Shades of Grey

Ah ha! Gotcha. No, this will not be a discourse on the appropriateness of a certain trilogy of books that recently spent a bazillion weeks on the best seller list. This is about picking the right shade of grey for a house, loving grey days, and trying to get rid of a certain grey area in my life. 

The Paint

Long story short: The two glorious years in NCY are coming to an end. We are scheduled to arrive back in The Midwest on July 30th. A new residence has been purchased and plans to prepare the new

nest were discussed during the last trip "home".  Bathroom cabinets will be raised, sconces will be removed (who uses sconces in every room of a house as their only light source!?), a shower door will be added, and every wall will be freshly painted. But what color to paint? Oh my, the choices.

I have always loved using the color grey as my neutral when decorating. Peach and grey were the interior colors of my very first home lots of years ago and since then I do believe every paint company has added thousands of grey shades to their color pallets. I'm taking the plunge and painting all the walls in our new house some variation of grey. I am hoping I do not walk in and think that I have just entered a prison cell. It would make me very sad to feel like I am carrying out some type of prison sentence. Jail cells are not known for making a person feel warm and fuzzy but I'm convinced it's going to be all about the accessories. I'll let you know.

The Weather

Mmmmmm. Today has been one of those fantastically rainy, dreary, grey days. This type of weather is my favorite. Not that I don't like fresh spring days and colorful fall days, but there is just something about the grey days that make me fell cocooned. It's a nap day, a reading day, a chore day. These are the days I feel like I am living in a black and white photo. There is just something nostalgic about a grey day.

And Finally.........

I began to notice the roots of my hair becoming much more grey a few weeks ago and decided to ignore it. Yesterday I realized it had been ten weeks since the last visit to a colorist and what I was seeing was not going to go away and wasn't going to blend in. Now matter how I combed, tucked, or fluffed my hair there was a significant portion of grey showing. Since the cost to visit a NYC hairdresser is equal to a car payment (and I'm talking about a nice car, not a clunker) I'm thinking it is a task I should take over. After all, what are all those boxed hair color aisles at the pharmacy for? I picked a shade I thought would cover nicely and figured worst case I would be wearing a hat, a big hat, until I could get in to see my much more reasonably priced hairdresser at home. It turned out not bad, but not great either. Maybe I should consider which shade of grey I can live with and just give in.

Nah.

An Off Year

Yesterday was our 17th wedding anniversary.

Traditionally, according to reliable website sources, we are suppose to give crystal gifts for our fifteenth anniversary and silver for our twentieth. Nothing is noted for the seventeenth. Well, there IS a gift of furniture mentioned for the seventeenth if you are checking the "Modern" gift list and given that we will be in the process of moving soon that might have been a good idea, but no recliners or lamps or bedside tables were exchanged.

I think it's nice when you are at the point in a relationship when a non-celebration becomes a celebration. Not that I would want that every year but we decided early in the day, after seeing four visiting family members off in a cab to the airport, that an agenda of doing nothing would be a great gift to give each other. Since late April we had either had guests here or traveled ourselves. We bought a house in the Midwest (Midwest to Midtown.....and Back), graduated the youngest from college, apartment hunted with that graduate for his post college abode, traded cars, visited with friends and family, picked paint colors and carpet for the new house, and arranged for a contractor to tweak a few things before we go back in July. We both needed a breather.

We caught up on a little TV, I washed up guest bedding, he sat and researched ancestry at the computer. I read newspapers that had piled up during the week of entertaining, he ran out to bring back lunch and a few groceries. We ordered take-out for dinner. No angst of what to buy each other, no budgeting for elaborate trips or champagne meals, no perusing the card section for that perfectly versed card. Just a comfortable sharing of our special day.

Off years are good!

Good Intentions

We had such good intentions.

Knowing we would be back in NYC for New Year's Eve this year Mr. Y and I decided this would be the year to be in Time's Square. Won't ever be here again. How could we miss this opportunity? We will be SO sorry if we don't go. Won't we?

The day started out clear and bright, then spit snow in the afternoon, and finally cleared for a reveal a cloudless, cold night. Reports started coming in of people (and by that I mean young people) beginning to stake out their spots around noon. Oh gosh, really? They are going to stand outside in twenty degree weather for twelve hours!? No restrooms, no chairs, no food. Back packs and packages were not being allowed into the secured areas so unless you could stuff a whole lot of goods into your pockets it was going to be a very long day. And then there were the posts about adult diapers being needed, and, well, you see where this is going.....

Right to our couch. Sitting in front our of TV with thousands (though more than one announcer referred to billions) of people doing the same thing. We saw the entertainment, such as it was, and had a helicopter view of the crowd. Plus we had ready access to our facilities and could pop our popcorn and eat it hot. Oh, we could have made a mad dash to midtown around ten and hoped for the best but it was more fun to dash to our rooftop at midnight and see the fireworks in Central Park and Brooklyn going off. The dash back downstairs to a warm cozy bed by 12:20am was even better. No subway ride required.

I didn't make any resolutions for 2014 but I've already paved the way for good intentions.

Oh Fenstersims, Oh Fenstersims

Since I don't have a Christmas tree to stand around and sing O, Tannenbaum to this year I will just have to sing O, Christmas Fenstersims, O Christmas Fenstersims. That's the German word for ledge and that's what I'm going with. It doesn't have quite the same ring to it but we're doing non-traditional at my house.

Were it not for company that arrived on Saturday for a week long stay I don't think I would have bothered with decorating this year. It's not that I am being bah humbug about it but we are only in town for two and a half weeks before we head back to Kansas for the family celebrations. No packages will be finding their way under a tree here as online ordered gifts are already being shipped to my sister's doorstep in my hometown. So what to do for decorations?

My decision was made when a very helpful street vendor of beautiful Christmas trees was willing to dig through her bag of trimmed branches to provide me enough to decorate the ledge by my dining room table. This was a thrifty twenty dollar decision since my alternative was to hit the flower shops for garland and I won't even venture to guess what that would have run me here they city. Bless her heart she was more stringent in branch selection than I was. Is this full enough? she would ask or would you like some of the errant sprigs trimmed off? She gently laid them in a trash bag and off we went, glad not to be dragging a 5' tree down the street. 

At home I rummaged in yet another trash bag full of last years decorations and managed to cobble together a display that looks wonderful at night but will likely look like a hot mess during the day. It takes a certain knack to hide miles of lights in tree branches. Thank goodness we will be out most days this next week and it gets dark at 4:30pm.

Christmas themed pillows and a small table poinsettia rounded out the decorations. Now, everyone join me in a rousing chorus of O Christmas Ledge, O Christmas Ledge.

Airplane Mode

Flying has been a big part of our lives since we moved to NYC. Flying to different destinations to see family and friends, going on a couple of vacations, and attending weddings have taken us out of the city more than I had anticipated. By my estimation we have spent approximately one week out of the city for every month we have lived here. So figure at least twenty four flights over the last two years.  I pretty much knew the flying had taken a toll when I was looking out my window for The Arch of St. Louis while taking off from Kansas City this week. Oops.

 Our flights to Kansas for Thanksgiving were the first we've flown since the FAA approved the use of electronic devices during takeoff and landing  - as long as they are in airplane mode. No more grabbing for newspapers or magazines while waiting for the magical 10,000 feet "you can now use your devices" blessing. Fire those e-books up and read your way from gate to gate! And there is just something about those two segments of a flight that beg for musical accompaniment. Taking off to a soft piano/guitar serenade and landing with Frank Sinatra belting "New York, New York" seems fitting.

What I am not ready for and will never be ready for is approval of cell phone calls during flights. I was already ensconced in my window seat with my husband in his aisle seat when much to our dismay we acquired a middle seat partner. She put a carry-on in the overhead bin, maneuvered into her seat, stuffed additional bags around her feet, gyrated around until she could find her seat belts, all while carrying on a business conversation. Had she had approval to make calls during the flight I have no doubt in my mind that by the time we landed I would have known her clients names, who was/or wasn't performing their jobs, what their goals were, and a checklist of how they were going to get things done. Thanks but no thanks, FAA.

I figure people can sleep, sit quietly, read books, listen to music, use wi-fi to text or write e-mails, or converse (softly!) with their seat partners. I don't want to hear anyone making hair appointments, describe ailments to their doctors, get tax advice, try to recruit the next hot athlete, or gossip about their neighbors.

I figure if our electronic devices can have an airplane mode then so can people.

The Magic Toy Store

Walking down 91st Street I sometimes think I will see Meg Ryan reprising her role of shopgirl Kathleen Kelly in the movie "You've Got Mail".  She played the perky, smiling owner of a quaint independent book store located on a side street in NYC.  Customers at her shop received individualized care and it was a quiet place to pass a few hours purveying the shelves for that gem of a book that makes you crave a rainy afternoon. That's the feeling I get what I call The Magic Toy Store.

How could a person not be drawn to a storefront that is painted purple amongst all of its drab brownstone neighbors? The storefront lights twinkle and the window display cases are packed with games and dolls and push poppers, all in the brightest colors imaginable. Inside the shelves are stocked with trucks and sparkly tutus and easy bake ovens and dinosaurs and, well yes, everything a small tot's or tottie's heart might desire.

As grandma to The Wee One this store has provided for many entertaining visits to choose just the right item to add to his toy basket. His Jack in the Box and Easter chick and Halloween bath toy and whirly gig were all purchased after much musing and touching and testing. The clerk at the store is always quick to ask what age of child I am purchasing for and make recommendation based on past purchases. The icing on the cake is an almost mandatory gift wrap of the toy with tissue, ribbon, and if you want, a balloon. Even though The Wee One will no longer be upstairs I have a feeling my need for toy gifts will not abate. And I know where I will be going to get them.

The Magic Toy Store.

Catching Up. Always.

Remnants of a fun vacation

I am the Fits and Starts of all bloggers. I seem to be always catching up. There must be something to be said for the seeming inactivity of my life when I can blog once every thirty days and call it good. So here goes......

Vacation

Right after I did NOT leave my heart in Paris I proceeded to leave what seemed like most of my disposable income all over the rest of Europe. Giverny, London, Belgium, and Germany. Not that I purchased anything exciting. Most of our expenses were lodging and fuel and tours. The sand from the beaches of Normandy was free, the surreal walk down the staircase of Downton Abbey cost a few pounds, and the ride through the Chunnel was exorbitantly expensive because I didn't purchase the tickets at least twenty four hours in advance. (Lesson learned.) I did purchase Starbucks mugs in Germany and Amsterdam and I've found that starting my day with windmills inspires me in a Don Quixote kind of way.

                                Birthday

I am a Leo so this is my birthday month. Cake and ice cream don't hold quite the allure as they once did but I have to say this years cake, well, took the cake.

Cronuts (TM) are all the rage here in NYC. For the uninitiated this concoction, a baked good that combines a croissant and a donut, was developed by a bakery in Soho and is selling like, um, hotcakes. People are waiting in line for HOURS before the bakery opens just to get their shot at the maximum daily limit of two Cronuts (TM) each. Once the goods are gone for the day, usually no later than 10AM and sometimes by 8am, you are out of luck. Not being the morning person that I am it's safe to say I have never tasted a Cronut (TM). However, I did celebrate my birthday with a Dossaint, an equally tasty combination of a donut and croissant. Designed (or should I say constructed?) and named by the family of The Wee One that lives upstairs it served as my birthday cake. Never have I been so happy to turn 0.

                          Moving
Speaking of The Wee One. He and his toy basket that resides in my apartment are moving to Florida on Friday. Beaches as opposed to concrete playgrounds, boats as opposed to the buses he is thrilled to point out on every walk around the city, and car rides instead of stroller/subway/taxi rides are in his near future. It will be a happy place for him with cousins and another set of grandparents nearby. He won't have to share a bathroom with his parents anymore (which they are probably much more thrilled about than he is), he will have three spacious floors of a condominium to explore as opposed to two small rooms in an apartment, and he will get to go up and down stairs instead of elevators.

I am happy for him and his little family, I really am. But I know I am going to miss his visits in the evening after bath time and that fragrance of lavender baby lotion. Grandpa is going to miss lap time in front of the computer for endless loops of Wheels on the Bus. We are both going to miss those daily hugs and kisses.

But who knows? We have a year left on our NYC lease and then I may have to rename this blog Midwest to Midtown to Miami. We shall see.