Why I Want to Be a Yankee.

I’ve thought about this long and hard y’all. We moved, and I love baseball, and I’m thrilled to finally have some major league baseball and some pro level teams to cheer for…sorry Oregon, but in that respect you are kind of pathetic. In truth, I love my Colorado Rockies, but now that I’m in another part of the country and we have decided to call this place ‘home’ indefinitely, I’m ready to invest and join the fan club of another team, and enjoy a sport that I used to hate, but now love.

When I was younger, my parents would literally drag me to Rockies games and Sky Sox games and I just wasn’t into it. More than that, I was absolutely cranky about it. I would pout and scream and spend the entire game with my arms crossed, grouchy that I had to waste my childhood in front of a baseball diamond. I loved playing in the backyard with my brother. I went through a pretty serious “It Takes Two” phase, where I dressed up like Mary Kate Olson and wore dresses with a baseball hat backwards and consumed more than the appropriate chewing amount of bubble tape. But watching it, I just didn’t like it. In college however, the Rockies went to the World Series. Bryant and I drove down to Denver to watch the games once a week with our friends. We were able to watch at least one of the home games in each series up until the World Series game that turned out to be impossible to get tickets for. But, we fell in love. We would eat peanuts and drink beer, and enjoy a nice bratwurst, and we would yell…a lot. “TOO LETGIT, TOO LETGIT TO QUIT-SKY!” oh Tulo…

So, here I am, an official “New Yorker” for all intents and purposes, deciding that I want to be a Yankee. I formulated a list of pros and cons, and I have to tell you, I can’t wait to wear my pinstripes.

Pro Yankee Fan:

1) The Sultan of the Swat, the Big Bambino, Babe Ruth, formally, a Yankee.

2) I look really nice in vertical pinstripe. It elongates my body, very flattering.

3) Among Babe Ruth, the team has had some of the most celebrated players in history, names that I learned from the “Sandlot” and “Field of Dreams”  If you build it, they will come. (Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle etc.)

4) Apparently, at Home games, they play Frank Sinatras “New York, New York”…now thats what I call Team Spirit.

5) Almost every person we’ve met here in New York so far, when I have asked them if they are a Mets fan or a Yankee fan, they look at me like I’m stupid, and then say “Yankees.”

 

So there you have it, 5 really good reasons. My con’s list was short, it really just said “Because @ihubby said not to be” and what better way to keep our relationship interesting than to add something else to our list of disagreements. (I heart you friend).

 

 

 

 

 

The Gay Pride Parade: HAPPY PRIDE PEOPLE!

We are still new to the city, and we don’t really pay attention to what days you should and should not travel. My calendar now has a big ALERT on it for next year because I have never in my life seen so many people in one place at one time. Bryant and I got onto the Path yesterday to head into NYC to go to church. We had our first Sunday of volunteering on the Connections team @hillsongnyc, where basically, we just talk to people and get to know them–the best job for us Krongards, we are chatty people. And we had a reason to get to know new people, therefore creating a mutually beneficial situation since again, we are new, so we don’t have a lot of friends. Anyway! We get to the Path Station and its crazy packed with people. Our little car going into the city was so full I could smell the guys deodorant next to me. I kept saying to Bryant “Wow, busy day, this is weird.”

 As soon as we got off at our stop, it all made sense. Tables lining the streets selling rainbow garb and crowds of people walking around in swimsuit tops and spandex shorts. We had to weave around people and find alternative routes to get to Irving Plaza because the street we normally cross was the parade route! And coming home, coming home was so much worse because the parade was actually in progress!! We had to wait until marching bands passed before the police would let us cross the street. It took us 1 hour to go about 2 blocks, and then once we got back to path station because of the crazy amounts of people the machines were broken. So we had to go back up to get cash and buy a $20.00 metro card because it was exact change, cash only, no single rides. Honestly, the whole experience was a giant lesson to me that we need to read the news.

I’ve never been a parade person. Its always dusty and overwhelming and theres always animals that are coughing and people that are drunk and crazy–parades just aren’t my thing. We went to the Rose Parade in Portland last year with Lynse and Chad and my eyes were so swollen from all of the parade dust I thought I was going to die. This, of course, was 10,000x bigger than that parade. The people were flashy and excited, so that part was better than the boring Rose Parade, but I was honestly afraid I wouldn’t ever get home again. I live in an awesome city though. And parades aside, its exciting to me that I get to be a witness to events like this all the time. Two weeks ago, what we thought was a Gay Pride Parade was actually Puerto Rican Pride Day. Its an honest mistake really, no offense intended on either side, we just saw a bunch of colors and yelling people and assumed. Wrongly, clearly, because it led us to believe that going into the city yesterday was safe.

We finally got home, and took the dogs to the dog park. John, my dog walker friend was down there with Tango, this awesome pitbull that just loves Franny to death, and I told him that we had just come back from the city. He gasped and said “Honey! I play on that team and even I knew not to go into the city today!!! I’m going to warn you next year! You silly new people!” I’m counting on John to remind me next year, and honestly, it made me happy inside, that there will be a next year! We will be in this city next year and the year after that. Oh yeah, I’m not moving again…did I tell you guys this? I’m not. I decided it when we drove for 5 days to get here, but I also RE-DECIDED. We had lunch with some friends a few weeks ago and they said “How long are you here?” and Bryant and I both answered “Forever.” I’m home y’all.

Why You Should Not Own Nice Things

I’ve been ranting on twitter about the never-ending saga of the Crate and Barrel Couch. The story goes like this:

We moved across the country from Oregon to Jersey City, NJ (for all intents and purposes, New York). When we were packing up in Oregon, we didn’t consider selling our couches on Craigslist because we love them. Bryant and I bought said couch right before we got married. It was our first purchase together, and honestly, we saw it and knew it was the right one. Its wide, so you can fit your entire butt plus half of your legs when you are sitting on it regular style–for us, it was perfect because we could cuddle up and watch movies and it was like watching a movie on a full sized mattress (I’m exaggerating slightly, but seriously, its awesome). So, when we got to Jersey City, and spent 3 days without furniture, all I talked about was how much I missed my couch. I wanted to sit on it and lay on it and hug it, and pinch its pillow cheeks, it was all I could talk about. So the couch arrived, and of course, the one piece of furniture that I loved the most would not fit up the stairs! It really wouldn’t. Golan was like “Kitty, you are a sister to me, and if you were my blood sister I would say the same thing to you, this couch which you hold very dear, will not fit up those stairs.” I didn’t want to believe it, but once I saw them struggle with its matching loveseat, I knew it was going to be impossible.

So I had this awesomeness Crate and Barrel couch just sitting there on the freakin’ sidewalk in the middle of Jersey City. So, in between cries, I explained to Golan how much I loved it, and that I couldn’t just give it away for free, so he talked to a local storage company in bargained with them in Hebrew, arranging for them to come and pick it up. Heres the kicker. They did come and pick it up, but then they took it to a storage unit in Long Island. So, it is about 9 miles away from our apartment, which sounds like not a lot, but to get there you have to travel through Manhattan, and ultimately the trip would take us about an hour 1/2 to get there.

I listed the couch on Craigslist, but have had to explain the situation novel style every single time. “We moved, I have the address of the storage unit, I’ve never been there, also I’m stupid and have the cushions at my apartment in Jersey City, not complicated at all really, ok, yes, only a little, please take it, please.”

I had a girl go and look at it, but then she was all mad because it was all wrapped up and turned vertically so she couldn’t see it or sit on it. So we planned to drive out there today, but then Bryant’s Mom called to tell us that she really wanted our couch. All of her furniture is at Bryant’s Dad’s house in North Carolina (yes they are married, they just live and work in different places and visit each other on the weekends)…so she asked if she could buy it from us. She lives in Baltimore, about 4 hours away. So we had every intention of renting a truck, driving to Long Island, picking up the couch, then driving to Baltimore to bring it to her, until we saw where this storage unit was located, and once we thought about it, we realized that one or both of us would die in the process. My husband maneuvering a 10ft truck through the busy streets of Manhattan, bless his heart, would be suicide. AND ME! ME! Following him in our car, that is just not going to happen. So we are back to where we started, sort of. The ‘plan’ now is to take a train together to the truck place that is by the storage unit, get the couch, together travel in one van so if we do die, we are together, then pick up our car in Jersey City and the dogs, and drive to Baltimore. This whole thing is scheduled to happen in 2 weeks. I’m hoping to God that some person decides they want the couch before then. I’d rather my Mother in Law be a little disappointed and have the thing sold, then try to get that stupid thing to Baltimore.

Thats right. I called it stupid. Because I hate this couch now! All of my feelings of love and affection towards it are gone because its just the most annoying situation I have ever dealt with in my life. I would give it away for free, but I’m so determined to sell the thing that I’m not willing to accept defeat. AND I would like to make at least the amount of money that I spent storing it. So thats that. Stupid couch. Stupid stupid stupid couch.

AND THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NOT OWN NICE THINGS!