Bikes of New York

Aly was on photoshoot last month in New York.  With hawaiian t-shirt, bright white running shoes and oversized camera slung around my neck, I flew out to see the sights.

I went with an open mind not knowing what to expect from the city that never sleeps.  The city that never sleeps has a different vibe than the city of lakes, but one I couldn't have enjoyed more.

Fellow A.D.D. sufferers, search no more.  Your mecca is the meat packing district on the lower west side of Long Island:

Good God.  I don't think I blinked for three days.

In the trendiest part of NYC, there is more visual stimulation than allowed by the human body.  At 3:00 in the afternoon, lines would form in front of unmarked doors - which I assumed were flame-broiled of the hot, New York club scene.

Geek alert.

I was more interested in the bikes lining the city than any portion of the underground club scene.

For the photo album, some of my favorite NYC bikes:

All the To Do

Andrew was in town the past week interviewing for jobs, as he is moving back to the City of Lakes. In a word, I could say Minneapolis crew is "excited," but don't think it would account for the foaming at the lips, jittery anticipation, that everyone is physically displaying.
We, along with the usual suspects, spent much of the time biking, drinking beer and scheming plans to combine the two in a way to make a million dollars.

In the spirit of him moving back at the onset of summer, we participated in one of my favorite exercises - list making.
On a cocktail napkin titled, "2009 Summer To Do's," we listed out everything that needs to be accomplished by the Autumnal Equinox.

I assumed this went M.I.A. around 11:00 p.m. To my surprise, the following email turned up in my inbox today.

The list, and the additional reasons I will love this city this summer:

Iconic

Malcolm Gladwell

I just finished reading Outliers, after re-reading The Tipping Point earlier this spring.

Malcolm Gladwell is nothing short of fantastic. Vivid descriptions and stories to describe behavior and culture.

A must for marketers and must-must for those who are curious.

A Tombstone

I never save left-over frozen pizza to eat the next day.

Out of the oven, it tastes just good enough to eat. Why force something down a second time and belabor the point?

Long Johns

The great thing about long underwear?

They fit both tight and loose at the same time.

Me, Men, Meat

Aly has been in New York on photo shoot for the past two weeks, with one additional week to go.

At home it's me. And Otis. And Emerson.

Just three dudes, with little to no survival instincts past drinking liquid directly from its holding container.

Two pieces of chicken composed dinner Tuesday. Yesterday, I had a steak for dinner and applauded my forethought by cooking an extra which I ate for lunch today. After drinking two beers and eating an entire pork loin this evening, I decided the following:

You are a male living alone when the only thing you eat for a meal is meat.

No side dishes. No salad. Just a piece of meat with a cold, accompanying sauce.

I've never felt bad about fixing myself strictly meat for a meal. Truth be told, I like it. Tastes great. Less food to coordinate and prepare. Less cleanup.

The warm/fuzzy feeling must be one of private.  When I was at the office today heating up my steak for lunch to accompany my coffee (yes, steak and coffee - I realize this is a habit of a very old man) I had a pinge of embarrassment for heating up just a piece of meat.

"What are you having?" the nosy lunch co-worker asked.

"Um.  Steak." I timidly replied.

"Really?  Just meat?" she prodded.

Why do you care, ran through my head, but instead, "Yeah, left-0vers." was the excuse.  She had no idea that I was lying to her face.

The night before, I cooked with the pre-meditation of only eating meat for lunch.

"At least you'll get your iron." she offered.

"More than you know." I replied.

The Milk Handle

The checkout person always ask you if you would like your milk in a bag.

"I wonder why milk is the only item offered to be bagged or not bagged," I wondered outloud to myself yesterday.

I answered myself by saying, "well, milk has a built in handle and doesn't need to be placed in something else with a handle. Plus, if you would put it in a bag, it would take up such a large volume of bag space, it wouldn't even make much sense."

Then I asked, "True, but isn't the volume sacrific worth it as putting milk in a bag makes it easier to carry? Probably. The bag isn't cold and slippery, like the milk handle and more comforting to the touch."

Countering, "Right, but think about putting your milk in a bag and then having it sit in your truck or backseat while you drive home. The condensation would build up to the point of soaking the bag - which would easily tear - forcing you to carry the milk by the handle anyway and creating a moot decision of bag vs. no bag in the first place."

"Milk in no bag is probably the best decision," I decided to no one in particular, but myself.

"Definitely," I agreed.

Slice of Life

Alyson and I would like to be married in a Lutheran church. In order to do so, you are required to complete 6 hours of pre-marriage counciling.

Today we spent six straight hours in a church basement, eating Jolly Ranchers and sharing intimate life feeling with complete strangers.

The kicker?

The marriage class was being taught by a woman once divorced.