'Fro -> Hawk

Sometimes in life, you've just got to break out of your mold and get a little crazy. Or at least, you have to let your co-workers force you out of your mold and make you look a little crazy. Such was the case with one Ned Borgman (of Borgfest '07 fame)... he had been letting his usually clean-shorn hair go long for awhile, and I would catch him running his hands through his almost-afro and tugging at it whenever he got stressed or distracted.

So, one day in the kitchen, I asked, "When are you going to cut that stuff off already?" Everyone present agreed it was time for it to go. "Ooohh!" I exclaimed. "You know what you should do? Shave it into a mohawk!" Now, if you remember my previous descriptions of Ned, you know that a mohawk is the most anti-Ned thing anybody could do. However, our boss Zarina happened to be in the room at the time, and she excitedly agreed with my idea (probably because of that fact). And once she gets excited about something, she doesn't let it go. It must be done.

Therefore, on Friday afternoon, after our usual Five O'Clock Friday Hi-Fives, we took Ned into the kitchen to go all Edward-Scissorhands on him.

Ned Before:


I was the elected shaver, and we discussed the game plan.


He is awfully "The Thinker"-y.


We were both a little nervous, I think. I just didn't want to mess up his head... or accidentally take off an eyebrow.


(See what I mean about the nervous hand-running?)


But away we went.





Our coworkers looked on laughingly.





That hair is THICK, let me tell you! I wish I had hair that thick and lustrous.











I felt like I had a lot of power over poor Ned... I mean, I easily could have taken an eyebrow if he'd pissed me off.


But after the initial shaving had taken place, we needed a conference to decide how to proceed with the fine-shaven details.


I let Reilly take over from there, just to get into the nitty-gritty hairline creation, since I don't really trust myself at that level of head shaving. But not before a triumph photo.








Ned took it like a pro.


If he'd been new to PS, this would have been his hazing ritual. But no.... it was just something fun to do on a Friday afternoon.











Now at least he has a focused strip of hair to grab onto in times of stress (like while getting a mohawk against his will).


Ha ha ha...


Good times.


He was such a good sport about it. I think it turned out pretty awesome... too bad CBGB closed down, or we could have taken this preppy punk out for a wild night.


In addition, our newest assistant, Colin, cut together this little video of the experience. You can see it here.


love,
*jenna*

Hot Pink Petals

Well, as it turns out, it's supposed to rain this weekend (and I'm supposed to work), so the Cherry Blossom Fest will have to wait. But I will sate your floral appetite with something that might be even better than a designated super-garden: little mini-gardens found in simple places around town.

Sure, it's clichè to wax poetic about flowers in the springtime, and springtime itself (and God knows I've subjected you to it two years in a row) but the beauty of it never fails to amaze me. The smell of the air as it changes a mere ten degrees, becoming downright pleasant to the lungs. The nine o'clock sunshine. The twelve-deep line of people waiting to get an ice cream cone at the Mister Softee truck. The sunlight turning brightly-colored flora nearly neon.

Here were some of my favorites, a small garden of magenta tulips at Madison Square Park after work on Monday. I can't believe these exist without dye.




And its twin, a rectangle of the same lining a fountain at Rockefeller Center as I walked to work on Tuesday.


Sigh. Do your best, rain. See if I care. I've got photos of spring to keep me warm.

love,
*jenna*

Records And Flowers, Together At Last!

Last week, spring was finally, fully sprung. It got all the way up to 78 degrees out, so everyone at PS260 celebrated by eating on the roof 3 out of 5 days of the week. It's a wonderful perk to a job that can be demanding at times.




On Friday, Kerri emailed me and Shannon to alert us to the fact that one of our (rare) shared favorite bands, The Black Keys, were going to be at a record shop called Other Music in honor of International Record Store Day, and they were going to DJ from 2-3pm. Shannon wasn't able to make it, so I decided to brave it alone.

I was expecting there to be a thousand people there, but it was just the regular ol' record store, and they just happened to be standing there DJ'ing (and playing a lot of oldies songs). On my way there I was imagining all of these coy, witty and adorable things I would say to them, and what they might say to me, and all of these scenarios ended with me hanging out with the Black Keys all weekend. But when I got there, I got all nervous because there was really no one around them, so I could just go up to them. I promptly began sweating and forgot everything cool or funny I've ever said. I just stammered, "Ummmmm... are you guys signing things?" as well as the classic, "I love your new album. It's really good." Jeez. That was not in the script. I was completely star-struck, like a nine-year-old meeting the New Kids On The Block. The whole thing lasted about two seconds: I had them sign my CD, then I took this picture of them. I didn't even think to count to three.


They sure are cute. So I walked away all nervous and stupid, then walked around the store mindlessly. I decided to buy a record for them to sign for myself and give the CD to Kerri because she was the reason I got to go, and would have been all over it if she were here. The second go-round was pretty much as embarrassing as the first, only involving a record. As I left the store I realized I should have gotten something for Shannon but by then I was too embarrassed to go back a third time and look like a stalker.


One thing I thought was funny (and kind of sad) was that in a record shop, in honor of Record Store Day, standing in front of two turntables, signing record albums, the Black Keys were DJ'ing using two iPhones.


After I left the store I had to take a break and collect myself. I walked all around town and found that street fair season has begun! Now we can buy $2 socks and cheap jewelry and gyros all on one block.


Near NYU, I saw this beautiful tree swaying in the wind, and although you can't tell from the photos, it was shedding its blooms ever so gently, the petals covering the sidewalk below.




I'm a window-lover.


*gasp.* You would not believe how good this bakery smells, from a whole block away. It smells like... cupcakes. If they were made by angels. Floating on a cloud of icing. Mmmmm.


Sunday was a bit chilly and overcast, but I didn't let that stop me from taking myself to brunch at Nice Matin (unpictured, but it was my birthday breakfast place, if you remember that... they have the best coffee I've ever had). Afterward, I took a stroll across the park. I walked slowly, which, if you know me, is a feat in itself.




There weren't a great many people there as it was cold out, but at least enough for a family game of soccer.


And a birthday picnic. It reminded me of going to Eldorado Park for my cousins' birthdays as a kid, except... you know... way cooler.


The blooms were bloomin', and fallin'.


Families were out in full loving force.


I sat myself down below that big tree and alternated between reading my book and half-napping.


It's easier to relax when this is above you.


And on the way home, I celebrated the return of the Park Avenue Tulips, so lovely and demure in their neat little rows.


And that's that. Think you've had enough of my obsession with spring flowers? Think again. I think next week I'll be going to the Cherry Blossom Festival, which you've already seen a couple years in a row, but guess what - you're gonna get it again. Be ready.

love,
*jenna*

Playing Dress-Up

A few weeks ago, Shannon saw this photo of Audrey Hepburn and just fell in love with it. Being the aspiring cosmetologist that she is, Shannon decided she wanted to try to make me over with this as the inspiration.


The first thing she did was give me some raging eyebrows. With my new haircut, I really felt boyish.


But the rest of the makeup balanced it out. I didn't look exactly like Audrey (I need longer hair), but she got close - and at least I got to glam out for the night. Here are some pics of our dress-up and photo fiesta.






Dig the fake mole?












These don't have much to do with Audrey Hepburn, but don't they make you wanna snuggle?


























I think this is the closest we came to recreating the photo... not bad!








Okay, now I'm sick of looking at myself and I'm sure you are too. Ciao babes!



love,
*audrey?*

Indeed.

My friend Momo sent this to me with the note that it reminded her of me.


love it!

*jenna*

Dancin' Up An Art Storm

A couple of Friday nights ago, Shannon and I enthusiastically attended our second Ghostland Observatory concert. These Austinians really know how to rock the house - Webster Hall, to be exact.

I think they were wearing the same outfits as last time - the synth dude in a shiny cape, the lead dude in a white leisure suit (how fetching).


We had an awesome position - right in front of the stage. We got to experience Aaron Behrens in his full dance-o-matic glory.








Manhattan dance party!
















Boogie Oogie-Oogie'ing galore











Behrens pulled double duty as guitarist extraordinaire. He really ripped that guitar up.

















Steam and lasers abounded.


... and people were very much digging it all.





At the end, Behrens sat down for a pow-wow with the audience. Sometimes even rock stars need a breather.


The next day I headed all the way over to the very West Side for the 2008 Armory Show. I caught up with about a thousand of my fellow New Yorkers, and waited in an extremely long line.





Here are some of my favorite pieces - this one was just a gorgeous wall of glitter and paint.






This tunnel went down further than they eye could see - I have no idea how they did it.


This was teeny tiny.





These looked so real that for a few moments I thought they might be people in heavy makeup.

They weren't.













There was a lot of neon art, and a lot of text-based art (which is always my favorite).












There was a heavy mirror theme this year, even more than in years past. What is the art world trying to say to us? We should look at ourselves more? (I disagree.)







I saw this last year and just love it - it's a collection of books, every page reworked and reconstructed to be something totally different.


Two skeleton arms, holding hands.


This guy showed in the Armory a couple of years ago - Gaby Trinkhaus. Amazing collage.


This piece was made entirely of dedication pages from books (i.e. "For my mother..." etc.)








This was an interesting take on Rorschach ink blot tests...


And of course, I'm a sucker for text art.


And exploding roses.


I didn't get as much time as I wanted to see everything, but I liked much of what I saw - a lot more than the crappy Whitney Biennial (as usual). Thanks Armory!


And last but not least... Spring is finally springing here in New York City. The finest days of the year are upon us.











Sigh. Lovely. Happy freakin' Monday!

love,
*jenna*

Italy Day 7/8: The End

It was our final full day in Italy. We had saved the best activity for last: our bike tour through the Tuscan wine country. It was good timing on our part: we had gotten over our jet lag and by Friday the rains had passed. The sun was out and it was a perfect 72 degrees.

We were picked up in Firenze by the 2 people who run the bike tour, and they drove us up to the garage outside of the city where they keep all of the equipment. We suited up and tried to figure out those dern helmets.


We were ready to take on the world!


The tour was a pleasant series of trade-offs between riding for a bit and taking breaks for food and drink and photos.








One of the places we went to was an actual winery, to sample the local wine. As we arrived, I noticed it bore the Machiavelli name and was like, "Oh, Machiavelli. That's funny. It must be like Smith over here."


As it turns out, it's the actual Machiavelli's house. This was where he came when he was banished from Firenze, and went from being a government official to being a farmer. He was totally bummed and started writing here, and this place was where he wrote most of his influential stuff like, say, "The Prince." Later it was turned into a winery and olive oil producer.

This is the view from his backyard.





It was a really cool old house, and mostly unchanged over the years.


I loved the texture of the layers and layers of stone masonry over each other, a dozen sections peeking out from here and there.





I became slightly obsessed with photos outta windows.





We went down to the underground section where they keep the vats of wine to ferment (I can't remember what this section is called). It was cold and musty and spacious.





They had the absolute worst recreation of The David that I hope to see in my lifetime. He even has a fig leaf over the important part.


And this well went down further than the eye could see.


We met this super old guy who's been working there since he was a teenager. He was really sweet excited to have his photo taken with four American girls.


Then we went over to the ristorante to sample the wine and olive oil.





The guide we had was nice and pretty dorky. He reminded us of our old boss from Channel 8.


The wine was soooooooo good! They let us sample two bottles and ironically, the cheaper one was the best. They also gave us some amazing bruschetta, sitting in a puddle of olive oil. You'd think that'd be gross, but you'd be wrong.





Sure, this is an uncouth way of consuming olive oil, but hey, we're all friends here.








This wine is from like 1970.


After another short bike ride, we ended up in a little town with those typical Italian streets.





We had lunch at a ristorante that was empty except for us and one or two other tables. Shannon and Jennifer took this time to make fun of the way I ride my bike up a steep hill. (apparently it involves hunching.)


It was all downhill (and uphill and downhill and uphill again) from there.














We took many pictures.





Right after this stopping point was the most awesome downhill free-ride ever! You could hear nothing but the wind rushing in your ears and, every once in awhile, one of the other girls yelling "Woo-hoo!!!"


We stopped in a couple of other towns on our tour.


I loved this old couple standing out on their balcony together.





























Sigh. This was an all-day excursion. We met up at 10am, and didn't get back to Firenze until 6pm. That is a LONG day of riding. We were that beautiful kind of exhausted that comes from a day of vacation adventuring.


After everything, our last stop was to a wee cafè where we had some cold beverages.

"Ah, refreshment!!"


Side note: this is what all Italian men look like under the age of 75. Well-dressed, chic, good hair, and totally adorable. (although I think these particular men were teenagers.)


After a bathroom mirror shot...


... we were on our way back to Firenze.


Tired, we were.


Imagine having to walk all the way through Firenze after that to catch the bus back to our apartment. We nearly died, but at least it was lovely to look at, the sun setting over the town on our last evening.



































Oh, for one more gelato. We stopped in at this teeny tiny hidden-away gelateria on our way to the bus. I had spicy chocolate. Holy Lord was it delicious.





And we stopped at one more place to use the bathroom and its cool mirror! I don't know why I take so many mirror photos of myself.











We slowly made our way back home.





It was the perfect way to spend our last day in Italia.

The next morning we got up bright 'n' early to take one of the absolute stupidest routes out of Italy: From Firenze down to Roma, then Roma up to Pisa (which is an hourlong train ride from Firenze), then Pisa to NY. Poor Kerri then had to go from NY to AZ the next day. But whatever, it all worked out, and we didn't miss any flights! Shannon promptly installed some earplugs to sleep.


... while Kerri wrote her last thoughts in the journal and I looked through all of our photos from the week.








Even in our final hours in Italia they treated our tastebuds right with these sesame crackers and blood orange juice.


At the Roma airport, Kerri paid tribute to her personal hero...


... and I had one last cappuccino and a Nutella snack pack! Amazing amazing!!


We had to find some way to keep ourselves amused during the layover, so we played with shiny things.


... and sang along to the Alicia Keys song "Juicy."


Finally we boarded the New York flight in Pisa. At one point I had some garbage to throw away and went looking for a flight attendant... when I found one I was so used to trying to speak Italian that I started throwing out what I thought were Italian words for "trash" and making hand gestures. "Cool, no problem," replied the totally American stewardess. Needless to say, I was embarrassed.

But not as embarrassed as I should have been when we took this photo. It's supposed to be "Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" with an eye mask revisionist slant. But masks are hard to put on your ears, so I settled for "smell no evil."


So there you have it, the best trip of my life. It was a lovely combination of relaxation, adventure and cultural enrichment. It's amazing how rejuvenating it can be to remove yourself completely from your normal life, from the mundaneness of everyday life... to use a different part of your brain and try to speak another language. To be housed in structures that were built to last, made of solid brick and mortar. To eat completely fresh food and drink the best coffee and wine of your life. To breathe new air, see new (old) buildings and share space with art and architecture created by true geniuses, hundreds of years before you were even a thought in your parents' hearts.

I was lucky enough to be able to share the experience with three of the people I love and care about most in the world. And the four of us are lucky enough to have every experience, insight, inside joke, receipt, wine label, and postcard saved in this book... with Scotch tape.


love,
*jenna*

Italy Day SEVEN!

Thursday morning we watched weird Italian TV as each of us waited for the other to get out of the bathroom.


Because, you see, the toilet is actually INSIDE the shower. Which made for some strange experiences when someone would take a shower and then, right afterward, another someone would go to the bathroom. The toilet paper was always wet.


The joy of traveling! We took a mirror photo and then off we went.


After the usual caffe breakfast...





We were on our way. We only had one destination today, and we got there by Italian subway. (not to be confused with The Italian Sandwich from Subway.)





We went only to the Vatican, and believe me, it took up our whole day. Luckily, it was a gorgeous 68 degrees and sunny.














"We're at the Vatican!!!!"


We were worried that we would have to stand in an hours-long line for La Capella Sistina, so walking through the museum, we didn't stop to take too many photos. I think that, no matter what religion or belief you may hold (or not hold), walking among a holy place invokes a sense of reverence, and quiet contemplation. The Vatican was no different, as every inch of the place is covered in art that dates back hundreds of years.





Even original maps of Italy.

Not even ceilings were spared the brushes of artists over the eons.





For some reason, this was one of my favorite paintings.








We had no need to worry about a line, though. We arrived at the Sistine Chapel in no time at all. I came here last time I was in Roma but it was the summer before they restored the Chapel. The room is smaller than you think it will be, and yet somehow more astonishing than you think it will be.


Apart from the famous ceiling, this wall (the blue section) runs a close second in my list of favorite pieces of art. All of the souls being divided between heaven and hell.


And here is the moment everyone waits for... the Creation of Man. (middle left side)

In this chapel one feels an unexpected humility, simply to be in the presence of artistic greatness. Every centimeter is intentional and thoughtful and aesthetically pleasing and meaningful. Michelangelo was truly an unbelievable painter and visionary. (not to even mention the David!) We loved these spiral steps. I'm the gleaming white spot with blue on in the upper center.


Then it was back to Firenze via train.


I spent most of the time listening to my Sondre Lerche CD and writing and pasting ticket stubs and receipts and such into the journal. Yeah, I brought Scotch tape with me. What of it?


It's lovely to just watch the world - the vineyards, the tiny villages, the sloping hills - go by.





We arrived home just as the sun was setting.


I was struck with sadness knowing that the next day was our last in my beloved Italia.





After a series of good long hot showers and makeup application, the three of us were sufficiently gussied up for a night on the town.


We called up Jennifer from a payphone to ask her to join us for dinner, and Shannon channeled her inner film noir heroine.


Jennifer wasn't able to come out though, and after dinner we found ourselves at Public House, an awesome little pub with tall beer glasses and an adorable bartender named Davide.


But aside from boys, Kerri, Shannon and I were happy just to have been able to spend a week together, no matter where in the world it happens to be.





amicizia. for real.

Next post will be the final Italia installment: vineyard bike ride. Cin-cin!

love,
*jenna*