Baker (from the other room):  Oh, are you reading your blog?

Crystal:  Yeah, how'd you know?

Baker:  'Cuz your huge-smiling.

Leslie and bunny-eared Iris

Leslie, I love you.  I love your cats.  I love it when you text me about your cats.  Thanks so much for following suit and adopting Whicket after I adopted Eddie.  Thanks for getting Kelly, so Baker and I would have to get Iris to keep up with you guys.

Should we each get one more miniature lion/tiger?

Love, Crystal

Crystal and Eddie

P.S.  And seriously.  Thanks for being the best blogger ever this week, when I've been preoccupied.  You're super plus.

Speaking of the Zoo

Crys, I had 2 random thoughts,

#1 As I sauntered around looking at the lions and tigers I thought, "what if one day my cats, get really big, and they obtain cognitive thought and they forget all the nice things I had done for them and only remember me not feeding them when they wanted me to or petting them when they wanted petting, or kicked them out of bed every night, or worst of all, stepping on their tails!!!"

  I'm really afraid of Kitty Apocalypse.

 And just in case I gave them treats and cuddled them a whole lot that night.

WHICKET

#2 As the zoo visit was coming to the end, I was tapped out on animal gazing and started people watching.  We had somehow looped back to the lions and tigers and the people were GUSHING about how great they were and beautiful and magnificent etc. etc.  I found myself thinking, "you know, my cats are just the same, only smaller, and in the animal world smaller always means more lovable." Then I started to get mad.

People are SO mean about my cats sometimes!  Aren't  they just a cute/tiny version of a giant lion or tiger?!  My cats cuddle you and ask for licks of your ice cream and I know if a lion wanted to share a treat and snuggle, people would be standing in line for their turn!  So, then I thought, when people ask me about my cats I will say.  "Actually, I own two miniature tigers." 

Doesn't that sound cool?  Don't you want to share your ice cream with them?

Kelly Clarkson

Leslie    

Zoo York

Hi Cryz,

I think the title of this blog post might be a brand of clothing?

I went to the zoo yesterday, and it was great!  I have only been to one other zoo and that was in Arizona.  Have you been to your local zoo cryz?  It's horrible, well, it's horrible in he summer which is when I went and I'm the idiot for thinking that was a good idea.  What I remember from my AZ. Zoo experience, besides the heat stroke, was that most of the animals on exhibit are the native ones you probably saw on your way to the zoo. Snakes, rabbits, a couple of javelina and a tortoise.  The other more exotic animals were SO terribly hot they hid in their caves and under rocks and if I did see them they lookes simply misreable and I couldn't enjoy myself then. 

The Bronx Zoo was full of all sorts of fun furry creatures that I had never seen before, and there were all out playing in their pretend forests or jungles having a merry time of it.  But, guess what I was most excited to see.  Guess what caught my attention and made me pull out my camera.   Gila Monsters, Rattle Snakes, and little desert mice! Crystal, I saw a snow leopard but I didn't even care!  There where Zebras but I just wanted to look at the deer.  Ugh, I couldn't believe it!

Some of the habitats had different cactus and I went around with an air of conceit saying, "Oh look, its a Pickly Pear, and that is an Organ Pipe Cactus...obviously."  Just loud enough so east coasters would know how intelligent I was.

Sometimes, (don't tell anyone) I miss Arizona, I miss the sunsets, I miss all the shades of brown, I miss the stars and most of all the grocery stores.  Rafael says he misses the swimming pools.  I have always said I would never go back to Arizona and because of pride I'll probably stand by that.  But, I'll  always love it.  I'll always be most sad that I'm not there watching old Arrested Development episodes with you while I paint and you cross stitch. 

Makeup Vs. The Morning

Hi Cryztel,

When I go to work I don't try, I work in a little office and I only see a handful of people and it's so casual there, the best I can do for them is, maybe, a little bit of left over mascara from the night before.  sometimes I straiten my bangs but the recent humidity means my hair is in a bun plopped on top of my noggin.

For the first six months I was okay with this, most of the people I work with are not really trying to impress anyone either.  But then, Sandra was hired.  Sandra is like the Heidi Klum of co-workers.  She has beautiful blond locks, (the before mentioned humidity has no effect on her perfectly placed curls) great clothes, perfect figure, amazing makeup, and a personality that makes me seem dull.

When she walks through the door in the morning I do a quick assessment sweep and she has everything checked off on her beauty list.  I look at my reflection in the monitor and notice something in my teeth.  I run   to the bathroom and think about how tomorrow is a new day. I resolve to apply mascara, I will pick an outfit that flatters, and I WILL do something with my hair.  But, 6:30AM falls on me like a swift sword and all of my big beauty plans are sliced away as I rush out the door in the morning.  I really like Sandra, of course, I also like the sun, but that doesn't mean I would feel comfortable standing right next to either one.

Real Live New Yorker

Dear Lesl,

One time I texted you and told you that if you don't write back immediately, I just assume you're in the subway and that you'll write back shortly.  You laughed, but the truth is, I think about your life a lot.  I know what it was like when you lived in Arizona, and I know what it was like when I was there last spring and you were in vacation-mode.  But here's how I picture your day-to-day in New York.

When you wake up, Rafael has already left for work.  But you're not lonely; your cats are tumbled in bed with you.  You, Kelly, and Whicket head to the kitchen, where you make a heart-healthy breakfast involving spinach puree, maybe like a smoothie.  When it's time to get dressed, you reach into your giant wardrobe and pull out a bright ensemble, with a scarf to sass things up.

You head to work on the subway, confident, like a true metropolite*.  You dish out directions and insider information to tourists, in between songs by the mariachi band on the train.  You get to work and guess what?  You have the best job ever!  You've always wanted to work in the entertainment industry, and you're pretty much there, at your NYC tour company.  You man the tour bus and introduce little old ladies to their favorite, former TV stars.  You're so clever that people burst into applause every time you speak.  A handsome British stranger offers to buy you lunch (and maybe more), but you decline so graciously that he thinks he's Hugh Grant.

After a rewarding day of work, you head home to Raf.  You've picked up an organic pizza on the way home from work, and you two cozily cuddle up to watch the scene from your balcony, since there's always something going on at Central Park.  Tonight, maybe, a jazz band is playing.  And although you're a small-town girl at heart, you're sure loving these picturesque days.

Am I at all close?  -Crystal

*  I may have made this word up.

Return To Sender

Crystal!

I have never had, what you would call a good experience at the post office.  Especially now that I live in Washington Heights, the opposite of Mayberry.  The bullet proof glass I have to talk through to order stamps from a mailman is a foot deep and just getting in has it's struggles.  I took this picture as proof.

However, I just had the best time!  I went in, there was no line and the guy helping me was so nice!  AND one of the other workers leaned over and said "Hey, do you watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch? You look and sound just like her!  Has anyone told you that?"

Me: "No, but thank you."

Post Woman: "You do!" turning to a woman at her window, "Doesn't she?  look like Sabrina!"

By the end of it the entire post office was chiming in on who I looked like and sounded like.  I beg for this kind of attention all the time and the mailroom was just delivering it to me.  (get it, deliver.)

Anyway, here I am!

Hmmm...,I don't know, we do both have giant eyes.

Did I ever tell you who my Grandmother Lucille told me I looked like? Yeah, not Bill Clinton.... even at 13 I knew that Grandmothers shouldn't compare you to a woman famous for her sex life.

Strawberry Lemonade

So Les,

I know what you're supposed to do when life hands you lemons.  Make lemonade.  But what are you supposed to do when your mother-in-law hands you strawberries?  So very many strawberries?  3 lbs. of strawberries?

It's all my own fault.  When she asked if I wanted some, I told my mother-in-law sure, and I'd take whatever she could buy for a dollar.  Apparently your buck goes a long way at the farmers' market.  And now my fridge is overflowing with berries.  Baker doesn't eat fruit, and Sally's too small for them, so what to do now?  I'm thinking of freezer jam, but that sounds awfully domestic.  Can you outsource a jam maker?


I wish I had an Oompa-Loompa right about now.  (I'd prefer the 1971 version over 2005, if I had the choice.)  You'd think that having a pastry chef in the house would be enough, but no.  I'm still dreaming of a little culinary helper.

What are you wishing for today?

Strawberry kisses, Crystal

The Glamour of Giving Blood

hi Cryzzl,

I gave blood.  They lured me in with a free movie ticket, It was a golden, can you imagine saying no to a golden ticket?  That would be like  Charlie saying no...to..a, well, golden ticket!

I always feel so boring filling out those questionnaires at the beginning, I say no the whole way down.

Did you get a tattoo in the last three months?  NO

Did you travel to Europe in the last six months? NO

Did you meet a guy in a low brow bar and make out with him? NO

Did you have sex with someone at a dirty bathhouse in the last 3 months?  NO

no, no, no..., sigh. 

Then, this lady who is infamous for being mean to the donors was in charge of pricking my finger and taking my blood pressure.  In an effort to make this experience as painless as possible I immediately complimented her jewelry, I gushed on and on about it.  She LOVED it.  she never really smiled, but I knew she loved it.  She ended up being the one to stick me with the needle and she was as nice as a mother hen.  Rafael on the other hand got yelled at TWICE by her.

Then I went with Raf to pick up his birthday present, and ate a slice from a rather suspicious looking pizza dive and spent a couple of hours in the bathroom after.  I don't know if today was a good or bad day.

Leslie

Fun for Everyone

Dear Readers,

It has come to my attention (hi, Sarah!) that some members of our audience (hi, Jamie!) are not sure if it's appropriate to leave comments on what are essentially letters between Leslie and myself.  I just wanted to address that with a great big YES PLEASE!

Les and I have talked alot about the tone of our blog, and what we want our readers to get out of it.  Basically we want you to get a peek at the conversations we have on a daily basis.  (Like you said, Gail!)  That's half the reason we've been starting our posts with "Dear Friend."  The other reason is that we thought it'd help specify who the writer is, if she could sign it with "Sincerely."  We're not technologically savvy enough to figure out how to populate the author's name at the top of the post.

What I'm trying to say is this: although the posts are letters between Leslie and me, they are for everyone to read and enjoy.  We crack each other up, and we're trying to entertain you too.  So please, leave your thoughts!  (As long as they're nice and you tell us how clever we are and how cute Sally is and how incredible the cats are.)

Love, Crystal

YES EVERYONE!!!  We love you!  we love comments, questions, praise, compliments, congratulations, condolences, validation, etc, etc..

Leslie

Or Maybe a Late-Blooming Emo Kid?

Lesl,

I'm afraid I'm a hipster.  I just, I just might be.  Without ever having realized it.  Here are the reasons I think yes.  First, I love shopping at Urban Outfitters.  Second, I love living on Mill Avenue.  Third, I have thick black horn-rimmed reading glasses.  And finally, I love movies like "The Royal Tenenbaums" and "I Heart Huckabees." I'm super excited about this new show, "Wilfred."  Have you seen commercials?

But then, here are the reasons I might not be a hipster. OK, it's true that I love Urban Outfitters, but I always zoom straight past the size 2 clothes and go straight to the woodland creatures-adorned housewares.  Next, I've always hated kickball, and I would certainly never want to play it as an adult.  And then, instead of riding a skateboard, I'm usually pushing a stroller.  Oh, and I don't wear low-slung, tighty jeans.  Maybe mostly because they wouldn't fit.

So where does that leave me?  Somewhere between "Donnie Darko" and Anne Taylor Loft.  I guess that makes me...  Bridget Jones?

 Hugs and Kisses,  Crystal Jones

Hi Crys, I'm feeling...

Just a little, Rafael has been running around every night having fun, well, maybe not "fun" last night he went to Costco for us and that place is a zoo from Hell here in the city.   But still, I imagine him throwing his  head back laughing as he strolls down every aisle, maybe climbing in the cart A la "King of The World" while his buddy pushes him through the store as fast as he can run.

So, tonight is the same, Raf is out and I am in. I am super co-dependent, you might be one of the few people who know that because I love pretending I have it all together but there are lots of things I can't do on my own.  I can't get fast food on my own or go to the movies, sometimes I can go to the grocery store but normally I need someone to hold my hand through the milk aisle, (anything that curds frightens me.)

If you were here we would be having fun in.

Cats and Babies

Good morning, Leslie!  I just wanted you to know that Sally and I have dropped something in the mail for you.  I remember promising you when you left Arizona for New York that I would send you letters at least once a month.  This is a promise I have not delivered on.  And that probably makes me a sucky friend.

But thank goodness Sally is an active pen-pal.  I know it's hard to gauge these things when you don't have children of your own but, yes, pen-pal-ism is an unusual trait for an 8 month-old baby.  You should feel flattered.  I know I would be ecstatic if I ever got anything from your cats.  Did I ever tell you that caring for cats is about the same thing as caring for a baby?  You get equal amounts of love, respect, and attention from both types of creatures.  Which is to say, if you're a sufficient caretaker of cats (and I know you are), you'll be an okay mom too.

Just put that in your "good to know, for some later date" pocket.

Love, Crystal and Sally

I think I want to be a US Marshal

Right Cryz?

Wouldn't that be the coolest job?  I could rome around the United States solving crimes, kicking down doors and catching, maybe even shooting bad guys in the knee caps.  It would be great!

A few more reasons it would be awesome.

They got the coolest badges.
I could wear those cool sholder rig pistol holders.
Also a little pistol holder around my thigh. (how sexy is that!)
words like fugitive and tactical would be part of my daily vocabulary.

Picture me having this conversation....

Stranger:  What's your Jurisdiction?

Leslie: America.

Just think about it Crystal, I'll need a partner.

Clearing The Air and My Closet

Hi Crystal,

I think having a cluttered closet is a metaphor for a cluttered soul... I actually don't, I think a closet is a closet and a soul is a soul, but I do need to clean out both and it sounded pretty dang poetic.

The closet right now is full of old shoes, probably over a dozen, and while that might not be a lot to someone like Imelda Marcos it is a lot to my husband Raphael. So, every time I want a new pair he can't understand why.

(I made this picture super ugly and boring so you can't tell me you like my shoes)

But all my shoes are old and dumb and I can't ware most of them because they aren't shoes I can walk around the City in. so, I can either throw them away or go through them and put them in a bag and haul them over to the local church building where there is a clothing exchange on Friday night. Obviously, donating them is the philanthropic and socially responsible thing to do but simply tossing them is the easiest.

It's an eternal struggle, ugh, I hope I do the right thing, I'll think about it at least.

Little Green Confessions

Hey Leslie,

Something's weighing on my soul.  Remember a few months ago when I asked you the best way to prepare Brussels sprouts?  You were so kind to share your method with me.  You told me to broil them in the oven.  And Leslie, I intended to do that.  I wanted to honor you with imitation.  But that's not what happened.  I feel I've been misleading you this whole time, and I can no longer live with the fact that you think we're eating them the same way.   

Because, Leslie, I've been pan frying mine.  With bacon.  That's right, Brussels and bacon.   I'm sure your method of broiling them is delicious, but I can't quit making them my way long enough to find out.  All those text messages, all those conversations about how much we both love Brussels sprouts.  They were real, and sincere.  I do love those baby green cabbages.  I love to hear them sizzle and singe.  I love when they start getting soft.  I love with the loose leaves turn black with char.  And I love the way they taste with crispy hambone.

Maybe if you can forgive me for this deception, you will find it in your heart to try Brussels sprouts my way.  In the meantime, please feast your eyes on this: my lunch today.

Still super plus best friends forever?  -Crystal