Bird Brained

I wonder what this bird is thinking as he/she courageously plops from place to place in PENN station during major backups and overcrowding. I imagine the inner monologue would go something like "crumbs, crumbs, mmmm, crumbs-shoe, shoe, shoe, ahhhh, oh, crumbs."

A Leaf of Symbolic Proportions

Sitting on the blacktop of central park near a couple taking engagement photos. Is it kismet or an ironic lucky penny of sorts. Either way.....it's awful purty-isn't it?


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Woman Magazine

I have discovered by perusing a back copy of Woman's Day that any Halloween decoration imaginable can be accomplished by buying mass quantities of candy corn and brandishing a glue gun.

Here I thought hanging some inflatable ghosts would do the trick....I am so behind the times.


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Baby Carrots

Or should I call them malnourished fetus carrots that I ripped from the ground prematurely because I need instant gratification from a garden.

Emotional Bathroom Face

I am endlessly in awe of the art I find in bathroom stalls. I don't know what gets me more-the creativity involved or the fact that they had a little extra time during some spirited defecation and decided to pull out their gel tip bic to pass the time. This one I call "please stop using the bathroom, don't you notice the people in line."

This particular bathroom is located in Woodstock, New York. I imagine they've painted many many faces here.....especially eerie ones with no mouths.
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Free Kittens!!

Someone left these kittens in a cage!! How could they? If you go up to the Discovery Zoo in Cairo please take one and love it up!


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A Little Sliver of Serenity

I'm not a schmaltzy person but is this where the angels live? Right behind the second pink cloud off to the right. I would also like to title this picture "one of the only perks of being up at 5a.m. on a lost day in August.

Library Lane

Library Lane should have every library lined down it among a hoard of varied storybook blooming tree’s……and it should be intelligent for a street.

Attempting To Walk In A Winter Wonderland

It is supposed to be snowing all over.

Instead, the landscape remains naked and without the white blanket of wintry wonder.

D.C. presently has thirty inches and New York can't even manage one. The thing is though-for days the news media prepares you. As I simply stopped by the grocery store for an innocent case of Laughing Cow Cheese I could barely elbow my way down the aisles as carts and people pushed past.

Just as I'm about to leave the house the news media again interferes with my plans and tells me that the Long Island Rail Road has vowed to stop running if the snow reaches ten inches. Worried and concerned I surrender the evening and decide to stay in. However, now as I sit and peer out the window I can't help but notice that still it has not snowed.

Yet-still the news media tells me it will snow.

I'll wait.

Ji Snakke Bare Litt Norsk

I have traveled to the land of my ancestors-the great white explosion, the arctic tundra, the bone chilling social experiment which can also be referred to as....Oslo, Norway.

To the left you can catch a glimpse of me indulging in the everyday culture by clutching a bulk sized can of Fiskebolle (fish balls)-a traditional dish which I learned you cannot buy in restaurants but everyone eats it in their own homes like an American macaroni & cheese.

I stood in the grocery store my first evening I landed in the slush and the sleet with my friend Ana who was gracious enough to allow me to stay with her and hang out with her awesomeness during my week abroad. The temperature fluctuated between single digits and negative but thankfully I never allowed myself to do the Celsius conversion in my head. In that sense I felt all the warmer.

Most travel books will tell you not to visit Norway in the winter and instead journey there during the summer season when the weather in blissfully temperate and the seas are abuzz with boats docked and cheerful Scandinavian smiles on every corner. I tend to disagree. There was something sublimely picturesque about padding through snow piles on a daily basis. Sure-my thighs got the best workout from finding the minute areas of traction on the slush paved sidewalks with my flat soled Uggs but I couldn't help but stop and push my pale American face up toward the snow flaked sky and sigh in a content flush.

I took in the sights and the sounds guided by another friend, Marie, who made sure my cultural experience was absolutely complete.

Aside from The National Gallery where I gazed at Munch's "The Scream" and Christian Krohg's left and right, The Viking Ship Museum rife with authentic Viking bones and relics, Ibsen's house which in and of itself was a pilgrimage for a playwright such as myself. They explained that Ibsen had a vast portrait of his rival, Swedish dramatist August Strindberg peering down at him from behind while he wrote. The image served as a constant reminder that the famed writer of Miss Julie was always straddling the edges of his Norwegian coattails.

Two experiences from my journey are moments that I will never forget. The first I must highlight was the sculpture garden. Marie and I took the standard tourist shots, above, Marie poses along with two screaming sculptures. The peaceful majesty of the statues in the snow was lovely. Taking a stroll down the path of emotional stone is a tremendous experience. If you're ever in the area do take the time to see it.

The other experience that I don't think my body would ever let me forget is my trip down the dog sledding lane. As seen to the left, Ana poses with one of our dog team. Now, when planning my trip I knew I wanted to experience something traditionally Nordic. Never having skied with the exception of a couple of downhill bunny slope attempts on a youth group field trip as a teenager-I knew that I wouldn't be doing that. So, obviously, when I tumbled upon a web-site that suggested dog sledding I was sold. In my mind-dog sledding would constitute sitting serenely on a reindeer skin pelt grasping a piping hot beverage and taking in the snowy fjords while a team of cute husky dogs sled me along a flat surface.

Obviously, that was incorrect. They look so innocent-don't they? Before you tie them to the sled and let them roll. To the left, I gingerly pet one of the dogs. Little did I know that he would be one of the creatures responsible for pummeling me off the sled time after time after time after time. For anyone that doesn't know what dog sledding entails it is tremendously similar to skiing-again, I reiterate....something I have never done. I was on the back of the sled while Ana, much shorter then myself stood in the middle. We were given a short tutorial-don't let the anchor rip the flesh of your leg off, break when going downhill, AND when the sled tips carefully pull it back up out of the snow and hold on tight as the voracious, anxious, ticket to run dogs whisk you up and downhill repeatedly.

Even though afterward I was covered from head to toe with wintry white and my muscles felt as though they had done eighteen hours of Pilate's I wouldn't trade it for anything. I will never forget my time on the sled or for that matter breaking everytime one of the sled dogs Axel ran crazily up the hill.

Norway is a country people don't put on their "to visit" lists. I would have to say however-you should. It's a culturally diverse land of the vikings with sights and sounds uniquely enjoyable and a pleasant population to boot.

Stuff On My Cat

Ok-so I'm a sucker for bizarre challenges. I remain in awe of Roadside America, antique sideshow attractions, binge eating contests where for eating two pounds of beef you get a t-shirt like you've just exited a thrill ride but the one thought I can't waste is that of putting "stuff on my cat."

When I look on that web-site and see wigs, football helmets, and boxes of wine on and around cats I get a little serious about it and think of all the items I can put on my cat.

Yet, for some reason my cat doesn't like having stuff put on him negating any opportunities for him to become the stuff on my cat poster kitty. This is as far as he's ever gotten where artfully one headphone hangs out behind his furry fat cat back and suggests he is listening to a jammin' tune on a pink ipod.

You Say You Want A Resolution

2010 has wafted into the air of the world and with it the dreaded idea of a resolution and even more so making it.

I've never been much a resolution maker nor keeper and this year is no different. SO-instead of making a resolution I plan on making a plan of action. An anti-resolution if you will. Everyday this year I will embark on breaking my routine, doing something completely uncharacteristic for the person I have become.

It matters not what the activity is. Big or small I will accomplish being a little bit different and eeking out of my so called "comfort zone" on a daily basis. Today, as I stared blankly down the linoleum laden halls of the Super Stop & Shop glimpsing a teenage boy man sneakily buy condoms while his lady perused hair dye I pondered what my first act could be. Tired and thinking I decided to impulse buy magazines which is something I haven't done since I was a teenager.

Now, this could not entail just any magazines....no....these had to be junky magazines, filth, the ten best ways to keep your man, how to get an ass to die for type periodicals. I stared at the piles of glossy pages as my hand instantaneously jumped for The New Yorker and Entertainment I controlled the impulse and pulled it systematically to the left.

There, sitting in front of me a glamour shot of Natalie Portman exclaiming she was both fashionable and world conscious I knew that I would have to go for the Marie Claire. Folded in my arm I scanned it and walked out fulfilling my stereotype as a woman who's curious about fashion.

Now-if I could just get myself to read it.