Create!

I just wrote a guide for Guidespot called The Bad-Ass DIYer’s Guide to New York (pardon my French), highlighting DIY magazines like Craft and Bust, DIY books like Sew Subversive, DIY sites like Threadbanger and BurdaStyle and New York DIY events like Swap-O-Rama-Rama and Etsy’s Monday Night Craft Nights. (You want links to all of those? Click on the guide…there’s even a picture of me in a clown suit). Writing this guide planted a little DIY bug in me, so I got out my sewing machine and finally started on some mending and hemming (work BEFORE play even in crafty land).

Then, I borrowed a friend’s copy of this book, which you can buy on Powell’s, in order to “save” some of my ill-fitting, loose-fitting t-shirts. If you’re like me, you probably have too many t-shirts in your wardrobe and most of them fit in unflattering ways. They inevitably become bedtime shirts. Sports shirts tend to fall into this category, but being a football watcher and football party-goer myself, I actually need something a little more presentable, that doesn’t fit like a dude shirt.

A few years ago, I bought this vintage City of Champions shirt on ebay, but it has always been too baggy. T-shirt reconstruction time! Please turn to page 56 of the aforementioned book and get out your scissors.

You’ll have to check out the book for full instructions, but basically, I made a scoop neck by cutting across the top, trimmed the sleeves by taking them in an inch or so, cut about 2 inches off the bottom and left all edges unfinished. This was all done to shape it into a more feminine curvy cut, because it’s fun to blend that with raucous game time fun that is usually dominated by boys.

I decided to go for a laced-up the sides look by weaving black ribbon through holes. I cut two slits up the side from the bottom of the shirt all the way to the bottom of the sleeve, and trimmed away an inch and a half vertically. (Keep trying it on throughout to see how it looks).

Then with the blade of the scissors, poke holes 1 inch apart through both layers of the shirt, about 1 inch away from the edge, and do this on both sides. Do the criss-crossing thing with the ribbon and tie bows at the bottom, cutting away any excess. In hindsight, I would have measured more, but I was short on time and I think it turned out pretty cute.

What about you? Any t-shirts salvaged in creative ways? Next up for me is a corseted-inspired t-shirt, a high-necked halter, a t-shirt turned skirt and maybe even a little ruching.

I hadn’t had a vacation all summer long, never once had what I consider to be the moment that I truly “arrive” at the beach: walking along the sand, removing my sandals and feeling the water with my toes. That is always the “at last” moment for me, finally exhaling from however many months it has been since the previous time. We went to the beach for a week almost every summer growing up, alternating between North Carolina, Virginia and New Jersey locations, and each house, hotel, and neighborhood stands out with unique and good memories. What is it about the beach? I could never figure it out, but there definitely is some profound connection with it that I know I am not alone in feeling.

So, when Joy, my high school best friend told me she’d be off from doing her doctor thing for a week in September and at her parents’ Virginia Beach beach house, I decided to seize the day (or 5) and join her. I really enjoy driving long distances alone, accomplishing “travel” independently, albeit with a car, an atlas, my hand-written directions and a little fast food in tow. In the same vein, what is it with the open road? Does it really just boil down to feelings of freedom? Hmm.

I found myself on familiar highways and bridges, reminiscing about what brought me here in the past. When I was driving the entire length of Delaware, I remembered convincing my college friend to drive there with me one summer because “Delaware gets a bad wrap, and I’m going to change that. I’m going to explore the wonders of Delaware and sing its praises!” Out of enthusiasm (and a misguided notion that I worked for Delaware’s tourist bureau?) I dragged her to the church with the oldest pulpit in the country–specifically because we could then say we had seen the oldest pulpit in the country, of course–and to “the waterfront,” which sounds scenic in a good way, but was more like a dirty stream surrounded by overgrown vegetation. Well, that’s Delaware for you.

It wasn’t exactly a relaxing vacation in terms of getting rest, but going into it, I knew it wouldn’t be. I still had to do work on my laptop and I didn’t want to catch up on sleep because that would mean fewer conscious hours when I could be hanging out with Joy, walking on the beach, writing and writing on the porch, etc. And, of course, it wouldn’t be an Alicia trip without an Alicia “moment”, stupid story or three, so I had to allow plenty of time to accumulate those. Ready for one?

I went to a gas station with Joy in the car, a Mini Cooper I rented from Zipcar. Zipcar ever so nicely pays for your gas by giving you a gas card that works much like a debit card. When you swipe, the gas station screen usually says “Enter Driver ID number” followed by “Enter Odometer” or something like that. This time around when I swiped, the screen only displayed the word “Driver.” Now, keep in mind that I have used zipcar several times before. I stared at that word for at least a full minute, saying in my head, “um, yeah, I’m the driver. I’m a driver. I drive this car here.” I didn’t “get” it. I got completely caught up in the fact that the screen was addressing me or was it stating a fact? At some point, the light bulb went on and I realized I was supposed to enter my Driver ID number. Those are usually the moments where Joy says completely genuinely, “God Alicia, I love you” and I feel a little less crazy/stupid. Haha.

I decided to include a lot of stories within my Virginia Beach Flickr set, so check that out for a more blow-by-blow rundown. All in all, a great trip!

I suppose you can never completely know any city through and through, but one can get kind of complacent in the place called “home,” not exploring because there isn’t the time-sensitive pressure that accompanies traveling elsewhere. That’s why I try to consider myself a “tourist” no matter where I am! I always have a map, a list of places to visit, usually even my camera, and I could be going just down the street from where I currently live. I want to explore every single day.

Recently I have been going on a lot of marathon bike rides (May I describe them as “marathon” even though they are not on foot?) that in two subsequent weekends have both hit the 25-mile mark. Yes, I hurt the next day, and yes I love it! I have been able to see such a large chunk of New York from a vantage point so different from that of walking or driving. The weather has been absolutely perfect here and I’m continually impressed by the upkeep of the city’s greenways (and that of my leg muscles).

Last week, quite arbitrarily but in typical Alicia list/impulsive fashion, I said to myself, “I’m going to see/visit/eat at 10 new places this weekend.” I didn’t define “places,” emphasizing the “new” part and come to think of it, er count, I think I only hit up 9. (No matter, I think I made up for it already during the week!) I haven’t been this excited to live in New York for a while, and this renewed passion for the city has made me want to consume everything it has to offer. Fortunately, biking allows me to see a lot, quickly (but not too quickly), and to eat a lot along the way because I’m burning calories like crazy! Don’t you love how that works out?!? My body is telling me to eat 5 meals a day! So, I plan out a basic route, then write down restaurants, shops, museums, cafes, parks, etc. that will make good breaks, pack my fruit-and-nut mix, and I’m on my merry way.

So, what did I see? Well, separate from the bike ride, I went to Nicky’s Vietnamese Sandwiches (it’s all about the pickled-ness, isn’t it?) and then to Court Pastry Shop for some cannoli. The anise smell inside the pastry shop reminded me exactly of my (Italian) grandma’s homemade pizzelles. I got a little homesick for a few minutes. I also checked out Abigail’s Wine Bar, which was spacious and stunningly beautiful with hues of red and flickering candles, so it’s a shame that it’s in the not-so-nice part of Prospect Heights.

My bike ride took me from the very bottom of Manhattan almost to the very top. I stopped in at the Skyscraper Museum, which is no bigger than a Chelsea gallery!!! Then onto Greenflea, a flea market on the Upper West Side, and the little red lighthouse dwarfed further by sitting underneath the gargantuan George Washington Bridge. I find myself stumbling on places I’ve wanted to see for the 5+ years I’ve lived here, exhaling an “at last”. I loved biking by everyone’s barbecues and picnics–the smells and interpretations of what the diverse population of New York considers Labor Day food is its own melting pot.

Towards the end of the trip, I planned for dinner around the Columbia University area, also the sight of the largest cathedral in the world (supposedly!), St John the Divine. I was reminded of the fantastic Halloween event they have here every year with the Procession of the Ghouls, organ music and a silent black and white film. How to describe? Eerily pleasant and positively unique. I went my first year in New York, reluctantly by myself, and haven’t been since. I’m making it a point to revisit this October. As for dinner, I went to Tom’s Restaurant, the one from Seinfeld! Well, the facade is anyway. Turkey noodle soup + chicken fingers + fries. Lastly, I finished off the night at the Hungarian Pastry Shop for some linzer tart. (Hey, I honored 50% of my ethnic background via Hungarian pastry and Italian pastry! Gotta stay true to my roots).

I’m looking forward.

Guidespot unveiled a new site design, new features and the also brand spankin’ new Community Guides this week, concurrent with the Democratic National Convention happening across the street from Guidespot headquarters. Exciting stuff! What are these community guides I speak of?

Well, as one of Guidespot’s special chosen ones to help get these off the ground, I will explain it to you! Basically, community guides are collaborative guides; normally, I, Alicia, would write a guide all by myself (cue Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Women”) and that’s that. The community could comment, of course, but the guide is my own. Community guides are about sharing the love that we’ll build together! (FYI, my ears sort of perk up at the very mention of the word “community”). I started one on Football in New York, so I wrote a little blurb, you add an image, I find a video, you share a link, and so on. There are some great ones already on Internet memes, cutest Flickr animals, celebrity sightings near the DNC, and –insert your community guide idea here–. Get it? We’re all guide co-creators.

After writing my Domestic Goddess guide, I got to thinking about other women I admire, am intrigued by, or let’s face it, because I am a working gal, would make for good guide-writing material. (Boys, I’ll get to you, okay? Come on, I went to Smith! ) Thus far, I’ve come up with Holly Golightly! (Breakfast at Tiffany’s, anyone?) And proceeded to write a guide to New York with Holly Golightly in mind. I’m quite proud of those two in particular, even though they center on women who have two very different ideas of adventure. As you may recall, the one time Holly cooks in the movie–chicken with saffron rice–she totally messes it up. (!!!) Come to think of it though, Nigella would have probably laughed that off the way Holly did. No matter! Life is funny, shake it off, on to the next thing. I hope to embody the qualities of both, the one “real” and the other fictional.

But, enough about the ladies and me! Please do visit Guidespot: check us out, comment, write a guide, explore. It’s more fun when you come and play with us in the dark depths of the internet.

Every once in a while, I come across food that results in a speechless but meaningful emitting of, well, sounds. Something so delicious that all I can say is “Mmmm” or “Ooooooh” or some combination of guttural responses. I do this every time I pass the nearby Spanish restaurant because of the air vents that spew out smells of rotisserie chicken. I inhale that stuff like a repressed meat-loving vegetarian.

When I was little, I used to come up with all sorts of “What if” scenarios, and one of them was, “If I had to give up one of the five senses, what would it be?” I chose smell, because it seemed like the least important. Maybe it is, but then when I was in high school, and my little cousin accidentally banged her head into my nose and I couldn’t smell for over a month, it devastated me. I didn’t tell anyone unless someone would project something about a smell in the air and I would laughingly say, “Yeah, I lost my sense of smell,” all the while having a lot of anxiety over never regaining it. Fortunately, I did, and I’ve been treasuring my sense of smell ever since. Gosh I really do hope I never have to choose among the five senses.

One of my favorite smells that I was late to discover is that of burnt butter. Melting butter is divine as it is, but with a little more heating, the burnt-ness gives off a delicate smokiness. Sometimes I get a hankering to burn some butter just because; luckily I have a lot of recipes at hand so that I don’t have to waste the process. Recently I wrote a post for Guidespot called How to be a Domestic Goddess in New York and that inspired me to pick a new recipe from Nigella Lawson’s cookbook of the same name. My friends, I hereby give you Burnt-Butter Brown-Sugar Cupcakes, up there in my top 5 cupcakes of all time.

I definitely made a deep, guttural “Mmmmm” followed by actual words (!), “Ohmygod these are good.” Click below for the recipe!
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Should I just turn this blog into Safety Cone Central already? Leigh made some of my cones, but with some differences because of the sad shape (pun INtended!) of Dallas traffic cones. Check out her Flickr for more pics and more crochet.