Amber & Back In The Day

A often forgotten fact about me is that, for a brief time, before I left the island (only to come back in season 6 because, well, life was better for all of us on the island, even with the smoke monsters and ridiculously crowded 1 trains) I lived uptown.

My LaSalle Street apartment was lovely and significantly less expensive than Avenue B.

There was a large, lovely kitchen.

There were lovely French doors to the bedroom which was a totally different room than the living room, unlike Avenue B.

And there was a lovely claw-foot tub in which I took many, many bubble baths...
 

...and sometimes, kitties took naps under.

 

And then there was the "second bedroom."  Now, by most standards this was a closet.

True, a closet big enough to fit a computer desk, but it was a closet.  The rods for hanging outfits and the shelves gave it away, as did the fact that it was too small for either a couch (living room) or a bed (bedroom).  But the real estate lady insisted it was a bedroom.  When I pointed out it was too small for a bed, she explained, "You can put your baby in it."  And that, I certainly could have.

One not-forgotten-about thing about living on LaSalle Street (other than the fact that real estate agents lie like sound-absorbing rugs in rent-controlled closets that you can put your baby in) was that it was super close to Dinosaur BBQ.  They've recently moved across the street (to a new site which seats 30 more hungry clients and will have outdoor seating in better weather) and are now in that weird area under the bridge on 125 near Fairway (don't even get me started on how awesome having Fairway as my main grocery store was--except for the walk back up the Tiemann Place hill carrying way too many impulse purchases).

Dinosaur is definitely a place I would take visitors who craved ribs.  I can't tell you if the brisket is any good because I just get sucked in by the ribs every time.  The sides are awesome, too.  I love the sauteed greens (which are vegetarian, vegetarian people!) and the mac & cheese and the Syracuse Salt Potatoes.  And they have a super beer menu.  And it is festive; there is a painting of pigs, a steer, a goat and some dinosaurs playing cards!  (That seems like the very definition of festive.)

And did I mention the ribs?

Sigh.  I miss living way down on 125th.  James took this great photo of me at Dinosaur once, and you can tell I am super happy (even though I lived in Wisconsin at the time and am probably just happy to be in NYC).

He also took this one of CRD, but CRD looks more pirate than happy.

Happiness means different things to different people.

Amber & In Your Dreams

Last night, I had a dream I was in this video.



Like, not wish fulfillment that I was some kind of ballerina background dancer interpreting Just Jack's interpretation of The Cure, but I lived in that exact apartment building.  I was waiting for the super to come see why my microwave wasn't working.  My apartment inside was exactly my current apartment, but it was in that rundown British building.  And it was snowing.

Sometimes, my subconscious is very boring and obvious.

Amber & Meanwhile....

Lowell, the the World's Best Cat Sitter, sends this proof of cuteness in my apartment.

(Proof that Lowell is amazing?  Pickles is not only out from under the bed, but interacting with him. Cutely.)

They are all so good, and by "they" I mean Pickles, Woody and Lowell.

Amber & The Storm Before The Calm

1.  Go to Schaubhut to pick up more meds for Pickles.  Check.

2.  Go to Whiskers to get calm drops for travel and gut-pills for barfy Woody.  Check.

3.  Get, but do not eat, a chocolate croissant for Nick's Birthday Breakfast treat.  Check on the getting...

...and we'll see about the eating.

4.  Work.  (In Progress)

5.  Pack up work laptop, stuff at office, including books to read and bike helmet.

6.  Whole Foods for last minute purchases: sunblock, citronella spray, face scrub and shampoo.

7.  Stop by Spoiled Brats to place order to pick up tomorrow on way out of town.  (Rather than lug two cases of food, 35 lbs of litter, and other supplies up the stairs and then back down tomorrow.)

8.  Buy $5 gypsy skirt on the street.

9.  Laundry.

10.  Pack and clean apartment.

11.  Go to River House.

 Breathe.

Amber & It's All In There

This weekend, a new kitty environment was added to my household.

This Super Fabulous Kitty House really sums up the weekend.  It was made by my fantastic sister.

Candice is seen here prepping for her trip to the Gulf where she helped out with the oil clean up efforts by wrapping herself in toilet paper and then rolling around on the beach.  See?  She is not only very giving of environments to the kitties, but she also helps out the other Al Gore kind of environment.

In addition to being made by the birthday girl, out of the box which contained an air conditioner present from my parents which made my apartment completely livable again, which they gave me on their visit, and which my dad and Bernard installed, the Super Fabulous Kitty House also reminds me of all the fun games the cats played in it all weekend which reminds me that I had a super fun time watching the World Cup Soccer game on Sunday with Nick and Diana after brunch at La Palapa.  And that reminds me of huevos rancheros con salsa verde.  And that pile of green stew and white creamy stuff on an egg makes me happy.

See?  The Super Fabulous Kitty House is really quite representative of my whole weekend.

Amber & Magnificent Animals

After a happy, rich seventeen years of life, complete with cross-country adventures including rubbing his fur in the dirt on a Navajo reservation and sharing six different apartments in three different states with his people, we are all sad to learn George has left us.  He was a noble beast, a proud, big boy with a yen for loving, and a good and honorable friend to Amy and David Bee.

He will be missed.  George, I am honored to have known and loved you.

Amber & Really, Technology?

So, some of you will remember the first time I used my oven and CRD and I nearly died from laughter when we learned that, in addition to beeping super super loudly, my smoke detector said in a incredibly calm woman's voice,  "Fire.  Fire.  Carbon Monoxide."  And, if the laughter didn't kill us, the panic of trying to stop the beeping (did I mention it was super loud?) might have.  The event gave me great concern both about what was burning off inside my oven to cause that smoke and about the extra stress of the beeping--while I was trying to gather all four cats into carriers--in case of a real fire fire.  (Carbon monoxide.)

Well, guess what I just learned, at 5:00 am on a Sunday morning, happens when the smoke detector's battery gets low?

"Beep.  Beep.  Low battery."


I'll let you puzzle out how I managed to a) get the damn thing of the ceiling (I have really high ceilings, being on the top floor), and b) figure out where the battery was.  And if that's too easy, you can puzzle out how I disconnected it since it was wired directly into the electrical system. That's right, the battery is only it's backup source of power.

This seems like a really bad over-use of technology.  Just because we can, doesn't mean we should.

Amber & New Neighbor?

Kevin sent along this news piece announcing that Kyle MacLachlan, one of my original mallards, whose career I have followed from Blue Velvet to Desperate Housewives and for whom I was brave enough to sit through Twin Peaks, is selling his Chelsea apartment which I imagine looks something like this.

I have only this to say to Kyle now that he is about to be homeless.

Amber & Friends of Yore

The birthday cats might look back on the pre-brother days when they had me all to themselves with fondness, but then they would be forgetting that we actually took on several borders over the years.

For example, we once hosted a summer camp on Avenue B with the gray and black cats while Kevin was hiking in the woods somewhere.

(photos of the boys by James, of course)

And maybe if she hadn't been so busy taking photos of herself in the mirror, we might have some photographic evidence of Amy being their camp counselor.

And, during our brief spell on LaSalle we hosted Alicia while Jimmy was somewhere else.
Of course, she spent most of the time under the tub playing and napping with whatever weird things were there.

 Or, she would perch precariously on top of the sheet draped over the drying rack.  (Stuff did just not dry ever at B. Bubbles, man.)

And, this was not the only time the chans spent time with Alicia.  There was, for example, a River House trip.

And, while she was waiting for her personal escort out to Wisconsin, Tiggy stayed (and peed inappropriately in protest) at Hotel James with couchmate Alicia.

I've got to think that Madisonwisconsin was Tee and DubDubs favorite apartment.  Lots of space, no feline visitors, and a whole room just for peeing.  Even if it was so cold there that I sometimes wore them as hats.

Amber & Hallwalks

Even though Jesse Burgers are no more, there are lots of great things about living in what some Southern friends call "Canada," although I prefer to think of it as just "upstate Manhattan."  Namely, rents are what passes for reasonable, I have THREE closets (one just for coats), and there are amazing Dominican pastries.  But, one big downside is how long it takes to get anywhere thanks to the wholly unpredictable A train.  Of course, a little known fact is that about five minutes is added on to every commute for hallwalks.

Tiggy has passed the mantle of hallwalks on to her baby brother, and no departure from the house can be accomplished without first allowing Ginger to rub his face on every available surface on the stairs between our apartment and the roof.

He makes a mad dash up to the top of the steps to sniff the door to the roof, eat any dead spiders or flies he can find, and rub his cheek and tail on every available surface.

And then he plops down and plays "Vertigo Lookout" from the very highest point.

That usually lasts for a few minutes and then he decides he has had enough excitement and makes his "squee" noise and runs down the steps and back into the safety of our home.

Usually, Pickles and Tiggy are just inside the door, curious but happy to let Ginger explore on their behalf.  Woody is completely disinterested in hallwalks these days.  Sunshine is so much more enticing.

So, next time I come late to a function, just know that five of the tardy minutes were spent chaperoning important expeditions into the Great Unknown Hallway.  In Canada.

Amber & March Search Traffic

Diana is still at the top of the list, even though the only reference to her last name on my blog is actually a post about a French-location-named apartment I had in DC.

It makes me happy that both of my oddly adorable friends, Kinkajou and Crispin Glover, are also getting the attention they deserve.  But those folks Googling puff-plan would sure be disappointed by the hair choices I made on Saturday.

I hope this clears up some confusion over what exactly was represented in the After photo other than the absence of sunglasses.

Amber & Closed By Court Order

Last week, Hip Hop Wear, the clothing wholesaler downstairs from my office, was closed by the fuzz for "sale of trademark counterfiet merchandise."  I imagine this means they were busted selling suits by Fobo, jackets by Rockawere, and Winged Victory of Samothrace sneakers.

This is not terribly sad for me; I was not emotionally invested in Hip Hop Wear, and I am sure another wholesaler will take the space soon enough.  Maybe one of those wig sellers which could be super fun.  (Who wants in on a wholesale wig order?)

Really, it just made me Remember.  Back in the twentieth century, I came back from a trip to Alaska to find that both drug-front bodegas downstairs from my Avenue B home had been closed by the Man.  Again, this wasn't sad.  It was surprising and the harbinger of things to come in the East Village, including $22 entrées and The Boxcar Lounge.

Of course, I don't really miss the East Village hipsters in my current hood, although we have plenty of our own brand of fashion divas who collect in gurgling pools on the side walks.

But, I do miss sitting at the bar in the Lakeside Lounge next to Sam Rockwell while doing my laundry and realizing, not counting his giant hair, we are about the same height.  Even though he clearly has significantly better dance moves.



And that of course, reminds me of how much I love Crispin Glover.  Yes, he is creepy and seems to have crazy head ALL THE TIME.  But that nose is so amazing.  I wish I had written this love song for Crispin Glover's jaw bones.



Or that I was in an all-black-haired girl rock band.

Amber & Wish Fulfillment

My water was shut off when I woke up today.  The management folks said that there was "work" being done but couldn't really tell me when it would be back on.

So, I have spent all day just hoping to be able to shower, fill the kettle for tea, and change the kitty water dishes.  And lo!  Almost seven hours later, my wish has come true-- sort of.  The water is back on, but it's not what one would call potable.

Would someone please explain to Woody that sink hands are not a good idea right now?

Amber & Signs of Recovery

My fever is down to 99.5°F today, after a really really rough night of alternating chills and sweaty-fits.  My throat is ridiculously sore today, though, so much so that I am trying to avoid swallowing.

So, I am still confined to my sick bed, kitties, tea, and laptop.

I swear someday I am going to finish painting that wall.

Amber & Arts and Cat Crafts

Over the weekend, I made an environment for the baby boys.

To make this deluxe duplex cat condo, I took two of my grocery boxes and cut strategic holes in them: one for an entrance in the bottom box, a hole to lead from the bottom box to the top box, and an escape door in the top back (or a place for Pickles to attack).  Then, I taped them together with the blue tape from my as yet uncompleted painting project.  And, I lined them with blankets both for comfort and to send the clear signal that my gift was not a homemade covered litter box.

Ginger seems to approve.

Of course, he really loves anything he can chew to shreds.

Amber & I'm Off

Environments? Check. Lowell the World's Best Cat Sitter? Check. Kisses for each baby? Check. Boston, here I come.

Amber & Awe & Shock

I haven't blogged lately because I have been in shock.

This new kind of litter box has been popping up on the various non-LOL cat blogs and has partnered with my favorite cat litter for a contest.  It's called the ModKat.

The concept is that the kitty enters through the top there and sits inside the box.  The manufacturers swear kitty feels very private and likes the shape of the box.  I am unclear whether the kitty's head sticks out the hole or they duck down inside.  This seems to suggest the former.

(That's Thor, a testimonial kitty on their site.)  Then, kitty climbs out, leaving behind trackable litter on the meshy top thing.  Does it work?  Who knows.  But it looks nice, comes in colors to match your home (I was thinking of the yellow for the front hall) and seems interesting and they have a money-back guarantee if your cat turns out not to be a ModKat User.  And I am in the market for a new box since, somehow, the coverless covered box (the cover is No Good for my cats) in the front hall keeps getting tipped over while I am out at work.

So, I click over to the order page to get more information and enter this expense in my budget.  ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY DOLLARS.  Are you freaking kidding me? 

That is six Booda Domes, which heretofore I had thought was an expensive litter box.  It's ten regular boxes with the litter guard high sided attachment.  Why, four boxes would be $720.  Are they out of their minds?

P.S.  Don't worry.  I am not buying it.  I promise.  That is not who I am.  Yet.