Seasons of love

1,051,200 minutes...

...that's how long I've lived in New York (give or take a few).

In case you don't have a calculator nearby, that's 2 x 525,600 minutes. And in case you don't know every lyric to Rent off-hand, that means today is the two-year mark of my move to the City.

'How do you measure a year [or two?] -

In daylight? In sunsets?

In midnights? In cups of coffee?

In inches? In miles?

In laughter? In strife?

In 525,600 minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?'

I always get reflective around this time of year. June will forever be a month of change for me, a time when the revolving door of life begins turning around again. I don't know how anyone ever breaks free of the 'end of the school year' mentality and schedule, but I for one am still on it...I've started both of my jobs in June, and I've moved during three of the last four Junes (counting this one). And as I prepare myself for new people, new places, new friends and new opportunities, I always find myself looking back, attempting to measure the past year.

If my first year in New York was categorized by bliss, I'm going to call my second year a year of perseverance. Don't get me wrong, I don't think anyone could love New York as much as I do. But after the first year, the gloss begins to fade away, and the rust starts to peek out from under the corners. Whereas the first year was filled with emotion and romance and lust for the City, the second year was a bit like a relationship after the first fight...a little less shiny, a lot more work, but truer, deeper, and far more rewarding.

So how do I measure a year in the life...in particular, how do I measure year two of living in New York City? In the days, the hours and the seconds? In career growth? In dates? In things? In accomplishments?

I think not. Instead, as I look back on my second year - the self-proclaimed year of perseverance - I think it best to evaluate it by other measurements. Rather than in whether or not I have the title or the salary I want, it's in the fact that I love what I do, day in, day out. Whether than by the line items on my calendar, it's by the people that I love that fill that calendar up. Instead of by the square footage of my apartment, it's by the memories I've made within these four walls. And instead of looking at what's wrong with the slightly less glossy picture of New York that surrounds me every day, it's looking at the wrinkles on the corners that show it's been looked at with great love.

So as I lie in my bed tonight, I will breathe a deep contented sigh of gratefulness as I think back over my first two years in New York. I will choose to measure a year (or two) in the life not in daylight or inches, but in love. The sovereign love of God that placed me right where I am. The steady love of my friends and family. And the seasons of love that I have for this great city - a love that changes and grows, a love that challenges and frustrates, a love that inspires, and a love that, through both bliss and perseverance, makes it all worthwhile.

Pork and beef and chicken and lamb, oh my!

I have never claimed to be a vegetarian.  If my eating habits are defined as anything, actually, it's probably as an anti-vegetarian.  I vehemently hate vegetables and do not eat anything except a) lettuce...in a salad...covered with cheese, croutons and dressing...b) casseroles (add enough butter, cheese and breadcrumbs to anything, and it loses the vegetable-ness), and c) asparagus.  Don't ask why, but asparagus is, for whatever reason, my vegetable of choice.  And I like mushrooms, but that's technically a fungus.  Green beans, broccoli, carrots, peas, cauliflower, peppers (the WORST)...I would rather eat a shoe.

So it should come as no real surprise that I have eaten some crazy good meat over the last three days.  Anti-vegetarian + true Southerner = meat looovvvver.  Vegetarians, consider yourself warned...this is one meat-infested post.

Saturday and Sunday - Big Apple BBQ Block Party, Madison Square Park

All weekend - from noon to six on both Saturday and Sunday, my friends and I camped out at the Big Apple BBQ, an annual event that brings 'pitmasters' from all over the country together for a smashing good time.  We endured the 95 degree weather, found a (relatively) cool spot in the shade, and set up camp.  The event was a blast!  Live bluegrass bands provided the soundtrack for our magically Southern experience...between the music and the food and the heat and the grass, I had to keep reminding myself that I was in the middle of New York City.  It goes without saying that the barbecue was delish...pulled pork, ribs, beans, banana pudding...it doesn't get much getter than that.

Big Bob Gibson's, the group fav!

Edy's was giving out samples...I couldn't help but be amazed.

Mai-Lise gave Tyler a tattoo

End of day 2...hot, sweaty, full, tired, happy :)

Monday - Bethany and Jamie eat street meat, corner of 48th St & 3rd Ave

As if I hadn't eaten enough meat all weekend, today, on another record-breaking, sweltering hot day, I decided it was time for more.  Here in New York, almost every corner houses some type of street vendor - Mister Softee ice cream, coffee carts, smoothie stands, and street meat.  Yep, street meat.  It's exactly as it sounds...little trucks of men grilling meat and selling it to a long line of starved New Yorkers.  My coworkers and I have oft wondered about the street meat, and ultimately came to the very scientific conclusion that it must be good if people wait in such a long line.  (Brilliant logic, I know...don't even bring up jumping off bridges.)  

Nevertheless, for some reason, the heat today made me restless and my weekend of meat-eating had me on a high.  As we sat in our cubes deciding what to eat for lunch, I wondered aloud, "What if today were the day that we ate street meat?" and then my mind was made up.  I was on a mission...a mission for street meat...and Bethany was in with me.  Brian recommended a particular street meat stand near our office, instructed us on exactly what to order ('chicken pita with lettuce, red sauce and white sauce'), and sent us on our merry way.

Bethany and I excitedly marched out to the corner and walked up to the cart.  As we waited, we decided to chat it up with the street meat guy.  We told him all about how it was our first time eating street meat and asked him if he thought Brian's recommended order was a good one for a first-timer.  Jan, as we learned was his name, got VERY excited about our voyage and decided he was going to make us a special plate with 'everything.'  Bethany and I looked at each other, shrugged, and decided to go for it.  Throwing caution to the wind, we allowed Jan to serve us platters of chicken, lamb, rice, lettuce, tomato, white sauce, red sauce, falafel, chickpeas, and vegetables.  (Well, Bethany's had vegetables...after he created the first plate, I promptly asked for no such thing.)  As he prepared our platters, we asked him where he was from.  'Afghanistan!' Jan replied.  'Very cool!' I replied.  [Note to self and readers:  I am 99.9% certain that 'Very cool!' is not the proper response when someone tells you they are from Afghanistan.  'Interesting!'  Yes.  'Very cool!'  Probably not.]  

A mere $12 later (our ginormous platters were $5 a piece - including Cokes! - and we tipped our friend Jan $1 apiece for the bonus falafel and kindness), we headed back to the office to put our street meat experiment to the test.

Before:  'Apprehension'

After:  'Success!'

Yes, our street meat experience numero uno was a delightful one.  Thanks to everyone (Brian, Jan) who helped make it possible!

And that was my 3-day meat fest...sorry vegetarians.  

Southern comfort

After almost five vacation-less months, I decided it was time to get out of New York City and head down to the South.  Since Memorial Day serves as the official start to summer (note: seersucker is now officially okay), I decided it was the perfect time to take my much-needed vacation.  

I left last Friday and headed to Atlanta.  Erin picked me up at the airport, and we spent the night in Peachtree City.  Bright and early on Saturday, we headed down to Florida with Emily and Jessica.  Our first stop was to pick up Suzanne at the airport in Fort Walton.  Unfortunately, though, we made a stop 1. at the wrong airport and 2. at an army base...but we eventually made it.  With Suz in tow, we headed to Santa Rosa to meet Jen, Joni and Danielle.  

We had an amazing - perfect - trip.  We slept in, spent long days on the beach, went out to eat, cooked and played games, and just enjoyed relaxing and being together.  Yaaaayyy!

Jen, me, Jessica, Emily and Erin at Baytowne in Sandestin

Group shot!  We're elegant...great...easy (or something like that)

Out to eat at the Back Porch

After spending five days at the beach, we headed back to Atlanta.  Then, on Friday, Jessica, Erin and I went down to the booming metropolis of Sandersville, GA for Jason and Chelsea's wedding!  It was a really wonderful weekend...a great reminder of the amazing friends I have and how much I love the South!  Jason and Chelsea's rehearsal dinner was at Chelsea's beautiful home...we had BBQ chicken and sweet tea, swung on the porch and played ladder ball.  Their wedding on Saturday, though, was even more beautiful...we all felt like we were in Sweet Home Alabama!  Chelsea was gorgeous, the band was a blast, and the mosquitoes were hungry.  :)

Me and Erin at the rehearsal dinner

Erin, me, Jess and Trisha at the wedding

The beautiful bride and happy groom :)