Take a Hike - Hoboken Style

My bloggy friend Ashley has been posting some pretty

impressive pics of her Alaskan hikes, so I thought

I would reciprocate with a few pics of my morning

walks for fitness; I like to call it Hiking, Hoboken Style:

My favorite place to walk in Hoboken is on the campus

of Stevens Institute; it definitely has the best view in the 

Mile Square City.  This pic shows lower Manhattan on the left,

and Jersey City Waterfront on the right. Wanna know

one of the reasons we won't be leaving Hoboken anytime soon?

Matty works in one of the buildings on the right. 'Nuff said.

Look, Ma - trees! I know, who would've thunk it here in 

the big city, eh?  This pic is of all of lower Manhattan.  For 

those of you not familiar with NYC, that's just a small portion 

of the city.  Where the building flatten out is probably around

the 20's and 30's; moving left off the pic, Midtown begins.

Ah, Midtown! Yep, that's the Empire State Building;

it's the highest building in the pic. Pretty cool,

but personally, if you're traveling to NYC, I suggest

skipping the Empire State and heading instead to the

30 Rock Building at Rockefeller Center: its views are 

360 degrees; Empire State's are not.

This morning, this cruise ship pulled up anchor and

departed from its dock somewhere around 50th Street.

It's surprising how fast those big ships move; I had a hard time
getting a decent picture using my antique iPhone.

Here's another peek of Empire State and Stevens Campus.

I like walking here because it reminds me a lot of 

Bucknell, where I went to college: like BU, Stevens is very
green, has  traditional brick-and-ivy buildings, and
has a fab quad with a really cool statue:

(not my pic, obviously)

Unfortunately, Stevens Campus is one of the smallest,

teensiest campuses I've ever been on, so I usually walk

up one side of the quad and then turn around and walk

down the other, which is barely enough to
satisfy my daily dose of nostalgia.

In just a few days, I'll be walking for fitness on
the Isle of Mull and then a few days after that,
on the Isle of Skye! I'm looking forward to those
walks and to those posts; I hope you are, too!

Snowzilla and Pauly D

Last night, Matty and I ventured out into the Snowpacolypse for some food and drink.  We wound up at the Gaslight, where we enjoyed the Texan Chicken BLT, their fabulous mac-n-cheese, and the mango chicken salad with avocado (note: if you're gonna serve a mango salad, then the mango should be ripe, otherwise, it's a waste. Other than the mango, however, the salad was terrific - best chicken I've had in ages).   

The place was mobbed and of course, as happens in the restaurant biz when there is the least sign of weather, most of the wait staffed called out (which, assuming most people who work there live in Hoboken, is appalling) but the one waiter who was there, ran that show like Jay Z: he crushed the crush and in no time at all, we were watered, fed, and put out to pasture.

On our way home, we remarked that it has been a good night to be out and about: there's just something about a snow storm that makes me want to be out in it, somewhere public and communal.


As we rounded the corner of Madison onto First, something caught my eye in front of Mad One Jack's, a salon.  It appeared to be a snowman! Fun, right?  I had to take a closer look and man, am I glad I did.

It wasn't just any old snowman, it was PAULY D! Snowman style!  

I had to get in on the photo op!

I even got a photo of the artist with her work:

Funny, she looks a little like Celine!

We ended the night back at 79 Monroe, 

happy to have spent an evening making the most of city living,

grateful to have such a great home to return to:

SHUT UP!

Do you want to know a secret?

I HATE the sound of other people's laughter. Seriously, it makes my ears bleed, particularly when it's in the near distance, like next door.

I don't understand why outdoor gatherings make people laugh louder than when they are indoors. Whenever I'm outside, I make an attempt to be a calmer, more in control version of myself because I don't want to annoy others: the outdoors is a shared space, it belongs to no one and everyone. Other people, however, seem to think that the world is their personal soundstage and once outside in it, they can shriek and squeal and laugh with loud abandon.

Entitlement pisses me off: in Hoboken, people think that if they have a legal ID, some friends and access to an outdoor space they are practically obligated to utilize all three and make as much noise as possible while doing so.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unrealistic. I believe in the right to gather outside and enjoy the company of others. What I don't believe in is polluting the air with banshee screams and estrogen infused howls - yes, most of the screamers are girls: there is NOTHING worse than the shrill cry of a twentysomething faux socialite (except the teen version).

So, What's La Pointe of It All? It's this: if you want to scream and shout, knock yourself out - but do it indoors so that the rest of us can enjoy the outdoors, too.

Know Thy Self

This morning on my walk for fitness, I noticed three types of women walking the streets of Hoboken: the Solo Athlete (I'm using the term athlete VERY loosely since I am including myself in this category), the Working Woman, and the Out and About Mom.

The SAs I spotted this morning ranged from thin to fat and were walking, running, rollerblading, and biking. What is interesting about the SA is that she could also fit into the WW or the OaAM category, too; she could be getting in her morning fitness before heading into the city or while her husband is watching the babe before he leaves for work. Or she could fit into neither of the two categories; she could be a teacher off for the summer, unemployed, a trust fund baby, or retired.

What I noticed about the SAs collectively, is that they (we) all looked focused and a bit miserable but it was obvious that the misery stemmed from exertion and therefore was ephemeral and thus excusable.

The misery on the faces of the WW was a different sort of misery - one that stems from walking to either work or to the train garbed in office wear (some of which, I must add, was exquisite and covetable). The problem with working in an office during the summer is that it's 94 degrees and miserably humid outdoors - hence the sleeveless blouses and modified sundresses - but 63 degrees and absolutely freezing indoors - hence the sweaters thrown over aforementioned blouses and dresses.

That's just one of the reasons, I'm sure, that the WW look miserable. There are much more pressing reasons that I can easily infer to explain those looks, such as, well, working, period. Add office politics, dropping a child off at daycare, not getting enough sleep the night before because said child is colicky (sp?), working in a field that inspires no passion, etc.

The OaAMs (I refuse to call them Stay at Home Moms anymore because the majority of moms who choose to be with their children instead of working never seem to be at home - they are always out and about running errands, shuffling the kids from here to there, taking the child to the park, etc) had a different look on their faces altogether. Yes, there were a few with looks of pain spread across their visage however those looks seemed the result of a temporary set back, such as a diaper issue, etc.

Instead, most of the OaAMs had a bit of a twinkle in their eyes that seemed to say, "I can't believe this is my life - I can't believe I'm walking to Washington Street to grab a coffee and then am meeting up with some friends at the park while all of these unfortunate ladies herd themselves onto a PATH train and are shuttled like cattle through an underground network to the pen where they will be contained for the day".

Of course many of the WW would argue with the OaAMs and many of the OaAMs would argue with me that she wouldn't or would change her situation if she could, which makes me sad because obviously those women don't truly know themselves well enough to have chosen their paths correctly.

I, on the other hand, know myself so damn well that you will never hear me complain once I have a baby and make a choice between being a WW or an OaAM because I'll be blissfully happy and sure of that choice because I know myself so damn well.

Of course I'll do A LOT of bitching on a day to day basis about bits and pieces of my day that are a result of that choice, but bitching is just apart of my personality, as you all know. Mark my word, however: once I choose, you will NEVER hear me complain on a regular or even an irregular basis about which job I've chosen and I invite you to call me out on it if I do.

I can't wait to be an OaAM someday soon - I mean yeah, I wish I didn't need to actually give birth in order to become one of them but unfortunately, Matt won't budge on that point.

Oh, and just a little disclaimer - everything stated above about the OaAMs, well, that only applies to those with only ONE child, possibly two and NEVER to those with THREE or more, which is, like my dear friend Erik always says, a no - no: NEVER LET THEM OUTNUMBER YOU!

I will be having just the one, thank you, unless - dear lord - Matty comes from a family with multiples in the genes and if that is the case, make sure to check out the Etsy shop I'll be opening to view the advertised custom listing for one (or more) half Greek, half WASP baby(ies) for sale.