A Surprise to Remember

I love surprises.

I think it’s something my mom passed onto me.

I remember waking up every year on my birthday and having some sort of surprise next to my pillow.  I remember my mom telling me to pack on the morning of my 16^th birthday without telling me where we were going to end up.  I remember receiving a note from my college study abroad program that I was going to be a couple days late arriving due to “birthday trip with mom.”

Not surprising, that when my little sister called me two weeks ago to discuss birthday ideas for dad, the first thing that came to mind was… let’s surprise him.

The plan was simple.  I was going to fly or train or drive from Chicago to suburban metro Detroit after work on Friday, surprise dad at my aunt’s house and then spend the weekend doing dad’s favorite things.

Plane tickets were inappropriately expensive for a 40-minute flight (it’s called a m-o-n-o-p-o-l-y, Delta) and the train took way too long (let’s join the 21^st century, Amtrak).

Rental car it is.

I ran out of work on Friday and headed for the nearest rental car location.  15 minutes later I had somehow finagled an SUV for the price of a full size vehicle and was on my way.

I was really excited.

4 hours and about 20 rounds of Kelly Clarkson’s Catch My Breath and Backstreet Boys’ Larger than Life later, I was pulling up to my aunt’s house 5 minutes behind dad and sis, ready to ring the doorbell and yell surprise.

It was amazing to see the look on his face.

He immediately screamed “what are you doing here” and followed it up with giant bear hugs (customary) followed by Brady Bunch-style group hugs (we have our moments).

Some of the things I learned over the past couple of days:

1)      You’re never too old for a pajama party.  Dad, sis and I overestimated the size of the bed, but had some good laughs trying to sleep in it together.

2)      Your favorite movies never get old.  In our family, two films are quoted, discussed and watched over and over and over again: 1991’s Other People’s Money and 1993’s Adams Family Values.  These films might not seem extra deep, but in our family, no other movies hold more truth, provide more laughs or inspire more Halloween costumes.

3)      Re-telling the stories of our “Childhoods: The Infant Years” rarely grows tiresome.  Dad was dedicated to every detail in this weekend’s re-telling.

We had water fights in our health club’s pool, sat down to a dinner expertly prepared by amateur chef lil sis (sushi) and made the mistake of discussing current events after several glasses of wine.

This weekend was great.

It was Awesome to see dad so happy.

Axles, Loops and Salchows

Today I went back to the rink.

Although it might seem like I skate every day, given the fact that I’ve mentioned it about 63782 times since starting this blog, I actually haven’t laced up my skates in over two years.

I was introduced to figure skating at the age of 4. A family effort – if you will – was mobilized back in the Soviet Union (so they tell me) to let me try this popular Russian sport.

Skates were procured. Sessions for toddlers were found. Transportation was arranged.

On that fateful day, grandpa laced up my skates…and introduced me to my life-long passion.

Skating is one of my earliest memories. I skated when we were newly immigrated and money was tight. I competed through elementary school, middle school and high school. I skated through college. I skated through good times and bad.

Now my recent move back to the Midwest has reignited my desire to lace up my skates once more.

One train and one bus got me there.

I was overwhelmed and excited coming up to the rink. I was an ocean away from where I started and 300 miles away from where I skated most of my life. Yet my surroundings were familiar. It even smelled the same.

I warmed up a bit, laced up my skates, got onto the ice with other skaters at “my” level and picked up on what I suspect I knew all along…

Figure skating is hard.

I wish I could say it’s like riding a bike. But it’s not (unless relearning means toppling over a couple of times on a flat tire).

I was a bit shaky at first and spent half the session doing backwards and forwards crossovers but by the end of the session I was feeling more confident. I tried a couple spins and even threw in a couple (easy) jumps.

Most of all, I just loved being out there again. It was different but it felt the same.

Looking forward to training session number 2.

Awesome.

Russian Thanksgiving: An Exercise in Over-Eating and Food Hopping

I am accustomed to wading through crowds, airports and screaming children to make it home for the family – oriented holiday of the year.

This year was no different.  I was home for thanksgiving.  However, having moved to Chicago (from NYC) a few weeks ago – my heart sang when the typical airplane ride home was replaced with a friend picking me up and delivering me to my hometown in Michigan a few hours later.

The rest of the weekend was business as usual.

Of course I say weekend because a Russian family’s thanksgiving couldn’t possibly consist of one evening or of one household.

Instead, we prefer to see how many times we can prepare an entire feast and how many other homes can provide the feast for us.

My arrival on Wednesday prompted the setting of a celebratory feast.  A visit to the grandparents called for a banquet.  A check in with family friends was the perfect opportunity for a ceremonial spread.

By the time today rolled around, I had eaten more than I had in the past month and was really starting to crave bare vegetables.

For those of you from the Ukrainian/Russian/Jewish/Immigrant variety, you’ll probably relate to the following:

• Roasted chicken instead of the traditional turkey
• Spanakopita (the always beloved Greek addition to thanksgiving)
• Herring, sardines, lox, cheese, salami and prosciutto (favorites the pilgrims overlooked)
• One too many toasts about being thankful (for a reason to toast)
• Turkey (or chicken) for breakfast
• Family members discussing your figure while simultaneously scoffing at how “little” you’re eating
• And of course (my favorite)… using what’s left of Vodka as gravy (see picture above)

We watched our family’s favorite movie (Other People’s Money) for the 187^th time (and recited lines together).  Sis and I told stories under the covers with flashlight (modern times: flashlight app) and engaged in cartwheel competitions that dad judged (I still got it!).  Days were culminated with family swim hour after our hearty meals (not advisable).

Aside from the fact that comments such as “you should eat more” started to have negative effects on my aggression meter (I can’t fit anymore!), I’d say it was a perfect thanksgiving.

Awesome.

The Art of the Goodbye Party

On T-7 days until the big move (Chicago, are you ready?!), I got appropriately dressed for going away party number one.

Having come to New York right after college and spent five years in the glorious city – I decided (and friends approved) that inviting a slew of individuals to one of our favorite bars from our “just-out-of-college” days was the best way to proceed.

I reserved half the bar for myself and said brood of (sophisticated) jaeger-bomb loving friends.

To start the night, we held a “pre-game” at my brother’s apartment and appropriately took some shots and made some toasts to start the night.

Feeling pretty happy and ready to party like its 2007…. We made our way to one of my beloved bars to properly say goodbye to New York City.

The night was a fantastic success.

I found the following to be essential to my fond memories (in no order):

– A tiara (No, it’s not my birthday. Yes, I pretended it was half the night.)

– A throne (The bar had a wooden throne. I utilized this surprising item to my fullest enjoyment.)

– Vodka

– Friends from all walks of life that reminded me of the great life I’d built

– New friends (brought by old friends.)

– My brother

– Angry bouncers (how I’ll miss your spunk old friends.)

I was my hyper self.  I took random photos that looked absurd in the morning.  I shared nachos with 20 people.  I danced.  I hugged (a lot of people). I made new friends.  I spent time with old friends.  I celebrated.

Hung-over breakfast was even sweeter than usual.

Awesome.

Packing: A Cleansing Exercise

T-12 days until the big move (to Chicago).

I was finally forced to get to the dreaded packing portion of the life-changing exercise.

Where to begin!

After surveying the contents of my room, I found clothes I haven’t worn since 1998 (homage to my high school fashion glory), cell phone chargers for every model made since 1999 (hmm might need to revive that Saved By The Bell phone…) and jewelry I picked up during college travels that once was “silver” but is now a gorgeous pewter at best.

After giving it some thought, I decided not to give friends and family reason to nominate me for Hoarders and thus spent time going through everything.  I opened up pre-packed boxes, took everything out from under the bed and dug deep into bins that traveled (as is) from high school to college to NYC.

Favorite finds:

• The ever popular “spank me it’s my birthday” t-shirt (size kids small) – KEEPER
• Hair ribbon I wore in my last figure skating college nationals
• Complete sequined one-piece suite (worn on Halloween 5 years ago)
• 15 tube-tops (naturally)
• Cards my roommates and I wrote to each other in college.  Absurdity at its best.

Ultimate favorite: card my college (and current) roommate gave me on my 23^rd bday:

I can’t remember how the nicknames “poopy” and “crappy” came about, but I do know that 8 years later, I still yell “crappy!!” in public places when trying to find her.  Neither one of us can remember what the “little something” is that was provided for the start of my day.  I’m assuming a Keystone Light. Or beer pong paddle (?).  Either way: solid gold.

I donated bags of clothing, shoes and blankets.  I gave away skirts, tennis shoes and workout outfits.  I spent hours reading every note, postcard and diary.

The result is: a great deal less to move.  Some proper reminiscing.  A feeling of lightness.

Turns out cleansing and “spring cleaning” (in October) is Awesome.

Highly recommend it.

Relax, Recover, Rejuvenate

http://www.blissncare.com/index.php

T-13 before I hit the road with a friend for our quickly approaching move to Chicago!

I have been working hard to sleep as little as possible in order to soak up as much friend, family and NYC time that I can.  Turns out the staying up is easy… the getting up in the morning is excruciatingly hard…

Today I took a break from my pressing social agenda (hehe) to relax, rejuvenate and stuff my face with chocolate covered peanuts.

Yes, on this week before I leave NYC, I took some time out to relax at my favorite Spa on the Upper East Side.

I made the migration from the UES with my roomies down to Murray Hill almost 3 years ago, but I still find myself taking the 456 train up to my old neighborhood in order to have a little Zen time.

This hidden gem sits a bit of a ways back from the rush of third avenue, diagonal from Dylan’s Candy Bar (perfect for post massage snack).  The front door’s wooden exterior is inviting.  One flight of stairs up and you find yourself inside a small yet cozy and peaceful waiting room complete with champagne, snacks and (most importantly) the foot massage machine.

Sometimes I bring my e-reader along and just sit there for hours sipping champagne, eating entirely too much chocolate and absorbing my latest chic-book (girl needs her trash in between book club books).

Ultimately, after over-indulging in the goodies, I was ushered into a massage room for my facial (the actual reason I came).  I’ve gone to the same lady every time.  I think she’s just plain Awesome.  I love the arm and face massage, I feel like my skin glows afterwards and I usually fall asleep on the table (awkward?) once I let go of the day’s stresses.

Today I had my last face massage in NYC.  Note to self: must find new spot for Zen in Chicago.

Stay tuned.

Leaving my 2837428-long to-do list to take a time out? …… Awesome.

Giant Statues and Pink Wallpaper

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-201_162-57517036/living-room-exhibit-erected-around-columbus-monument-in-new-york/

Day 47 commenced my official countdown to my move from New York City!

I know I’ve mentioned it in previous posts but here it is officially:

I’m leaving the big (crazy, yet fun) apple to head to the windy (more balanced and clean) city.

Friends, followers and random passerby’s, as of around 8pm on October 29, I will officially be a resident of the state of Illinois.

During these last 14 days, I am aiming to soak up the Awesome (what else) in my NYC life (no real complaints here).

I’m going to take this opportunity to count backwards…..

On day -14 I found myself in a living room.  6 flights of stairs up from the ground.  In the middle of one of NYC’s busiest intersections.  Sitting on a (very comfortable and purple) couch. Staring up at the room’s centerpiece:  the famous 70-foot statue built in 1892 of Christopher Columbus.

I wouldn’t have believed it myself had I not accompanied a friend to the exhibit (one of our last outings!), complained and moaned the entire 6 flights of stairs and spent more time than was allowed in the “living room.”

“Discovering Columbus” is an exhibit created by Tatsu Nishi that allows visitors to experience the famous Columbus statue as if it were in their living room.  The room’s expansive space, covered in pink wallpaper, adorned with modern furniture and over-sized windows, is a surreal and a one-of-a-kind experience for several reasons.

1)       Seeing a 70-foot statue brought to life in touching distance is not an everyday sighting.  Sitting on the couch, I studied the details of the work.  Everything from his dress to his face are etched in a type of accurate precision I would never have suspected

2)      The sheer idea of something so large and grand that one would never see up close to be in a home setting is bewildering (not something you pick up while “antiquing”).  Not surprisingly, my jaw dropped when we turned the corner on the top floor.

3)      The exact views we saw can’t be replicated.  Out the fake living room windows was a sea of lights coming from cars speeding down Central Park West.  The top of buildings on the other side of the island were peeking over trees and Central Park was spread out before us.

central park west

On a personal note, Columbus Circle is one of my favorite parts of this city.  It’s the place where I ate my mac and cheese and sushi rolls during lunch as an intern.  It’s the place where I’ve gone to clear my head.  It’s the fountains my brother and I played in just a few weeks ago (errrr I mean watched the children play).

I loved experiencing this part of the city in a completely different way.

Awesome!

Babs: The Early Years

On Day 46, I attended the William J. Mann book signing pertaining to his new work:

Hello, Gorgeous: Becoming Barbra Streisand.

Yes.  I was the only person there under the age of 62.

Yes.  The older folk and I gave each other weird looks.

Cat’s out of the bag: I’m a Babs fan.  I realize I was born about 20 years after her big break, but I was born to parents who went to Barbra’s concerts, bought me her CD’s and introduced me to her movies.

I’ve seen Hello Dolly about a hundred times and I’ve choreographed about a dozen figure skating programs (as a 12-year old) to Tell Him (a duet with Celine Dion).

Highly reminiscent of my mom’s love for soulful love songs, I immersed myself in her inspirational story.

Some info on Babs: she was born in Brooklyn and lost a parent at a very young age. She didn’t always have the means or the support that was much needed to pursue her dreams.  She fought hard and achieved unbelievable success.

She might be from a different generation, but her story is inspiring and relevant to me just the same.

I listened to people speak up from the audience who had gone to middle school with her.  I thought about how my mom would have enjoyed the event. I met the author (who gave me a surprising and great compliment ;)).

Awesome!

Love Stories, Boxes and Playbills

On Day 43, I found myself enjoying a pastime I had not experienced or thought about in 15+ years.

I was probably around 10 years old when my mom took me to the Opera for the first time in effort to share with her daughter, her love of the art.

Unfortunately, my 10-year old self didn’t get the message regarding music’s trans-formative nature.  I wanted chips and popcorn and when that was done… to go home early (can you blame me?).

Cut to the present.

A friend invited me to the Metropolitan Opera House to experience Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot from private box seats.

I jumped at the opportunity to participate in this must-see experience (before my move from NYC!).  Plus, who can pass up an opportunity to get all dressed up and enjoy private seating (I was channeling Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman)?

After making our way to Lincoln Center (no easy feat during rush hour!), we walked towards the beautiful fountain and prepared to take our seats.  As the curtain went up, I was instantly mesmerized by the gorgeous sets and story-line.

Turandot is a fairy tale love story (romantic comedy from the 1920’s if you will) set in China about a princess who tests numerous suitors by offering riddles and has those who answer incorrectly beheaded (love this).

I loved the acting.  I loved the music.  I loved the happy ending (don’t want to give too much away!)

I thought about how much my mom would have loved this and found myself smiling by the end.

Awesome!

Holidays: A “Family” Affair

On day 39, lil bro and I found ourselves in Brooklyn for rounds of toasts with our New York family in honor of Rosh Hashanah.

Today my brother and I toasted to the New Year with our family friends from back home (Michigan) who now also live in the boroughs of NYC.

Our history stems back to our pre-teen days.

Our moms introduced us when we were about 7 and 12.  They would have girl time while my brother and I were “baby-sat.”

These stories are legendary (including one hairbrush incident that involved the loss of some of my hair…).

Fast forward 20 years.  Marriage and kids for her and running wild in NYC for us and you have yourself the second generation of our family unit.  We celebrate birthdays, important anniversaries, milestones and promotions.  Our version might be different than the original but we still get together in much the same way our parents did 20 years ago.

Tonight was no different.

We told inappropriate stories.  Discussed bedroom incidents.  Teased each other mercilessly.  Attempted to remember the endings to old Russian children’s stories (wine was involved).  Feasted for 8.

Add a plethora of apples with honey for a sweet New Year (to increase our odds) and you have one great night.

Mom would have been proud.

Awesome.