out of it. (AKA That's how I heard of it, though I've not seen the miniseries)
Also, I now am the new owner of a nook, Barnes & Noble's e-reader so I will be adding a feature to the side bar. I'll have my standard Reading Right Now but I'll also have a Reading on nook. Not that this changes anything for you, dear blog reader. You'll still poop and pee and move on with your life. But...just so you know. However, in the future when more of us have nooks we can share books with each other. Apparently you can "lend" a book to a person one time for 14 days. So...one day it may happen.

A Small McProblem

This is an embarrassing tale. They say the first step in recovering from an addiction is to admit that you have one.
My name is Jamie and I am a Mc-aholic.

I am addicted to McDonald's. It's true. My addiction has been under control for a few years now but every once in awhile I slip up. I have a little bit. It silences the voices in my head asking for it. But then I drown in guilt.

If you knew me in my youth (ah...youth) you would know that I didn't grow up in an organic-vegetable, dinner around the table kind of home. We ate rice and beans and meat. And takeout. Lots of takeout which is normal in NYC, the land of Chinese take-out and pizza shops. Throw in a low-income neighborhood (you know, before Inwood was getting blurbs in New York magazine and yoga studios) with fast-food restaurants and not one but two McDonald's and you become a member of childhood obesity before people are even talking about childhood obesity.

Then there is the summer of my 13^th year. I had my first summer job with childhood friends and we spent every, yes, every evening dining away at McDonald's. Instead of going out and drinking and smoking weed my friends and I found our kicks seeing who could eat the most chicken nuggets in a 20 nugget container. I kid you not. Oh...here is a picture of me from that year at school:

Anyway, in college I realized that this stuff is evil and guys won't make out with you if you're a beast (at least in my personal experience) and I actually did enjoy the feeling of a good workout so I slowly lost 40 pounds. I still have really poor habits when eating. Fresh veggies just don't exist. Not that I don't like them, I just don't make them. And weight is a constant battle.

But I am an addict. Sometimes I just need some special sauce. Or a fry. And I do it in secret. Or I did before this post. I would wait until Mark was not home and eat my snack. Possibly even throw the paper out in a separate garbage can instead of our kitchen. Yes, I know this screams SICKNESS. Actually while reading Kathy Griffin's book she describes doing the same thing and it made me feel better.

Well I write this post because I've been scared straight. Well...maybe straighter. A few weeks ago Mark was out all day and I had had a great 'eating' day. No snacks, regular meals, a really good workout. But then here it was, dinner time, nothing at home and so I went in and bought some food. I ate it at home and within seconds I was sick as a dog. I felt lethargic. I felt my heart slowing. I was sweaty. I was so mad and disgusted at myself that I somehow managed to get off the couch and went back to the gym.
I went back at 9pm because I was so pissed that I had eaten so much fat and calories. Of course it was a mediocre cardio session as my body was riddled with McPoison. I would say that the only good that comes out of that experience was that I was so aware of my body's reaction that I'll run the other way when the golden light beckons me.

Nerds Drink Lattes

**
Nerd Alert: I went to the gym this evening and the girl next to me was reading a book. I was able to squint enough to see that it was The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett which was just requested from the library. She looked nerdy enough (i.e. just like me) that I figured I could start a small interaction. I asked her if she was enjoying it and she said "Oh man, it's soooo good."
Now I'm really excited.

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Mark didn't think this was a funny thought but I was walking to the grocery store the other day and then it just sort of hit me (strangely enough I was walking down Seaman Avenue) Whose idea was it to perform the first circumcision? I mean...hygiene, no hygiene, that takes a lot of guts and trust, no?
Hey...I've got this skin here attached to a part of me that appears to be extremely sensitive. I'm thinking I should just slice it off. You want to go next? No...better yet...let's do it to a baby.

**
I'm now the new owner of an espresso machine. I babysit for a woman who gets TONS of free shit and while she 'pays it forward' a lot of the time it's mostly candles and trinkets.(don't get me wrong, my hoarding tendencies love candles and trinkets) There have been some great things: Jessica Simpson jeans and a fun purse (which all ended up belonging to my sister) she recently gave me a slip of paper from KRUPS. All I had to do was put my mailing address on it, stick it in an envelope, and send it on it's merry way. Three weeks later a brand new espresso machine was sitting on my kitchen counter. I had more lattes this past weekend than I've probably had in a year. And it was awesome....

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Nerd Alert: Mark has become super active in the education world as he tries to develop a career out of teaching experience. He was a member of the VIVA project New York Task Force and got to go to Albany to present the work to the NY Senior Deputy Commissioner of Education. He's also starting a website which will help teachers help each other build curriculum. I think. Anyway, if you read this and you're a teacher in NY visit these sites. The Opendoor site is still in it's infancy stage but if you're interested in learning more feel free to contact Mark through the site. He eats this shit for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. I'm not allowed to talk to him. But sometimes I squeeze his shoulders as he's hunched over the laptop.

The Lazy Blogger

I have plenty of time to write posts but I either forget what I wanted to write about or I think I won't be able to make it funny or interesting. Or maybe it's not really substantial enough to be a blog post. But then I realize that every post is not funny or interesting or substantial enough but I write it anyway so why not just write a post and maybe someone will be interested. So I think from now on I'll write even when it's just little nuggets of thought. Which might have been the original idea for me starting this blog anyway. Well that and to document my trip to Colombia which of course was not the most positive, funny, or interesting. So there.

Some random nuggets while I ruminate on a larger post:

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I dream of living in a neighborhood where everyone, including 80-yr-old grandmothers, don't spit giant globs of mucus on an extremely constant basis. (Read: I want to live where there are lots of white people. But the kind that don't chew tobacco) I'm so sick of of seeing spit flying. Or hearing hunks of mucus come through someone's throat. Am I grossing you out? Well then just try living in my shoes. Well not really because then you'll just be walking on mucus. But that's my point. Dear slightly-fresh-off-the-boat latinos of Inwood: It's fucking disgusting. Have I offended you with my daring generalization? Well guess what- I'm offended by the disgusting habit.

**
Okay- so you're a college educated girl. You've had mini-adventures. Most of them revolved around jobs so you were, in some way, developing a resume (little accent thingy on the e. New operating system again and can't add it.) Character building. All that stuff. You live in a major metropolis. You had what some would consider a solid job. But it was sucking your soul and you had to leave. And you feel lost and confused and angry (very angry).
So instead of having a nice apartment on a street where very few people spit with cute, young children, and a fairly satisfying career you babysit for other young-ish couples who have nice apartments, a fairly satisfying career, and cute (sometimes) young children. And on Wednesdays you babysit until about 10pm. Then after being handed a check for a small sum that will, at least, cover your groceries for a week you -literally- run three long blocks and down a giant staircase to the bus stop because if you have to watch a bus go by you'll freak out because now you're too far from the train station.

This is the scenario where you face your worst enemy. What is your worst enemy you say? Let's see: You've babysat. It's late. They got home later than usual. It's FREEZING. You're exhausted because you're not sleeping well because all you do is lay in bed and think about how you're life is going (see above) and you've run three blocks to catch a bus which may or may not show up soon. (It is the MTA after all. Schedules are more or less a suggestion) You get to the stop. Up ahead in the distance you can the tiny, yellow twinkle lights that dance above a bus. You shiver as the wind roars around you. You smile a bit to yourself. Yes! That run on icy sidewalks paid off! You'll get home fairly quick. But then. The bus gets closer. And you see it. Emblazoned across the top in bright yellow lights.
NOT IN SERVICE.