What’s mine is yours

One of the many enjoyable aspects of living in NYC is the fact that you can dispose of any unwanted item, large or small, by simply placing it on the sidewalk in front of your apartment building, and it will rarely go to waste. Usually, the sidewalk is where the garbage goes to get picked up by sanitation, but the sidewalk is also a fantastic place to donate perfectly decent but nevertheless unwanted goods to any lucky person that happens to walk by. Anything from furniture to electronics ends up on the sidewalk, and more often than not, these items get snatched up by someone else. It's like a very efficient recycling program. For example, a few years ago my husband Ethan dragged home an old elementary school desk, which was left on the sidewalk. It has since served as our coffee table. An excellent find.

We too have offered up many items to the sidewalk shoppers. Mostly, these items included bulky furniture which we were unable to drag up the steps of our walk-up apartment when we moved to LIC. The speed at which these pieces disappeared was incredible - especially so for this huge bed frame that Ethan had once constructed out of two-by-fours and plywood. We left it to die on the sidewalk, and within a couple of hours, it had magically disappeared. This sort of thing never would have happened in the suburbs of Ohio.

There is a downside to all of this wildly free, anonymous commerce. Bedbugs. From what i understand, bedbugs are a bit of a problem in larger cities where people live in such close proximity to one another and are willing to take other people's potentially infested furniture off the sidewalk and bring it into their own, as yet uninfested apartments. Thoughtful people try to follow a protocol in these situations. I have often walked past furniture on the sidewalk that bore large signs warning potential takers that the furniture contained bedbugs. Usually, however, people offer very little information on the background of their donated items. Simple guidelines do exist that can help one determine how risky a sidewalk treasure may be. The obvious red flag is if the object of interest is lying in or adjacent to bags of actual garbage. If this is the case, it is fair to assume that the one who dumped the item there knows that there is something very undesirable about the item in question, and it is best to give the abandoner of that item the benefit of the doubt. Conversely, if the item is deliberately placed at a considerable distance from a pile of garbage, it is the donater's way of saying "this is a decent item and is, to the best of my knowledge, devoid of anything particularly foul." Still, it's taker beware.

My most recent donation to the land of free-sidewalk-goods was a perfect candidate for streetside abandonment. It was a wedding gift. It was something that, due to my Catholic upbringing (and guilt), i could not bring myself to actually throw away, even though i am not religious and i find items such as this to be completely...well, undesirable. What was this item? Well, it was...it was...why is it so hard to write this?.....it was .... a crucifix attached to a plaque with images of, um, our lord & savior and his uh, mom. And they were those images where they look sad. Oh god.

So i didn't want this thing. Assuming there is a hell, i know i'm going to it, but man, this thing was horrible to behold. i had to get rid of it. But i just couldn't throw it away. So what did i do? i put it in a box, wrote "free jesus" on the lid, and put it on the sidewalk propped up against a tree.

And a few hours later, it was gone.

Snapped Off!

Glad that's over.

Consider the Urban Stalactite

Everyday when i commute to work, and i stand on the subway platform at the 5th Ave./Bryant Park station waiting for an uptown B or D train, i cannot help but stare at this urban stalactite:



It doesn't matter what i'm thinking about, if i am listening to music or reading a book, when i reach the part of the platform where i habitually stand and wait for the train, my eyeballs subconsciously drift upward and fix upon this grotesquely beautiful formation. The thing is, now i can't avoid looking at it. I have to look at it. It's become compulsive. Why? Why?

I enjoy cave formations and i like to think about how something can evolve so painfully slowly out of deceptively simple drops of water. I wonder what is the mineral composition of this urban stalactite versus natural stalactites. I wonder how long it will take the formation to grow long enough that it will be snapped off by the subway train that passes only a few inches directly below it. I wonder what is the disgusting crap that appears to be oozing out of the pipe to which the stalactite is attached.

These and other stalactite-related musings pass through my brain as i stand there and stare upwards at this thing which is both revolting and lovely all at the same time, until my train arrives and takes me to work.

Giving Blood

Today i gave blood. I love giving blood. It's awesome. And i don't think i really care if that sounds freakish. Sure, they stick you with needles and drain you of your precious, self-produced, life-giving cocktail, but i still find the whole process kind of....fun?

In the past when i've given blood, it's been at school blood drives thoughout high school and college. Today i went to an actual established blood donation center. It was located, weirdly enough, in the middle of the Port Authority bus terminal. I wonder how many people are waiting around for their bus to Boston or Secaucus, spot the NY Blood Center amid the various eateries and snack bars, and think "hey, I've got some time to kill..."

There is apparently a perk to donating in a fixed blood donation center. The big cushy recliners. If you give blood at say, a school blood drive, you have to sit in an ordinary poolside rubber lawnchair. These pale in comparison to the big, comfy, bed-esque recliners that adjust electronically up and down. Being the sort of person that gets excited about dumb little things, i was pretty jazzed about these luxurious seats. According to one of the nurses, i had blood-platelet donors to thank for these upgrades. Donating platelets can take up to 1.5 hours, necessitating a more comfortable chair.

One of the great little things about giving blood is that every time you donate, you have to get a mini physical exam. Totally free. You get to know your blood pressure, temperature, pulse, and hemoglobin count (for what that one's worth). As far as i'm concerned, who needs to pay for a wellness exam at a doctor's office? I've got some normal vitals, and i'm good to go.

Almost every time i give blood, i nearly pass out. I've never actually fully lost consciousness. Generally, i start to feel short of breath and i get dizzy, my heart rate increases and i feel myself getting pale(er), tingly, clammy, and then suddenly my vision starts to go, at about the same time that my hearing cuts out. Nurses are quick to spot a potential fainter, and i'm one of those. I always know i'm looking pasty when a nurse asks me if i feel all right while simultaneously elevating my legs and lowering my head. The coolest part of the whole experience is the vision loss. It's just like those old school tv sets. Everything starts to go black around the edges and then slowly closes in on the center until there is nothing. Losing consciousness in this way is extremely unpleasant but also wildly fascinating. Although my body is in a state of panic and some systems are working overtime while other parts are shutting down, my mind is rather calm and i feel somewhat detached from the experience, quietly observing this or that strange sensation. It's pretty neat.

For some reason, this time, i did not almost pass out. Maybe it was the Jamba Juice i had just prior to donating, which perhaps raised my blood sugar enough to fortify me against loss of consciousness. Who knows. I was a little disappointed though.

After giving blood, you are then offered juices and snacks. And i cannot think of a time when i gave blood that they did not have Lorna Doone shortbread cookies. And i kind of love these cookies. I don't believe i have ever had Lorna Doone's apart from blood donating, but every time i give blood and i am faced with a variety of free and limitless snacking options, i always go for these delicate, buttery little squares of sweet, crispy deliciousness.

Nothing hits the spot after being jabbed with needles and being sapped of your life essence like Lorna Doone shortbreads.

When i left the blood donation center and stumbled out of the Port Authorty and onto the sidewalk, i noticed i was experiencing post-blood- giving euphoria. That is to say, i felt strangely giddy. I needed to ride out this wave of ecstacy in a place that was full of activity. So i wandered up and over to the nearest point of interest, Times Square, (dumb idea in retrospect) but it seems even my blood-loss induced elation could not make the utter obnoxiousness of Times Square and its hordes of gawking tourists bearable. And my euphoric state wore off quickly and gave way to an urgent desire to find some place soft and warm in which to curl up and take a nap. So i left the throngs of people and hyperactive commercialism and jumped on the 7 train back home to LIC, where i indulged in a very lovely little sleep.