Even if it's just breaking up with an apartment.

Having to pay rent plus all our own utilities on top of that was getting to be a bit much.  Especially when we thought about how much we were paying to be graced with the presence of smelly hipsters whose parents pay their fucking rent.  They just hang out in the building all day making "art" and looking like they just rolled out of bed.  Yeah yeah, I went to art school too but I grew up and got over myself.  There's a definitely 30-going-on-18 syndrome in this building, and I'm kinda grossed out by it.

I'm tired of the nameless, faceless Hasidic corporation who owns this buildling.  I couldn't tell you my landlord's name, because it's literally owned by who-knows-how-many actual people, and they like to keep everything a secret.  They're completely hands-off to the point that we do all our own repairs and foot the bill.  We're just the latest in a line of people going through the revolving door of this building while the property values escalate.  We're not people, we're dollars.  And they make sure we know it.  I'm fucking tired of shelling out nearly $2k a month in rent and utilities to put up with this shit.

I love love love our loft though.  We made it so pretty and cozy, and it's really hard to leave behind.  But we just can't do this anymore.  It's stressful having to shell out that kind of money every month!

Our next-door neighbors found an apartment two stops further on the same train we're on now.  There are only 5 apartments in the entire building, 2 per floor, and the two of the top floor were open.  We went to check it out with them: 1 huge bedroom, a smaller bedroom, huge living room and huge kitchen.  (I should mention that huge is all relative and that NY huge is a joke to the outside world.)  It's pretty much the same size as the loft, with lower ceilings and a long, skinny layout.  It's an old building, but it's in good shape.  It's clean and it's got a lot of character.  Old wood floors, tall tin ceilings, big windows with lots of sunlight.

It kind of reminded me of my two favorite apartments in Minneapolis: the studio and the 1 bedroom at the edge of downtown.  I looooooved those places.  And this area has the same kind of vibe.  Less prostitutes and drug dealers, though ^_^  What really sold that place to me was how effing cheap it is:  $1275 a month, and that includes heat + hot water.  We'd be saving $400+ a month!  We could take a frikkin vacation and not have to skimp on every damn thing.  We could actually afford our own internet connection for a change. 

We met one of the two landlords, something that has never, ever happened in the history of our NYC apartment searching.  While we were looking around the apartment, the second landlord called and wanted to say hi.  They're a brother and sister from Sicily who purchased the building from their father, and they are so fucking nice it makes my face hurt.  They were thrilled that Bradley's a handyman, and I see some rent breaks in our near future in exchange for updates on the building.

After hearing all the good things our neighbors had to say about the other landlord and seeing the

We handed over our standard 2 months' security deposits plus half a month's rent so we could move on August 15th.  And then we stood around forever with the landlord having a conversation about life, taking chances and self-discovery.  That's kind of when I knew we'd made the smart decision.

We tried to lock in our rent with a 2 year lease, but they wouldn't agree to it.  I can kind of understand. They have no idea what we're really like and whether they'd want us around for 2 years.  They're basically just going on instinct.  They didn't do a credit check or anything.  The female landlord said that they're not assholes who will automatically raise your rent 8% annualy (like our current landlords, ahem), and that if we're good to them, they'll be good to us.  Our neighbors are taking over their friends' lease, and those friends said that rent was not raised after the first year.  The second year, it went up $25.  That's unheard of 'round here.  Seriously. 

I think the landlords just want to maintain a quiet, clean building and make some extra cash on it (they already own a restaurant and a nightclub).  I don't think it's their main source of income, and I don't think they're out to gouge anyone.  When shit like that happens here, I'm taken aback.  You kind of get used to being fucked over, and when someone comes off as nice, it really catches you off guard.  Sad.

On our way out, we met the girl who lives below us.  She was our age, super nice and had great things to say about the building and how people actually give a shit about you in that neighborhood.  A brother + sister live in the apartment across the hall from her and they're apparenly very nice.  And downstairs is a storefront that an artist — not an "artist" — has rented and turned into his living space.  I saw that he has a back yard with a grill in it.  Must. Make. Friends.

The best part is that we get to live by our favorite neighbors ever, and we have the whole top floor to ourselves.  We could open up the 4 entraces to the apartments, baby gate the stairs and let the dogs play.  And we don't have to go into a new place and risk ending up with shitty caca neighbors again.  The worst part is that there have been breaks-ins in that building.  We have awesome security gates on the windows in the kitchen in case someone tries to climb up and in, but no more being absent-minded about locking the door when I go check the mail or take out the trash.  It can also be kinda loud on summer days because there are lots of teenagers that hang out on the street.  (Why must they yell about everything?  Especially when flirting?  Why??)

We have 2.5 weeks to find someone to take over the place, and so far we've only had one flightly Indian girl come to see the place. I'm making fliers and hanging them up around the nabe.  Then it's time to pull out the boxes and start packing.  Boooooo! 

Goooood morning! I have the day off.  Whoo!  It's a shiteous, rainy day but I'm OK with that.  All the more reason to curl up on the couch and do nothing.  Sorta.  I already got the day rolling with a 6am workout with the personal trainer, so I'm in full go mode.  I plan on tidying up the place, doing some laundry, hitting up a noon yoga class, and baking some low-fat brownies for tomorrow's grillout.  My birthday grillout that is.

Yup, I'm turning 28 tomorrow.  I couldn't care less, honestly, but it's a good excuse to eat a big, fatty steak without all that big, fatty guilt.  It's also a great way to con Bradley into going to a yoga class with me, because only a jerk would say "no, thanks" on your birthday.  What I really wanted to do is go camping all weekend and get away from The City, but no dice.  My parents would flip a shit if they couldn't get a hold of me.  Cell phone reception and all.  So instead we're going to hit up a park with a dog run and grill up some rib-eye.  Nobody's invited.

On a less misanthropic note, tomorrow is the deadline I gave myself for achieving my first weight loss goal.  I wanted to weigh X on June 6.  Turns out I'll be weighing in at X minus 3 pounds.  Yup.  I hit my goal a couple of weeks ago and I'm already past it.  I'm pretty fucking proud of myself.  Next deadline: losing another 7 pounds by July 11th. 

Why July 11th?  Because my cousin's getting married, and her sister used to torment me for being a chubster when we were in middle school.  And high school.  And college.  I don't mean a little light teasing either.  This girl was a straight up bitch and spared no expense to hurt my feelings.  She used to be a stick, but now she's packed on the pounds.  Her arms are the size of my thighs.  Is it wrong that I want to shove my bony ass all up in her face?  Probably....but I'm going to do it anyway.  Strut!

I'm going to Houston in a couple of weeks for a photo shoot.  Then I have to go Dallas a couple of weeks after that for the wedding.  And again over Thanksgiving for another wedding.  And then Christmas in Austin for 2 solid weeks.  Texas is getting waaaaaay too much Leena this year.

I'd better get a head start on that cleaning if I want to make it to yoga class at noon.  Later, suckas!

The grillout was phenomenal.  I had a little preview of what's to come in 10 days, 21 hours and 44 minutes (thanks countdown widget!) when I sprawled out on a deck chair, shoulders naked to the sun.  The only difference is, my sun-worshiping dog won't be lying across my lap then.  I swear, she's the dog version of me.  We both closed our eyes and stared at the sun, and let out a deep sigh. 

Sadly it only lasted 10 minutes because we had a ton of work to do.  We weeded, turned the ground and got the garden prepped for planting sometime this week when we have a free night.  It took 4 hours and burned 1200 calories.  Score!  I also grilled, portioned out and froze enough meat to last me 5 days.  Double score!  I'm looking forward to a week of not cooking.

I woke up at 5 today to drag my ass to the gym for a workout with the trainer.  I bumped it up to 2 a week so I can maximize my beach sexiness.  Buahaha!  In all seriousness, I just purchased the first bikini I've owned since I was 6 years old.  I have to do that thing justice.  In related news, I tried on my bathing suit from two years ago and it fit....better than it ever has before.  The top, the bottom and the cute little board shorts that go with it.  Whoo!

I've been tired and feeling gross all day, so I treated myself to a latte. 

I signed up for the 5K solo.  Bradley's not a runner and he seemed way too hesitant to wake up early and trek to the Bronx at the buttcrack of dawn on a Saturday.  He did agree to meet up with me after the race with coffee, a hot thermos of oatmeal, and the dog.  And then we're going to do another 5 mile walk down the island.  This time on the west side of Central Park. 

We also signed up for the NY AIDS walk on May 17th.  It's a 10K walk that starts in Central Park, and Jabba's allowed in that one ^_^  They have water bowls for dogs at each checkpoint.  We decided to go all out and set up a donation page and everything.  I'm working on it right now.  So I'll get right down to the begging:  if you'd like to make a tax-deductable contribution to an awesome cause, I'll post a friends-only link and you can take that to my fundraising page.  Check out a list of all the organizations that'll benefit from your donation.  And, as an added bonus, if you decide to donate, I'll send you a batch of my homemade biscotti.  That's how I roll, babies!

We're grilling tomorrow!  Grilling!  On a grill! 

We've done that, like, twice since we've moved to NYC so it's kind of a big deal.  Bradley and I dream of someday owning a back yard with a grill.  And, uh, maybe a house.  I shit you not, when we talk about home ownership, we mostly just verbally daydream about how amazing it would be to have a yard and a grill.  Why?  Because a) we could install a doggy door and let Jabba take her own ass out in the morning, and b) we could grill 20 times a day if we wanted.

And then there are the memories.  Every time I smell a grill going, I remember when Bradley and I first started dating.  I'd drive up to Hinkley (Stinkley) and we'd run to Daggets, the shitty grocery store around the corner.  Then we'd fire up the grill and we'd sizzle some steaks while he'd make a big bowl of his garlic mashed potatoes.  He'd do all the work, and I'd kick my feet up and let the sun burn me to a crisp.  That fucker made me fat and I had to basically put a ban on those mashed potatoes indefinitely.  Lawsie.  It makes my thighs swell up just thinking about it. 

Bradley's boss is letting us plant a garden in his yard, and he gave us free reign over his grill while we're there.  Score!  I have a ton of work to do on an extracurricular design project in addition to the gardening work, so I'm taking my laptop and multitasking.  I guess we're spending the night chopping veggeis and prepping burgers for tomorrow.  Can't wait!*

* No sarcasm there.  Seriously.  The highlight of my Friday is going home to the boy and cooking a meal with him.  And then snuggling on the couch to watch a movie.  And harassing him to rub my feet.  I love being married.

A health nut coworker-friend of mine emailed to let me know about a 5k to raise money for endangered gorillas.  It's a run/walk through the Bronx zoo, which I've heard nothing but great things about.  It's one of those place I've been meaning to go but never had an excuse to trek way the hell up to the Bronx for.  So even though I'm a little intimidated by the idea of actually signing up for a race, I'm doing it.  This is untimed and non-competitive, so pretty low pressure.  And if the weather cooperates, it'll be a really great way to spend a Saturday.  Besides, there's a green expo afterwards and that means free stuff! ^_^

I managed to talk Bradley into doing this with me.  He was totally trying to squeeze his way out of it because he hates running.  There was definitely a little emotional blackmailing on my part ("Think of those big, brown gorilla eyes...).  OK, fine, maybe I pulled out the big guns on this one ("If you don't do this, it means you hate gorillas and you're singlehandedly responsible for the death of each and every one.")  I also had to remind him of the 5 mile walk down Central Park we did a few weekends ago.  It was way fun quality time together. 

He finally (and begrudgingly) agreed to do it if I a) pay for his entry fee, b) treat him to a bagel breakfast before the race, and c) take him out to lunch at a place of his choosing.  He also said he won't be running, but that he'll walk with "occasional light jogging."  Muahahaha!  He's a difficult man, but he secretly has a soft spot in his heart for gorillas...and me.

17 days till we're on a beach sipping rum and getting killer tans slathering SPF 70 on our very nice, very expensive tattoos so we don't ruin them.  Every night I find myself fighting the urge to throw my sundresses & flip flops into my backpack.  I'm soooo ready to get outta here. 

Shit I need to do before then:

1. Get 2 or 3 new bathing suits (eeps!).
2. Get sunglasses, which hopefully insurance will cover.
3. Buy a new digital camera al-fucking-ready (we take such good care of our shit that we're still rocking a 3 megapixel piece of shit from, like, 6 years ago).
4. Visit ye olde salon for an everything-below-the-waist wax job, mani & pedi.

Yipes.  It's gonna be a packed couple of weeks.

Score!  Me and the man finally got off our asses and booked a honeymoon last night.  Like a year after we got married.  We're slow and lazy and cheap.  What more can I say? 

We're putting Guatemala on hold for now and going to the Dominican Republic.  Bradley's never left the country before and he got all vaclemped at the whole third world safety thing.  I can kinda understand.  People don't just get mugged in Guate.  They get mugged and stabbed.  And maybe held for ransom.  It's not them safest Central American country and junk.

So we're easing him into it by going to — yup, you guessed it — an all-inclusive resort.  How very American!  Whatevs, dude.  It's all you can drink:  inside, beachside, poolside, etc.  He didn't have to work very hard to talk me into it.  Island + sun + a steady supply of frozen cocktails?  Sign me up, thank you and goodbye!

I have 83 days to turn this:

I've been itching to get my bake on for a while now, and I just scored a new cookbook.  Check out the fruit of my labors, courtesy of my camera phone:

Oh my my.  I haven't updated in 29 weeks, and a hell of a lot of things have changed.  Where to begin?

• I'm still at the same job.  Been here 15 months now, which is really weird.  I used to switch jobs around a lot, but I guess I'm a grown up now or something.
• I got 2 more tattoos, bringing the total to 4.  And soon that'll be 6.  7 if you count the 3/4 sleeve I'll start after family weddings are over and done with.  So, you know, it's pretty much over for me.
• Married life is good.  It's pretty much the same as unmarried life, except not.  Married folk will know what I mean.  Something's different — maybe the fear of all the paperwork it would take to break up now really does make you feel more committed and bonded to a person.
• We're going to Guatemala for my birthday, and it's not to a beach resort.  We're going backpacking.  Adventure!
• I joined a gym.  Best decision ever.  It costs an arm & a leg (NYC, remember?  I'm limbless here), but I've never felt more energetic in my life.  I work out 5 days a week, alternating between weights and cardio.  And I have a 30 minute session with a personal trainer once a week, which is totally worth it.  The only thing I don't like is showering in the locker rooms, but I work out first thing in the morning, before work, so I have no choice.  Weird!
• I talked Bradley into taking a yoga class with me Saturday mornings, followed by a movie or brunch.  It's sort of a dorky date thing.
• I never run into our crazy old roommate anymore.  Whoo! 
• Our new place is done.  Finally.  It looks faboo, and I kinda wish we owned it instead of writing out a check for $1650 every fucking month.  Plus the longer I live here, the more I end up hating humanity, so...
• ...we're seriously considering moving to Austin, Texas.  Another year or two of 7% annual rent increases and I think we'll be ready to bust out.
• We're also seriously considering buying a huge 1920s warehouse building in a tiny town 2 hours outside of Austin.  We'd convert the top floor to a 4000 square foot loft, the middle floor into two rentable 2000 square foot lofts, open up a bakery / coffee shop in one of the two shops on the first floor and rent out the other to someone else.  We'd also make furniture from reclaimed wood and find antiques to redo and sell in Austin.  We'd have a garden on roof where we'd grow our own vegetables, and we'd be able to buy beef & chicken directly from the local farmers.  The beach is a two hour drive, Mexico 3 hours, and San Antonio an hour and a half.  There's a liquor store a block away House of Booze.  Oh, did I mention the mortgage would be more than paid by renting out just 1 of the apartments, so we wouldn't need "real" jobs?  Yup.  We just need to figure out whether we're willing to give a double-middle-finger to city life and go from living in Brooklyn, population 2,528,050, to West Bumfuck, Nowhere, population 3000.  It's a 40 minute drive to the nearest movie theatre.  And I'd probably have to kiss sushi & high heels goodbye.  Fuckshitandass.  That there's a hard decision to make.  Help?
• My sister's husband is a phenomenal guy.  I still think they got married waaaaaay too soon, but I luff the guy.  I'd hang out with him even if he wasn't married to my sis.  So it all worked out.  Huzzah!
• We got a scooter.  Or, rather, someone got us a scooter.  Bradley's boss got us a little silver two-seater for his Xmas bonus.  They apparently did very, very well last year.  I got this helmet.  With goggles.  Muahahaha!
• Life is good.

I think my husband is the most wicked awesome person ever. He's smart, he's funny, he's got an ass like two scoops of butter pecan ice cream. He makes me weak in the knees, makes my heart skip beats, makes my tummy all warm and fuzzy. In short, he makes me feel all those other cliches I laugh at but secretly have always wanted to experience. He. Is. Great. But if I had to spend every waking hour with him, so help me, I would bash his pretty little face in. Not literally. More likely I would just be grumpy and say things that would hurt the boy's feelings. AKA Permanent PMS.

So about once a month, I like to take myself out on a date. I'll grab a book, head down to some fancy schmancy sushi place, order a glass of wine and have some alone time. I need it. Otherwise innocent people would get hurt, nahmean?

Yesterday I went to a sushi place a few blocks from work. I felt naughty ordering a glass of wine at lunch, but it's been a nice, slow week. I can get liquored up if I feel like it, damnit. I settled in, made myself comfortable as far away from the rest of the restaurant's patrons. I sat by the window so I could alternate between ogling at passerby and reading a book I've been meaning to get to for a while now. It was fantastic, and I went back to work refreshed (and a little tipsy).

When I went home later on, the place was empty. Bradley had been there at some point (the toilet seat was up, typical giveaway), but he was gone. I'd forgotten that he had an appointment with the tattoo guy to work on his sleeve a bit more, so the place was all mine. Whoo! Time for debauchery!

Er, or not. I'm too lame for debauchery these days. I cleaned for a couple of hours because the place was a mess. I watched a wildlife documentary. I read another few chapters in that book I can't seem to put down. I made dinner. I tried to remember if this is what it was like before we moved in together — the single life. By 8:00, I started missing him. He got home shortly after that and I was glad to see him. Nobody's face will get bashed in anytime soon.

All in all, a perfect day.

Et tu, Tibetan monks?

I'm having a quiet night in.  Bradley's in the city fixing up our friend's place, and I need a night to myself.  I cooked a brunch and had people over (cinnamon rolls, whoo!).  The more I bake with yeast, the more I like it — there's nothing quite like punching down a mountain of dough.  Regardless, the whole thing has left me exhausted.

My sister and her boyfriend were over.  They're going to be engaged sometime soon, she said.  I'm happy for them because they seem happy.  At the same time, there's a part of me that feels little, I don't know, resentful.  My family has embraced this guy with wide open arms...and they haven't even met him.  Meanwhile, Bradley's an outcast because he's white.  He is absolutely without a doubt the best person ever — I may be a little biased — and they'll never accept him.  I guess I don't think about it much because we're happy in our anonymous utopia halfway across the country, but every once in a while it slaps me in the face.  Blah, I'm just being sour.  Good for them, I hope they're happy as can be.

It's 8:30pm and I'm still at work. I'm waiting for a proofreader to check copy changes and send it back my way so I can wrap this layout up and get out of here. I think I missed my chance at seeing daylight today. Boo to that! I get S.A.D. like you wouldn't believe. I am a desert people; I need my sun.

Meanwhile, my husband is at The Neighbors' game night, smoking hookah. I'm guessing it's mango-flavored shisha (tobacco), maybe even in milk. Color me green with envy.

I got my hair cut by my Neighbor Lady. Had I known she cut hair as a side venture, I would have been over there harassing her to do it sooner. I'm experimental with the hair, but I have trust issues with stylists. One bad haircut too many, ahem, mullet fall 2005. But Neighbor Lady has awesome hair, and I'm comfortable having people with awesome hair cut my hair. I'm shallow like that. Anyway, I now have a much sassier 'do, which is much more me than the awkward growing-my-hair-out shit that was going on pre-haircut.

I found this post I made in early 2006:

"Hey remember when you were young and you had a crappy day at school (because lets face it, kindergarden can be brutal), so you took a Mr. Bubble bath and it made you feel like you were on top of the world? Yeah, that still works. I love you, Mr. Bubble."

Shiz. I still love you, Mr. Bubble. If our bathtub stopper wasn't broken, I'd pick up a bottle on my way home from yet another late night at work. So instead I'll have to pick up a bottle of liquor and drink myself to sleep or something.

A link, mostly for my dorkbot husband:  "Real Death Star Could Strike Earth."  I can practically hear him chortling now.