NYC: Taxes, Men, & French Carnival Rides

Happy October!!  I. Love. October.  From my head to my toes to my inner being and outer shell, I love this time of year.  Best month of the year!  Bold earth tones, candy, costumes, celebration, the beginning of the holidays, pumpkin everything!! 

So this is one of the many blogs that I drafted with good intentions, but something happened in-between my keyboard and pillow that I can't quite explain.  Fortunately there were not many edits needed to update the setting of the post: I want[ed] to blog about three things tonight Sunday night: NYC men, taxes, and Fete Paradiso. We'll start with the taxes because it's it was fresh on me mind.

First, let me reiterate that living in NYC is fantizzletastic.  NYC is electric, it's thriving, it's inviting, it's unbelievable and surreally dream-like.  Fact: dreams do really come true. =D  Everything is different here from the weather and seasons to fashion and men, to the cultures and local fare, to priorities and conversations and taxes.  Yes, to taxes.  But was it any surprise really?  Different state, different tax rates.  Duhhhh!  But to me, as I tend to be a skimmer-reader, I had obviously somehow missed some crucial information prior to our move about how NY is.....wait for it......a lesser taxed state than CA as it relates to sales and income taxes.  Not that it would have stopped me from moving here had I realized that there is both a NY state and NYC city income tax.  Truly nothing could have stopped me.  NYC was in motion for the Hartman sisters, Rufus, and Mr. Deitrich, that goes without saying.
But when you get down to brass tacks and you compare our two fav states' income and state taxes, you'll see that NY actually does fall below CA and that I was right.......except that I missed the part about NY being one of the only states to impose a city tax for NYC residents. Bah humbug! At the end of the day it's truly only >.2% greater than CA. Then again, why am I wasting anymore time talking about taxes?!  Check out the numbers below and let's move on to MEN please! ;-) 

California

Income tax: 9.3%
State sales tax: 7.25%* (6.25%, plus 1% statewide local rate)
New York

Income tax: 6.85% (8.82% on income over $1 million) + 3.5% NY city income tax = 9.5%
State sales tax: 4%

PLUS

New York City Income Tax

New York City has a separate city income tax in addition to the state income tax for individuals.  New York City income tax rates range from 2.907% to 3.648%.

So yes, and unsurprisingly so, even and especially the men here are different.  I mean I know, I get it.  It's on the other side of the continent, it's an entirely different sub-culture of America; everything is illuminated!  So that goes without saying that living here in NYC is like being a kid all over again and discovering life, something new with each day.  I'm not even kidding you.  That's what this all feels like.  Being a kid again, but with the logic and wisdom to make good decisions.  After all, it's one of the wisest decisions I made to move here.  =D  Every day here is an adventure, every subway ride an exploration of new people, new behaviors, new sights, new sounds, and all these new-New York men.  In my humble and very novice opinion - and some of my male CA friends might disagree, and this is sans my own Father as I am convinced they just don't make men like him anymore - that NYC/Long Island men are more confident, grounded, maybe even go as far to say more serious, but in a good way?  They whisper when they talk, they breathe conviction, and they make insanely good and unbreakable eye contact.  They speak with fact and they walk with a purpose.  It's invigorating and enticing and interesting.  And did you know that The New York City metropolitan area is home to the largest Jewish community outside Israel?  Grandma Porbanic would smile hearing this.  After all, I do remember her sage advice to "meet a nice Jewish boy because he would treat me like a princess".  My dreams of becoming a princess have never died.... ;-)

On to Fete Paradiso! First and foremost before I bring the last section to my [long-overdue contribution] posting, let me just point out that what nobody ever talks about when they're remarking on how amazing NYC is, are the tiny islands in and around!  It's quite a substantial list!  Those I can name off the type of my head are Governor's Island (check!), Liberty Island (check! and, of course), Roosevelt Island, Randall's Island, Fire Island, Ryker's Island (okay, well to be fair, this one's a prison for the most part).  This past Saturday we were encouraged we headed out to Governor's Island at the recommendation of a new (and totally awesome might I add?!) local Brooklynite-girlfriend, for the last weekend of Fete Paradiso: French carnival with vintage carnival rides circa late 19th and early 20th centuries.  There was a tin-bicycle-powering circular ride that made me feel as though I were a figurine walking around Dad's toy cases.  But Fete Paradiso, which literally translates to "girl's paradise" or "paradise feast", I like the latter.  But it certainly wasn't just any old carnival though.  Fete Paradiso is "the world’s first traveling festival of vintage carnival rides and carousels" and it made its debut on our very own Governor's Island!  What a beautiful thing to experience.  Insanely magical.  All you need to do to imagine just how magical this place was is to pretend you are on a movie set (Fox Lot, anyone...?) and transcend yourself back to the turn of the 20th century, back when times were simpler, laughter was louder, and people were just more, well, dapper.  First, get yourself to Governor's Island by way of the free (yes, another free fun thing to do in NYC!) ferry out of Red Hook - if you're a Brooklynite - and if you try, you might just be able to hold your breath for the incredibly short ferry ride to the gorgeous Governor's Island.  My. Gosh.  I will certainly be returning to this small island latent with such history, such gorgeous architecture, the art, the view!!!  The view of Manhattan (and Brooklyn, come on, I have to show some love for my favorite borough) from Governor's Island is out of this world.  And at dusk?  With a handsome man* and two of my fav NYCers by my side?  Priceless.  A few pictures below paint a very faint picture of our surreal Saturday.  Every Saturday in NYC has been surreal.  For real.  :-)  There are not enough words to describe all the sights and sounds we have been blessed enough to experience already here in NYC.  Yet I cannot say enough about it.  This is one of those days, one of those memories I will use as a happy place to escape to when work is taking over my psyche.  Fete Paradiso, Governor's Island, on the last weekend of September 2013 with a few of my favorite humans.  Life.  Is.  Great.  And I think Kel might even have some photos from the carnival swings ride to add.....sis? 8)

Fete Paradiso propaganda

View of south east Manhattan = Battery Park-ish.

A beautiful day indeed.  View through the trees from the 'food court/garden' where we patiently awaited our oysters, crabcake, lemon tarte, pumpkin spice cupcake, bratwurst, and baguettitos, oh, and the sangria!

'Floating Harvest Dome'; part of the continuous outdoor/indoor art exhibit.

Rachel and I were in agreement on this. Indoor art exhibit, not even to the wild installations yet.

The man who ate fire, as we stood in amazement.

My camera does not capture the charm of these toys.

Trying to focus on the motorcycle and peddle car for Pops!

View of her gorgeousness by dusk. Pinch me!

And us.  Your favorite Hartman sisters LA > NYC transplants.  Keeping it real and reppin' our So Cal light BRIGHT here on the other side of the continent.  <-- I just like saying that!

*See "nice Jewish boy." =D

Resources:
http://taxes.about.com/od/statetaxes/a/New-York-City-taxes.htm

Béisbol

Oh yes, the great national pastime.  Baseball is one of my favorite sports to watch, play, and talk about.  I'm not a huge follower in regard to statistics, etc., but I love the game and when asked I will always go to a game.  I'm certainly not as much of a baseball fanatic as I am a football fanatic (Go Texans!  Beat the Ravens on Sunday!).  Funny... now that I live in Brooklyn, I'm intrigued by the history of baseball a bit more.  I think next week I'll wander over to the Brooklyn Public Library and check out a book or two on the subject.  

I always have fun at baseball games.  First of all, there's the game.  Amazing athletes who are paid to play baseball.  They are also usually big, hunky men in tight pants with broad shoulders, so needless to say it's not hard for me to pay attention.  Speaking of pants...

I greatly prefer the pants style that the player on the left is wearing.  The "old fashioned" version where you can see their socks.  The more modern version, on the right, are not my cup of tea.  I have a very serious opinion about this.

Besides the beefy men, there's other things I love about going to a baseball game.  The peanuts, for example.  I don't know what it is, but the peanuts at baseball games are fantastically roasted, incredibly salty, and perfect in every way.  They are nicely complimented by a cold, overpriced beer.  If I'm at Dodger stadium, a Dodger dog is in order.  With onions, mustard, relish, and sauerkraut if they have it.  I love the cheesy organ music, the seventh inning stretch, the camaraderie between strangers who have come together to root for their favorite team.  Games are in the summer or fall, so being outside in gorgeous weather - ah I love it!  Oh, and the bobbleheads.  Useless tchotchkes that have no purpose but always seem to agree with me.  Yes, Kelly, I agree Kelly, whatever you say, Kelly.  They just keep nodding their agreement and approval!

I found a few photos of me at Dodgers games through the years, although this doesn't document every game I've been to.  Although, there are rare occasions where I attend a baseball game at another stadium...

Me and my BFF Candace years ago, she got free tickets to an Angels game (great seats so we couldn't refuse).  I actually wore red in support of the Angels, a rarity for me.  They played the Red Sox and Coco Crisp was playing for Boston at the time, so of course I had to make a joke.  So I shouted, "Yo mama so fat she named you Coco Crisp!" Candace and I busted up laughing, but the O.C. fans were all too busy on their Blackberries to even notice how funny that joke was.  Lame.  I prefer Dodgers stadium even when they're playing the Pirates or some other horrible team.

Me with some of my ZTA sisters back in the day, rooting on the Dodgers in dear ole Chavez Ravine.  Christen, Maria, me, Marcy, and Felicia.  I love these gals.  Marcy has an amazing collection of Dodgers hats, I'm envious every time she posts a photo of a new one.

The fam-bam!  We have always tried to go to at least one Dodgers game a year.  This particular year, I thought I had scored some bad-ass tickets, but ummmmm we were four rows from the top.  Great area of the field, but way higher of a section than I thought.  Sometimes I can't read maps well, apparently...

Me and another of my BFFs, Lauren.  We've been to a bunch of Dodgers games together and we always have so much fun!  We even went on a double date there (triple date if you count our buddy Frank and his date?), which was way fun.  The double date was on a night celebrating Tommy Lasorda's birthday, so they let us onto the field (the outfield only), they played Frank Sinatra, and they set off fireworks.  My date took my hand and asked me to dance, so we slow-danced around the outfield of Dodgers stadium to Frank Sinatra while fireworks went off.  It's a shame that guy didn't work out because that is definitely a chick-flick-worthy story.

These are probably the best seats I've ever had at Dodgers stadium, when I went with Lauren earlier this year.

Megan and I went to our first baseball game in NY at Citi Field in Queens, she took me for my birthday and we had great seats.  And of course we wore our Dodgers blue!  We sat next to some nice older men (Twins! and a friend. Married and harmless), and they were very curious about us LA girls and why we were in NY and we talked through the entire game, when we weren't wandering the stadium.

Oh, and Lauren... I'll be representing Dodgers blue tonight at the Yankees game versus the SF Giants.  I don't mind being that obnoxious person who wears gear from a team that isn't even playing that night.  I miss you!

Spin spin spin spin spin

Are you dizzy yet?

I love spinning.  For those of you who don't know, spinning refers to an indoor cycling class.  A bunch of stationary bikes are arranged in rows, with knobs that control resistance and fully adjustable seats and handlebars.  Lots of people in spandex and yoga pants perch on the tiny, hard, little seats in order to crank out an hour or so of cardio.  The calorie burn is amazing, the feeling (or lack thereof) in your lady parts for the first few classes is something you get used to, and the endorphins are fantastic.  Spinning has been around for decades, but I just fell in love with it in the past few years.  Not that I have always enjoyed it or even wanted to take a spin class...  

I tried it once upon a time, in 2005 or so, and I couldn't even make it for the first 10 minutes of the class.  My crotch hurt, my heart was about to pump out of my chest, and then the instructor told us to STAND UP while we were on the bike and keep pedaling.  The 25 year old me decided that was impossible, so I gracefully flopped off of the bike and went back to my elliptical machine where I tried to avoid all of the former classmates and neighbors and various people from my childhood that were there at the gym with me, wanting to talk, while I just wanted to sweat away some calories and regrets.  Oh, La Verne LA Fitness, how I don't miss you.

Fast forward to 2011.  I was going through a lot of personal change and challenges, and trying new things was just a part of the norm.  I was working with an angel of a therapist, Janice, to deal with my issues.  I'm blessed in the regard that my issues are not front page news, and I've not had horribly tragic events in my life, but I still have things that I deal with (or don't deal with) and need to talk about.  If you haven't ever seen a therapist, I highly recommend it, just to have someone to sort your brain out with you!  Although I will admit, it takes a certain amount of courage to be able to be honest with yourself and take accountability for your actions and inactions and life choices.  But anyway, I was working with Janice around three major, interrelated areas in my life: my weight, my relationships, and my depression.  I found Janice through one of my best friends, former roommate, college classmate, sorority sister, and former colleague, miss Gabi.  Through Gabi, I also found spin, in a way.  Gabi had really gotten into spin when we lived together on Allen Ave, and would go to class a few times a week.  She'd always ask me if I wanted to join, but I was still freaked out from my prior experience with spinning, and so I avoided that for a few years.  I can't remember if Gabi ever did get me in the spin class while she lived in Pasadena, but if she did I blocked it out.  But in 2011, I was talking with Janice about spin and how I was scared to try it again, and of course that led me to set a goal to go to my first spin class.  I had joined a different gym, abandoning my old standby LA Fitness for a new scene and new energy - Bodies in Motion.  It was primarily a boxing gym, with a legitimate boxing ring, rows of heavy bags, but it also had an awesome cycling room, pilates equipment, and an aerobics room with a spring floor.  It was an awesome place, and I knew absolutely nobody there.  So I really had no excuse to be embarrassed!  Which meant I had to conquer my spin fears for once and for all...

My first spinning class was an experience, to be sure.  I got there early, and this energetic little jumping bean of energy and happiness was bopping around the room introducing himself to people and asking if they were new, etc.  He made his way over to me and introduced himself as Brent, the instructor for the spin class.  Brent helped me get my bike set up correctly and when I told him I had never done a spin class before, he told me these very important words, "Focus on yourself, challenge yourself, listen to your body.  I'll be giving you instruction and guidance of where you want to be, on a scale from 1-10, but make sure you are on your own scale.  You'll hear me tell the class to get up into different positions, don't worry about that right now.  Just sit on the bike and get used to the cadence, the rhythm, the motion of your legs and your breathing.  Don't compare yourself to the other people in the room, this is your ride and what's important is that you do your best but don't injure yourself."  Oh, thank GOD I don't have to stand up!!!  Mind you, I probably weighed about 340 pounds at this point in my life, a solid size 22/24.  But I got on that bike and pedaled away and really enjoyed the music and the movement and the sweat that just poured out of every gland possible.  Brent was encouraging and positive and his energy was infectious.  By the end of the class, I was winded and soaked through, but I made it the entire time!  I was proud.  Until I got off the bike and stood up, and then I was dizzy.  I had never fainted before, but I was 99.9999% sure that I was about to faint right then and there.  I started seeing stars ping around in my vision, even as it closed like a dark tunnel, and Brent's voice started to sound like we were in a spin class under the sea.  I held on to the bike seat for dear life and focused on my breathing - long deep breaths bringing oxygen into my lungs, calmly, one at a time.  A million thoughts were running through my head, "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"  "If I fall I'll hit my face and bash out some of my teeth and my Mom will be PISSED"  "If I fall, will they be able to pick me up?  They'll have to move the bikes out in order to get my body out of the room"  "I wonder if anyone else has passed out before" "Don't pass out, you fool!"  "Those pedals look vicious"  Thankfully, my deep breathing saved me and while I didn't do the post-ride stretches with the rest of the class, I didn't pass out and that was really all I cared about.  I drank my water and carefully tested out if letting go of the bike seat was a good idea yet.  Brent was at the front of the class talking about when he was teaching spin next and also that he was a personal trainer and had a few spots left for new clients.  I had talked with Janice about hiring a personal trainer, and was fighting it, but at that moment I knew it was meant to be.  Brent ended up working with me for the majority of my weight loss, and was another angel in my life.  He had never trained a morbidly obese person before, so he did a lot of research on what to do to prevent injury (and heart attack, if we're being honest).  Brent challenged me, he kept me motivated, he made me feel as though anything were possible and that I really could lose this weight.  I would see Brent 2-3 times a week in the morning for an hour each session, and then of course at spin class in the evenings.  I became a regular at the gym, and even tried kickboxing for the first time (loved it! miss it! want to do kickboxing here in NYC!).  Janice helped me deal with emotional and mental baggage, Brent helped me deal with physical baggage, and they were angels in my life who have forever left an impact.  I still think of both of them quite often, and I'm forever looking for a spin instructor who is as good as Brent was.

After surviving my first few spin classes, I opted to buy some padded cycling shorts, because my lady parts were really sore (and partially numb).  To be honest, I've only worn them maybe twice, because it reminds me of junior high.  When you first become a woman, maxi pads are the toiletry of choice, and back in the early 1990s, they didn't have these amazingly thin products that I see advertised on TV today.  As if ladies need to see a commercial to remind them to buy that stuff?  Whatever.  But also, I didn't wear the padded shorts a lot because you really do get used to the seat, and also the more I went to spin class the better I got at spinning and the less I would have to sit in the saddle.  Brent also recommended that if I was going to keep spinning, that I get some shoes with cleats so I could clip in and really be able to maximize my workout.  So I went to my local bike shop and bought some Bontrager cycling shoes, men's of course, because I have big feet and they didn't have ladies' cycling shoes in the store in my size...

My awesome spin shoes.  

I have the smaller, two-point cleats on right now because that's what the bikes at our current gym have.  It really just depends on the bikes at your gym, get whatever cleats match with their pedals or just use the cages if you don't have spin shoes yet.  But I prefer the three-point cleats because they're more secure.  I've already spun right out of the bikes at Crunch, with one leg still attached and whizzing around in a circle as I tried to hit the knob and stop my bike while the other leg dangled off to the side.  I narrowly avoided a vicious gash on my delicate shins.  

Spinning is definitely one of my favorite ways to exercise, it really gets me sweaty and even my worst ride is burning hundreds of calories.  I also have a secret love for dance/trance/dubstep/electronic music, which is often used in spin class.  And spinning can really be a cathartic experience as well.  I started spinning in early 2011, not long after I had broken up with my long-time boyfriend.  It wasn't a nasty breakup, but of course I was emotional and hurt and I listened to a lot of Adele and Sara Bareilles.  So when I was in class one day and we were cranking up a hill and a remix came on that was an Adele song, it hit me right in the gut.  My face flushed, tears sprung to my eyes, and I got that dimpled, wobbly chin that you get when you're trying not to cry.  But then I realized that nobody was looking at me, my face was already beet-red and dripping with sweat and the music was up LOUD, so I just let it all out.  I pushed those pedals down with the beat, and bawled my eyes out while I sang along angrily.  Talk about physical therapy!

Sweaty after a great ride in Pasadena, earlier this year

Some of my favorite spinning moments have been with one of my BFFs, Jamie.  She works near Pasadena and we would meet for a spin/din date.  Spinning and then dinner, along with best friend estrogen therapy, talk about a win-win!  We were going to spin when Jamie and her husband Tony were visiting for my birthday, but it didn't pan out.  Which means she'll just have to visit again so we can spin at my gym here in Brooklyn!

These days, I consider myself a spinning veteran.  I like to get there early so I can set my bike up, get my legs going, and really get in the zone mentally.  I have pet peeves about spinning, and I laughed my butt off when I saw this post about the different types of indoor cyclists.  Especially the Lance Armstrong.  WHY do people wear their pro gear to an indoor cycling class?!?!  I've encouraged many friends (and Megan) to try spinning, and I will drag anyone around me to class with me.  I still find new challenges as I try different instructors - push-ups on the bike, balancing with no hands, different interval challenges, etc.  Sometimes I don't go for a couple weeks and when I get back in the saddle I am so happy and excited and I realize how much I miss it!  I even went to a spin class on our Christmas cruise last year, and I plan on doing it again this year.  Sitting on a tiny bike, pedaling like crazy to music while the boat rocks back and forth on the waves is a particularly interesting challenge, let me tell you.

Tonight, Megan is going to a work event and can't make it home in time for spin class.  So I'm going on my own, which I'm totally ok with.  One of the things I love most about the gym is that even if I go by myself, I'm not alone.  There is guaranteed to be some other person there working on their goals.  I really look forward to a great ride, so I better hydrate in anticipation of all the sweat I'm going to generate.  Who wants to come with?

Sometimes we get a lil crazy after spinning.  Not surprising, I'm sure.

Lucky

I think about it a lot. How lucky Megan and I are. For so many reasons. I am grateful because Megan and I...

...are the very best of friends
...can be so goofy together
...support each other in eating healthy
...like the same sweet indulgences
...love decorating for holidays
...got to really be kids. Innocent, sweet, adventurous, imaginative kids.
...will have each other forever

Our parents were the bomb at holidays throughout our childhood. Mom handled the details and cute treats and delicious food. Colorful leaves, Aunt Alice's crystal pumpkin, and homemade chili in the fall. Dad would get creative with the cobwebs, ghosts in the trees, and spooky music for Halloween. And he would eventually get the costume boxes down from the rafters or attic. Mom helped finalize our costumes and warned us about dangerous candy (usually Milky Ways...). Christmas was amazing... picking out the tree and hauling it home. Grandpa's train and the little village around the base. The tweeting bird ball thing that drive the cats crazy. Mom's mulled cider and the sweetest treats and amazing magical decorations. It seemed like an endless pile of presents. There were lots of hearts for Valentine's Day, and a sweet present (and themed socks) and card. Sometimes for Valentine's, Dad would surprise all three of us with his own little presents. One year Megan got a cherub necklace and I got dangly heart earrings with bows. Dangly! Easter was unreal, Dad would hide eggs around the house, Mom would cook traditional food and create our baskets (also hidden). And our birthdays were ALWAYS a special day full of treats and celebration.

I'm grateful for the awesome childhood we had. It was full of adventure and memories and fun.

Today, Megan and I had a great day. We slept in late, ate a yummy brunch (thanks to Megan), cleaned our apartment, walked around our neighborhood, watched some college football, went on the roof and soaked in the gorgeous weather and view, and we decorated for fall! Our crystal pumpkins are out, dried Indian corn is on the dining room table, candy corn has been purchased, and the skeleton hand champagne flutes are in the bar. We haven't put the cobwebs up, but I think our parents would be proud. :-)

Secret single behavior

Megan and I are watching the entire series of Sex and the City.  As research, both of pop culture and our new city.  I try assuring our Mom that we are not taking any relationship advice from the show, but I'm not sure that she's convinced.  Now, I could go into the characters and stories and how much Carrie bothers me sometimes, but that's a whole 'nother blog.

We're in the middle of season 4, and episode 13 talks about "secret single behavior," or what we'll just call SSB for short.  Carrie stacks saltine crackers, puts grape jelly on them, and eats them standing up in her kitchen reading fashion magazines.  Miranda puts Vaseline on her hands while wearing some funky gloves and watches infomercials.  Charlotte used to spend an hour a night looking at her pores, but thinks that Trey will think she's weird and so she doesn't do it anymore.  Samantha, of course, doesn't have any SSB.  It got me thinking... what is my SSB?

Hmmmmmm, I think that the most obvious behavior is that I use one half of my king size bed as a catchall for laundry, purses, mail, and Rufus of course.  I have a down comforter and a lovely duvet cover from Pottery Barn, and it has been friggin' hot and humid most of the summer so I fold over my duvet over the stuff on that half of the bed and I just sleep under my sheet.  It works out well, because I also use my decorative pillows to put over my head as earplugs, or I snuggle up with them and I call them my "pillow boyfriend."  I have six pillows total, and I love them all equally.  Even the one strange pillow that appeared out of nowhere back when I lived with Gabi on Allen Avenue in Pasadena.  Yes, a brand-new down and quilted pillow just randomly showed up on my bed and nobody has any idea where it came from.  Gabi didn't buy it for me, my Mom didn't sneak it into my room, and I sure as heck didn't buy it and develop some random case of amnesia.  Weird but true.  And yes of course I still used it - it was brand new and perfectly fluffy-firm!  Stowaway pillow, you're my favorite.

I know there has to be other SSB but I think it's mostly personal grooming stuff.  For example, I asked Megan and she responded, "examining my body for unwanted hairs and plucking as necessary."  That's pretty good SSB, probably something she wouldn't do in front of a boyfriend, I'd recommend saving that for marriage.  

Do you have any SSB?  Or used to have, if you're currently coupled up?

I'm not alone anymore!

If you know me, you know I'm a huge Houston Texans fan.  If you know me and you didn't know that yet, well, we obviously met this year before football season. But just so we're clear - I love the Houston Texans.  With all my heart.  More than chocolate.

You might be asking yourself, "How does a born-n-bred California girl become a Houston Texans fan?"  Well, let me shed some light on that.  

I great up in the foothills of the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area, on the eastern edge of LA county.  Growing up, I played lots of sports; AYSO soccer, little league softball, high school volleyball/basketball/softball, and club volleyball.  And street hockey of course (this is where I would usually tie in a story about growing up with Jessica Alba and playing street hockey with her bro Josh and the rest of the neighborhood kids: Marcy, Nicole, Scott, Michael, Ashley B, Brett, Julene, Ashley C, etc., but that isn't really that interesting, is it?).  As a family, we would go to Dodgers games regularly, and Angels games on occasion.  I remember my Grandpa P sitting on his back patio in his pants and undershirt, smoking a pipe, listening to whatever baseball game was on at the time.  The radio is something my generation will never appreciate as much as my grandparents' generation.  Sports and athletic stuff was always a part of my life, but football was one game that kind of escaped influencing my childhood.  In high school I loved seeing the boys out on the field, and I'd root for my friends even though I really had no clue what the heck was going on out there.  All I knew is that I really wanted Darrin to notice me and my sweet letterman's jacket and the football was supposed to go toward the huge tuning fork at the end of the field, and then at some point it was supposed to go toward the other one.  And that's all I really knew for many years.

By the time college had started, I'd figured out that I really liked watching men in tight pants run around and crash into each other.  The testosterone!  The teamwork and camaraderie!  The tight pants!  The competition!  What's happening on the field?!?!  My freshmen year of college I went to UC San Diego, an amazing school that did NOT have a football team.  I finished school at Cal Poly Pomona, another school without a football team. I started watching pro football with friends on occasion, and I started asking questions and learning about the game.  I also learned that every single person I knew had a favorite team.  Candace loved the Vikings because of her ex-boyfriend.  Jamie S. loved the Packers because of Brett Favre.  Tony loved the Raiders because they used to be in LA.  Brian loved the Browns because his grandpa had played for them back in the day.  And on and on, everyone had a team that they loved and rooted for no matter what.  When asked who I was rooting for, I'd respond, "Ummmm, I don't know."  I felt like I was missing out on some big party (and you all know I have FOMO so I couldn't stand for missing out).

You might be wondering, "What about her father?  Didn't he like sports or have a team?"  Well, my Daddy-O likes sports, always loves going to a Dodgers game as a family, and was always cheering me on at whatever game I was playing - with gusto!  At 6'5'' he was always able to make himself heard over the crowd with a booming, "Great job, Kelly!"  And he was an avid runner and a great partner for playing catch in the backyard, so he is athletically inclined.  But a pro sports fanatic he wasn't, and isn't (although I keep trying to recruit him to the Texans fan base).  My Dad is a car guy, a gearhead, a motor dude, and he was always wrenching on one car or the other.  Some of my favorite memories of childhood are when Dad would get a new car (new to him), and he'd work on it in the garage/driveway.  Dad would get the engine tuned up just so, with fancy spark plugs and spark plug cables and air filters and finding more horsepower in all sorts of ways that I have no idea how to describe.  He'd polish up those old cars, bringing them to a gleaming finish, restoring them to their true beauty.  It was so much fun to watch.  And for the past decade? or so he's had this gorgeous 1929 Ford Model A Roadster:

I asked my Dad about the car, and this is a little of what he told me, "It's been a hot rod since 1948, raced on El Mirage dry lake back in the late '40s early '50s. The owner in the '60s used it as a push car for his fuel-altered drag race car called "Monkey Motion". I've drag raced it a few times my own self about 10 years ago. I think you've been with me a few times when I've hit that GO pedal so you know it'll haul a little ass. The car's been on the road all it's life, never hidden away in a barn."  I'd love to have Pops write a blog on his cars through the years and upload photos, etc.  He would do much more justice to his vehicular legacy than I can ever do.  But back to football.  Oh yeah, so Dad doesn't have a favorite football team.  He just supports my love for the Texans and even asks me about them from time to time.  Love you, Daddy-O!  My Mom doesn't have a favorite football team either, even though she was a flag girl in high school and maybe dated a player or two?

So as you can see, I was in a pickle.  I didn't have a legacy team to glom onto, I didn't have a favorite college player to follow to a franchise, and I didn't have a local team either - the Raiders and Rams had long departed Los Angeles.  Another thing you should know about me, I am absolutely bothered by bandwagon fans.  Growing up in LA, I would hear lots of friends and acquaintances claim their dedication to one team or the other, depending on how much they won.  USC always draws a lot of new fans when they're winning, and I find it funny.  "Yeah!  You were a hardcore USC fan since you went there right?!  Oh, you didn't.  Wait, how long have you liked the Trojans?  Oh since they started winning... I get it."  It drives me bonkers.  Obviously, I could never be a bandwagon fan.

Around the time I was going through such an existential quandry, the Texans were forming themselves into a team.  In 2002 I learned that there was a brand new team in the NFL, the Houston Texans, and they were playing their first franchise game against the Dallas Cowboys.  I figured, hey, I should be a Texans fan.  Lord knows nobody in California is going to be a Texans fan, I like country music well enough, and I can say I was there from the very beginning.  On September 8, 2002, I remember watching that first game and seeing the Texans in their patriotic red, white, and blue uniforms.  They beat the Cowboys 19-10 and as I was hooting and hollering in my excitement, I realized that I had found my team.  I was a Texans fan.  Little did I know that the expansion franchise was actually awarded to the city of Los Angeles in 1999, but because of challenges with ownership and stadiums, LA lost the bid to Houston and owner Bob McNair.  Fate?  They would have been my local team if LA hadn't screwed up bringing an NFL back to the city.  I still have a lot to learn about my Texans and their history.

Fast forward to the present.  It's now the 11th year that I've been cheering for the Texans, mostly by myself.  My good friend Richard claims to be a Texans fan, but fan means fanatic so I'd have to actually say that Richard is more of a Texans admirer (haha... love you Richard!).  I've seen horrible losses, been subjected to lots of taunts and jeers, I've had to see Peyton Manning (a football genius) take division rival Colts to the playoffs too many damn times, I've watched most games on TV either at home or at a sports bar, I've had to watch game updates on my computer or phone when I didn't have access to a TV, and I've even sought out the game while on a Christmas cruise last year.  I was the only XX chromosome in that cigar bar...  I've made lots of friends through the years watching football, I've learned a lot about the game, and I have amazing memories and stories about football.  I've planned to go to many games, but due to forest fires, planning conflicts, and a lack of fellow Texans fans, most plans have fallen through.  But I have been to one Texans game in person, at the Arizona Cardinals back in 2009.

Me and my friends in Arizona for the Texans game!  Richard, the Texans "admirer" is on the right.  I joke with him that he looks like J.J. Watt, the charismatic and philanthropic defensive end on the Texans, affectionately known as "J.J. Swatt" for his ability to knock passes out of the air. 

I was very excited and proud to be at the game.  It was HOT, even though I'm wearing jeans.

And of course... the year that I move to NYC is the year that the Texans plays three teams in western divisions and doesn't play anyone in the northeast.  Isn't timing everything?

When I lived in Pasadena, I was lucky enough to meet and hang out with a great group of people who loved football.  There were fans of the Steelers, Packers, Patriots, Colts, Vikings, and then there were the Bengals fans.  One of my friends, Sam - a Cincinnati native, created a Meetup group for Bengals fans in Pasadena, years ago.  Last year there were dozens in regular attendance, and I heard that this weekend there were more than 40 Bengals fans for the game on Sunday.  How awesome!  I miss those folks, and I miss the friendly chatter that would happen during the game, what great memories.  One of the things I remember the most is that I was always (with rare exception) the only Texans fan at the bar.  I grew used to getting to the bar early so I could make sure a TV was set up with my Texans game, I am not a quiet person so I can cheer loud enough for a couple standard fans as needed.  Of course, being the only Texans fan that most people know means that if my team screwed up in any way, I would receive multiple text messages, emails, and Facebook posts about it.  Talk about rubbing salt in a raw wound!  But my Pasadena football crew was always friendly and supportive, and the Bengals fans were always gracious - even the past two years when we played them in the Wildcard round, and beat them both times.  Talk about having to be sensitive with your joy, but the Bengals group were good sports even though they were angry and bitter and hurt.  I think a little part of me will always secretly root for the Bengals, except when they're playing the Texans.

Last night was the first Monday night football of the 2013-14 season, a double header starting with the Philadelphia Eagles at the Washington Redskins, followed by the Houston Texans at the San Diego Chargers.  Inspired by my Bengals friends, I had already looked up and found a Meetup group for Texans fans in NYC - located at the Idle Hands bar in Alphabet City, Manhattan.  I reserved a table for 4, even though only one guy responded that he'd be at the game for sure.  About a dozen others RSVPd for the event, but didn't respond when asked about table reservations, so I figured they might not show up.  Little did I know...

I got to Idle Hands around 7:15pm, the PHI-WAS game was already on.  It's a classic NYC bar - downstairs, kind of small, and pleasantly dark.  There were a bunch of folks seated at the bar and nobody else at the tables, so I sidled up and took a barstool.  The patrons and bartender were friendly, the food from upstairs was tasty, and they have a ridiculously large selection of whiskey (although I am no expert on this subject) and a decent beer tap.  I noticed another Texans fan down the bar, so I went and introduced myself.  "Hi, I'm Kelly, are you a part of the Meetup group?"  he responded, "Hi, I'm Eric, and no - I'm just a guy who comes to the bar to watch the Texans game all the time."  Hmmmm, strike one on the Meetup front, but add one to the random friend list!  

A bit later, the Raiders fan to my right had left and another fellow sat down.  I heard him talking to the bartender and I would have SWORN that it was my cousin-in-law, Will.  I turned to look, expecting a surprise from Will (even though he lives in San Diego with my cousin Robin and their beautiful kids), and it was a nice guy in a red collared polo shirt.  He even looked like Will!  Bizarre.  We chatted, and he's a Houston native and taught me a lot about the Texans, like the fact that the first player drafted in the expansion draft in 2002, Tony Boselli, never even logged a second of active play for the Texans.  Turns out that Lance (Will's doppelgänger) was also not a part of the Meetup group. What now?  Where are all of the Meetup people?  

Megan was a good sister and came to support me, arriving around 9:45pm. Meg is not a football follower, and not a big sports follower in general.  But I convinced her that football is a great way to make new friends, and possibly meet eligible men.  Plus, she signed me up for some Junior League orientation (so not my thing), and I told her I'd go to that if she came to MNF.  What a bargain.  Not long after Megan arrived, a guy came up and asked if I was Kelly, the organizer of the Meetup group.  I confirmed I'm Kelly, but advised that I'm not really the organizer, I had just reserved the table.  No matter, he was here for the Meetup!  Hooray!  A Montana native who lived in Houston for a while, Matt sat down and joined us at the bar (I retrieved the sign from the table so others could sit there since we were at the bar).  

Megan and I at Idle Hands in Manhattan

Much to my amazement, more Texans fans trickled in.  In ones and twos and threes, they arrived.  Wearing all sorts of Texans gear - jerseys, tshirts, hats - they just kept coming!  I expressed my amazement to Lance and Matt and they assured me that this was normal, and that usually there's at least 40 Texans fans at the bar for a regular season game.  Apparently last year for the playoffs there was something like 80 fans squished into the bar.  My mind was blown.  Finally, the game kicked off amid cheers from me and my fellow Texans fans (Megan cheered too).  The first series included an interception from our quarterback, Matt Schaub, whom I have affectionately called "Schauby" for years now - I swear I started that nickname.  But the fans stayed positive, all the way through a rough first half where we ended up trailing the Chargers 21-7.  I met some more new friends, Ben and Jason, and chatted with everyone about sports and LA versus NYC, and how much of a pain it is to get from Prospect Heights to Williamsburg via subway.  Megan asked some questions and started to catch on a bit.  The second half started, Megan took a taxi home around 11pm (didn't want to be tired at work), and the cheering and jeering continued.  I was in heaven.  Finally, other people who were as passionate about the Texans!  People who knew statistics and history and the ins and outs of my favorite franchise!  I'm horrible at sports stats, so I feel like I'll learn a lot about my team from my new friends.  The last quarter was very intense, a lot of stress and high fives and shouting, but this time I wasn't alone!  We even did a "rally shot" of Maker's Mark bourbon whisky.  Whoa boy, that'll put hair on your chest!  Whether it was that rally shot, or Brian Cushing's interception, the tide turned and our Texans gained momentum and came back for an amazing win.  We beat the Chargers 31-28.  The last 3 points were scored by our kicker, Randy Bullock, in his first regular season NFL game.  He's a cute little teddy bear of a guy.  After that kick flew through the uprights, the bar exploded with cheers!  High tens all around, happy smiles, whooping and whistling, and if I knew people better, you KNOW I would have hugged somebody.

As we celebrated an amazing comeback and a great start to the season, I looked around smiling, and just soaked it in.  There are other Texans fans!  They live near me!  I have a place in the football world!  And again I knew that I am where I'm meant to be.  New York City.  I'm not alone anymore!

Oh hello there

Yes, it's me... your long lost blogging friend Kelly.  I have returned from my journey to the depths of the Mariana Trench.  Or was I visiting the uninhabited Auckland Islands?  Wait, I think I was actually in Motuo, China.  Wherever I was, I have returned and have not actually fallen off the face of the earth.  Aren't you relieved?

Truth is, I've been thinking about blogging.  Thinking a lot.  Coming up with great ideas.  Pondering life and starting a great blog about 478392098374 times in the past month or so.  But have I clicked over and actually started typing?  Nope.  And I have a few reasons/ideas/excuses why:

• I'm a lazy journal-er
• I'm just lazy
• I feel like I have to post a huge update and I'm just not up for that
• I have this all-or-nothing 'thing' that hounds me, and I feel like if I'm not posting a daily/weekly recap, it's not even worth it
• I've been fighting depression.  I am challenged with depression on occasion, especially seasonal depression which starts in the fall (my old therapist said I'm a summer girl and my brain mourns the loss of sunshine and outdoor activities).  Exercise is my natural antidepressant, but if you've struggled with depression you know that exercise is something you have to force yourself to keep up when you're feeling blue
• My nails are really long right now and it feels funny to type
• I don't really want to let my brain run free, that's dangerous
• I want to blog about my cat getting out and lost but it's pretty emotional for me
• I'm heavier than I want to be and I feel like if I'm not job hunting, I should be working out
• I don't want to face my emotions
• I have too much to say and it will take forever
• It's much more important to get to the next level on Candy Crush
• I like reading other blogs more
• I have a pile of cards and thank-yous that I haven't written out yet
• Cooking creates tangible results so I like it more
• I still don't have a job
• I post a lot of updates and other stuff on Facebook
• I think that I should be spending every minute of my day hunting for a job, and even though that doesn't happen, I feel like if I'm blogging it's time I could be job hunting
• I feel poopy about not having a job yet and I'm frustrated and don't want to let that negativity onto our blog
• Football season is back and I'm obsessed and I can't wait to see my Houston Texans play the San Diego Chargers tonight
• I prefer taking photos of Rufus doing silly stuff or watching him run around the apartment and slide on the wood floors
• I feel like there's an entire city out there that I'm missing out on and that I need to explore more of
• I really need a job but I am having a hard time deciding what direction to go in
• I've made blogging a chore rather than an outlet for my emotions and thoughts or a record of our adventures
• I think too much
• I get digital overload - between Facebook, Instagram, Foursquare, Match, Meetup, Snapchat, fantasy football, emails, etc., sometimes it gets to be too much
• Analysis paralysis
• I can't figure out why one carton of eggs would have three double-yolk eggs.  It both intrigues and worries me...

As you can see, I'm stuck in my head in so many ways.  But while I need to continue my job hunt, I also need to nourish my body and soul as well.  So as a part of my daily routine, I'm going to go for a walk around Prospect Park, or my neighborhood, Prospect Heights / Park Slope, then I'm going to blog, and then I'm going to job search - make calls, submit resumes, follow up on applications, go on interviews, etc.  

I'm a planner to the Nth degree, I love lists, and I know that I need a simple plan so I will stick to it and get my life to where I really want to be.  So... that being said, here's what I will be focusing on:

MIND

1. Keep reading new books, they give me a digital-free escape into my imagination and inspire me
2. Blog!  Get those emotions and thoughts and experiences out there to share and celebrate
3. Hug my sister at least once a day.  I love hugs, I love physical affection, I love my sister, and hugs are good for you!

BODY

1. Daily walk through Prospect Park or the neighborhood, but I'm not going to beat myself up if I miss a day, I'll just make sure I get back on it the next day!
2. Spin class/yoga class/other classes at our gym, Crunch Fitness
3. Eat healthy, whole foods, home cooked mostly.  Lean protein, healthy veggies, whole grains, delicious spices and creative sweet treats
4. Watch alcohol consumption - aim for only one day a week if that.  I enjoy a tasty beer, a delicious wine, or a yummy cocktail, but alcohol is rough on my pocketbook, my calorie count, and my mental health.  It's a depressant and I don't need any help with that - especially as fall turns toward winter
5. Ensure proper nutrition - take my vitamins, and add in some amino acids that help me fight depression, GABA and 5-HTP.  (I know Wikipedia isn't the best resource, but bear with me on my GTS skills.  Here's a couple more links to the great Dr. Oz's website about GABA and 5-HTP).

SOUL

1. Keep going to church when I can, Megan's friend Erica introduced us to Hillsong NYC and it's a great place that speaks to me
2. Set up Skype dates with my best friends, I miss them.  A lot.  Text or email me if you want my username
3. Read the daily devotional that my sweet Mom sent me in the mail (she sent Meg one too, of course).  It can't take that much time, and I know I need it

CAREER

1. Continue my routine and job search as a job during the week
2. Get a few versions of my resume in order
1. Financial jobs
2. Foodie jobs
3. Office manager type jobs
3. Be persistent and have positive energy
4. Network with every new friend I meet along the way

So - expect more from me.  I'll be working on blogging more often, even if it's just a blurb here or there.  And Megan will still be blogging too.  

Oh, and it's nice to see you again!

XOXO - Kelly

Beehive Bungalows

Practically a hop, skip, and a jump of 80 miles northeast (way more east than north) of Chateau Hartman-Deitrich, past the graffitied streets of outer Brooklyn, past the beautiful sprawling Tudors in Queens, past Rachel's old stomping grounds (more on Rachel later), in a place from the conjurings of my adolescent dreams, delicately situated a narrow barrier of land in between Moriches Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, just across the water from Hart's (yes, Hart's!) Bay, lies a little slice of paradise known to the familiar as Beehive Bungalows, known to one very tight knit new group of friends as '496 For Life'!, and known to me as soul-refilling.  And refill my soul is exactly what I did.  Let me back it up a few days.

It's the Thursday before Labor Day weekend and I have not really thought much about it in regards to us not 'doing' anything for Labor Day, albeit our first in NYC.  Labor Day and Memorial Day have always had a special place in my heart.  These have historically been - or for the past 5.5 years anyway - weekends that my ex and I would take the opportunity to go on a fun mini vacation-adventure.  These weekends have included trips up north to explore Lake Shasta and all her geographically-eclectic sights, Lake Arrowhead and all of her serenity and legacy memories, Lake Havasu and all of the debauchery to witness (not take part in, of course!! We would never.....), and/or usually involves something to do with water.  So the three-day weekend apple did not fall very far from the tree this year with the Westhampton getaway that materialized in <48 hours.  

Erica, my work bestie, informed me Thursday that MoPub - a competing mobile ad serving company in our space - was to be having a party in the Hamptons over the weekend, and we both half-jokingly began daydreaming of going to the party and to vacationing in the Hamptons this weekend.  A few Craigslist + FlipKey inquiries and two RSVPs to one MoPub BBQ and we found ourselves with Labor Day '13 plans!  And much like the move from LA to NYC, everything sort of just fell into place after that.  Matt, our roomie, had been in LA working on The Biggest Loser show (he's in t.v. post-production work) and to get him to sign on and get involved took more efforts than for us locals, but he is otherwise one of the most responsive people I know so it was not challenging, just interesting.  Leaving plans, reservations, even something as simple as shopping in the hands of other people frightens the s#$% out of me.  Why?  Because I'm a control freak.  Some call it OCD, some call it leadership, I call it how it is.  I'm 100% a control freak.  When it comes to planning and getting S#$% done, that is.  When it comes to vacation, events, company culture activities, I. Like. To. Take. The. Wheel.  It's not that I don't think somebody else is not going to do just as good of a job, it's just exactly that.  It's not that I don't trust (yeah, what, okay, there, I said it) other people's choices and tastes, but it's challenging for me to let somebody else take the wheel of planning because I have such high expectations which leads to a high risk for disappointment.  So I'd rather take on what might become a burden of planning just in order to ensure that 'something' gets done.  I'm not going to go as far to say make sure it gets done right, rather, just get it done.  You see, if I didn't plan this weekend,we never would have gone.  Sure, I could have left it up to Matt or Kelly to plan the weekend, but it may never have gotten planned any farther than Saturday's Grand Army Plaza Farmer's Market.  Heck, it would have been fun to stay at home and I could have really used the time to get 'organized' (heck I have been trying to get organized for three damn years now) and to save rather than spend, but it's the expending of resources that results in the making of memories, new friends, and a darn fine new vacation spot!  

Who knew the Hamptons were only 1.5 hours away!  Somebody lied to me when they said that the Hamptons are 3-4 hours away.  Okay, maybe with more traffic and maybe if you're going all the way to East Hampton.  Who knows?  All I know and all I care about is how short the drive is from BK to WH.  Not far at all.  All five of us new NYC friends and weekend vacation warriors - me, Kel, Erica, Rachel, and Matt (Rachel being our new Brooklyn neighbor-friend that Erica brought on the trip and introduced to us this weekend) 

More to come later.  My eyelids are droopy, I'm falling asleep as I type (boy what great dreams I'll have tonight!), and my sleep-heavy words will not even do paradise the justice she deserves......TO BE CONTINUED..........

View looking back to the house from the shore. Kelly gladly waving to show her approval and happiness to be there. 

 
View looking out to the bay from the house. My oh my what a view, what a deck, what a cute little house that was. Went by FAR too quickly. Rewind, please!

Thanks to Erica for the introduction to new Brooklyn friend Rachel. Yay for new friends!

Accidentally caught a shot of our hunky property manager Harris. Sexy name for a sexy man. Happy. Labor. Day. Indeed. =D "Accidentally"....heeheehee. ;-)

Hartmans in the Hamptons. 

 Sister, sisters, la la la la sister!

 Sisters heading down the boardwalk to the Atlantic Ocean

 Sisters on the beach.....one of our all-time favorite and happiest spots to be! The sand was so pillowy and the water was warmer than the Pacific. Other than that, not much difference!


"Under the sea, under the sea, down where it's wetter, baby it's better, take it from meeeee!" Group singalong time led by Harris and Erica! 

Back on the ranch, er, Beehive Bungalow #7 aka the old "farmhouse". Other dwellings on this property include studios which used to be old WWII barracks; barber shoppe turned bungalow. Not to be blasphemous, but this slightly resembles what I feel Heaven would be like.

Hartman + Harris + Hamptons = HURRAY!

Spontaneous fivesome. 'New' NYC friends. Fun times. Great memories.