The Big Apple: Part I

The Big Apple

The City that never sleeps

New York City.

I’ve wanted to visit New York City for as long as I can remember.  I saw it in movies, television shows, art, and magazines.  I’d heard Frank Sinatra sing about it.  I’d read books about it.  But I wanted to SEE and experience it for myself.  My friend Jenn and I had talked about going since we were in college, and we especially wanted to see it at Christmastime, decorated for the season.  So this year, 10 years after we graduated from college, we finally made it there.

In September, we booked our plane tickets, our hotel room, and two tickets to see “Annie” on Broadway.  I started doing my research early to ensure that we saw and did as much as we could in the three and half days we would be there.  I found an app for my phone that I would recommend to anyone going to New York called the “New York City Essential Guide”.  I bought a new coat, more hats and scarves than days I would be in New York, gloves that work with touchscreen phones, cuddleduds, and some fabulous new all-weather boots.  Unfortunately, the boots didn’t show up on my doorstep until 2 weeks after I got BACK from New York…but that’s another story.

My cute boots that were in a postal sorting facility
while I was tromping around the snowy sidewalks of New York.
Fortunately, my mom had some boots I could borrow.

Jenn had asked me what I was packing...I sent her a picture.

As our trip approached, the weather in New York was getting wild.  We would be getting into town just before a blizzard (A blizzard that would be the first in what would come to be known as “The Polar Vortex”).  The night before my flight, I went online to check-in and found that my flight from Washington, D.C. to New York had been cancelled.  It was a small jet that wouldn’t be able to handle the storm.  After over an hour on hold with United Airlines, I got a new flight that would connect through Houston…and it left at 6:30 a.m.!  That meant I’d be leaving my house around 4:15 and waking up around 3:30.   Fortunately, I love to travel, so I didn’t mind!  My flights went smoothly, and before I knew it, I was landing in Newark, New Jersey. 

The photo I took to remember where I parked my car at 5 a.m.

Add caption       

Waiting for the air train 

         Originally, Jenn and I had planned our flights so we would both fly into JFK, but when I had to change my flights, those plans changed and we would have to meet at our hotel.  I got my luggage and took the AirTrain to Penn Station in New York.  Penn Station was 12 blocks from our hotel…way too many to walk in a blizzard, so I had to take the subway from Penn Station to our hotel.  I bought a 7 day metrocard that allowed me unlimited rides for $30.

         Penn Station was confusing, but I eventually found the subway line I needed.  I wheeled my luggage up to the turnstile and swiped my card.  I started to walk through with my luggage…but it wouldn’t fit.   So, here I was, the country mouse visiting the city, halfway through a subway turnstile, tugging on her huge suitcase trying to get it to fit.  I backed up, ready to try again, only to find out that once you swipe your subway card, you can’t swipe it at the same station for 20 minutes.  So, I bought a one time use subway card just to get through the same turnstile!  This time, I wheeled my suitcase sideways, under the turnstile before me, THEN swiped my card and followed it.  NOW, I could board the subway train.   

         The subway looks just the way it’s represented in TV and movies.  The loud sound of the trains approaching on the tracks, the “subway tiles” on the walls, the swarms of people getting on and off.  What they can’t communicate to you through the television, however, is the stench.  The minute you walk down the subway steps, the smell of urine hits you.  If you’re lucky, it’s just urine…sometimes you get a hint of vomit.  If it smells this terrible in freezing temperatures, I can only imagine what it’s like in July. 

         It only took two stops to get me to 50^th Avenue.  I’d been underground since I got to Manhattan, so I was anxious to haul my suitcase up the stairs and onto the streets of New York.  I’ll never forget that moment…like my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, it was tattooed on my memory.  The bright yellow taxis were racing by on the street and people were speeding around me on the sidewalk.  Even though the sun had set hours before, the lights of the billboards, the buildings, and traffic lights kept it lit up like it was daytime.  And the snow!  It had just started snowing, I could tell because there wasn’t much on the ground yet, and it was snowing sideways!  My face has never been so cold.  Just keeping my eyes open was difficult because of the snow hitting them.  Still, I couldn’t help but grin…I was in New York City! 

My first glimpse of the city

I was on the corner of 50^th street and 8^th avenue.  I knew our hotel was on 50^th, between 7^th and 8^th….I just didn’t know what direction 7^th Avenue was.  Fortunately, I guessed right and found it, and Jenn, waiting for me in our room! 

Our Hotel

         We stayed at the Amsterdam Court Hotel. It’s a small, simple hotel, but it was clean and the location was ideal!  We could see the “Wicked” sign on the Gershwin Theater from our window.  It’s just a block from the lights of Times Square and Broadway.  Our room was a king size bed with about two feet of floor on three sides of the bed, and a bathroom.  Tiny, but all we needed.

Keep in mind, I'm holding the phone up in the
corner of the room to try and get as much
as I could in view. Tiny.

 It was about 7:00 pm, and we were hungry, so we bundled up (I hadn’t worn my cuddleduds, wool socks, or snowboots while I traveled, afraid I’d be sweating on the plane) and headed out into the blizzard to explore and find something to eat.  Snow was already sticking to the ground and was turning the city white.  It was beautiful, but it was FREEZING!  I just kept laughing as we walked around, because it was just so unbelievably cold.  I described it later to my mom saying, “It’s like a blizzard!”, to which she replied, “It’s not LIKE a blizzard…it IS one!”. 

 We wandered around, taking it all in, until we’d had enough of being pelted in the face with snowflakes and ducked into a pizza place.  We’d both been looking forward to New York Pizza.  It didn’t disappoint!  It was delicious!  After some more exploring, we headed back to the room.  It was only 10:00, but we were exhausted.

         The next morning, we woke up to a winter wonderland!  There was about 8 inches of snow blanketing the city.

        

                                                To Be Continued...

#18 Make Crepes

             J’aime crepes.  I love crepes.  My first exposure to this delectable French pancake was as a kid.  Occasionally, my mom would make us crepes for desert.   My favorite filling was chocolate pudding, whipped cream, and walnuts.  Sometimes we would have ice cream in them, with bananas and chocolate sauce.  I loved the nights we had crepes for dessert. 

            Fast forward to the first crepe that wasn’t made by my mom.  This crepe was made by a street vendor in Paris…the home of the crepe.  It was bigger and thinner than the ones my mom made.  It was warm, coated with a thin layer of Nutella, and folded up into a triangle for easy eating while walking along the Seine and gazing at the Eiffel Tower. 

[Pause for my heavy sigh and quick pout]. 

Okay, I’m back. Since then, I’ve had some pretty great crepes in Portland (both at a food truck and at a creperie in the Hawthorne District) and San Francisco on Pier 39.  And, I’ve made my own, but it had been awhile. 

My family at the creperie in San Francisco

Crepe Food Cart in Portland, Oregon

So, on Saturday night, I decided to go to Paris.  Not literally, but imaginatively.  I would spend an evening eating French food, listening to French music, watching a French movie, and even wearing French perfume. 

                                                        Arletty sings "C'est Mon Homme" 

                                                          (translation: "This Is My Man")

I went to the store to get the ingredients I would need for crepes, as well as a new pan.   I’ve had the same frying pan since I moved into my house 8 years ago.  When I bought it, in my naivete, I thought, “I don’t need to buy nice pots and pans, when I get married, I can just register for them!”.    Good plan, Sarah, good plan.  I’ve been using the same set of cheap pots and pans since then, and I shudder to think of all the Teflon that I’ve digested over the years….they’re pretty scraped up.   So, I decided that I would at least buy a new frying pan….one that wouldn’t leave black flakes in my crepes!

My new pan

I downloaded some French music from the 1940’s…Josephine Baker, Arletty, and Edith Piaf.   I put on my new French playlist and got to work making crepes.  My secret ingredient (actually, my mom’s secret ingredient) for dessert crepes is almond extract.  YUM!  

I was too lazy to climb on my counter and get my blender out of the upper cabinets in my kitchen, so I just whisked it briskly (using the blender is good for getting out the lumps of flour).  My new pan made flipping the crepes really easy!  Usually, the first crepe is kind of like the first pancake in a batch…a flop.  But, the butter I coated the pan with, paired with the slippery surface of my new (unscratched) nonstick pan made for easy crepe flipping!  The trick is, you have to wait until the edges of the crepe start to peel up from the pan.  By this time, you can actually swirl the pan around and the crepe should slide around like a greased up kid on a slip-n-slide.  If you’re really good, you could probably flip it in the air, but I’m not very athletic, so I use a spatula. 

Once my batter was gone, about 6 crepes later, I put them in the fridge and started dinner.  And by dinner, I mean I sliced the baguette and the brie and plated it with some fruit (my kind of cooking!).  I settled into my couch for a little Cinema Francais! 

I found an article online entitled, “17 Feel Good French Films you Should Definitely Stream on Netflix”.  There were several movies that looked cute, but I settled on “Romantics Anonymous”, which would be appropriate for me, but it isn’t really what it sounds like.  In French, it translates to Les Emotifs Anonymes”, or “”Emotionals Anonymous”.  It’s about a man and a woman who are both painfully shy and anxious in social situations.  He carries a briefcase with extra shirts in it because he sweats profusely when anxious, and She sings a song to boost her confidence when feeling insecure.  They are also both chocolatiers, which is very French (have you seen Chocolat?).  Although it’s a rough go because of their interpersonal insecurities, they manage to bumble their way into a relationship….it’s very endearing. 

Halfway through the movie, I paused it (because you can’t just listen from the other room when the movie is in French) and fixed my crepe.  I made this one with nutella, bananas, whipped cream, and slivered almonds.  Mmmm.  I also enjoy strawberries and whipped cream, or lemon juice and powdered sugar, or even just a sprinkling of granulated sugar (this is when you really appreciate flavor of the almond extract). 

This one was breakfast on Sunday morning

Whether you’re in Paris or in your house pretending you’re in Paris, crepes are always a good idea!  Une magnifique idée!

#30 Leave inspirational notes in library books

en·cour·âge·ment

/enˈkərijmənt/ - noun

Definition: the action of giving someone support, confidence, or hope.

Encouragement.

Who doesn't need it from time to time?  We all do!  But, it's not something we'll ask others for.  So, it's important that we give it to others freely, and frequently.  

I decided to encourage some strangers through books at my local library.  I thought about the books I might find in the non-fiction section of the library, books about weight loss, illness, depression, gardening, travel, etc., and I wrote encouraging messages on notecards that were targeted at people who might check these books out.  Some were quotes I liked, others scripture that I have found encouraging, and some just notes from me.  

I headed to the library down the street to carry out my covert op. I spent an hour looking for just the right books to put my notes in.  I didn't want to get caught, so I had to keep my eye on the other patrons through the bookshelves, making sure they weren't headed down my aisle.  I tried to choose books that have a chance of getting checked out.  My library has some pretty antiquated books on it's shelves, so I found books that I may be drawn to (because, lets face it, we DO judge books by their covers), in hopes that others would be drawn to them as well.  Even so, I'm sure some of my notes will sit in those books for years before anyone finds them, which is why I prayed that they will be received by readers who are in need of their encouragement.  

Here are some of my notes and the books they are hiding in.

33 Things to do While I'm 33...or at least try.

It's that time...again.  (How does it go so fast?)

      Although I didn't finish my last list, I've made a new one.  With this new list, comes a new attitude toward it.  With my first two lists, I really wanted to finish them...do every single item.   Last year, though, I realized that this isn't realistic, nor is it necessary.  Sometimes, I don't have the money to do everything.  Sometimes I don't have the time.  Other times, I don't have anyone to do them with.  And sometimes, a months after putting an item on the list, I don't really have the desire or feel the need to do it anymore (or something more interesting...like a trip to New York City...takes its place).

       And I'm okay with it.  The list isn't a contract, it's inspiration.  Ideas meant to keep my life moving.  

So here's my new list: 

1.  Get a henna tattoo
2.  Invest in some luggage!
3.  Get reusable grocery totes and use them
4.  Make a Fantasy Football Team
5.  Learn the alphabet backwards
6.  Learn the military alphabet (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, etc.)
7.  Go down Lombard Street in San Francisco
8.   Finish the 21 day fix
9.   Drink from a coconut
10.  Paintball
11.  Buy a car
12.  Try yoga
13.  Donate half of my clothes
14.  Register to be a bone marrow donor
15.  Make a book of my Instagram photos
16.  Stop drinking soda for 3 months (I've done this already, but fell off the wagon shortly after my three months were up)
17.  Update my passport (just in case!)
18.  Make crepes
19.  Make over my twin chairs (two chairs in my vast collection that have leopard print seats)
20.  Read a book by C.S. Lewis (besides the Chronicles of Narnia)
21.  Write a blog post every month
22.  Catch, clean, and cook a fish
23.  Stop biting my nails (again) and keep a manicure for 3 months
24.  Take a sunset hike in Alaska this summer (when the sunset is after 10 pm)
25.  Make three recipes from my Pinterest "Yummy" Board
26.  Use my treadmill every day for a month.
27.  Paint my living room and dining room
28.  Get a new dresser
29.  Have Thanksgiving dinner on the beach in Hawaii 
30.  Leave inspirational notes in library books
31.  Built a fort with the kids and sleep in it
32.  Leave encouraging notes in my students' desks, one a day
33.  Take a spontaneous road trip

If you see any you want to help me with or join in on, let me know!

Death and Resurrection

Women Of Faith in Sacramento

John, Chapter 11, tells the story of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.  Mary and Martha were Lazarus’ sisters.  All three of them were close friends of Jesus.  Mary, Martha, and Lazarus knew that Jesus was the son of God.  They knew he loved them. 

            One day, Lazarus became sick.  His sisters knew that their friend Jesus, the son of God, would be able to heal their brother, so they sent for him, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.”  They knew that Jesus loved their brother Lazarus and that he would heal him. 

            However, when Jesus got word of Lazarus’ illness, instead of rushing to him, he decided to stay where he was for two days.  Then, instead of leaving to go to Lazarus in Bethany after two days, he went back to Judea.  Meanwhile, in Bethany, his beloved friend lay dying. 

            I heard this story again with new ears this weekend at a Women of Faith conference.  I thought about what Mary and Martha must have felt sitting at their brother’s bedside.  After they sent word to Jesus that Lazarus was sick, I’m certain they were filled with hope.  They trusted that Jesus loved them and that he had the power to heal their brother, that he’d be there soon and he’d make Lazarus well.   

 But time continued to pass…enough time for Jesus to have gotten to their home and healed Lazarus.  Where was he?  Why wasn’t he there yet?  As the hours and days passed, and Lazarus got weaker, the sisters’ faith may have weakened as well.  Maybe he wasn’t coming?  But he loves us!  He’s the Son of God, capable of anything!  Surely, he’ll come in time!

But he doesn’t.  Lazarus dies.  The pain that the sisters must have felt.  Not only because they’d lost their brother, but because their beloved Jesus, who was capable of coming to heal him, had chosen not to.  They believed with their whole hearts that He’d come and he hadn’t.

I haven’t lost my brother, as Mary and Martha did, but I suffered the metaphorical "death" of my dream...my plan for my life.  For as long as I can remember, I've planned on being a wife and mom.  I remember in High School, we had to write a poem about our dream for our future.  I didn't write about career goals, I wrote mine about the family and home I would have.  From a very young age, I trusted that I would get married and have children.  I had an unwaivering faith that my dream would come true.  I couldn’t imagine that God wouldn’t answer my prayer.  As the years passed, and all of my friends got married, doubt started to nibble away at my hope, and my faith that God would do it weakened.  I started saying, “IF I get married” instead of “When I get married”.  More years passed, more weddings, and all those friends who married started having babies.   But not me.  And somewhere in the last couple of years, I stopped dreaming.  I made myself stop thinking about my wedding day, the man I would marry, the kids I would have, because it was just too painful to hope anymore.  But not hoping hurt, too. Just like with Lazarus, I thought God had "taken too long" and my dream died. 

            BUT, that wasn’t the end of the story for Lazarus.  Jesus knew Lazarus had died.  He’d known all along that he would.  After Lazarus had been dead for four days, Jesus arrived in Bethany.   He sought out Mary and Martha, and He wept for Lazarus with them. But not for long.  He demanded that the stone from the tomb be moved and called for Lazarus to come forth.  And Lazarus did.  From death to life.

            So, why did he allow Lazarus to die if he planned on resurrecting him? Here is what Jesus said:

“This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God,

that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

John 11:4

“Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not

there, that you may believe. Nevertheless let us go to him.”

John 11:15

“Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. And I know

 that You always hear Me, but because of the people who

 are standing by I said this, that they may believe that You sent Me.”

John 11:42

            Jesus allowed Lazarus to die so that He could raise him and be glorified through it, so that others would see that He is a God of Miracles.  They'd already seen Him make sick people well.  How much more powerful would it be to witness the resurrection of a man long-dead?     
            So, if death wasn’t the end of the story for Lazarus, maybe it’s not for me. After all, he loves me as deeply as he loved Lazarus.  If Jesus let Lazarus die so that He could display His power over death and be glorified, maybe He let my dream die because He has plans to resurrect it, and resurrect it for His glory.   

 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and 

lean not on your own understanding."

Proverbs 3:5