Brooklyn Surface

Kind of Blue

2009-03-24T18:00:00.001-07:00

Enough of the cold! Got that? And enough of the snotty noses, sore throats, headaches etc. Really.

Ikea Rawhide

2009-02-10T07:51:00.001-08:00

That thar's a whole lotta skin!

Fractured Frau

2009-02-07T14:26:00.001-08:00

winter sky

2009-02-05T08:00:00.000-08:00

I have to remind myself to slow down and appreciate the moment instead of thinking of all the things I need to do, or all the things I'm looking forward to (summer, summer, vacations, summer, summer, and so on).

Though I grumble about being cold and the lack of light, winter almost forces me to lighten the pace a bit. Which is a good thing. Last Saturday there was no good reason to leave the house. Kids didn't have games or plans that required a chaperone. Lars spent the entire weekend in his "evening attire" squabbling with his sibs over computer rights. Me? I watched episode upon episode of "I Love Lucy" and the original "That Darn Cat". The bright Technicolor and Haley Mills' earnest delivery could melt the iciest of hearts.

Since I am too impatient to figure out blogspot's choices for layout design, and I can't take time to read the tutorial on uploading images, Edward will have to suffice as representative of the cat flick. The poster is fantastic--check it out on idmb.com.

Mysteries

2009-01-26T11:07:00.001-08:00

Nothing is more enticing than a veil of secrecy cloaking a building, a person or even a car such as the one above. My kids and I always marvel at its outfitting--does the red siren really still work? Do people actually call upon it for services?

It advertises itself as a "Wildlife Control" vehicle and the stickers covering its doors hint at sinister intentions....poor raccoons and pesky skunks. I wonder if the back contains an assortment of cages and traps. Does the owner roam the neighborhood a la Harper Marx? I imagine him prowling with a large net while blowing a whistle and herding the wild vermin into the back of his mobile.

My mission is to find the owner and get his story. Yes, that much I do know. The owner/driver is a man. Word on the street is he's a math teacher at a local public middle school. In fact, I spotted this car parked in front of the rumored school earlier today.

I'm also curious about the tenants of this landmark building, facing the Fairway parking lot in Red Hook. The ediface pays homage to New York Harbor, which it faces, with the shark head jutting above the second floor, anchors, ship's steering wheels and a metal model of the World Trade Center. Sonja asked me yesterday: "Is that a pirate's house?"

Before I get to my final mystery, I have to rant about the mystery of navigating blogspot settings. How come I can't put my photos where I want them?

All right. Nils found this succulent 'shroom in Prospect Park this fall. I looked it up in my Golden Guide to mushrooms, but couldn't find a corresponding species. No luck online. It was a beauty, though. Nils referred to it as his baby, until it turned moldy and mushy. Then it was lovingly tossed into our backyard garden to continue its life cycle, perhaps in peace from foraging raccoons and skunks.

2009-01-20T13:29:00.000-08:00

Hope

Welcome, Era of Responsibility!

Fresh

2009-01-16T11:07:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve was cold in Brooklyn despite the warmth most of us felt about the nearing end of the Bush Administration. Freezing temperatures aside, we bundled up and went to a gathering with friends who live on Prospect Park West. Our hostess is from Mexico, where it's a tradition to have the midnight champagne toast served in a flute with twelve green grapes swimming on the bottom. Green symbolizes prosperity and the twelve grapes represent each month of the year. "You're to eat them one by one," she instructs.

None of the kids wanted to leave the coziness of the apartment to walk to the park across the street for watching the fireworks, but to our delight we could see and hear them from their living room window-- bursts of color exploding and popping over the roof of the neighboring building. We ate January, February and so on while the bangs went on outside and a sadly frail Dick Clark welcomed 2009 on TV.

The following day, on the south side of Park Slope, we had some more greens at another friend's annual New Year's Day collard greens and black-eyed peas open house. A Southern tradition dating back to the Civil War, when the Union troops could find very little available food, these morsels were gleaned from nearly barren fields. There's even record of this culinary tradition in the Babylonian Talmud, according to Wikipedia. "...Now that you have established that good-luck symbols avail, you should make a habit to see Qara (bottled gourd), Rubiya (black-eyed peas), Silka (either beets or spinach) and Tamrei (dates) on your table on the New Year."

So, to all cultures that reside in our fair borough, of our fair city, in our fair state and country: Here's to prosperity, health and a fresh start.

You say hello, but I say...

2008-05-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

Well, actually, it should be: "I say hello, but you say nothing." In all my years living on the East Coast, I still haven't gotten used to the lack of salutations neighbors or coworkers or fill in the blanks share with one another. For the most part, people are fairly friendly and say hi, or hey or, my favorite, the nod of acknowledgment. But haven't we all encountered the one or two steely-faced acquaintances who never smile in recognition or wave a hello?

V and I were at the playground today, when she whispered to me: "See that woman over there with the glasses?" I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a familiar-looking woman moderating some nasty argument her son was having with another boy. "Her kid is in my son's class, and she hasn't once even said hello to me. After all the class parties and field trips we've gone to together, she won't even pretend she knows me."

I have my own list of non-hi-sayers. That couple with a kid in my Loo's class. Nary a smile or a how-do-you-do. When Mr. pulled up a seat next to me at some school function, you'd think I was invisible. I wanted to shout to him: "Hey, I handed $20 to you for our children's teacher's holiday gift. Don't you remember?"

Not that I want to be this dude's friend, or his equally charming wife's book club member. It just seems so uncivil to not greet a face that you are accustomed to seeing on a regular basis.

Now back where I'm from, in the great Midwest, people always say hi to you. They see you once, then the hellos are constantly flowing. Some, like my mom, God bless her, take hellos to a stratospheric level. After pleasantries are exchanged with the cashier at the grocery store, my mom will go on and on about the tomatoes she bought, which weren't the ones on this week's produce coupon, but looked redder and...or she'll tell some complete stranger at the library about which magazine subscriptions she doesn't plan to renew.

So I understand New Yorkers are very busy, important people with very ambitious, creative thoughts in their heads and really don't want to get involved in conversations about coupons and produce (unless it's organic, natch), but c'mon! Say hi!

Club Medical

2008-02-25T19:09:00.000-08:00

Brooklyn Surface hasn't been surfacing lately because I was in Vermont last week--far from the streets of home and internet access (snow storms, ya know and no wi-fi). Prior to that, I ran an infirmary filled with sick children (stomach bugs, strep throat, don't want-to-go-to-school-headaches). Between the nursing duties and the family togetherness that sick days and vacations wrought, I got to thinking about my needs. Yes, those would be MY needs.

Sadly, a lot of my needs are medical. Take for example, the two cavities that have been festering for the past three years in my gums. A trip to the dentist, when drilling is involved, with a toddler in tow just doesn't work. I've tried it. Babysitters fall through; babysitters are expensive; babysitters whom you use only occassionally have lives that can't accomodate your trips to the dentist.

Anyway, I've been swapping my woes-me tales to some ladies I know and yes, they have the same problems. No time to take care of the maintenance work--we're talking annual checkup kinds of things, not cosmetic, but that will be discussed later. Ms. S was beside herself this morning because she needs physical therapy twice a week, a lump on her head that needs to be prodded, an over-due mammogram. But who's going to watch the kid? And hey, she's got a good sitter on call for whenever she needs her, but cha-ching cha-ching. Shelling out the big bucks so you can have your breasts squeezed between two metal plates without a screaming child clutching your leg just doesn't seem fair.

So if the taking care of your health tasks gets shelved, just imagine what's happening to the appearance upkeep routines. Another pal of mine hasn't had her hair cut in four years. Others have wistfully looked into their closets at their more stylish, too-tight clothes from yester-year and have given them away, or sold them at stoop sales (another phenomenon to be analyzed). Really though, they're all babes.

All this deep thinking gave me an idea for a business geared specifically towards mothers: Club Medical. All your doctors, lab work, mammograms and songrams, MRIs, dental work, done in one beautiful campus. Hernias can be repaired. Abscessed teeth can be pulled and remaining ones polished to a pearly white gleam. Massage therapists and accupunturists will set all systems straight. Prescriptions can be filled. Eyes can be examined. All while your children are blissfully playing in the Club Medical Kids Camp--under loving supervision of qualifed nursing students. Mothers can loll from one appointment or surgery to the next in thick, white, terry cloth robes, with complimentary i-Pods (hear that, Steve Jobs?) In between doctor visits, they can visit the spa for various beauty treatments--pedicures, manicures, facials, hair removal, hair styling, tattooing.

Brooklyn Surface will be accepting names of interested clients. Note, trademark pending for Club Medical.

Beginnings

2008-02-06T17:53:00.000-08:00

After two years of declaring myself a blogger, here I am, finally posting. My friend, Lo, assured me that setting up a blog was easy, even for busy Luddites. So after dragging my sorry heels for such a long time, the fact that it took only a few minutes of picking a background and user name certainly puts me to shame. Confessional over; penance is to post at least once a week. Here marks the advent of Brooklyn Surface.

There are so many stories I hear of or dream of in our city and hope to share on this blog. So many people sharing such a small space, yet we come from such disparate places. Some of what's to come will be factual, some pure fiction and a few will blur the lines between the two. Things to know: I make lots of typos and have been accused of being "too sweet" when in fact, I'm more sweet 'n' sour with a tendency towards the sour.

Despite my flahvah, I love hearing about what people think, do, wish for, worry about, struggle with, celebrate and hide. Discretion will be used to the utmost.