What a strange spring here in the northeast. Today we’re having a nor’easter which, if it happened in February, would have given everyone a snow-day, but since it happened in May the result was snarled traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike and bad tempered drivers. I am one of those drivers. I arrived at the office in ill humor from my hour plus slog through the swamps. I loathe car commuting for a variety of reasons; books on tape cannot replace books on paper, burning all that gas makes me feel horribly guilty (and poor) and I invariably arrive at my destination (be it work or home) in a worse mood than the one I was in when I started my trip. I can always tell when I’ve been pushed too far when I start yelling back at the radio, especially since all I listen to is NPR.
Compared to my last commute-bike to the ferry terminal, Staten Island Ferry, walk to the office-my present meanderings through New Jersey aren’t much fun. However, all it not lost. Hopefully I can soon trade the Nissan for a daily ride on the Long Island Railroad. (Did I actually just equate the LIRR with some sort of commuting Shangri-la?) Erin and I looked at a few apartments in Great Neck out on the Island this past Saturday. Great Neck is a curious place. Despite a somewhat snooty suburban reputation, the town has a very green and semi-urban feel to it. Mixed density housing, a pedestrian friendly main street and a small park with a band shell give Great Neck the feeling of small town America that is still only a 25 minute train ride from Manhattan.
Another interesting factoid, as of the 2000 census Great Neck was the second most Iranian place in the United States with 21.1% of its population reporting Iranian ancestry. Practically speaking this equates to good falafel and shwarma-very important if you have been subjected to as much mediocre southern Italian food as I have since moving to Staten Island. This may be a matter for discussion in another post. the food on Staten island is pleantiful but rather uninspired. I've taken to doing a lot more cooking, though only as much as I can accomplish with a baby hanging off my leg. Most people are familiar with Great Neck since it (specifically Kings Point) was featured by Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby. In the novel it was thinly disguised as "West Egg", in counterpoint to Port Washington's more posh "East Egg." Needless to say I have not been running about pricing waterfront mansions in the style of the roaring twenties. Great Neck also has a number of well-kept apartment buildings with rents much cheaper than Manhattan, although not cheap by the standards of anyone other than a New Yorker. There are also numerous child-care options and good, reasonably priced restaurants. We'll see what happens.
I took Jack over to Long Beach on Sunday on our way out to Erin’s aunt’s house. He was at the beach down in Asbury briefly last summer, but I doubt he remembers it since he was so young. He didn’t quite know what to make of all the sand and the water but he seemed pretty interested in the goings on. He was plucking shells and throwing sand and doing all the things one expects toddlers to do at the beach. I took off his shoes and socks and let him run around some. Extracting the sand from between his toes and fingers proved to be a royal pain in the ass, especially since it was cold and I couldn’t run him under the beach shower. I let his feet air-dry on the walk back to the party. We’ll have to go back when it gets warmer.
Compared to my last commute-bike to the ferry terminal, Staten Island Ferry, walk to the office-my present meanderings through New Jersey aren’t much fun. However, all it not lost. Hopefully I can soon trade the Nissan for a daily ride on the Long Island Railroad. (Did I actually just equate the LIRR with some sort of commuting Shangri-la?) Erin and I looked at a few apartments in Great Neck out on the Island this past Saturday. Great Neck is a curious place. Despite a somewhat snooty suburban reputation, the town has a very green and semi-urban feel to it. Mixed density housing, a pedestrian friendly main street and a small park with a band shell give Great Neck the feeling of small town America that is still only a 25 minute train ride from Manhattan.
Another interesting factoid, as of the 2000 census Great Neck was the second most Iranian place in the United States with 21.1% of its population reporting Iranian ancestry. Practically speaking this equates to good falafel and shwarma-very important if you have been subjected to as much mediocre southern Italian food as I have since moving to Staten Island. This may be a matter for discussion in another post. the food on Staten island is pleantiful but rather uninspired. I've taken to doing a lot more cooking, though only as much as I can accomplish with a baby hanging off my leg. Most people are familiar with Great Neck since it (specifically Kings Point) was featured by Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby. In the novel it was thinly disguised as "West Egg", in counterpoint to Port Washington's more posh "East Egg." Needless to say I have not been running about pricing waterfront mansions in the style of the roaring twenties. Great Neck also has a number of well-kept apartment buildings with rents much cheaper than Manhattan, although not cheap by the standards of anyone other than a New Yorker. There are also numerous child-care options and good, reasonably priced restaurants. We'll see what happens.
I took Jack over to Long Beach on Sunday on our way out to Erin’s aunt’s house. He was at the beach down in Asbury briefly last summer, but I doubt he remembers it since he was so young. He didn’t quite know what to make of all the sand and the water but he seemed pretty interested in the goings on. He was plucking shells and throwing sand and doing all the things one expects toddlers to do at the beach. I took off his shoes and socks and let him run around some. Extracting the sand from between his toes and fingers proved to be a royal pain in the ass, especially since it was cold and I couldn’t run him under the beach shower. I let his feet air-dry on the walk back to the party. We’ll have to go back when it gets warmer.
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