Little West 12th

Last night was one of the most beautiful evenings in the city since I moved here.  Singing all day in the apartment, I finally left the my place around six and was surprised to find mild temperatures, a frolicsome wind to kick up my hair and a shiny sun to make me wish I had remembered my sunglasses.  It was an evening ripe for adventure.


And adventures I had, o yes.  I discovered the Meat Packing District along Little West 12th.  This area of NY promises to be a haunt for the upcoming summer months.  Not only is it near the new Highline Park, a groovy green space created on an old elevated railway bed running for blocks and blocks up and down the West Village, but it is also home to The Standard Hotel, which houses a BEER GARDEN, a huge outdoor area, sitting right under the aforementioned Highline Railway bed, and full to the gills with the afterwork drinking crowds.  Huge steins of beers, huge pretzels, lots of people, noise and fun.  I loved it.


The street is also packed full of amazing restaurants, including the one my brother works for, Pastis:

I would recommend this area for any foodie visiting New York-- from the cobblestone streets to the industrial turned hip warehouses, it's fabulous!

Flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-Opera-Singer

I keep getting emails late at night from this coach I'm working with, who apparently has more roles than he has singers to do them, or something.  Anyway, I'm now in three shows in the next four months:

--Third Lady, Magic Flute:  I got this yesterday and it opens in two weeks.  Thankfully, in English.  Three to four performances.
--Marcellina, The Marriage of Figaro:  Someone dropped out, and did I want to do it?  I play an OLD lady, comically.  In Italian.  Oh dear.  July 25th.
--La Zia Principessa, Suor Angelica:  Fun, mean, evil aunt.  Can't wait.  August 15th.

Maybe this explains the air-headedness?  My head is stuffed with music!

Me, Airhead?

Last weekend marked a high point in absolute stupidity for me-- I locked myself out of my apartment, no phone, no keys, no money.   I accidently left my iPod in the pocket of a shirt that I left soaking for over 5 hours.   Walking up to communion in the middle of church on Sunday, I suddenly remembered that I left a candle burning in my apartment.  Yikes.

All of these things resolved well-- I was able to get back into my building, borrow a phone, call family members to track down my brother's number to call him, wake him up and ask him to come by with the extra set of keys. (I have since made 5 copies of my apartment key and have scattered them with friends in the building.) Amazingly, the iPod, after immersion in water for several hours, still works.  This amazes me.  And did I actually leave a candle burning in my apartment?  No, but it took one frantic ride in a cab to find that out.   I figured if I turned the corner and there was a fire truck outside the building, I'd just keep on going...back to California.  Meanwhile, I'm exhausted from the panicky adrenaline rush that comes from believing you might have burned down your apartment complex....

Holy Weekend, Batman!

Easter weekend was incredible. I'm still reeling at the richness of the services I attended. I'm going to try and blog about it but it feels massive.   


One of the things I can't get over is HOW MUCH scripture is read in the services. From Palm Sunday to Easter, chapters and chapters of stories and Psalms and verses. And the services:

Palm Sunday
Maundy Thursday
Good Friday
Easter Vigil (Saturday)
Easter Sunday

I loved being able to move from the triumphal entry to intimacy of the Upper Room, the institution of the Lord's Table, to the betrayal and crucifixion of Jesus, then to gather with believers and wait for the Resurrection and then to rejoice at the Resurrection itself. I always felt emotionally confused growing up around Easter Weekend because it seemed like it was all very dramatic but I never had space and time to move through it all, like a religious traffic jam.   This year I did. 

And the symbolism:
To symbolize the entry into Jerusalem, we marched around the block of our church, waving Palm Branches and singing hymns. Imagine a bunch of rag-tag New Yorkers each waving a sliver of a Palm branch as they marched singing around the Upper West Side, through the noise and commerce of a Sunday morning.

We did foot washing on Maundy Thursday, which was warm and intimate.  How shocking to go from all that bare-footed, vulnerable warmth to the betrayal of Jesus, symbolized through the stripping of the altar-- have you seen it done? Incredibly moving to watch, in silence, as all of the elements that make up the Lord's Table are taken away one by one, so all that is left is a table and a cross, shrouded in a black cloth. The last act they do in the service is to turn the table sideways so that it resembles a coffin. And then we all leave in silence.

Good Friday-- no Lord's Table. We said long prayers of grieving. We reflected on sin and evil in the world. And at the end we venerated the cross-- one by one we were invited to go up, kneel before the cross, and say a pray, or kiss it, or hold on with both hands, or rest our heads against it. The entire service was done in near darkness, and we left in darkness. 

Easter Vigil-- began in darkness, but we were each given a candle. The service starts with the Paschal candle coming in and then we lit our candles from it.  (Funniest moment of the weekend at church-- the candle took an unceremonious dive off it's stand at the beginning of the service-- whoops!) We waited together, telling the stories of our faith-- of the Creation, of the sacrifice of Issac, of the parting of the Red Sea, of Ezekiel and the Valley of Dry Bones. We renewed our baptism vows and at the end of that the Priest announced that Christ is Risen, the lights came on and people rang bells and we got to sing Jesus Christ is Risen today, and start Easter early.  I loved this service-- it felt beautiful and moving and intimate and joyful.  

And Easter was great. I did the singing gig at Redeemer (30 piece orchestra and 30 piece choir, selections from Handel's Messiah) which meant sitting through the service twice, but I was enjoying the people and experience so much that I didn't mind. Went to some friends for lunch and then off to All Angel's for their 5 o'clock, then to another friends for another feast. Threw myself into bed after midnight, exhausted but happy.  The Lord is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!

First Mouse, Part II

...and scene for little guy.  Saturday night at 2 a.m. I awoke to scratchy-scratchy-scratchy, followed by the pathetic and sad wailing of a mouse who was caught in my glue-trap.  Note to self:  never buy glue traps again.  You still have to figure out how to kill the mouse after you catch it, and that's not a very fun internal conversation at 2 a.m. on Easter Morning.   No.  Definitely the cyanide-laced food next time.  


I couldn't kill it.  Instead, wielding a pair of tongs, I gingerly grab the trap, drop it in a plastic bag, knot the bag, grab my keys, take the elevator down to the basement (I can't hold the bag on the ride-- the mouse, despite having all four of its feet glued to the trap, can still thrash quite a bit), and throw the bag in the trash.  


Then I tried to go back to sleep.  I finally managed it around 4 a.m.

First Mouse, Part I

So I was sitting in my living room and I caught a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye.  I turn and see a cute little mouse scurrying across the floor of my kitchen.  Great.  I guess there's a lot more to becoming a New Yorker than I thought.  Time for Pest Control 101.