On Life and Laundry

As I steered my laundry cart down the sidewalk and played chicken with an oncoming mother and her screaming toddler, I congratulated myself on approaching another NYC milestone: laundry.

Observing the walk signage flash a blinking red, I thought better of my wobbly, overflowing cart and our successful cross of the street in time. As a newly aggressive New Yorker, I've noted it's pretty much the Wild West out here regarding traffic laws. If you feel like walking during a green light which runs perpendicular to your path, you go. And so, I go...even though I am still amazed the drivers don't seem to ever hit anyone. This time was different and I decided to wait - as it happens, this conservatism nearly saved me.

It turns out I am a terrible cart driver and I had to accelerate to Michael Jordan tongue out concentration so as not to dump two weeks of laundry onto the gross and horrendously bumpy sparkling clean, freshly paved street.  Let's put it this way, if cart driving is any indication of my fitness as a mother, add me to the do not reproduce list. Further, if foreshadowing is any indication, I suspected this was going to be a bumpy ride.

Unlike most new experiences, I entered the laundromat with my head held high. I practically minored in laundry in college. If I am good at anything in life, it's this. I rarely turn anything pink and lose very few socks. Also, this is the stuff movies are made of. You always meet cool new friends in the local laundromat. While I am not looking for a partner, you are supposed to meet many options for those, too. I even recall a Doritos commercial where two people met and immediately started dancing. The possibilities are endless! So I thought.

Two elderly women peered at me as if I was interrupting their very private afternoon tea. Okay, no Doritos dancing. I can see that now. "Jaimie, focus on the task. Get your head in the game. You'll make friends later." I turn to the machines. Wonderful - it seems the author of the IKEA furniture directions also does laundromats. Don't panic...don't panic. Well, the clothes have to go in them. I know that much. So I do that. The two ladies begin cackling in their native tongue and I am reminded of my superhero wish: to be able to communicate with any living thing. Sigh, it seems today is not the day I become a superhero.

The rest is clumsy but it happens. Many quarters later. Well, it's in the process of happening. I don't see any suds in my machines which is of slight concern. It reminds me of the time I tried to bake a cake in 2003. Yes, I can recall the number of the times I've attempted to do this because it's often not gone well. I am certain I forgot flour for this particular cake because it resembled creme brulee. I kept adding sugar thinking that was it. Fail. I have the WORST domestic (read: kitchen previously but maybe now add all domestic) instincts. I know I added soap. At least, I am almost 100% certain I did.

Update: I DID make a friend with one of those ladies after all. My mom Skyped me mid-drying and I answered. We spoke for a sec and then hung up. The woman inquired about Skype and I gave her a tutorial. Holla!!! Maybe she will teach me some of her laundry ways - she totally out-laundered me. Her clothes smell amazing and she is a really good folder. Mine are damp and sort of smell like damp, only-partially clean, soccer socks. Ick.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Microwave

As I type this blog, I can't help but feel like Carrie for a second, sans Jimmy Choos. Okay, now to the story...

Have you ever had a friend do something sweet for you? Maybe like bequeathing you items for your new apartment? Well, we have such a friend/family member (thanks, Alyssa) and we inherited a few treasured possessions: shower caddy, Swiffer, Brita pitcher, and a microwave. NYC is teaching me many regional lessons. For example, if you lived in most anywhere else in America, you'd probably drive to pick up said items, stuff them in your backseat, and move on. Well, not in NYC where personal cars are cumbersome...here we take subways, buses, and feets - EVERYWHERE.

So maybe we (ahem, Jason) carried a microwave across two boroughs. 

First we waited for subway #1

Then we boarded subway #1. As you can see, Jason is super excited
I am taking his pictures all over town.

Now we're on transfer subway #2

And walking down one street...

Annnnd another. This is our local grocer (in case you are interested)
where you can purchase a single tomato for $5.

This lucky microwave got to see so much of NYC in its 45 minute journey. She turned out to be quite the conversation starter. One nomadic fellow wondered if we would warm our morning beverages ("Yo, you gonna make some hot tea in there? [insert odd cackle]" while another was convinced Jason used it to pick me up. I know people must be forced to travel with odd items regularly but I hadn't seen evidence of it myself. I wondered if we'd be the punchline of someone else's blog post until I saw this...

Okay, not him but I did see this, clocked at 1:35 am on Saturday night. 

The picture is a little blurry but homegirl was returning from a surf trip, by herself, at one o'clock in the morning. She wins. I will keep you posted if anyone ousts her as most interesting subway passenger. Alyssa (savvy Manhattanite cousin, previous owner of the traveling microwave) once sent me a picture of someone sitting in their lazy boy and another of a goat on the subway.

Blog post #2 - update on other NYC living experiences/purchases

If you come to visit (and you love crepes) we are going here. Behold - the apples, brie, honey, balsamic, salt/pepper, arugula crepe. We found it at the Chelsea Marketplace.

We are considering this Crate & Barrel bedding but I wanted to see what it looks like outside of the showroom. Methinks not bad! Perhaps we'd replace the sheets for something less bananas.

Here's some of the IKEA furniture Jason built sitting in our bedroom. In case you are curious, yes...that is a full bed and its shoved up against the wall as far as it would let me. I'll post another pic when the room is complete. Mattresses are on the way, as are our THIRD and FOURTH roommates!

Oh lawd - this caddy was one of the most challenging purchases yet. 

Prior to its purchase, we'd be balancing the day's purchases all over town  like Christmas trees. Admittedly, I took the form of a Charlie Brown Tree to Jason's Griswold Christmas masterpiece.

Jason

Jaimie

Long story short, the caddy saved our butts. Now we can bring back things like this! IKEA makes a cool scarf organizer and it's currently hanging off the side of our armoire. For a girl from two incredibly warm states, why the h-e-double hockey sticks I have so many scarves is beyond me!

Okay, I think that's all for now. We did venture out to the movies tonight and realized the price is only two times a Texas ticket. Sigh. Also, go see The Campaign. So good!

J's in the City

Well, we've been here for a little less than three days and so much has happened. And changed. Wow, my life is going to be vastly different here. Really our lives will be different but I am the one who seems most affected by everything. Also, I am the one who blogs about it. So...my life it is. 

Change #1: Did you know you have to carry what you buy? From any place you buy it? If you trek 20 minutes to your nearest Trader Joe's, you have to account for your biceps. And mine are small.

Exhibit A: Grocery shopping.

Change #2: I am a criminal. I am now am accomplice to a hit and run...so, yeah, basically a criminal. Okay, it's didn't happen to US but a couple named Naimie and Nason. They look just like us, but more dystopic. You see, Nason was driving their moving van and, after ripping off two parking tickets from the windshield he acquired at 5:00 that morning (for two charges Naimie unsuccessfully lost her shit contested), he proceeded to drive the wrong way down a one-way street. Once righted, he may have side swiped someone's mirror while trying to avoid an oversized mailtruck. Don't worry - he fixed it and we are sure that person has learned their lesson so that future efforts will yield conforming to the cardinal adjusted side mirrors rule. ALL OF THE OTHER CARS TURNED THEIR MIRRORS INWARD. In a way, they are lucky they still have a side mirror. In a way, we performed an act of kindness and philanthropy. I will not be adding a picture of this because I don't know Naimie and Nason personally.

Change #3: We live in a fourth floor walk-up. Translation: I am going to have a butt of steal. And calves. And everything. I am going to be rock solid. Except that we can't stop eating. Everything is delicious and I haven't even had a bagel yet. Pizza, Chinese, local diner, check! I am proud to report I WALKED around the corner (maybe 150 steps) to procure this delicious feast. For $20. 

Panda Delight's finest

So, even though I climb at least 21 flights of stairs per day and walk everywhere, I may become an Oompa Loompa. Ultimately I've decided this is fine because winter is approachin'. I am preparing for hibernation.

Speaking of our apartment, did you know I am marrying a "maximizer"? Jenn Leach knows which is why she and Jason are kindred spirits. If this term is unfamiliar to you, allow the Happiness Project to elucidate: "Maximizers want to make the optimal decision. So even if they see a bicycle or a photographer that would seem to meet their requirements, they can’t make a decision until after they’ve examined every option, so they know they’re making the best possible choice." Translation: we must overturn EVERY stone before selecting our stone. Our bedframe. Our desk. Our armoire. Guess how many laps we hoofed around IKEA? I don't have that many fingers and toes, so I lost count. Nonetheless, five hours later we emerged with a lot of things. This surprised even us. Thanks Jane (ahem, Dr. Vogler!) and Kevin for your contribution to the pile!

Our impressive IKEA loot

It's very fortunate our furniture came in boxes because there is simply no way possible it would find its way to our apartment. I almost left it on our stoop once it was unloaded from the truck, but Jason is a superhero of sorts. He incredible hulked it upstairs. Three narrow flights. I learned I make an excellent cheerleader. I have pretty much medaled in it since our move.

Me pestering Jason as
he does something productive

That's pretty much the haps. Jason was kind enough to tell me about the woman he saw get robbed an hour after he got home tonight from returning Nason's truck. Perfect. I am so thankful I am a yellow belt plus one stripe in karate. I can still count to five in Korean. I can still probably punch someone too.

Stay tuned for future misadventures of J's in the City. In two weeks, we'll have J's plus an A. Watch out world!

Tourist in your own town

Spending 23/23 years of life in one place can really put a damper on your impressions of it. As such, I spent the last decade hating south Florida. I can't really explain why and I suppose if you wanted to psychoanalyze me a few times, you'd uncover something interesting. Then again, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

In any event, I find myself in sunny (read: incredibly rainy) south Florida, caring for my mom who is recovering from hip replacement surgery. In the days before her surgery, we tried to squeeze in as much fun as five people packed into a Honda Pilot can. Jason has been here a few times, but it's always been a sprint through a weekend and we're on a plane back home. This time I really focused on showing Jason some of what I appreciate about my hometown; I have dubbed these experiences "my south Florida". The thing is - if you aren't careful, you could end up with someone else's south Florida and wake up in a spray-tanned fog of vodka, diet pills, and herpes. I wouldn't recommend it.

In an effort to extend my south Florida to Jason, something kind of magical happened. I think it's akin to a couple celebrating 11 years of marriage in a disappointing, dingy timeshare borrowed from their neighbors with four kids in tow, three of whom have colds...somewhere among the muck and chaos, the couple looks around and realizes they are completely happy. 

As I chauffeured Jason from place to place, I felt a renewed sense of wonder: "my gosh, that really is beautiful" and "hey, this is kind of fun" and so forth. We hit many of my hot spots and it's left me wondering if I should add south Florida back to the list of places we could live once we're grown-up scholars. Maybe.  The beach here really is amazing and I completely took the ten minutes distance from it for granted my entire life. Also,  don't let my dad see this because he has been lobbying hard for us to return home, as evidenced by the "Congrats, Dr. Krause, now move back home" message attached to my graduation bouquet.

Here is some additional (and unrelated) wisdom derived from this trip:

1. Do not order a skinny pina colada. Yes, this is deserving of spot #1 on my list.

2. Florida summer weather > Austin summer weather but Austin fashion > Florida fashion

3. GPS everything. Do not rely on my sense of direction to get anywhere because it is broken.

4. Fake ducks sit in canals for no reason.

5. No one understands the delight of a Mexican martini in south Florida and they never will. Stop trying to explain what it is.

6. With the right straighter, I can have a C- hair day which blows past FL hair experiences out of the water (p > .05). 

7. South Florida driving is akin to the wild, wild West - everyone should don a 10 gallon hat and chaps whilst driving and admit it as they cut you off across four lanes of traffic and run a red light.

8. If the restaurant is in downtown Fort Lauderdale (or Miami), it thinks it is a club and will play music so loud you become horse from screaming through sips of your $20 margarita and require another margarita just to soothe your cords.

9. JAIMIE, WEAR FREAKING SUNBLOCK AND STOP BEING AN IDIOT. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO SKIN CANCER, NO MATTER HOW OLIVE YOU BELIEVE YOUR UNDERTONES MIGHT BE. THEY ARE JUST THAT - UNDERTONES.

10. It costs a lot to look that cheap. Don't succumb to whatever fashion trend has you in acid washed cut-offs and a Zack Morris tank top. Just don't.

11. Palm trees in south Florida are like glitter in an elementary art classroom. It's an epidemic and sometimes seeing a palm tree in front of a Walgreens is weird.

The end! I will leave you with one of my favorite pics from the save the date photo session. Way to go, Ash!

Love these two.  

Krause family painting time (minus one) 

 Jason's delicious margarita and my not so delicious pina colada. See list item #1.

 Oysters - ick! Jason and Ash loved these slimy things

 The Commercial Pier beach

 My parent's pool - a so FL necessity.

My gorgeous sis

Paradise

Having the time of our lives. Thanks, Blondeau-Crows!

Hoarding by any other name...let's not kid ourselves

Once upon a time, a girl lived in her sister's house. For three years. Without her sister in it. It soon became her house, but she was blessed with the belongings of past inhabitants. Five years worth of things like "Kiss me, I'm Irish" twinkle lights and 7 bottles of Febreze.  Interestingly, the girl had never purchased a bottle of Febreze in her life and found an aisle's worth under several sinks. She is also not Irish.

So, the time came for the girl to pack up her home and become Jess, Zooey Dechanel's character from New Girl. Minus the amazing hair and vintage wardrobe, this is essentially me:

In order to raid the couch of three sweet, accommodating boys, I have to box my belongings. Even though there are many items that are not mine, there are also several that I cannot blame on anyone else. Like the 37 wrought iron candle holders and 67 picture frames. And more wicker baskets than any single person should have in a 1,700 sq. ft. space. Those are all me.

Now, deep in the red cells of the Krause blood lies a special condition which, like teen pregnancy, has been slightly romanticized in today's society. Yes, I'm referring to hoarding. Not like dead cats stashed behind the tv hoarder (did you see that episode too? AWFUL), but more like Idon'thavethatexactshadeofpalepinknailpolishandit'sonsale hoarding.  

The extent to which I may or may not hoard isn't as important as the degree to which travel-sized tissue packages flood my sizable array of toiletries. The worst part? I don't even use them. Tissues - yes, I use those. Travel-sized packages? Where did these come from?? Who am I? Have you seen my baseball?

Maybe my fiance thinks I am a hoarder. Maybe he has set up tests opportunities for me to rid myself of items such as the delightfully whimsical throw pillows that perfectly matched my guest room bedding by giving them to my housekeeper. Just to see what I would do. Well, I will have you know - philanthropist that I am (minus that whole wealth component) - I am quite generous with my belongings. In fact, I have invited many people over in hopes of redistributing the wealth. In fact, I ought to be named the Robin Hood of our generation. See? My collecting just needed some slight reframing. Now I am a hero. With a few extra flower pots. Like 20.

The Evolution of a Snowball Fight

AND THEN JAIMIE ATTACKS YOU WITH ALL OF HER MIGHT

I am knowledge!

Okay maybe not but we can talk when you end up being thanked (WITH A PHOTO) on someone's professional development training. Teehee! Actually, I was really honored to help Dr. Russ Hodges with his training on the ways emotions impact learning math. His lecture looks fantastic!

Thoughts on a Monday

Haters gonna hate, potatoes gonna potate.

One of my students shared this with me, and I really like it. It's in line with another great one:

When people show you who they are the first time, believe them.

Is this a cryptic message summarizing my life in any way right now? Nope - just random thoughts on a Monday.

Have a great week!

Professors Meme

This is a quickie because I am in the midst of writing Chapter 4 of my Dissertation (vomit). I wholeheartedly agree with this, minus the scantily-clad coed draped across the desk. I don't think my colleagues think I do that.