The Odd Broad

Rose colored glasses

For eight years, Hubby and I resided just outside Manhattan, in Astoria, Queens.  It wasn't as expensive as Manhattan, it wasn't as hip as Brooklyn, but it was our borough and we came to love it. 

The day after we moved in, there was a street fair on 31st Avenue.  It was there that we learned our new neighborhood had the largest Greek population outside of Athens.  Who knew?  I didn't.

We were only seven subway stops from Manhattan, but Astoria was a tiny village in and of itself.  When the weekend rolled around, sometimes I wouldn't even leave.  And when I did, the view riding home over the Queensboro Bridge upper roadway from the backseat of a cab never failed to make my heart do a little flip flop.  It was magical.  (Plus, the lower roadway only had hookers and crackheads to look at.)

When I miss New York, it's usually a faraway, intangible sort of ache; not something I can even put my finger on.  But some memories are specific.  I miss ordering chicken cardinale at 10:45 pm for delivery from the Last Stop Cafe.  I miss gyros and good, authentic tsatziki.  I miss impromptu dance parties and singalongs at Vanessa's house.  I miss walking over to the bakery for flaky, powdery kourambiedes.  I miss Top Tomato, the 24 hour vegetable mart.  Come to think of it, I miss the many places that stayed open all night.  I miss sitting on the back patio of Fatty's Cafe, and not even having to order, because they already knew what I was going to ask for before I even said it.  I miss the familiarity of it all. 

What I'm getting at here is, I'm sort of falling in love with Boston all over again.  And I think some sick part of me feels like I'm cheating on New York.  As if getting comfortable here means I'm somehow turning my back on the memories and life we made there.  Sometimes I can be so mental.

So it only took ten months, but I think it might be safe to say that Hubby and I are kinda sorta warming up to Boston.  Naturally, it helps that the temperatures are no longer idling in the single digits.  It also helps that Boston just so happens to be a breathtakingly beautiful place in the Spring.  It seems everywhere I turn there's something pretty to look at.  Not that New York didn't have its wow factor, but Boston is smaller, so somehow there seems to be more beauty within a much closer proximity.

The James P. Kelleher Rose Garden is one spot I'm especially taken with.

Seriously, I don't recall there being a rose garden in the Fens!  All I remember about the Fens was you couldn't go there at night, and sometimes you'd see businessmen mysteriously emerging out of the tall weeds, walking funny.

But a rose garden there was, apparently since 1930, and it's still there today.  And Reader, everything is in bloom.  I walk inside and instantly feel like I've stepped into a page straight out of Frances Hodgson Burnett.  (If I haven't mentioned, I have a vivid imagination.)  I see so many beautiful things to feast my eyes upon!  I get the feeling there are fairies hiding behind every corner.  There are magical looking archways crawling with buttery, yellow blooms, and never ending rows of fragrant rose bushes with whimsical names like Carefree Wonder, Gypsy Dancer, Super Dorothy, Miss Elsie Mae, Merlot, and even one called:

Last weekend I made like a tourist and snapped these pictures, just for you, because I want you to come to Boston, and walk through the rose garden yourself...

 

 

A public rose garden in the middle of a city.  It's a truly magical place.  Happy Friday, Dear Reader.  xoxo

Springy Ding Ding

Are we really to believe the weather forecast for today, Dear Reader?  70 degrees?

I carried a watermelon. And I'd do it again.

Call it serendipity.  My Godmother was unable to use her ticket to today's performance of Dirty Dancing The Musical, and asked if I'd like to go in her place.  (Thank you, Auntie Kimmy!)

Now, back in December you may recall The Odd Broad made some rather disparaging remarks concerning this movie turned musical.  Oh, how very wrong I was.  But I'm a recovering musical theatre nerd, so who can blame me for being a bit judgmental when it came to musicalizing one of my favorite childhood movies? 

I'm just going to come out and say it.  I had a blast!  This was pure, unadulterated entertainment!  Granted, it's not Shakespeare, but it truly delivered.  From the moment the curtain was raised, I gave in completely to my inner school girl. 

I found myself anticipating every line before it was even spoken, such is my fondness for the film.  It was a lot like watching the movie, in fact, except the audience gets to applaud and cheer at will.  (There were oodles of payoffs and chances to oooh and aaaah and scrunch up our noses and do silent screams.)

The crowd went hog wild more than once, and my cousins and I certainly did our own fair share of giggly squealing.  The middle aged ladies in front of us were hyperventilating and behaving in an all around uncivilized manner.  It was effing awesome.

The sets and lighting were creative and impressive in and of themselves.  And the dancing!  Could Penny's legs be any longer?  It was all I could do to not jump out of my seat and start gyrating and swiveling my pelvis.  But I waited to do that until I got home.

Since theatre actors generally make an effort to enunciate, I'm afraid I can settle the score once and for all regarding the controversy that overtook Odd Broad Land back in December.  (Does Lisa Houseman tell her sister Baby she is "prettier her way," or is "pretty in her own way"?)  The answer is thus, at least in stage form:  "I'll do you hair, it would look pretty if...no, you're prettier your way." 

In summation, if you're interested in seeing a Swaze lookalike bear his muscly torso and move his pelvis in ungodly ways, this is the show for you.  It was nothing less than delightful.  I had...the time of my life.  (Oh yes, I went there.)  And now I am going to see if Hubby will do the lift with me.

xoxo

Stopping to smell the roses

This week The Odd Broad is having herself a little Staycation. It's Hubby's spring break (college kid!), and the fancy struck me to take the week off as well. 

Our one income household (apartment-hold?) leaves us a bit too financially strapped to go anywhere excessively fabulous, but still it's heavenly to suddenly have time to do all of the random things I often fantasize about doing.  And so, I am making like Billy Mays and finally Orange Glo-ing my hardwood floors, spending extra time with Sissy and Lukey The Wonder Nephew, and unapologetically laying in bed and watching consecutive episodes of Slings and Arrows on DVD while sipping a glass (or three) of Riesling. 

Ahh.  It's not Aruba, but I'll take it.  xoxo

In the eye of the beholder...

Tom Brady, New England's sweet little darling, has finally tied the knot.  In light of this, Tom and his bride Giselle have been gracing the covers of many a Beantown newspaper. 

Now, I've given my thoughts on this Brazilian bombshell before, and I'll give them again.  SHE'S TOO DAMN SEXY.  It's just not amicable to be that sexy.  Her sexiness should come with a warning label!

Last week, a male coworker of mine was perusing the Boston Herald when he expressed a certain nonchalance towards the new Mrs. Brady.  When pressed, he revealed that he believes Giselle's looks are simply okay: "Tom could have his choice of any lady, and he picked...her?"

What the?!  What was that??!!

And Reader, as surreal as it may sound, I then found myself defending, of all people, Giselle. 

"How can you not think she's drop dead gorgeous?  I mean, look at her!  That face!  That bod!  I hate her guts!"

But my friend would not concur.  I even Googled her to further my standpoint, but he only scrunched up his nose and shook his head. 

Dear Reader, I have met the male whom Giselle just doesn't do it for.  Let us bottle him and preserve him for science.

Comforting as it is, why do all CVS's smell the same?

It was worth writing home about.  Twenty-two dollars in CVS Extra Bucks, and it was all mine.  Mine, I tell you!

Well, technically it belonged to Hubby, too.  How did we earn such riches?  We're still not really sure.  Apparently we spent a sizable chunk of money at our neighborhood drug store.

We had to wait for a store manager to approve the transaction.  After all, this was not your average Extra Bucks coupon, no sireee. 

Free toiletries are effing awesome.

Two years of Oddity!

January 21st marked the two year anniversary of this little online journal.  In light of this, I plan to imbibe bubbly intoxicants and eat foodstuffs that are bad for me. 

In case you're wondering; that means YOU, Cadbury Creme Eggs, that means you.

Proud to be an American...

No, I did not draw all fifty stars.  I think I only made it to about 31.  But I'm sickly and on cold meds and...you get the idea.  xoxo

¡Feliz Navidad, mis amores! Sinceramente, la chica rara xoxo

It's Snowing!!

OK, so the weather people predicted right.  Beantown is a winter wonderland!  xoxo