And here we are

HI!
(reference http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1799271 :43)

This last week has kind of been a whirlwind. I found a place to live (hooray!) it's awesome, as are the roommates I have acquired (whoopee!), and I feel renewed and ready to take on whatever comes at me (*sigh*).

My current residence is in Astoria, a primarily Greek neighborhood that has been flooded with bars, cafes, young people and neat restaurants... the perfect next step up from Bay Ridge. My new place is literally a block away from the elevated subway line (I can see it out my window). I have two roommates, both guys in their late 20s, and both teachers of public school in NY (bless their hearts). Evan is Greek. His father, who lives in Greece, calls him regularly, yet doesn't look much like his son, or so Evan tells me. The first day I started to unpack, I sat on the floor with my suitcases, listening to Evan play everything from Beatles to Radiohead, singing as if no one was home. Normally, I would be annoyed, but because he is so good and on-key, I was actually entertained. The previous roommate Bryan, native New Yorker, Jewish, banker in an immaculate suit came by to pick up some of his stuff and paused to sing a little with his old roomie. Apparently he, Evan, and Ryan (my other roomie whose last name is Bagg and nickname is Beaner), had an A Capella group in school. And apparently so, as I heard seeping into my room, a perfectly harmonized rendition of "Hook" by Blues Traveler. It was a welcome change from my completely impersonal, defensive, unfomfortable situation in Bay Ridge with Crazy Lady and the crew. I do believe I'm going to like living here.

I decided to take a break from unpacking and asked the boys "what's good eats around here anyway?" Evan asked me what I was in the mood for, and I told him sushi and he lit up. He told me he'd come with me and we'd be going to JJ's. It was delicious. We talked about where I was from. I corrected his mispreception that the Red Skins were from Washington State, and he paid for my meal.

That day my bed got delivered. I bought it from a girl who is moving back to California and wanted to get rid of some things. $100 for an Ikea full sized bed, mattress pad and fiber bed, and she delivered it to my place. Seemed too good to be true until I realized she didn't give me some very important components... Let's say, oh the screws that hold the frame together. UGGGH! I don't think I was scammed, rather just the victim of an absent minded valley girl with no perception of how things are actually put together. So began my quest for a solution.

I walked down the street more than a few blocks to the nearest hardware store and came in contact with an interesting worker/owner/fellow. He seemed to be quite ornary. His hair was long and scraggly, red. He had three large guage piercings in each ear, at least, and his accent sounded as if he might be from the midwest or thereabouts originally. I told him about my bed predicament and he was annoyed that I didn't have a screw for reference, but gave me eight similar sized screws that might do the job, along with nuts, washers and lock washers. As he was screwing each on to keep them mostly together, he sang to the classic rock, substituting "squirrel" for "girl" and calling one unacceptable screw a "fucking Polio refugee" and throwing it over his shoulder... "Ahhh, this one's all smooshed. Fucking polio refugee. Let's get another one." Indeed. Indeed.

Eventually, because of my buying a lot of screws and nuts and Mike's perserverence, we got the bed together. He helped put it together and he's been so patient with the moving.

Yesterday we went to Il Bambino, a place right down my street with paninis and tappas. I was about halfway through my sandwich before I realized their pesto had something that was giving me a reaction. Walnuts. Like most of my reactions lately, it was serious, and it was bad. Being at home and familiar with the restaurants and what I am eating has been a privilege. This is the second time I've had a serious reaction away from home, the other when I was covering an energy summit in Reno. I started to feel very shakey and weak, and I had to throw up. Mike and I ran to the corner store to get some Benedryl.

I always feel so stupid for having this allergy and not asking about ingredients. I feel terrible that Mike had to worry so much because this supposedly "authentic" place put walnuts in their pesto. Many of you who know me well know I am reluctant to make a fuss or to admit there is something wrong with me and ask for help. The look on Mike's face made me realize I can't keep denying I have this allergy (even though it rarely affects me), because it really is serious and could be fatal if I'm not careful.

So!
A couple of random things worth mentioning:

I saw a man in the subway today with a toupee. And it was not a regular toupee, rather a very obvious and ridiculous one. It looked like a cluster of white cotton balls on top of a 70-year-old's head... kind of like an animal but I'm not sure which. Mom and Dad always play "Spot the Toup" when they're in Vegas, and this was definitely one for the record books. Here is my visualization of the dialogue:

Man with balding problem: I want a toupee.
Toupee salesman: OK, I see your dilemma. Why don't you try this brown one?
Man with balding problem: No, I wouldn't want it to look too unnatural. Do you have anything in stark white?
Toupee salesman: Oh yes, this is our newest model, I'm sure you'll find it to be less "roadkill on a head"-like than most you've seen.
Man with balding problem: Aaah, yes, this poofy powder-puff wig from the 1770s will do nicely! No one will every know I've lost my hair! Thank you, kind sir!

Mmmm.... And I dropped a wad of money on the floor today on accident and the people on the train helped me pick it up and gave it to me. Life is alright. Pictures to follow.