The beginnings of spring on Leroy Street.

The Charles Schwab building on Sixth Avenue at Twenty-third Street. The trees in Madison Square Park are just starting to bud.

Alissa and Paul's Wedding

Paul and Alissa and their first child. (They work quick.)

Alissa and Paul got married this Saturday, at the Hall of Springs in Saratoga.

The wedding was beautiful and practically perfect in every way, and everyone had a pretty darn good time, too. There were some Tufts people (Megan Wu, Loveseat, et.al.) and lots of Nisky people, of course. Maybe 120 people altogether, just as an off-the-cuff estimate.

Jono Needs Longer Socks.

Around the fireplace: Leah, Jeff, Jono.

A group of us retired here for a bit, after dinner and before a little dancing.

Littluns

I believe (but am not certain) that all of these dark-eyed children are Paul's kin... though there were two kids from the Murray clan scampering around the premises. They were tres adorable, and I think they knew it, because they took advantage and ran amok.

Prepping for the bouquet throw

Alissa has limbered up with a little long-toss in the outfield before toeing the rubber. She's got some late movement, and a deceptive delivery. She won't light up the radar gun, but she's sneaky fast according to all my scouting reports.

It's a bit dark, but you can see Matt back there on the right. There were specific (and vociferous) calls for Cheeseburger Bunski to be in the scrum, but she negged that idea with a vengeance.

These girls couldn't catch a cold, much less a pop fly

... Matt caught it.

And Alissa's giving him the Evil Eye.

The bride and father.

Butter Henge.

Gotta be the pink tie.

I'm not going to lie... I took some photos.

Technically, this is a manwich.

Jono with half-lidded eyes, and some lapcandy.

I really want to juxtapose this photo with an equivalent one from ten or twelve years ago... I'm sure I can do this, but it'll take some digging through the archives. Maybe Empire State Games?

Lapsitting... it's a damn epidemic.

Yet more lapsitting, of the lady-lady variety. Sue Rella gets a little sumpin'-sumpin' from Miss Leah.

Snowbound

Number 7 on my street, one of my favorite houses in the neighborhood and the city.

Leroy Street, digging out mid-storm.

Ain't nobody been out this door since the snow started falling.

On my way to a job interview

Ignore the spectacular mess behind me, and focus on how sharp I look with the roomie's hot Pink tie! (That's not a miscapitalization... it's not just a pink tie, it's made by Thomas Pink.)

Happy Birthday Leah!

We went out and celebrated Leah's twenty-fifth birthday last night. We had a little dinner at Kuma Inn (though our table was almost an hour late) with some Japanese tapas. Then we headed over to the champagne room at Happy Ending over on Broome Street in the Lower East Side.




Leah likes wandering into traffic.

Wet Leah.

Anna makes no mistake about it.

This photo is fun, mainly because you can see Anna Mack "throwing down" in the background over Leah's shoulder.

Kate and Leah.

For shoecleaning in a horse-infested yesteryear

I really love to look for anachronistic little things around my city. (I adore Forgotten New York for this reason.)

One thing I keep my eye out for is boot scrapers. These are little flat pieces of metal either imbedded in the steps of old houses or welded between the banisters of the railings that run up the stairs. These are relics of when transport was by horse and carriage, so there was quite a lot of manure on the streets that you wanted to scrape off your boots before you walked into someone's house.

Two of the houses on my block have bootscrapers still.

Bootscraper on Leroy Street.

Jeff loves the pretty hat I brought him

Don't let him tell you otherwise: he loves that hat.

He'd wear it to work if they'd let him.

Care and Feeding of Your Cast-Iron Skillet

Shhh! Baby's sleeping!

So I got a Lodge cast-iron skillet out of a restaurant supply store on lower Bowery, in my old 'hood. Right now I'm in the middle of "seasoning" it, which apparently involves rubbing it lovingly in oil and tucking it in to a hot oven for a nice three hour nap in the afternoon. I am also advised to cook bacon in it a few times to speed the seasoning process. You're also supposed to eschew soap when washing it, just using a wire brush and hot water.

Why did I get a cast-iron skillet, you ask? Two words: Pot. Roast.

Cleanup!

See, there are many, many ways to procrastinate.

You can read a book, watch television, suft the 'Net.... All of those do, however, feel like goofing off, and eventually will make you feel guilty.

There's a better way: chores.

See, if your time-wasting avoidance-oriented task is both somewhat unpleasant as well as at least marginally useful... well, that's a horse of a different color, now id'n'it?

So, seeing as I had something that I very much wanted to avoid doing the other day, I thought to myself, "Isn't it about time that I completely clean and reorganize my room and the apartment altogether?"

Yes, yes it was.

So the floors got swept and mopped, all the clothes got taken out and down and reorganized. The summer stuff was packed away into boxes and placed way up high, the huge clump of unfolded clean laundry was folded and put in the dresser, and the books were reorganized. And it only took four hours! Lovely!

Cleanup!

World's cutest French bulldog puppy outside Gray's Papaya on Sixth and Carmine. He has just emigrated to New York from Hungary.

The Prodigal Son Returns

Jay to the en-oh does the Robot while fleeing the scene. He's fresh back from Argentina, and in hiding in Niskayuna after a brief sojourn in New York City.

Besty!

One of my very best friends... and Leah's in the picture, too.

Night swimming on Cape Fear

Swimming in Wilmington on New Year's Day.

My glasses are quite tight on my face, so I didn't worry too much about going in wearing them. However, a high wave knocked them off my face into the ocean.

Immediately, I dove and laid prone on the seafloor, to try to get as much skin in contact with the bottom to try to feel for them. After a minute, I came up for breath, then dove down.

I actually found them on the second dive.

I found my glasses, in the Atlantic Ocean, at night.

I'm a putz, but a very lucky one.

Matt and Mike, each trying hard to be as much of an effete snob as I am. (Mike has borrowed my glasses to assist in the effort.)

Carrie and Jen, getting wet on the swings.

Christmas Party on Water Street

Viv and David, posing very cute.

Rich, Gwen, and Adrienne.

I think there was some kind of minor wardrobe malfunction going on here. Adrienne is getting some help from Gwen.

Another aerial shot.

Matt holds forth; he's giving his Christmas toast.

More Matt.

Viv and David.

An aerial view, from halfway up the steps to Kristin's garret.

Getting ready for the party. Matt ties a full Windsor after making a switch in his attire, while Adrienne chit-chats with David and his new fawn-colored jacket.

West Lounge

Can you feel the love?

The first snow of the season, on Varick Street in New York.