Holi

Brock and I can be somewhat of a conundrum couple. We married very young--but still have not had children. We were poor at BYU--but did not do summer sales. And despite living in and around Provo for almost a decade, we'd never been to Holi, the Hindu festival of colors celebrated each spring. 

The literal meaning of the word Holi is "burning". There are various legends to explain the meaning of this word, most prominent of all is the legend associated with demon king Hiranyakashyap. 

Hiranyakashyap wanted everybody in his kingdom to worship only him, but to his great disappointment, his son, Prahlad became an ardent devotee of Lord Naarayana. Hiaranyakashyap commanded his sister, Holika, to enter a blazing fire with Prahlad in her lap. Holika had a boon whereby she could enter fire without any damage on herself. However, she was not aware that the boon worked only when she entered fire alone. As a result, she paid a price for her sinister desires, while Prahlad was saved by the grace of the god for his extreme devotion. The festival celebrates the victory of good over evil and the triumph of devotion. (via)

Holi is literally the only reason why tens of thousands of people would ever flock to Spanish Fork--which is not exactly a hotbed of arts and culture. (This is a town that plunged into apocalyptic fear when someone accidentally booked Rage Against the Machine at the local fairgrounds.) Because Utah makes total sense, a small farming community on the outskirts of Spanish Fork is home to a beautiful Krishna temple. Each spring, local high schoolers and college freshmen gather their selfie sticks and travel southward for the closest thing we have to Coachella. Who needs ancient Hindu traditions when you have that one song Jay-Z did with Panjabi MC?

You have to go to Holi once, though. You really do. Cast aside your worries about cultural appropriation and chalk it up to a $17 donation for the Krishna community. Brock and I set off with Weston, Kami, and Autumn for a Saturday filled with crop-tops and jean shorts. They throw colors every hour on the hour--after a long walk from the car, we missed the 4:00 throwing by just a few minutes! Bummer, because then we had to spend another hour surrounded by youths. 

 Trucks, horse trailers, and a Krishna temple. Naturally.

 We tried to get a "before" picture with  our clean white clothes (c/o Savers), but someone blue it.

 As always, little Autumn was a trooper. I love her.

 Holi colors were originally made from ground-up flowers, but festivals use cornstarch and food coloring.

After the most thorough, blessed showers of our lives, we capped off the day with bibimbap at Spicy Corea . . . by far the more authentic of our cultural forays this weekend ;) Thanks to Weston and Kami for helping us finally cross Holi off our bucket list!

Also, LOL at this post from four years ago. Still here, living that Utah life. But you know what? It ain't half bad.

The City

'Bout time I started blogging about our recent jaunt to my favorite place! Brock had to fly out to NY for work training earlier this month and I was able to nab a cheap last-minute plane ticket. Paid hotel and a daily expense account for food? You don't say no to that, people.

I flew out a couple days early and crashed with my cousin Joy and her boyfriend Matt, who live in Bensonhurst. They've been living there for almost a year now and it was so wonderful to spend quality time with them (more on that later). My red-eye flight arrived bright and early at 5AM, but there ain't no rest for the wicked--I accepted the fact that I'd be running on two-ish hours of sleep and made my way over to Manhattan to meet up with my friend Alex.

In a serendipitous turn of events, Alex--a BYU friend who I hadn't seen since 2011--was in the city for just a couple days before flying out to London, where he now works (permission to hate him: GRANTED). We met up in Times Square and walked to Hell's Kitchen for grub. Can I just say that I have the best  friends? Alex and I picked up right where we left off in 2011, not missing a beat. Love that!

We ate Dominican food at Lali and thus began my self-directed NY eating tour ;) I had a simple plate of chicken with yellow rice and beans, but man was it good. Homemade comfort food, Latin style. Just what we needed after coming in from the drizzling rain. The ladies running the place were so warm and friendly. They let me wash up in their restroom which was LITERALLY the tiniest room I've ever been inside--rest- or otherwise!

Alex and I decided to work off those rice and beans with a long walk. We started at 10th Ave and 46th and wound our way to about Park and 70th.  Gave us lots of time to catch up! Alex had been studying at the London School of Economics for the past year-ish so I was woefully out of touch with him. He not so much with me, given my propensity for overshare on Facebook and his expert lurking skills ;) We capped off the day with hot chocolate and I made the trek back to Bensonhurst. Slept like a baby that night, tell you what.

The start of something beautiful.

These two stopped me in my tracks. I could've sworn I as them at about this exactly same time last year strolling in Gramercy Park. Check out the grainy photo below (from last year). In retrospect, it doesn't look like the, but you can see why my heart skipped a beat!

En route to catch the looong subway ride home.

A Road Trip to See Macklemore!

A few months ago I found out that Macklemore was playing a concert at a rinky dink college in St. George. (I think he must've booked this before "Thrift Shop" hit #1 on iTunes, ha.) It took about 2.7 nanoseconds for me to buy tickets, and it wasn't much longer before my brother Colby, my bestie Jessica, and little sister Kiana had joined the party. We were expecting a fun getaway in sunny St. George, but Murphy's law held true. It rained the entire time! (Did I mention this was an outdoor  concert?) 

The concert was held on the practice field of Dixie State's football team. Everyone jammed in together on the grass and basically moshed the whole time. Since it was standing room only, anyone under 5'5'' was screwed. Brock was sweet and held up Kiana for most of the concert so she could see!

After crashing at the luxurious  Super 8 motel (frozen Eggos for breakfast mmmm), we visited my friend's parents. They live in a 55+ community just on the outskirts of town and we had a great time meeting them!  We ate lunch with them at the community center and were slowed down by an old lady cruising around in a golf cart.

 No trip to St. George is complete without a stop at Nielsen's Frozen Custard.

We zipped back to Provo on Saturday to watch Brock's brother in the BYU men's volleyball game.

See Kiana's shirt? My friend Tom spray painted the image for that! So sick. Everybody was obsessed with them. We're going to sell them at the next home game!

Oh, and Kiana was very impressed with the general level of attractiveness of men's volleyball players. We tweeted this picture to the team's resident hottie Erik Mayer ;) ;) ;)

 I woke up early to drive Kiana to the airport on Sunday morning, then came back and crashed with these two. Later we went to a family dinner at my Aunt Cindy's house in Orem--those are always such a good time!

]

 Alpenglow on Timp. The best.

A Night in Hoboken

Once upon a time, Brock and I had seat assignments on a plane that weren't located next to each other. I was looking forward to sleeping for the duration of the flight, but the guy next to me had other plans. Ever sat next to a person on a plane who won't shut up?  And pretty soon you're giving one-word answers and tired, fake laughs and you can't figure out for the life of you HOW THIS PERSON CANNOT TAKE A HINT???

This was so not  one of those times. David and I chatted and laughed like old friends, and we've kept in contact ever since. As a native of New Jersey, David gave us a grand tour of Hoboken and surrounding areas when we were living there last April. I remember Brock was so tired that night and not looking forward to going out with someone he barely knew, but David's quite the charmer. He lifts everyone up around him with his warmth, charisma, and intelligence. We had the best time!

This is in front of the nightscape made famous by Miramax Films. Look familiar? We also visited the site of the famous Aaron Burr-Alexander Hamilton duel in Weehawken!

Pardon the awful picture quality on these first few photos--they were taken with my crappy Android.

This star marks the birthplace of Frank Sinatra at 415 Monroe Street in Hoboken!Also a favorite hangout of his mobster friends.

Ridiculously huge pizza at Benny Tudino's. David was friends with the guy working there, and when we ordered this size he goes "For three people? You serious, Dave?" Needless to say, we took home leftovers.

A great cap to a great night. Also, can we just take a minute to acknowledge Brock's awkward pose/smile here???

We're excited to have Dave in our  neck of the woods this week (he flies out to volunteer at the Sundance Film Festival every year). The pizza in Park City may not be as good as Hoboken's, but we're pretty  good company so that's gotta count for something!

Also: I miss my pixie cut.

I Dreamed A Dream

That my weekend rocked. OH, WAIT.

It did.

So maybe we're a little obsessed with Les Miserables. I've already written about my long-running love affair with this story. The only person I know whose passion for Les Mis  equals mine is Brock. We have the score memorized. Brock has read all 1,400 pages of the novel (I'm in the beautiful throes of it right now). We cry every time to we see the play. And we've watched the following trailer an embarrasing number of times:

So naturally, when I heard that the 25th anniversary Broadway tour was stopping through Idaho, I had to surprise Brock with tickets. We listened to the entire soundtrack during the five-hour drive to Boise, and again on the drive back down. (Including the actual play, that's three times in twenty-four hours. WE'RE LOSERS!!!) The production was incredible, of course. But no revolving stage, surprsingly! They made up for it with other cool visual effects and staging, but I did miss it in the final battle scene where everyone dies on the barricade. Oh, well--that was a very minor grievance amidst all the things they did so well! Like Javert's suicide, Fantine and Eponine's death scenes . . . I get tingles just thinking about them.

For reasons besides the obvious, our weekend was lovely. We went to Boise on Saturday to catch the Sunday matinee, but we'd already had a good dose of art before then. On Friday evening we went on a gallery stroll around SLC with some friends from church. One of them, Ehren, is a local art critic so he served as our guide. Our other two friends that went, Phillip and Krysta, work as architects and they actually helped design  one of the galleries we visited! Do we have cool friends or what?!

Once in Boise, we stayed with Brock's aunt and uncle--they stuffed us full with crepes, Asian pears, fresh carrots from the garden, and delicious apple pie.

Friends, family, art, music, food . . . like I said. This weekend rocked.

OH HAI THURRRR

Not like you noticed, but it's been almost three weeks since my last post. I had to turn in my beloved Sony Vaio over to Best Buy's Geek Squad for a tune-up. New battery, AC adapter, CPU fan . . . this baby's back in action. See 0:55 - 1:40 for a visual metaphor. Simba = laptop, Rafiki = me.

Anyway.

Highlights from the past little while:

• Greek Festival! Or as I like to call it, the Eat Festival . . . because that's pretty much all you do there. Unless you're five years old, in which case they have a giant inflatable sinking Titanic ship to slide down on. TOO SOON, GREEK FESTIVAL. The food was freaking delicious though. We tried a little bit of everything: Dolmathes, keftedes, spanakopitka, loukoumades, tyropita, melomakarona, kourambiedes, galotopita, and the best grilled chicken I have ever tasted. Check out pictures and recipes here!

• Shot the tube with friends! (For non-Utahns: See here.) Brock bought an old Samsonite suitcase at DI for $5, took it apart at the hinges and BOOM. We had two water sleds. I never would've thought of that myself, but I've got to give him credit. It was genius.

• Explored the Timpanogos Caves! It's a pretty gnarly hike up and down, but well worth it. Inside, we got to experience total  darkness for the first time, which was very cool. The kind that your eyes will not  adjust to no matter how hard you try. On our way back down, a little girl on the trail (probably three or four years old) grabbed Brock's hand thinking he was her dad. They walked together for probably five steps or so when Brock says "Um, I'm not your daddy. But you can still hold my hand!" She looked up at him and burst into surprised/scared/embarrased tears--poor thing! She started laughing as soon as she was in the arms of her real  daddy, though. Too cute!

• Watched my cousin Peter perform stand-up comedy at Wiseguys! He killed, as usual. Check out the group he performs stand-up with here. They are all so talented. As a woman has has tried--and bitterly failed at--stand-up before, I am acutely aware of how hard it actually is! Peter and his friends make it look effortless.

• Drove the Alpine Loop! Autumn reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks were on full display--I caught my breath more than once.

• Labor Day! We spent time with family up at Brock's grandparents' cabin (my favorite place in Utah) and wiled away the day in Park City going on hikes, visiting an art gallery, and stopping by Olympic Park.

• The Holy War. This was more of a lowlight rather than a highlight, but still. Do the final eight seconds of a football game get any crazier than this?!

The Unexpecteds

In the fall of 2006, I never thought . . .

• That I would be married by the spring of 2007

• That I would major in political "science" (yes, guys . . . I'm a SCIENTIST)

• That I would run the Boston Marathon with my husband

• That I would learn Arabic

• That I would survive my first 50-mile race

• That I would intern for Congress

• That I would live in the Middle East

• That I would graduate with two hundred and one  credit hours 

• That I would have a mere inch of hair under the cap I walk across the stage in (for years I tried growing it out so that I could have long waves to wear on graduation day just like all the other pretty girls . . . HAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

• That I would make so  many friends in so  many places (freshman dorms, Tucanos, BYU Political Review, American Heritage TAs, Model United Nations, Students for International Development, Washington Seminar, elementary education classes, TESOL classes, Arabic classes, political science classes, Amman)

And that's what it boils down to. You are all the best Unexpecteds of the past six years.

Thanks for a grand adventure.

Done and done! For now ;)

The one who got me through it all. 

My wonderful in-laws! So incredibly supportive. I love them.

Sorry, ladies. Neither is available.

HYPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My marvelous sister! And Caden being hyper in the background. Again.

Pardon the quality on these next ones . . . they're from my mom's phone (she SWEARS her phone takes amazing pictures . . . REALLY, MOM??? Can this debate be over now!?) 

Typical.

SOMEBODY'S disappointed that I graduated childless.

Missing Caleb, Colby, and Dad . . . with us in spirit!

***

Also, Kiana surprised me with a video that she sneakily made the whole day! Best sister ever :)

Slices

We kicked off the weekend with a fun date on Friday night that completely redeemed the bust of a day I'd had in Queens. The redemption actually started with a quick stop I made in Greenwich Village on the way home when I came across a shawarma shop. I got so  sick of shawarma in Jordan and will probably never eat it again of my own volition, but I had to stop in because I knew an Arab would be working behind the counter. And that's where I met Hussein from Lebanon! I shot the breeze with him for just a few minutes--it felt so nice to have that language rolling off my tongue again. I'm a little rusty, but I can tell it's all still there in my brain :)

Anyway. Our date. One thing Brock always makes fun of New Yorkers for is their obsession  with "slices." You do not  call a piece of pizza here "a piece of pizza." It's a slice. And whenever a New Yorker thinks about moving to another city, the first item on their Cons List is usually expressed with "Awwww man I could never do it--I can't get a good slice there!" (This is the trademark sentence that Brock uses to make fun of his slice-obsessed co-workers . . . he says it with the most terrible  New York accent you'll ever hear. Imitations are not his strong suit, but that's okay, because terrible imitations are almost funnier than good ones!)

I'd heard great things about Joe's Pizza in Greenwich Village. I mean, Kevin Bacon said a slice from there would be his last meal on Earth if he had a choice. KEVIN BACON. I don't know why I just typed his name again, but I guess that just speaks to the effect that KEVIN BACON can have on you.

Joe's was indeed good . . . but I just don't think New York slices are our cup of pizza tea. All the places that people rave about--Joe's, Lombardi's, Grimaldi's--are indeed delicious, but not in that knock-your-socks-off way that we think Chicago deep dish is.

However. Our pizza night didn't end with Joe's. Walking back to the PATH station, Brock decided he was still a little hungry, so we popped into the closest place near us for one last slice. It happened to be Bleeker Street Pizza, which apparently has won the Food Network's title of Best Pizza in New York for three years running now.

New York, you can thank Bleeker Street Pizza for single-handedly redeeming your obsession with thin-crust slices. I've never tasted a Tuscan style pizza better than that. The tomatoes used in the sauce tasted like they'd been plucked off the vine only hours before, and the crust could actually hold its own as fresh bread. Unlike the crust at Joe's, it wasn't just a flimsy mess of an afterthought. For a thin crust pizza it was a little  on the thicker side--stable enough to support the bite in your hand, light enough to not overwhelm it--and managed to hit the jackpot between fluffy and crispy (a subtle crunch in every bite, followed by an airy, melt-in-your-mouth center). Bravo, Bleeker!

Look near the bottom of the pizza . . . you can see  how perfect the crust is!

Right before heading into the PATH station, we came across this sign.

The store owner saw us looking at it and came out to greet us. He was a tall, wirey guy in his late 20s with shoulder-length hair and a Woodstock swagger. His store--at twelve feet long by four feet wide--was indeed small, and I saw no working lights inside (a problem which he remedied with a disco ball). He Kramered out the door and greeted us using a microphone.

"Heeeeey, guys! You two're lookin' fancy tonight."

"Just comin' back from date night, man!" said Brock. "We see you offer free advice. What advice can you give us?"

"Oh, dude. It doesn't work like that. You gotta think of something you want advice on first,  and then I give it to you."

"Ahhh, I see. What's your name?"

"Parks Are Zoos For Trees."

"My name's Brock."

"Oh, so, you don't like have a name that's a sentence?"

After more chit-chatting, we learned that his real name is Ivan and that he's an aspiring comedian. Parks Are Zoos for Trees is his stage name. Brock asked if he had any upcoming shows.

"Dude, I'm starting a mailing list so people can know when my events are. You wanna get on it? You'll be like the second person on the list. It's parksarezoosfortrees@gmail.com."

I don't know how much stand-up comedy Ivan does because I'm pretty sure he just smokes bongs all day in his small shop. He makes t-shirts for a living and they're basically amazing. We may have to buy a couple of them to, you know, support the arts. My personal favorite is one the reads "I am more humble than you" in puff paint with some unicorns stamped on it.

Overall, it was a great night in Greenwich Village and a great way to start the weekend. We topped it off with a pint of Chunky Monkey and two lottery tickets. 

The bad news is that we're not multi-millionaires. The good news is that you don't have to be one to afford Chunky Monkey.

The White-Haired Fox

YUP. I'm talking about Anderson Cooper.

(What else  what "the white-haired fox" refer to?!)

I was so excited yesterday to go to a taping of Anderson Cooper's daytime talk show! I can't say anything about the show until it airs (I'll let you know when), but it was so fun. The studio is on Columbus Circle--a beautiful area located at the southwest corner of Central Park. You wouldn't believe the view! One wall of the studio is comprised entirely of glass windows that look out over Central Park, Columbus Circle, and the Upper East Side. Swoon. 

Anderson comes from a privileged background and it's funny to hear him say things like "when I was 17 and driving a truck across sub-Saharan Africa, I contracted malaria and had to be hospitalized in Kenya." I don't know how,  but he never comes off as pretentious in spite of this! I have a pretty fine-tuned radar for when somebody is a tool, so he must be really  down-to-earth in order to say things like that without me being annoyed. Or maybe it's just that hair of his. Or those eyes. Or EVERYTHING.

One of the best parts of the show is how much audience participation there is. Anderson is always walking around taking questions that audience members have for the guests, or just answering any question they throw at him during set transitions. He's very warm and personable, with a special knack for making the best of awkward situations--like when an elderly woman asks if he remembers her ("We met at such-and-such restaurant in Long Island in 2007!"), or when another woman asks if he's read the book she sent him, or when an audience member straight up asks him for a job and if they can exchange business cards! Anderson's reply: "Uh, I don't really have a business card," (translation: I'M EFFING ANDERSON COOPER) "but let me have one of my producers grab yours!"

I stayed a little longer after to the show to volunteer for a special segment on the next  day's show. It was me and about twenty other people. They only chose a handful to "use" for the segment, and I was not one of them (which, weirdly, I'm kinda proud of--again, I'll let you know when it airs!). I did,  however, get a free bag of Doritos and bottled water out of it, along with prime seating to the next day's taping. They had me at Doritos, but y'know, I'll take everything I can get.

I spent the rest of the day exploring the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I started with Pomander Walk--a double row of brick, stucco, and timbered Tudoresque townhouses tucked away on 94th Street. The develop of them, Thomas Healy, was inspired by set designs from a 1921 play called Pomander Walk. The Pomander Walk on 94th was his attempt to recreate the village atmosphere within the play. Gloria Swanson, Rosalind Russell, and Humphrey Bogart are among the past tenants there.

I then wandered down to Riverside Park--a woodsy stretch of green that curves along Riverside Drive for seventy blocks. Originally planned in 1873, it has since grown to include playgrounds, sports fields, a promenade, and monuments. It was a quiet refuge from the hustle-and-bustle of nearby Broadway Street: A few dog-walkers, squirrels scampering up tree trunks, children playing, and the muted rumble of Henry Hudson Parkway. I passed by a monument to Joan of Arc (aka SHE-BALLER) before running into the marble Soliders and Sailors Monument. Built in 1902 and dedicated to those who died to save the Union during the Civil War, it was modeled after the Monument of Lysicrates in Athens.

How gorgeous is Riverside Park?!

I was trying to snap a picture of the beautiful cherry tree near the monument (CAN YOU TELL I'M JUST A LITTLE OBSESSED WITH THOSE????) but the light wasn't cooperating with me. It was then that an older Jewish man--mid-fifties, rotund, and slightly disheveled--approached me. I smiled at him.

Smiles are hard to come by in the city, apparently, which is perhaps the reason why I spent the next ten minutes in conversation with him. His Yiddish accent was as thick as his waistline. I half-expected to hear a fiddler playing on a distant roof.

"Did jou know," he said, "zhere is a beautiful cherry tree just down zhe vay? Zhis von here doesn't smell, but zhe ozher von does. And zhis von's flowers are light pink--zhe flowers on zhe ozher tree are darker."

"Really?"

"Yes! It is maybe thrrree-minute walk from here." The r  tumbled down his tongue. "I'd show you, y'know, but I'm just heading to my home. But you must  visit it. Really. Before zhe next two, thrrree days, because zhen all zhe blossoms fall down. It smell so nice. You will see people grabbing the branches to smell zhe blossoms. And you will see ozher cherry trees, too! One with branches that touch zhe grrrround. I svear!" I couldn't stop smiling the whole time he spoke.

"So vhat do you do here in New Yorrrk? Are you actress? Model?"

I tried to repress a loud HA! and explained my being here.

"Oh, you know"--for a man seemingly in a rush to get home, he didn't mind chatting away--"zhere is a vonderful place downtown that you and your husband must go. It's for dancing. Sving dancing! You must do sving dancing. People are always smiling when they sving dance. In salsa, tango--no. No smiling. You must do the sving. They dance in eight counts, like zhis."

He took my hand and danced with me right there, counting the beats and twirling me around, bouncing from side to side.

"Yes, you must go. But I don't know if you vill like zhe place. Maybe it's not for people of your social class, just for schmucks like me."

**PAUSE** A Jewish man with a Yiddish accent used the word "schmuck" in conversation with me. Cross that off the bucket list.

Anyway, we continued on until he decided it was actually time to head home. He left me his business "card"--a thin strip of paper. ("I'm in zhe process of ordering real vons rrright now, with lines on zhe back for you to write down an appointment.") Apparently, the man has a PhD and has written an e-book called The Universal Meaning of Life and the Anatomy of Human Happiness. $2.99 on Amazon. His name is Alexander Jornitski--check out his website!

The business card reads: "Your fate has never put this kind of card into your hand before and will never do this again. Read the book; it is short, unique, and important."

This is the cherry tree he was talking about. He was right--it smelled amazing. (More than worth a three-minute walk.)

My final stop of the day was at Zabar's--a Jewish grocery store that is basically a foodie's paradise. Since 1934, its shelves have been stocked with every type of cheese you can imagine. From every country. A huge selection of oils, jams, jellies, vinegars, olives, sausages, exotic chocolates, and bakery breads. I'd never seen anything like it and could've easily spent hours  (and hundreds of dollars...) in there, but it was starting to get dark and Jersey is quite the commute from 80th Street. I grabbed a hunk of fresh Parmesan, a loaf of cinnamon bread from the bakery, and some chocolate chip cookies before heading home.

Yeah, I could definitely get used to the Upper West Side :)