movin' on up

I've been seeing my internist (Stephanie Rein) for over 20 years. I like her very much and think she's a great diagnostician.

She tells me I'm part of the OG. "Old Gang," she says. But then modifies it to a more palatable, "Original Gang."

When I first started seeing Dr. Rein, she shared an office with one other doctor, in a low-frills basement on the Upper West Side. 

When I would call, it would take less than 30 seconds to reach a real person.

When I arrived for my appointment, the wait was never long. The office never busy.

When I needed an appointment, it was easy to get.

And I was usually in and out in under an hour,

A couple of years ago, Dr. Rein became part of a large group of medical professionals called Langone Women's Health.

She now works in a sleek, modern, multi-floor mid-town office. 

Today is my annual wellness check-up. 

I wait in a busy waiting area. All beautifully appointed and spacious.

But some of the people are really annoying. 

One older woman is talking on her phone with the speaker on. She's loud. The call is long and purely social. She's discussing the French Open, hardly a call that needs to be made.

Another woman appears to be dictating a very long story into her phone. I don't think she is even talking to anyone, It's like she's reading off a script.

And then some older guy is doing arm exercises while he waits.

Finally, my name is called.

The 20 minute or so appointment all goes well. I am asked to wait and someone will call me to take my blood. "It shouldn't be more than 15 minutes."

35-minutes later my name is called. (But only after I complain about the much-longer-than anticipated wait).

My blood is taken quickly and I'm done.

Before leaving, I ask to schedule my next year's annual appointment. This way I can avoid the million-prompt menu.

"Sometime in late May," I request.

The earliest we have is July 7th."

And two hours after arriving I'm done.

I love my doctor but sure miss her old basic place.

on being a minor true crime junkie

I am not one of those online crime-solvers. But the subject does fascinate me. 

I read a fair amount of fictional crime thrillers.

And I'm a loyal viewer of Dateline and Law & Order SVU, and other like shows and movies.

So when I hear there's a pop-up exhibit in NY called Inside the Mind of a Serial Killer, I know I want to go. 

I am kind of embarrassed that this appeals to me, but the good reviews in reputable media outlets slightly lessen the ick-factor.

When I mention the exhibit to Robin, she shocks me by saying she'd like to go too. So a couple of weeks ago we buy timed tickets for today. We meet at 11 near Union Square, on a ridiculously hot, 88-degree day.

Were it not for the sign on this nondescript building, the exhibit would be easy to miss. 

The inside, though, is well-lit with unsettling headlines everywhere.

Photography is encouraged.

The first large room we enter focuses on how techniques for catching serial killers has evolved over the years. No DNA. No ring cameras. No easy recording or phone devices, etc.  

Parts of the room are a bit kitschy, but it doesn't detract from our experience.

We leave this room and find ourselves entering what-feels-like an endless number of other rooms, each focusing on a different murderer. A lot of care and creativity went into the writing and recreations. 

The last part involves wearing VR headsets to "try and solve a mystery." Having never tried VR before, I found it fascinating.

Overall, the exhibit is both disturbing and informative, and worth the two plus hours we spend there. 

Living in a big city somehow feels safer to me than being on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

But wherever I find my self, I always always make sure all the doors are locked.

belated Mother's Day brunch

Alexander and I celebrate Mother's Day today, a week after its official date.

I google "best pancakes in NY" and The Clinton St. Baking Company is at the top of every list. Also is mention of the fact that the restaurant doesn't take reservations for Sunday brunch and the line is always long.

Undeterred, that's the place I chose.

We are meeting at 11. I exit the subway on the lower east side and ask somewhere where Clinton Street is. "Are you looking for that breakfast place?" the stranger asks. I answer yes, and he knows exactly where it is, though he's never been. "The wait's ridiculous."

I arrive on time and see Alexander has arrived before me.

He greets me with, "It's a one and half to two hours wait. Where else can we go? We're not staying here."

I leave it up to him to find an alternative because, after all, this is our Mother's Day brunch. Alexander does a quick google search and finds a Nordic-inspired eatery in the East Village called Smør, with "a 4.6 rating." He calls, and if we can get there within 15 minutes (we can) and be out within an hour (we can) we are encouraged to come.

It's packed outside, which is a good sign. The place is tiny, busy, and looks great.

We get a very small table in the front (I have to sneak photos of him; he does not like posing).

Though he's fine behind the camera.

The food is great. Not exactly the pancakes I imagined (no maple syrup even) but still very good.

what's the right answer?

Every Tuesday, since last September, I've been going to OsteoStrong. It's a free benefit I get from my insurance. 

According to its website, 

OsteoStrong® works ... to promote skeletal strength which impacts the entire body in many ways using a process known as Osteogenic Loading.

Translated this means: I only need to go once a week for a few minutes and this should stimulate bone density.

The place I go to on Park Avenue is staffed by a competent and friendly group of young women. The best part, for me anyway, is that it takes about 7-8 minutes to use all four machines. I wish all exercise programs could be done this quickly.

There are certain triggers to pass, and I am accompanied to each machine by a staff member who oversees my positioning. And after each session I am emailed a report showing how I did.

I am not sure if this is effective or not, but there is no downside in doing it. And it makes me feel as if I am doing something good for my bones.

Today I go. The very helpful staff appears to be in their mid-20's or so.

I arrive early and must wait a few minutes.

I finish reading today's paper and ask, "Does anyone want to read this before I throw it out?"

"I haven't read a paper in years," says one of the young trainers. "Is it any good?"

Is it any good?

I am not  sure how to respond, as I don't understand the question.

Does she mean, "Is The New York Times a good paper?"

Or maybe she means, "Is reading a real paper actually better than reading a digital one?"

Could she mean, "Can I really trust what the paper reports?"

But I think she means, "Is the news any good?"

So I confidently answer YES and hand her The Arts and Science sections only. 

today it's red hook

Susan and I chose Red Hook as our monthly NYC neighborhood adventure. (Jill can't join us as she's participating in a 17-mile walk across five Manhattan bridges). 

Traipsing around Red Hook is a lot easier. I have never been, and picture this section of Brooklyn as a quaint village with a seaside vibe. 

Except it doesn't really feel that way.

It's not very pretty. And feels more industrial than quaint.

The stores range from small, cool artisanal shops to unappealing vintage places where the clothes and plates and things look like they could have come from someone's style-less home.

We walk to the waterfront where Lady Liberty can be seen from afar. 

We browse a small gallery where two artists have created impressive collages from paper.

We spend a fair amount of time at Apotheke, an interesting fragrance studio with many eclectic, unrelated items.

We love some of the leather totes and small pouches at a leather shop called Polt Atölye. Like many of the stores here, the work is done on the premises.

We wish we could afford the gorgeous cabinetry of Leicht, a high-end German kitchen brand that has a storefront on Van Brunt.

We go to Red Hook's well-known key lime pie shop, but use restraint and buy nothing.

And we are amused by this sign on Fro Bakehouse (which isn't open). 

We visit the Pinball Museum and meet one of its friendly owners (in the red shirt).

And then finally, we drive a short distance to what ends up being our favorite stop of the day.

Located on a side street in an industrial-looking area...

we find what we have come for — Raaka Chocolate Factory.

Along with another couple who are there, we are encouraged by the very nice, knowledgeable and no-pressure sales guy to sample the many many bowls of chocolate bits. 

The chocolates (mostly dark) have unusual names like Sugar Cookie, Rose Saffron, Maple & Nibs, and Earl Grey, to name just a few. They are vegan, relatively healthy as far as chocolates go, and are exceptionally good. 

This time I show little restraint.

on being ridiculous

I am meeting a couple of friends in the West Village for an early dinner, and a play after.

Nearby is a place called Benji's Buns. The only thing they sell are cinnamon buns of different varieties. They are expensive, large and good, not amazing (as I later will conclude). 

Each bun is packed in an eco-unfriendly styrofoam box.

The server asks, "Would you like a bag to put that in?" 

"Sure," I reply, as I don't want the container to open and spread gunk inside my tote.

I use my card, sign the bill, and leave. Later, I receive the receipt.

I expect to pay the unseemly price of $10.50 for a single bun.

I do not expect to pay 15 cents for a single-use small paper bag.

But then I think how ridiculous I am being.

I pay $10.50 for a just-okay cinnamon bun that anywhere else on this planet would cost half that, and then get annoyed that I have to pay 15 cents for a single-use paper bag. 

I look forward to my next trip to the Cape. The West Falmouth Market has better cinnamon buns for about $4. And, they don't charge for brown bags.