The Fig File: I hold bizarre grudges, always have. I still refuse to call the West Side Highway The Joe DiMaggio and The Interboro Parkway The Jackie Robinson. Why? Well I always felt that it was a commercial silly prank concocted by the moral majority because well, they had nothing better to do. The paramount question is why - why are we renaming these well known, well traveled inter-ways to anything beside what I, WE have come to know them as? Man, it sits like sickness in my stomach. I don’t like change, never have, especially within my spacial surroundings - more over change that will cost the city and eventually me dollars that I cannot spare to burn on a renaming campaign.
The latest round of reckless spending comes in the form of the renaming of The Triboro Bridge, a majestic silver spired span that overlooks Harlem River lights at night, East river undertow and stands guardian after you pass the two outstretched arms of our first President.
Now, it’s called the R.F.K. Bridge.
UGH. Let’s look at the scenario: A City and State that is on the cusp of fiscal collapse thought it smart to hemorrhage away 3 or 4 million dollars on new signage for the crossing- don’t believe me? How about all the news signs needed on the Long Island, Bruckner, Cross Bronx and Brooklyn Queens Expressways? Psst - remember the Grand Central Parkway? Not to mention the countless local roads and highways that reference this bridge that will need green gleaming rectangles bearing this new name. A waste of time of the obviously not so precious tax payers dime again - and lets not try to guilt in the warm fuzzy feeling we are suppose to get when we reference R.F.K. as the new name of the bridge. I say Viva la Triboro!
You know what? I would rather feel warm and cozy with a fresh bailout check from Hank Paulson.
Fig to the Fed: Bail Me Out Henry!
Inside Studio Four: An Inside Look Into The John Gambling Show: Break so fast With The John Gambling Show. Hey Gambling Addicts - you want to eat like the crew does? Good enough, write this down: At around 6:30 AM John Gambling has a Spanish Omelet (Eggs, cheese, peppers, onions and spices) Joe Bartlett eats a PB and J on Rye Toast with a large dark coffee, Al Randall has lite food (whatever that means) and I can be found enjoying a cold White Tea and peanut butter granola bar - plus Mr Randall supplies us all with Bananas. We are Pro-Potassium.
Odds and Ends: The Good Getaway. Every apartment I have lived in, minus the one I reside in now, was equipped with a fire escape. A means of escape, an extra landing external of the apartment - a steel stage that overlooks the rooftops of the boroughs. From where I sat in Brooklyn, on the 3rd floor in Greenpoint or in Sunnyside where I lived on my very own for the first time, or on the Upper East Side, East 78th Street and the River’s Edge even in Astoria overlooking the Triboro Bridge - all of those city views were made possible by our friendly neighborhood Fire Escape. If you are lucky or privy enough to have one - or know someone who does - take full advantage of it. It’s the free panorama of your immediate world. A City staple. A darn good getaway.
In a previous blog, “A Runners Wife” I spoke about my husband training for the NYC marathon. All I have to say is that the months of training all came together of an amazing race. Race day is a grueling day for runners, and the family. But a miracle happened...
U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder testified before the senate judiciary committee and basically shrugged when asked if any other enemy combatant captured overseas had ever been brought to civilian criminal court to face justice. Talk about an incompetent boob, not to mention a disgrace.
Here is a list of wines all from Spain, and menus from restaurants in Brooklyn where a crew of us did a food / wine crawl through Carrol Gardens and Williamsburg recently
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