Beautiful day in the neighborhood

I guess I should update what I have been up to lately.

Two weeks ago I went to the Belmont to watch Big Brown imitate Rhett Bomar. It was quite an experience, but what a terrible letdown. The next day I went to Giants Stadium to watch my favorite two soccer teams face-off; Argentina vs. USA. I scalped some tickets for $40 before the game and moved down to midfield in the lower level. A lot of the players parents and family were in my section, to give you an idea of how clutch these seats were. The USA played above their heads and managed a 0-0 tie. If the Yanks had a striker who wasn't as god-awful as Eddie Johnson they could have won.

For the last week Natalie has been in town before she starts work. We went sake bombing with some friends, explored the Natural History Museum, and went to a Mets-Rangers doubleheader. It was perfect weather and we had a blast. Front row seats behind the Mets dugout didn't hurt the whole experience. This week we went to Central Park and tried to take advantage of all the cool restaurants and shops in the East Village. Last night we saw a free opera preformed by the Met in Prospect Park. We brought out some wine and cheese and had a blast.

I am still searching for a job, hopefully I find something this week.

Picture time

Here is New York

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.

-E.B. White