a fire red vespa. and a dream.

There's a fire red vespa that sits on the corner of 67th and Columbus. I want it. I want to steal it. I won't. But I want to. And this is not an invitation for you to do so either.

But sometimes, in my darkest moments, I dream up ways to surreptitiously flip the kick stand and peel off through the park, hair flying in every direction under the matching red helmet I just happened to have in my bag that morning.

However, if I had been riding my vespa last night instead of walking, would I have missed the gentleman in a suit stealing the tree-sized flowers from the Plaza Hotel's dumpster? Or the young boy practicing racquetball against the giant marble wall outside his doorman-guarded building?

Maybe New York is best seen on foot.

Not to worry, I'll get my vespa when I move to Rome. And all will be well in the world.

image found at this amazing little blog dedicated to scooters

so maybe i like the kind of ice cream you can pick up in your fingers and play with.

It's called Mochi ice cream. Didn't you know? 

Sesame flavor? Yes please!

roman holiday.

The whirr of the espresso brewing. The lively Italian dialogue coming from the corner television. Three hours of my Sunday morning spent in the corner drinking mocha coffee and pretending I live in Europe. 

I may not be able to afford the real thing right now. But this is pretty good too. It might just be my favorite place in all of New York. For now. 

Arte Around the Corner

274 Columbus Avenue (between 72nd and 73rd)

photos by moi

say blossom too many times and you start to wonder if it's a word.

Last night my friend Justine took me to Blossom, an organic vegan restaurant located on Columbus Avenue between 82nd and 83rd street. Did I mention I'm from Texas and that I love meat? Well...I'd go back again and again because they have the meanest cookie dough milkshake a girl could ever hope to have. And it's made from soy. So you feel healthy even when you finish and you're barely breathing because you didn't come up--not even once--for air. 

Justine attracts men like it's her job. I have another friend like this, Victoria. It's hard to go out with either of these girls because when I'm with them, I know the men sure as heck aren't lookin' at me. So last night every waiter in the restaurant nuzzled up close to our table. After one got a bit too close (yes girls, you're right close talkers are right up there with heavy breathers and noisy eaters) she looked at me and quietly said, he's odd. Yeah, he's odd, I agreed. Later in the evening she made some comment about how he was kind of attractive. I cocked my head and gave her my best look of bewilderment. 

Why did you say he was hot, then? she asked. 

What, I didn't say he was hot. 

Yes you did. Earlier, you said he was hot.

Replay in my mind. Stop tape. Brain clicks in.

I said he was odd.

Oh, I thought you said he was hot. 

And I thought you said he was odd.

There you have it. She said hot. I said odd. And we both heard what we wanted to.

I laughed and laughed. 

Maybe that's why she's dating like three guys and I'm...

not.

Today the Nor'easter hit with a vengeance.

And since I had the day off, I decided what better time to tackle my spring cleaning? 

After all, my mom's been asking when I was going to post the after picture from this post.

Well Mom, here it is...

though I don't think the after photo really does the room justice. I mean...it looks impeccable now.

The thing about NYC apartments is you have to move fast. Not much time to mull over the details. Once it's on the market, it doesn't remain there for long (maybe a bit longer in today's economy, but even still). Lightning speed is a must. This creates the following condition: you never know what the problem with the apartment will be until you've lived there for a little while. Apartment #1: nesting pigeons in the void where an air-conditioning could've gone. This led to maggots. And me cursing the fact that I didn't have a boyfriend I could call up at 3 am to come help me kill them. Apartment #2: street noise and dust: so much dust, so--so much noise. And now apartment #3: I don't mind that the dishwasher is always off kilter or that I have to hit the microwave's side each time to get it going. I don't even mind the passionate fights that the landlords have directly above my room or that they move furniture around in the early morning hours. I don't mind that I don't have a closet--though a closet would be nice. The problem with this apartment comes down to the following: I have to clean every five minutes. I think it's due to the lack of storage space. But I am always cleaning my room. One thing out of place and the whole thing is shot to hell. So I'm hoping this go round I'll maintain the spring cleaning state of being. For longer than five minutes.

And the below is my blogging area. Well, I should say I blog here at the desk and in bed. That's the beauty of a laptop. It's movable! Who knew? I saw on someone's blog (and now I can't remember, ugh--so if it was you, speak up) that they were tagged to show off the area in which they blogged. And if you were reading the post, you too were essentially tagged--thus the reason for me showing off my own space. So if you're reading this, now you're tagged. I wanna see where you make the magic happen people.