What I missed

So bummed that I missed this:

Carrie finds her voice

Anyone who knows me well knows that if there's one thing I love, it's indie rock. I could not be more excited about the new Wild Flag album that just dropped on Tuesday. Wild Flag is a "supergroup" (I don't really like that term, but I do think they're super, so I'll use it in this instance only), featuring Carrie Brownstein and Janet Weiss (ex-Sleater Kinney), Mary Timony (ex-Helium), and some girl named Rebecca Cole, who I've never heard of before. I've been an S-K fan for years; I've probably seen them live about 25 times, and I was really crushed when they split up. Now I'm thinking it was a smart move because Wild Flag is kinda like S-K's grown up sister -- musically, the sound is much more rounded, and Carrie Brownstein has really learned how to sing. Check it out.

WM3: Free

Truly one of the most amazing true-life stories about humanity. I have followed this story since I was in college and first saw the "Paradise Lost" documentary, and I'm honestly stunned at how it turned out. I've always believed the WM3 were innocent but I never thought we'd actually see them released. To learn more about this case, visit www.wm3.org

Happy Mother's Day

I can't think of a better way to celebrate today than with a little Danzig. And for those of you who need a little reminder of how important your mom really is, Mr. T has a little something to tell you..



What's with the short shorts?

Singing

Hi! Happy Spring! I know it's been a while since I've been here.

I have to say I miss singing. When I was little I would sing all the time and annoy the neighbors, or whoever I was in the car with. I guess I had to tone it down as I got older.

I love this video of Stevie Nicks singing while she gets her make-up done backstage years ago.

So heartwarming.

Happy Earth Week!

It's the beginning of Earth Week, and what better way to kick if off than with the cutest video ever? This little pug amazes me...



Maybe by next year, I will have trained Maxine to recycle...

Oh, Canada

Girl Money

Spring is here and glam rock is in the air. I usually don't have a second of free time EVER, but this weekend I decided to make a little time for myself. Myself, my partner, and a little glam rock, to be more specific.

When I was in junior high, I used to listen to this glam band from Baltimore called Kix. They had a rock ballad "Don't Close Your Eyes" that gained some recognition, but overall they never really made it big, and I never really understood why. They were the underdogs of the glam rock scene for a long time, and then, as we all know...glam rock died and grunge took over.

The good news? Kix is still together after all these years and they seriously, seriously rock. They put on an amazing show on Saturday. Grab your mini skirt and your aqua net and have some fun...

Happy Birthday, Maxine!

Wishing my little puggle a very happy 4th birthday today. This dog has been through it all with me, from the East Village to Williamsburg to the beach house to our new home in the woods. I like to think of Max as being my all-natural anti-depression, anti-anxiety drug. She rules. Happy Birthday, pooch!

Rich Bitch

Somewhere between fantasy and nightmare...

Portlandia

Thanks to Rania for sending me this clip in an email today. It makes me happy to see that Carrie Brownstein is up to something again, and (of course) this shit makes me laugh, hard.




Everything in this video could also be applied to Antioch, the beautiful, wonderful, mysterious college where Rania and I met. It's so funny because it's so true...

What's on the stereo today?

Yesterday I drove to Boston by myself. To kill the boredom, I dug out some old CDs to listen to on the drive. One in particular stood out to me: The Poppy Family. Back in the day, I used to work for MTV Networks, and one of the sound engineers that I frequently worked with made a CD of some Poppy Family songs for me. He said he imagined that this was the kind of music I listened to. I had no idea how he knew. Do I look like I listen to creepy '70's music? Maybe so...

The Spring of Neglect

ne·glect
   /nɪˈglɛkt/ Show Spelled[ni-glekt] Show IPA
–verb (used with object)
1. to pay no attention or too little attention to; disregard or slight: The public neglected his genius for many years.
2. to be remiss in the care or treatment of: to neglect one's family; to neglect one's appearance.
3. to omit, through indifference or carelessness: to neglect to reply to an invitation.
4.to fail to carry out or perform (orders, duties, etc.): to neglect the household chores.
5.to fail to take or use: to neglect no precaution.

Sounds about right. Sorry I've neglected the blog for months now. I've been busy. In the future, I promise to make more regular updates, and I've decided the best way to keep on top of this is to make each entry short and sweet. Who has time for all that writing anyway?

Here's what's on my mind right now:

1. Moving at the end of the month! Bye, bye beach; hello beautiful green backyard!

2. The new Band of Horses album, "Infinite Arms"...Can't stop listening to it.

3. Summer science class starts today!

4. Running the Shelter Island 10K in 2 weeks.

5. Traveling to Colorado tomorrow. Looking forward to some beautiful views and amazing hikes.

6. Volunteering at the hospital to start soon. What will it be like?

7. The Kelly Affair will rock again this summer at Amanda's wedding (not me, the other Amanda).

Stay tuned...

coping and cooking

Living out in the suburbs poses challenges for someone who is used to city life. I am learning to deal with most of these challenges, but the one thing that might send me running back to Brooklyn in a tearful rage is the food. Or the lack of food.  The lack of GOOD food! It’s killing me.

When I was living in NYC, I spent way too much money on eating out, mostly because I didn’t have the patience to cook, but also because it was just so easy. Why eat my own crappy homemade food when I can pay for something that actually tastes good?  And a lot of it is cheap. You pay five dollars for a falafel sandwich and then you’re done for the evening. No chopping onions, or washing dishes, or covering a bowl with saran wrap. Besides, my cooking skills were sub par. It took me years just to figure out how to cook rice.

Sadly, out here in the boonies I am forced to eat my own mediocre home- cooked meals.  I am constantly slicing some vegetable, or waiting for something to boil, or cracking an egg, or burning something in the toaster oven.  And this is all because it is easier to find a pickup truck full of free manure, than it is to find a decent meal in this town.

There are about 20 places to get a burger, so that’s good, but I have to drive for about an hour to get a decent salad or a plate of eggs benedict, and an hour and a half to get Chinese, Thai, or Indian food.  Without making a day trip out of it, there is no place to sit and have a cappuccino (well we have a Borders here, but this particular one creeps me out). There are no whole foods, or French bakeries, or places to get soup that doesn’t have heavy cream in it, or bars to sip wine at without having to watch a football game. Oh and if you want to get anything after 10pm, forget it.  You’re eating Slim Jims from the gas station.

Ok, we have great diners and Applebee’s, and Wendy’s, and a Steakhouse, and Taco Bell. Also there is an abundance of bagels and “Chicken Parm.”  But why does everything have to be covered in cheese?  And why is there so much bacon in the salads that I order?  And why is all the fresh fish immediately doused in batter and deep-fried? I just want to be able to take visitors out for a pleasant meal at a restaurant that doesn’t make you so full, you’re sick for three days.  I mean come on, melted cheese AND sour cream AND ground beef AND french fries in my appetizer?  This wouldn’t bother me so much if I weren’t such a food snob.

That’s basically my problem.  It’s that I’m a food snob. I blame New York City and my mother for that (she once told me never to say the words “honey-mustard” again.)  My hubby never complains about food out here.  Infact, if it weren’t for me, his truck would be littered with Taco Bell wrappers and ketchup packets.  Gross.

I know that most towns in the US are set up like mine, and it’s the few cities that have snazzy restaurant scenes or foodie markets, but this particular blog is about the city to suburbs transition, and I’m sure others going through this must feel the same.  Believe me, I am aware that I could have bigger problems than this and that I should just shut up and go back to steaming my kale. My sister in law lived in Nigeria for a while and she was making things like bread and ice cream from scratch because she couldn’t get those things there.  I can get 20 varieties of each of those things at my local supermarket, so what’s my problem?

Ok, so now I have been forced to learn how to cook.

After two years, I can make a decent pasta sauce, sauté veggies, bake a chicken, and figure out how long it will take to make soup, that’s more than I could have said back when I lived in Brooklyn.  I also have to pack a lunch everyday for work, which I didn’t even do when I was in elementary school. 

It’s a long drive to NYC, so our solution is to travel in our minds and palates.  For New Year’s I made my own caviar blini with $6.99 supermarket caviar, and it turned out ok. And I recently bought my hubby the Momofuku cookbook which has recipes for their dishes like Kim Chi stew, which I plan to attempt to make soon. I also recently heard about websites like foodzie.com and importfoods.com, where you can order specialty foods online, which is helpful, especially after my de pui lentils meltdown at the Stop and Shop a little while ago. I just wanted to buy French Lentils and not one store in my town had them, so I went home and told hubby we had to move.

Please forgive me for being a food snob.  I don’t want to tell other people what to eat, but I do think eating healthy, fresh and local is good for you and it’s hard if you don’t have enough choices.

Would anyone like to comment with lunch and dinner recipes for me to try?

I'll be down, I'll be around...

Dinosaur Jr has been one of my favorite bands for as long as I can remember. As a teenager, my friend Julie and I used to drive around in my mom's Saab and listen to "Green Mind" and "Where You Been" over and over and over. Growing up in New England, there's a certain sense of coolness and hometown pride you feel listening to another New England band, even if they live in Massachusetts and you live in Vermont.

One of the things I miss most about living in New York is going to rock shows every week. New York spoils you in that way. There's nothing like stepping into the bathroom at work at the end of a hard day, and transforming out of your responsible work outfit and into a mini skirt and a tube top. Smear on some black eyeliner, meet Rania on the corner for a slice, and you're ready to begin your rock n' roll adventure of a night. New York also offers you the luxury of not having to travel far for rock shows, with the exception of a few places in Williamsburg, or maybe the Siren Fest at Coney Island. I've really missed those things, until something magical happened here in Connecticut...

As a special birthday gift to me, Dinosaur Jr decided to reward me for being a fan for the past 17 years and play a show in my town here in Connecticut. Two nights before the show, I was walking in the "downtown" area of my little town (coming from New York really makes you re-think the word downtown. In New York, downtown is the home of filthy dive bars, falafel stands, and turkish bath houses. Out here, in the suburbs, downtown consists of a big strip of grass, kinda like a park in New York but much cleaner and with no people, surrounded by a few restaurants, an old-timey family pharmacy, a Dunkin' Donuts (of course), and, luckily for me, a rock club). As my boyfriend and I were walking down the street downtown, a single flyer posted to a telephone pole caught my eye. Dinosaur Freakin' Jr! Playing in MY little town!



One thing led to another, and on Friday night I found myself standing outside this little rock club waiting on the line outside in the cold. It was a bit surreal just being around fellow indie rockers and feeling like I was part of a scene for the first time since I moved here. For as long as I can remember, I've always identified myself as "indie rock" so needless to say, moving to a place where that culture is somewhere between hidden and non-existant has been a real challenge for me. Not to say I won't still go to shows in New York, it's just completely different when the spontaneity is removed. I've really missed the loud guitars, singing along to my favorite songs out loud, comparing set lists with fellow indie nerds. I've missed the rush of hearing the first few notes when a band first takes the stage, or hearing that one song you love so much that you've never heard live before. Luckily for me, while I was still standing outside waiting to get in, J Mascis walked out of the club and started wandering around aimlessly right in front of me. It's simultaneously creepy and cool to think that after all these years, I still feel so excited to see my favorite musicians in person. I almost thought I was going to puke just being in his presence, but those are the moments that really remind you that you're still alive.

The show was amazing. For the first time in all the times I've seen Dinosaur Jr, they actually didn't play that loud (I only counted 7 Marshall cabinets this time), the club had $3 beers, and I didn't feel like I was in a cool contest, as I've often felt at shows in New York. They opened with "Thumb," my all-time favorite Dinosaur Jr song, rocked out for a good 75 minutes, and closed with an encore of "The Lung," a close second fave, and The Cure's "Just like Heaven." I went home happy, thankful, revitalized.

As J Mascis would say, whatever's cool with me...

The beginning, part 2

Like Amanda said, trading New York City for suburban life takes some getting used to. At first I felt like I was on an extended vacation. I loved the clean air, being able to see the stars, listening to the creepy silence, having abundant space, and enjoying plenty of time to myself.

Then, after about a year it occurred to me that this was my life. No Thai take-out for dinner, no spontaneous drunken meetings at bars, no opportunities to see the latest Almadovar movie in the theater, no places to wear my cute heels, no hailing cabs while eating pizza, no subway musicians, no running into a friend on the street, no buying organic toothpaste at a deli, no street art or crazy fashion spottings.

Suddenly I was hit with an identity crisis. I was a city girl without my city. Going out for dinner, seeing rock shows, and hanging out with friends were all a bigger part of my life than I remembered.

And what was I supposed to do now? Cook? Garden? Learn to play a new instrument?

Okay.

I can go back and visit NYC any time, but it’s not the same. My life is here now. We bought our house. And my husband, who is worth moving just about anywhere for, is pretty happy here.

Besides, I like to embrace challenges, and adjusting to domestic life is definitely a challenge for me. I gave NYC nearly 10 years of my life. Change is good.

I’m glad Amanda and I are going through this together, even though we live in different states, separated by a body of water. This blog is our attempt to make sense of our new strange, yet peaceful lives.

The beginning...

I’ll be the first to admit, this is intimidating. When Rania mentioned doing a blog last month, I was more than excited about it, but when it actually came time to begin the writing, I found myself staring at a blank page, waiting for my thoughts to articulate themselves. Now it’s nearing the New Year and I promised Rania I would have my first blog entry ready. New year, new blog she said.

It’s impossible to say what this blog will really turn out to be, but we have some basic ideas of what we’d like. Rania and I have recently followed a similar path: we both lived in New York for years, enjoying a blissful downtown, indie rock life. We had a lot of fun, drank a lot of martinis, wore mini skirts year-round, danced to many an 80s song. Only recently did we leave both leave behind the urban landscape we came to call home, Rania moving to the North fork on Long Island to enjoy a laid-back life of surfing and swimming with her husband Jason, and me moving to a beach-front home on the Connecticut coast, where I live a low-key sun n’ sand life with my partner Dan. It’s completely different from living in New York. This blog is supposed to be about just that.