Monday, December 18, 2006

mom Steve, Steve mom

Should I warn him about all the jarred foods in the fridge? They're not ready for consumption, they're still fermenting. I believe those science projects have been soaking in vinegar since my 13th birthday slumber party, which created a rubberneck in my kitchen when Megan opened the fridge for a Squirt. Forunately the suitor isn't a nose pincher to ethnic foods, he's New York like that. And like a true New Yorker he likes his shoes. I hope he doesn't mind Mister Roger-ing every time he enters, shoes off, slippers on and a cardigan will be necessary for half of the house. My mother has blocked the vents in the rooms we don't use. Late at night you can hear the tin foil fluttering, as well as garage door from my younger brother coming home late. You'll hear a wizz in the bathroom but the sink never goes on. There's a good chance to we'll wake up to bigbucks holiday lattes on our nightstand, a literal Folders Christmas commercial. But no food griddled, over-easy or toasted. There will always be white rice with purple beans in the cooker. The cooker, unlike the heat, will always be on. So will the guest bathroom radio, it's our security system in case burglars try and enter. Celine Dion should ward them off.

My dad smiles when he can't answer you, understand you or is tired. Asking both my parents for gas money separately works. As they hand over the $20 they will ask why you don't ever ask the other. Like my stepdad's daughter, I just smile. I call my stepdad 'dad.' He calls me 'candy-ya.' We keep the sodas, Prego and 20lb rice next to the fertizlier in the garage. My parents will love that he gardens, they will ask him how to grow sesame leaves, 'pah,' and cabbage, more science project essentials. They will show him my violin and piano and then say, 'Can you believe we purchased the instruments for her, most rent it, yet she never played.' He will shame me not because he's being polite in agreement but because he still rents his cello. Some photographs, blue ribbons, and DVD player manuals might be pulled from shelves. The clock needs resetting every year. Andy programmed radio stations in the car but they still seek manually. Andy wears Eminem hoodies and 'hella, tight and sick' are used like prepositions but after his friends leave from a day of PS2 he'll shower to Bob Seger.

We eat dinner together by meeting each other at this Japanese restaurant that doesn't give us menus because they know what to bring. You will have to break stereotypes and show them that you never order California rolls and love yellow tail. They will try and keep you away from my yellow tail by showing you to your room and me to mine, aka my mom's. I will have to be mindful of this before I come home smelling of smoke. Andy will ask you if you mind that he lights up a cigarette in the car and you'll say no and tell him that you always cough in car rides. I'll tell Andy to put it out and you'll insist that it's fine, that you're just cold. An east coast born-bred guy is cold in California. I'll borrow the car and make sure that we'll get to Zagat noted yummies in SF, a Golden Gate Park adjacent museum, meeting my girlfriends, we'll skip K-town but not J-town, a coastal drive, Blockbuster and twizzlers, thrift stores w/ actual thrift prices, Tahoe, oxtail soup, sheets of seaweed, a lot of red on the table, Costco Christmas cookies, no Earl or Chamomile instead Ginseng and Jasmine and a family that's going to study you the way Megan studied my fridge but that's because I've never been sure of bringing anyone home before and they're thrilled to meet you. It should be a good time Steve-ya.

Monday, December 11, 2006

christmas in new york

Tinsel wreaths and red felt stockings hang cock-eyed on deli bodega windows by strips of Scotch tape. 'HoHoHo' spray painted on Duane Reade display fronts. Colossal snowflakes are strung from street lamp to street lamp creating an overpass over Fifth Avenue. Lamp posts are red twined. Steam clouds entice the crowd at Farmer's market, chowder and chilli brew in slowcookers on top of poker tables. Apple cider is stirred and served from a bent up silver vat by a lady in fingerless gloves, 'one dalla.' Bundled and jittery, lines are snaked in front of the Saks window, Rockerfeller Tree and TKTS window. Seasonal fairs at Union Square and Bryant Park, hand milled soaps, talking stockings and crochet pot holders are bought. Three ice rinks to chose from: skate center stage at Rock Center, pay nothing at Bryant Park or be Serendipity adjacent at Wollman's Rink. Frozen hot chocolate. Puppeteers, lions and Nathan Lane dominate Broadway not Scrooge, Tiny Tim or the NutCracker.

Cablenet, argyle, frayed scarves adorn the city. Bing Crosby tunes are carried over diners and boutiques. Strollers sealed in plastic, dogs jangling from their leash, curious where it's coming from, and SALE signs trim the sidewalks. Coffee beans are grounded by the pound and loose tea leaves are sniffed. Three feet synthetic trees with metallic ornaments sit on studio windowsills, looking out fire escapes. Red and green specs sprinkled on Magnolia's, Billy's and Sugar Sweet Sunshine cupcakes...banana pudding from Magnolia's to go. Snow Angel, literally, on top of the snow-filled fountain in Central Park overseeing canoes on the frozen lake and children clumping snow for throw. Nannies 'borrowing' children's sleds for quick rides down the hill. Company Christmas parties where spouses meet other spouses. Longchamp and Herve Leger overnighters tote through Penn Station and Grand Central. Cordials and chess, Glenlevit and checkmate. 'Neighborly' competition of blinking lights and front lawn stages of the Three Wise Men in Queens. JCrew, LLBean, LandsEnd catalogs.

Cookie Swaps. Misletoes, Santa pins, mini candy cane filled stocklets, proceeds go to City Harvest. Wishlists are emailed. Hovering over kitchen islands to puree pumpkins, cream spinach and bake fruits. Pears, aged cheddar and chocolate covered everything from Harry and David. Flakes feather down, snow concealing curbs of sidewalks, a blanket of quiet covers the city. Cabs make slow turns and faces are mummy wrapped in cashmere. Early museum hours, late shopping hours. Tweed baguettes, shearling trimmed boots, fox stoles. Egg nog, chestnuts, rum soaked cakes. Missing gloves all over the city. Red velvet carriage buggy rides with city guests wrapped in red fleece throws.

T'is the city...
One horse open sleigh.