Tracking my Travails via iTouch

Life has been a bit of a hoot lately, as if you weren't getting that idea from the odd postings. Whose feathers are flying? This girl.

Pillow at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I like the fabric.

My brain has been a bit static-y, and the glare from the monitors at work and then the iTouch screens have short-circuited my creativity from time to time.

Not my photo, but can't remember where I found it online.

Then there is the fact that I've been stuck in my "cube," underground, and it's been grey - well, even the tourist bureaus have figured out how to target their marketing on the Times Square Shuttle.

The changing weather has given the view from the Attic a variety of ever changing vistas, from snowy Marches on the escape, to wishing I was small enough to curl up in a brief patch of sunlight, to rosy dusks after the storms.

If you watch long enough, you can track the perambulations of this family down the snowy street and then perfectly frame up the inevitable slipping and slow fall of a young explorer as she trudges along with the adults. It's not fall, honey. It's still winter. The spring in your step will come soon. (The groundhog lied!)

The calendar flipped to March and there was a brief flurry of spring cleaning, between the flurries, probably brought on by the Return of the Laundry Cart Celebrations. They are irregular, these celebrations, so it's important to mark the return of the wandering carts by doing loads of laundry and then unearthing the piles of ironing that have been ignored under hurricane supplies and other detritus from trips to Connecticut. It was in CT that I "rescued" an iron from it's lonely, forelorn existence in an empty house. It's been sitting keeping my old rusty iron company, until LCC weekend, when Mr. Rusty was left in the laundry room for a new owner. Turns out, you shouldn't have done that (Hal), because, .... well, there is no easy way to say this. The new iron is a Cylon. (And not the hot Anders model either.)

Oh yeah, it's out to get me. No doubts about it.

I've been spending so much time in the City. It's time to get away, but I'm not sure when or where yet.

Contrary to the advertising on another Times Square Shuttle, it won't be Arizona, no matter how appealing it might be to hang my hat on an antler rack. (Yes Arizona. You wrapped 4 subway cars and this was my take-away. Sorry.).

What?

This.

The trip to the Bed Bath and Beyond nearby wasn't much of a help in me trying to find some "inspiration," "pep," or "eye candy." I ended up looking at pillows that, well ... Come on. This is a little too much. I know where I live near and work. I don't need a throw pillow - unless I want to use it to smother myself.

Maybe I need recreational "play" therapy? I know, I'll build something.

Oh wait. This seems familiar somehow.

It's Grand Central.

Okay. Okay. I didn't make this replica of Grand Central. It's on display in Grand Central as part of the 100th Anniversary celebrations. It's made of Lego® bricks created and presented by LEGOLAND Discovery Center Westchester. These iTouch photos don't do it justice. The details are amazing. Look at the eagle hovering over the 42nd street corner entrance and the people taking photos of it. On the right is the photo I took during 2012 Summer Streets.

I usually don't have a lot of time to kill between trains, but one night I got a call for a research project just as I was packing up (90 minutes after the rest of the office had scattered off for the evening) and ended up missing one train. I had a good 20-30 minutes to wait, so I finally had time to take in some of the other exhibitions that Grand Central has put up as part of Grand Central: 100 Years.

I'm glad I had a chance to poke around Vanderbilt Hall at: 

Grand by Design: A Centennial Celebration of Grand Central Terminal

February 1, 2013 - March 13, 2013 | Open Daily, 8am-10pm 

It was illuminating.

"A dramatic, multi-media installation on Grand Central Terminal's century long lifespan will be the centerpiece of the Centennial celebration revealing how the iconic building, on the verge of changing the way New Yorkers travel over the next decade, shaped modern New York and determines its future."

Just a few things from the exhibition.

So much better than modern typography

Vintage Trains

I told Kari that if I had a time machine, I would go back and hop on this train to come and see her. Then I thought better. If I had a time machine, I'd be inventing a freaking transporter, so I could beam myself there. Or go ahead in time and learn what part of my brain contols teleportation, so I could beam myself there without a transporter.

Anyway, here are photos of displays about how the Terminal was saved and some of the architectural components.

And I thought I had baggage!

Do you see how they worked the train in here?

Good use of vertical space

12 years on, and these types of displays about the history and impact of September 11, 2001 still make me cry. The stories and names are so familiar. I am so grateful that the MTA and MetroNorth originally had these, preserved them, and they are used for important exhibitions like these. We can never forget.

The Grand Central Theatre may no longer be part of Grand Central, but I would argue that is actually still is, but not the way you would expect. (For an excellent post on the original Grand Central Theatre, please see Emily's post over on I Ride The Harlem Line. Emily is a TRUE rail fan, and has many good contacts at MetroNorth to inform her posts.)

Grand Central. Entrance through Railroad Station:

To the craziest theater of human drama you could ever want to expect. If you find a good spot, you can observe the entire gambit of emotions in just minute or two: sorrow, anger, angst, aggravation, love, romance, pathos, hunger, harrassment ... the list goes on and on. You can merely observe or ... throw yourself into the narrative, dodging and weaving and wending your way into someone else's train tales. The story is ever evolving and never ending.

This is just an iTouch tale of my journey across the Terminal Theatre to catch the 7:07, a preferred express with a jovial conductor (seen on the right), who breaks up the doldrums of commuting by addressing almost every passenger with "thanks" and then: sport, junior, curly, lady, miss, princess, or some other non-offensive smile-inducing noun, i.e. Thanks, Princess.  I like it. I told him he can call me Miss all he wants, and it's a good day, anyday, to be a Princess. Heads come up out of devices, bonding occurs, grins pass around, and for at least a minute, camaraderie is established. If only more of us could find such bonhomie on our daily commute.

But until then, and until it's warmer, light out later, and I can walk and/or escape to the Garden, this is how I spent a lot of my theraputic weekends. Mixing, stirring, chopping, and baking the winter blues away.

Oh, and fretting about blogging. Not enough hours in a weekend.