BACKLOGGED

My apologies for a helter-skelter last two months on the blog front, but April and May have whirled by me faster than a speeding taxi through a cross walk. Moving to the new apartment, decorating the new apartment, gazing at the spring flowers, starting a new job, going on two trips, and playing hostess to a few visitors - and that's not even to mention the distraction of the New Kids on the Block reunion! - I haven't exactly had time to write down all that's happened, as it has happened!

So, if you will, please take a few minutes to scroll back to the beginning of April and peruse the posts! I have a rule of posting everything in chronological order, so when the event actually happened and when I actually get it posted are two very different times! Even if you've seen a post before, scroll on past it because I've probably added something in the last week that happened prior to the post you've seen.  

So, hunt around - Gabe and Julie, especially - and see what new posts you find!

Seeing Sex IN the City

I’d be lying if I said I didn't watch Sex and the City before I moved to New York and let it paint an even more fabulous and exciting ideal of the city than I already had dreamed up in my mind. Now I never watched the originals on HBO or got the full series pink box collection like SOME people I know (you know who you are, ladies!), but I have been known to stay up and keep myself from nodding off in order to watch the back-to-back episodes on TBS from 11 to midnight. I knew the girls’ experiences would not be mine, and I saw the flaw in reality of Carrie’s huge apartment and vast shoe collection on a tiny salary, but still, I loved seeing the city all around them and dreamed of walking the same streets.

This interest in the show, combined with my love for anything that creates a crowd or frenzy, had me looking forward to the NYC premiere and the opening of the movie for weeks!

Thanks for sharing your city with me, Carrie! Julie and I walked through Times Square before heading over to Radio City Music Hall on Tuesday night for the NYC premiere.

The red carpet scene at Radio City before the ladies arrived for the premiere. I got my feel of frenzy after about an hour - too many people, too muggy, too rainy - so we left and headed to the theater for our Broadway show.

The marquee reads "New Line Cinema presents the U.S. premiere of Sex and the City"!! After our show, we walked back to Radio City and joined just a few other fans waiting in front of the theater - the movie was still playing inside, so we decided just to wait and see if we saw any action when the movie was over.

And, yep! we did! Julie with David Eigenberg, the actor who plays Miranda's husband Steve. By the time the movie was over, a small throng had gathered around us. I won't bore you with the blurry pictures of famous folks exiting the theater - The Donald and Melania, Regis Philbin and his wife, Project Runway's Christian Siriano.

Rebecca and Julie with SJP. The sign says "U.S. PREMIERE TONIGHT exclusively at Radio City Music Hall".

Still on our quest to see one of the "girls", Julie and I hoofed it over to the after party at the Museum of Modern Art. And, of course, the girls were already inside, but we did see Jennifer Hudson (above) arriving at the after party.

We decided to call it a night when we found ourselves peeking through screens into the courtyard of MoMA, watching the party-goers mix and mingle, as we pitifully stood on the outside looking in. Carrie wouldn't stand for such exclusion, so we wouldn't either!

You've not really visited until I've walked you to death

The location: New York City subway, on the 6 train
The time: 2 PM Monday, day three of visit
The characters:
"Julie", visiting her younger sister in New York City
"Rebecca", happy to have her sister there for the first time since she moved A YEAR AGO

The background: After a (shall we say) turbulent trip to New York City in 2003 in which our darling characters fought so much they divorced as sisters in the South Street Seaport (fights mainly due to "Rebecca's" packed-to-the-gills, stick to the times, "does everyone have their printed copy?", Excel-formatted, color-coded sight-seeing schedule...and the characters' low tolerance for hunger, cold and differences of opinion), "Rebecca" has decided to take a low-key approach to her role as NYC hostess/tour guide for "Julie" in order to make every attempt of keeping the peace.

The scene unfolds as the two sisters find seats on the subway train and gratefully sit down to rest their legs for a few minutes as they ride.

Rebecca: (letting out a long breath) ah!
Julie: It feels good to sit down.
Rebecca: mmhmmm.
silence
Rebecca: Don't you just love the 6 line better than the N/R?
Julie: Yeah, it does seem newer.
silence
Rebecca: I'm getting hungry again.
Julie: I have a granola bar in my purse.
Rebecca: No. I'll just wait a bit.
silence - watching other riders on the train
Rebecca: Sooo...what's been your favorite thing so far?
Julie: Um, I don't know. (Shrugging shoulders) It's all been fun.
Rebecca: Yeah, it has, hasn't it. (Nodding in agreement and beginning to beam with satisfaction thinking "I am a good hostess!")
Julie: (In passing) I don't really feel like I've seen that much.
Rebecca: (Takes a second to process.) (Blank stare, eyes widen, mouth opens, eyebrows arch, neck juts forward) You don't feel like you what?
Julie: I mean, it just doesn't feel like we've done a lot. (Sincerely) But I'm having fun!
Rebecca: (Indignant anyway) We've been all over the city! And you don't feel like you've done a lot?!
Julie: No, we have done a lot-
Rebecca: (Cutting her off, and counting the list on her fingers) You've seen my neighborhood, we've visited Jane and my old apartment, we walked to the East River, we toured my old streets, we've eaten at my favorite Alice's Tea Cup and picnicked in Central Park, we've seen the Boathouse, Bethesda Fountain, Sheep's Meadow, played the Big Piano at FAO Schwartz.(Barely pausing to take a breath) We've been to Times Square and Broadway and Rockefeller Center. We've gone to the Flatiron Building, my beloved Madison Square Park, Macy's and Herald Square - we've even done laundry at the Laundro-Mat and toured my grocery store! What do you mean we haven't done a lot!
Julie: I'm saying we have done a lot, okay! I guess it just doesn't feel so...pressured. Like last time.
Rebecca: Oh, well you've got a point there. And we haven't killed each other yet.

Editor's note: I am happy to report the five-day trip continued peacefully with no catastrophic fights or hair pulling.

Julie's "I don't feel like I've really seen anything" photo tour of New York:

On the roof of my old apartment, near Empire State Building, at Rockefeller Center.


Tea and scones at Alice's, picnic in Central Park, pretty scenery at Bethesda Fountain.

Fleet Week sailors, fun in Central Park, styling on Park Avenue.

At the Flat Iron Building, The Bitter End - a family tradition, purse-shopping in Chinatown.

Drinks at 230 5th roof top bar, visiting the Statue of Liberty, walking on the Brooklyn Bridge.

I'm connected!

You are looking at the proud new owner of a MacBook Pro! Seems more like a proud new parent actually - the whole first night of ownership I kept waking up wanting to "check" on it, and in the morning the first thing I did was run look at it and play with it! I'll admit the first few times I left the apartment with it sitting there looking at me, I hesitated. I had to make sure it was "okay" and even asked if it needed anything. I really did!

It's the strangest feeling to be a computer moocher no more! In college I used school or friends' computers, at home I used Daddy's computer, at work I used my work computer, and in New York I used sweet Cameron's or Emily's (thanks again, girls!). So, in practicality, I never really needed one, but in actuality...! Now I can't believe it when I hear the words coming out of my mouth, "Oh, you can use MY computer," or "Hold on, I can look it up on MY computer" or "Hmmm...it's 2 AM, I think I'll get on MY computer just because I can!"

I can't wait to become a MacBook Pro pro by going to training classes at the super cool NYC Apple stores, and here's to hoping my new connection to the world will lead to timelier blog posts!

Caps off to the Yankee's!

When I moved here last June, my dad mentioned he would like to have a New York Yankee's baseball hat. Surprising news, since the only baseball hats he wears say Alabama Crimson Tide. It couldn't be an adjustable hat, it had to be the real thing, so I set out after work one day on a quest to find his particular size hat in classic Yankee's navy and white. After a day or so of walking the streets to pop in souvenir stores, only to find adjustable hats in a wide variety of very un-classic colors, I finally found the official Yankee's merchandise store over on 59th and Madison. Hallelujah! I picked the size hat Daddy needed, wrote a cute message to him inside the cap, and mailed it to Birmingham to surprise him in time for Father's Day.

On the night I knew Daddy was opening his Father's Day gifts, I got a picture message on my cell phone from Julie - it was of Daddy, with the non-adjustable hat perched on his head looking like it would be a better fit for a 12 year old boy! He thanked me for the surprise, said he liked the message I wrote, and promptly mailed the hat back to me - said I could keep it (well, couldn't return it with my personalized message!), and please buy him another one.

To avoid another sizing fiasco, I had Mama measure his head, then I did some math with a sales guy at the Yankee's store trying to figure out which size would fit. Wouldn't you know it - the perfect size for his head was no longer produced! After several calls to Daddy, having the sales guy try it on for fit, and even trying it on myself, "Okay Daddy, I can fit two fingers in the space between my head and the hat!", we finally decided to go with the hat one size bigger instead of one size smaller than his now non-existent perfect fit.

I made sure not to write anything in the cap this time - just in case a return was in order - and mailed it on to Birmingham. I waited anxiously until the next picture message came, this time directly from my dad. The message was surprising in several ways: 1. He took the picture himself, 2. He sent the PIX message himself - had no idea he knew how to do that!, and 3. The hat was too big - he has a really big head! His message with the picture said, "A little big". Let me just say, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry - it was so pitifully cute! I have to figure out how to get pictures from my cell phone to my computer; I still have the message from him saved on my phone almost a year later, and it still makes me laugh to look at it!

After one more round of mail it back to New York, return to store, fuss over size options, and mail back to Birmingham, Daddy finally got a hat that fits, well, fits good enough, and I have my souvenir of the whole experience, with a sweet little caption in the cap, "Daddy, I love you! Rebecca - NYC 2007".

The original Father's Day Yankees hat finally gets its game debut at the New York Yankees vs. Baltimore Orioles game tonight during the final season at Yankee Stadium.

Having fun with the law

Rather than letting a big fat law book weigh us down as we traipsed around the city today, we decided to have some fun with the law by photographing Damion "studying" all over the city - by the ferris wheel in Toys R Us, in the middle of Times Square, at a sidewalk cafe in Soho, in front of a theatre on Broadway.



This is my favorite picture of the day, as Rupert Gee from the Hello Deli - made famous on the Late Show with David Letterman - gives Damion a few tips for the bar review he begins Monday!

In lights

My mother e-mailed this picture to me today that came from a yard in Mountain Brook, AL. She said the girl was embarrassed to death to come home from the University of Alabama to find this sign in front of her parent's house. All I can say is: Deb, I feel your pain.

I know my dad is probably ticked that he never thought to do something like this during my years as the Crimsonette Captain in the Million Dollar Band. Instead, he attached speakers to the top of his Suburban and would roll up to the band practice field on game day mornings with "Yea Alabama" blaring. I'd be standing at silent attention - with the 300 other band members - and hear the elephant stomp then roar that precedes the "da-da-duh-da-da" preamble of the fight song, and think, "Oh God, save me now." Everyone knew the peppy speaker music meant "here comes Rebecca's dad." His ill-timed arrival was once so bad as to prompt band director Kathryn Scott - who, all things considered, always loved me - to stop the rehearsal and make an announcement from her tower podium that there can be no band music projected onto the field other than what is coming from the band members' instruments, (note her eyes darting to me and resting in a short, albeit deadly, glare). I wanted to die.

But my dad's most infamous point of pride was his video camera. If someone's reputation can precede him, then my dad's video camera was that. Friends would squeal "am I on a Mummert movie?!" and band members who stood near me on the field would say if they ever lost their pictures, they could just call Mr. Mummert for a full lifetime video of their performances with the band. Daddy videoed practice, getting ready, the pep rally on the Quad, marching to the stadium, even running to their stadium seats to be ready to film the pre-game show and halftime performance. He didn't miss a beat (and honestly, I was furious if he did!)

I didn't realize the extent to which others had recognized my dad's devotion to my involvement with the Million Dollar Band until Halloween of my Senior year. The band usually dressed up for practice on the day of Halloween, and the costumes were always very creative and over the top. This particular Halloween I arrived at the band field for practice and several of the Crimsonettes were miffed because the piccolo section (all girls except one guy) had come dressed as Crimsonettes - big hair, red lipstick, stuffed bras, and they were even acting like us by walking in little groups doing laps around the band field, something we did every day before practice. I laughed and just hoped they didn't really make fun of us, and then I said, "Oh gosh - don't tell me Bradley dressed like a Crimsonette too?!" We all laughed thinking of him dolled up in a wig and sequins. When the piccolos came over to declare the peaceful intentions of their mocking costumes, they were beaming to unveil the crowning glory of their Crimsonette replica - the pseudo Crimsonettes parted to reveal Bradley holding a video camera to his face and wearing a pin that said "Rebecca's dad". I laughed until my cheeks were sore and my sides hurt, and I knew my dad would be so proud to know his persona was now iconic.

One more week...

...until I'm hangin tough with the five bad brothers from the Beantown land!

I about fainted when Emily and I spotted this in Times Square!

"...one is silver, the other gold"

After hanging up from an hour-long phone conversation with my lovely Cheryl from Crimsonettes in college (and still having more to talk about!) because I was on my way to meet my dear Annie from high school who was in town from Los Angeles, I was reminded of the words of a poem I first learned around the age of 10 when my family moved from Muscle Shoals to Birmingham:

Make new friends
but keep the old;
one is silver,
the other gold.

Considering I was devastated to be moving away from all my friends, the song provided absolutely zero comfort to me as my mother explained what the words meant. "My life is over!" I wailed, as only a 10 year old can.

But tonight the song reminds me of how thankful I am for all the friends in my life, from all different stages. It's funny how each new layer makes the previous layer golden. What a blessing it is to turn a friend into gold, and I'm blessed enough to have a whole pot!

"What makes you different makes you beautiful"

Walking through Madison Square Park, I was drawn to watch as a rather large group of pigeons grazed on what appeared to be pollen clumps from the surrounding trees. There must have been 30 or 40 dark gray pigeons scrounging around in the grass, but I couldn't help but focus my attention on the different bird of the group. With feathers as white as snow, the bird just seemed to possess a different aura than the others.


As I watched the white bird pecking around, I had to wonder if the bird knew it looked different from the rest of the group, and if that was the reason it was positioned a little off to the side by itself, not getting right in the middle to compete for a snack. The white bird looked so beautiful and serene, and I was reminded of a quote I had clipped out of a magazine and pinned to my bulletin board when I was in middle school that read, "What makes you different makes you beautiful."


The quote stuck with me (and on my bulletin board) for years because I remember knowing I looked different from most everyone else - taller than all my classmates and one of the only people with red hair - and I desperately wished those differences would make me beautiful. (If you didn't know me circa 1993, let me just tell you "beautiful" is not the first description that would come to mind. Tall, skinny and awkward would be a little more accurate.) I guess I thought maybe if I read the quote enough, someday it would come true.


At my Grandma Maudie's 90th birthday party in 1994, it was the summer before my freshman year of high school, and I remember talking with a little old lady for awhile about how excited I was to start high school and be a majorette in the band. Lately I had been thinking it must not be so bad that I was so tall or that I had "orange" hair to match our black and orange majorette uniforms. I kind of thought I was maybe even becoming beautiful like my quote promised. That is until the little old lady tells me out of the blue, "One day you're going to be glad you're so tall and have that red hair." What? Although it was true, I hadn't mentioned to her that I wasn't happy as a lark with my height and hair. And "one day" - what was that supposed to mean? She might as well have said, "You poor thing, even though now you are abnormally tall and your red hair just makes you stand out even more, one day you'll be glad for these freakish attributes." I remember just looking at her with no response other than a half-puzzled, half-offended expression.

But her words stuck with me like the printed words clipped from the magazine had, and in my mind hung right beside that quote on my bulletin board. Well, if "what makes you different makes you beautiful," then hopefully "one day - one day - one day I'll be glad I'm so tall and have red hair."

She was right - I'm not sure when, but that day arrived, and I wouldn't trade my tall height and red hair for anything.

NYC blows Chicago away

I always thought I should visit Chicago just to check it out before I made the plunge and moved to New York. More than a few people had told me they like Chicago more than New York, so I did have a nagging thought of what if I, too, would like Chicago more? Maybe a whole new world awaited discovery in Chicago, and I just didn't know it because I had never visited.

Thus, a trip to Chicago was planned for June 2007 with Katherine, Ansley and Jackie, and I could finally see for myself what the fuss was about Chicago and be able to make a clear decision of which city girl I was. No sooner were the plane tickets bought than I got the opportunity to move to New York, and my research trip blew out the window.

As luck - or fate - would have it, my first friend upon moving to New York was Lauren, a girl from Chicago. Both new to the city, and both being the same age, having the same education and work background, sharing the same goofy personality and insatiable hollow legs, we became fast friends. Identifying so much with a girl born and raised in Chicago made me really think, "hmm, I just might be a Chicago girl after all!"

So it was Lauren's April wedding that finally presented the perfect opportunity for me to visit the Windy City. Ansley was the only taker on my offer to the original travel group for a re-do of our trip that never happened last summer. The two of us met up in Chicago, and we spent the Friday before the wedding really doing Chicago right: we had deep dish pizza, we walked Magnificent Mile, we visited Navy Pier and Millennium Park, we ate Chicago-style hot dogs, we visited Wrigley Field and did a drive-by of Soldier "da Bears" Field - heck, we even took a double decker bus tour of the city!

I agreed with the Chicagoans, "Yes, this city sure is clean" and "uh-huh, it is pretty", but all I could think was, "where are all the people?" and "where is the energy, the one-of-a-kind feeling of 'I'm somewhere special'?" Needless to say, while I appreciated Chicago, I felt no connection to it, no "love at first visit" like I had during my first visit to New York.

So, I'm sorry Windy City, but New York blows you away.

Navy Pier - just come to New York and visit South Street Seaport instead.

And who can deal with the wind?! It about knocked us over, and don't even get me started on what it did to my hair!

Oprah Schmoprah - unless you're in the audience for the Favorite Things show, what's the biggie?

I don't like baseball anyway.

A highlight of Chicago - the Redhead Piano Bar!

Surprisingly, I'm a fan of Chicago-style hotdogs, but if you're comparing, I could just as happily get fat eating New York-style pizza.

The best part about Chicago? It's where Lauren and Jake are from...but New York even has them now, too!

Patience for the Pontiff

I gave it a good try to see the Pope during his visit to New York. On Friday morning I stood along 1st Avenue in front of the United Nations to catch a glimpse before his address to the UN. The most I saw after an hour of waiting was his helicopter landing nearby. Saturday morning I made it up to 5th Avenue and 60th Street by 10:00 AM, in time for his advertised parade up 5th Avenue from St. Patrick's Cathedral. It was a beautiful morning, so I didn't mind a bit of a wait. An hour later at 11:00 AM, I asked a police officer when I could expect him to pass by. His response sent me packing - 1:30 or 2:00 PM.

Since seeing the Pope wasn't going to happen, I would have settled for and been pleased with a sighting of the Popemobile, but all I got was a huge procession of junior Pope's heading from St. Patrick's to the Waldorf-Astoria! It didn't give me the calmness then elation that so many people reported after seeing the Pope in person, but it was exciting nonetheless!


A procession of Pope-looking people!

Spring in Sight

I look forward to the warm, sunny days of spring almost year round, and when those days arrive, I try my best to soak in every fleeting second of blossoming trees and sprouting flowers. Is it because these days are rare and short-lived that I love them so? Like birthdays, football games, vacations, time with a far-away friend, Girl Scout cookies - would these be loved as much if they could be enjoyed every day of the year? Or is it the anticipation, and then the need to savor the moment knowing the joy will soon be over?

Spring beauty at Stuyvesant Square Park as I walked home along 2nd Avenue from Lauren's new apartment.

Blossoming trees full of chirping birds at Stuyvesant Square Park.

The view along Central Park South is always beautiful, but it's particularly breathtaking when in bloom!

Tulips near Central Park...almost as perfect as the tulips in Holland.

A sidewalk tree box in the Upper East Side overflowing with flowers!

Park Avenue paradise.

MSGPL8S

Ever since I received two much-needed messages via the license plates on cars, I have loved to spot an interesting assortment of letters on a car's rear bumper. When I was first out of college and interviewing for jobs, I received a great offer for a job I wasn't too sure I wanted. Driving home after turning it down, I was second-guessing my decision and feeling lots of anxiety about still not having a job. A car cut in front of me, and as I started to get angry at the abrupt swerve, I noticed the license plate:

"BE GLAD"

It was as if God Himself had swept down and flashed the message in front of me. Immediately I was overcome with gladness that I had not accepted the job and felt confident there was something better planned for me.

Several weeks later, again I was freaking out over a job - this time eagerly waiting to hear back from RealtySouth - and again I was driving around as my thoughts swirled. I remember thinking, "I really, really want this job! It's meant for me! What will I do if I don't get it?!" And just as suddenly as before, a car jumped into my lane and the message on the license plate made me lose my breath:

"TRST HYM"

Again, calmness swept over me and confidence in God's plan took control. Stop being so anxious and just trust, Rebecca!

Since then I have seen countless license plate messages that have made me stop and think or brought a smile to my face, but none have been quite as timely or memorable as BE GLAD and TRST HYM. Now being in New York City where there seldom is a car other than a taxi, it's hard to find any messages on license plates, but that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of messages floating around to be seen at just the right time.

As I consider new job opportunities and think about the future, I was feeling particularly anxious on this past Tuesday. A message stuck low on the base of an indiscreet light post stopped me mid-(brisk-New-York-City)-pace and led me to back up to read it again:


"Believe Then Do It" on the base of a street light on 3rd Avenue and 29th Street.

Later in the day I received another message:

"Become Your Dream" on a bicycle cab near Central Park.

Then on Wednesday afternoon, still feeling a bit lost, another message popped into view:

"Have Faith" on a pipe on East Houston Street.

With each message I smirked to myself and knew I was receiving just the words I needed at just the right time. On Thursday morning when I rushed out of the train onto the subway platform, I did a double take and jerked my head back to read a sticker that had been slapped onto the back of a sign, practically hidden unless you're looking up while exiting the train doors, and at a spot I have exited many, many times before. It said, "Big City Dreamer" - just what I was feeling at the time! (Sorry no picture - I would have been pinched in the closing doors if I had stopped!)

Seeing all the messages made me wonder how many words of encouragement I pass every day because I'm too busy to notice what's around me. But it's nice to know the messages are there whether I see them or not, and I firmly believe however many times they pass unnoticed, they do surface at just the right time!

And one more spot just for fun! Either Daddy was thinking about me or I was thinking about him, because I'm pretty sure there aren't hundreds of "Gary" stickers just floating around NYC!

"Gary" for my dad on a street sign in Soho.

"I Am"sterdam

While the main star of this trip to Amsterdam was the tulips, I did again enjoy the uniqueness of the centuries old city and the beauty of the quaint countryside. I can't help but be enchanted by the slanted buildings, the curved bridges over still canals, the ring of bicycles whizzing by...something about the foreign air feels more authentic, and it's nice to breathe it in.

House boats and trees line most every canal.

I think the "I am"sterdam campaign is so clever! In Museumplien behind the Riksmuseum.

And even more clever..."r" for Rebecca and "d" for Damion!

The towers of the Westerkerk - or the West Church - so beautiful on a spring day. Even more beautiful are the sounds of the church bells ringing into the sky.

What a wonderful place to eat outside! Restaurant In de Waag, the old weigh station turned fantastic restaurant.

Castle-seeing in Dieren: in front of Kasteel Biljoen, complete with a moat and "princess" turrets!


Relaxing canal-side in Amsterdam.

Enjoying a dutch house party - they have 'em just like we Americans do!