Backseat driver

Last night, whilst enjoying a 

Tito's martini and the company of Clayton at a new (to us) local bar, our new bartender friend put on the soundtrack to the new movie "Drive".... Now, I love Ryan Gosling. Just last week we enjoyed his performance in "The Ides of March." What a standup guy, right?

OK. So, of course I've been wanting to see "Drive". The music, the fast cars, the Gosling....But it did look like it might lend itself to violence. And ever since I was a little girl, I have not been able to see scary movies, or violent movies. They slay me. No pun...

But after a couple cocktails last night, our bartender convinced me that this was a "great movie, and just close your eyes, and its not that gory".....What a lying sack of sheeyat.  

Natasha told me not to see this flick. And she knows first hand what its like to sit next to me in a movie that freaks me out. It's fairly embarrassing for anyone who knows me. Pacing up and down the aisles, trying to make jokes to my neighbor in order to conceal my tears, running to the lobby to tell the manager of the Los Feliz theatre that this movie was "way too violent for kids. AND adults".....

Yes my friends, this kind of behavior was all typical at last night's 9:40 showing. The picture above is where I spent 60 percent of the movie. On my knees, crouched behind the last row of seats, screaming "SHIT, NO, OH MY GOD, NO!!!!! WHY??????!!!!!"....

When the movie was over, I felt faint and woozy. Poor Clayton felt so bad. "Why did we see this if you were going to react this way?" 

My response was "you wanted to. And Craig the bartender said it wasn't so bad!! and I thought I had had enough alcohol to numb my nerves!!"....

I know its the movies. I know. But everything looked and sounded (even with my ears plugged) so realistic and horrifying. It's just that I already have terrible anxiety. These movies make it worse. And while yes, there were truly beautiful moments, sweeping cinematography, and cool music, my fear was paralyzing. 

So with that, valium here I come.

fuck off sunshine (she said yesterday)

Yesterday, I had a callback for a So Cal Honda commercial. After driving out to Santa Monica, and waiting with other blue polo shirts for over an hour, I went in.  And after slating my name, this is what the director says to me:
"Oh Kate. You can't fool us. We see there's a pretty girl behind those glasses".... ie: you aren't quirky enough for the part of cashier girl. ie: you should probably just leave...
To which I respond with that weird, coy, shy thing that I do at all the wrong times. I give him a little giggle, bur really I wanted to run over there and squeeze him by the neck and say "do you know how many ugly faces I can make? Fuck you, commercial director. I am quirky. I am not the pretty one, ok? Get it?~~~~~ FUCKING GET IT!!!!!!!!????????

SO, after that bomb, I get back into my car, and begin to drive. This is one of those times in NYC where I would have jammed my earbuds in, plugged in some music that makes me want to cut myself, and light up.

This is simply not to be achieved in sunny California.
Ha, I used to say I moved to New York because San Diego was like a fucking BBQ at the beach every day. Turns out, still is.
As I comfortably cruised in my shiny ford focus,  and desperately told my blue tooth audio to find me something drab, it just wouldn't. I even lit up a cigarette on the 10 East. That didn't help. That just made me feel like one of those trashies who smokes in their car.  Not like in New York where when you're walking down a grimy, trash filled street, you smoking the cigarette just looks and feels glamorous. Especially when you're crying.
Anyways. I settled on my new favorite country station, 105.1 check it out, and decided I wasn't going to be able to reach that level of comforting wallow for the day.

It's hard out here in that sense. I miss my own rain cloud that I would drag behind me like a dead dog. I miss my spouts of tears in the middle of the afternoon. I miss missing California.

Guess I'll just have to saddle up to my man, enjoy our Los Feliz love nest, and stop complaining.
But just for kicks : Fuck you commercial director. I can be awkward. Just you wait.

god damn you new york

I have a friend who has also just moved out here to Los Angeles. We've both been here since about May/June, and it's funny. Her life in New York wasn't that great. She had no job, she was depressed, and wondering what the what to do with her time. Her life. The time of her life.
Yeah, so now she's here. Has a job. Friends. Lives closer to her family. But she isn't that happy. What's the dilly-o???
And I hate to say it, but sometimes I feel a bit of the same.
"I miss New York every day," she says. She blogs about it. She blogs much more than I do, so I'll give her that. I also love her, so I'd give it to her anyways. But, its like, "friend, your life wasn't so hot back in New York?" and she'll be the first to admit this. but .... then... so.... WHY DO WE STILL MISS IT? I mean, I can't even begin to go there right now. I'm just writing to pass the time until these lame-ohs below stop talking about motorcycles. Which have been around for a long time.


I know New York will be there. I plan on going back at some point. But as my friend Joey says, "buddy, next time, it's on our terms."

So until that happens, I'll keep pumping my gas, lighting a fire under my ass (this happens away from the gas station)....and keep on looking forward.
Besides, I've gotten really good at casually suggesting "did we save room for dessert?"

so......

today

I don't really know what to say. You know when you're hungover, and you have to go to work in two hours, and you kind of hate your life? That's me right now. But what makes it worse, is looking at pictures of friends on the internet. Just clicking and scanning down the creases and the colors of their jackets and their faces, and their weight loss....or their weight gain. Seeing lives that you don't know anything about anymore. I'm pretty sure this emotionally depleting process has prolonged my hangover.

I have really wonderful people in my life. But sometimes you look at pictures of the people that might have stayed in your life longer. It's weird.  Friends who were friends for 5 months, or a year and a half.... then fizzle into the abyss.

Meh.

sweet people

It was a long week for me here in L.A. I just started a job at a restaurant as a hostess/runner. Yes, I occasionally run food with the strong Mexican men. Oh don't worry, I already spilled the tuna poke on a guy. So that's covered. I've had some good auditions, met some good people, but there's always the risk of meeting the intolerable asshole. Especially in a restaurant. Needless to say, it's just been a little stressful. But thankfully, there were sweet moments. And they must not go unrecognized. 

The other day my phone went "ding ding"...  I was running out the door, and had been texting with my boyfriend, and I was certain that this incoming ding ding was about to be a picture of the beautiful beach he was sitting on (well, beach) in Long Island. Here I was, begrudgingly about to begin my day of serving assholes, wishing that I, too, could be on a beach (even in Long Island).... Well, to my surprise, this was what I was sent. (see photo above) I love him. 

The other night at work, while bein' my hostess with the mostess, I had the privilege of meeting a really nice couple.  I had promised them a booth (you want a booth) at our restaurant. They said "no worries, we'll just have a drink at the bar, and wait for the next available booth!" Well, the people who I thought were on their way out of said booth were actually just beginning their "lets take our shoes off after dinner and stay another 56 minutes to discuss something important" conversation, (coffee and senseless tearing of napkins included)... WELL, this lovely couple and I just kept conversing at the bar. Turns out the woman used to be a nurse at Children's Hospital in San Diego. She knew of my dad. They asked me about my whirlwind-ish life.. they seemed intrigued. And FINALLY, after the philosophers left,  I was able to seat Terry (awesome man) and Kelly (his awesome new wife) at their prized booth.
 At the end of the night, Terry handed me this (see picture above).... I almost cried. Someone cared. Someone cared that I tried to make their life easier. Someone told me I was adorable and lovely, and then went and told my manager. It didn't take much. But it was all I needed. Because let's be honest - sometimes, we all just need to be recognized. And appreciated. And if we're lucky,  have our initials spelled out in sea rocks on a beach in Long Island. 

Mango Kate

Last night I went to my friend David Daitch's house for the most amazing 7 course dinner he prepared for us. One of those delish delights involved mangos. And then I lost my glasses. So these helped...As you can see, I'm pretty busy here in Los Angeles. No big deal. 

my first week of life in Los Angeles

Well, its been a jam packed first week as a settled Los Angelite. Topanga Canyon, Culver City Farmer's market, Malibu, and Les Miserables at the Ahmanson to name just a few outings. Feeling a little exhausted the other day, I told Clayton, "I just need a night in!" Still haven't had that yet. But with so many wonderful friends here, perfect weather, and plenty to see and do, why bother. 

After living in New York for so long, I had forgotten just how delicious California produce can taste. Cherries!!!

Pink and green

Just beet it. Beet it. 

The Dodger game with Natasha, her dad Joel, and his friend Leonard. We had a blast..

until we started losing big time to the Astros. 

If you build it, he will come...

WITH ICE CREAM!!!!

up the hill

Tonight, while driving back to my parents house, I took a detour. I went up a road called Alto Drive, which I had remembered driving up once or twice with my mom at some point in our past. It's by no means a shortcut to my house, but I was in no hurry. "CAUTION: winding road - Approach at your own risk!"... Well now that's exciting! I don't usually attempt such things if I don't have to. I pressed on. And then for some reason, I got lost. Or, at least I thought I was lost. But I didn't mind. I was totally admiring these great houses that I didn't remember seeing before. Little and not so little splashes of architecture, sparkling pools, and lonely tennis courts. Each its own unique little jewel tucked away in the mountain side. And of course, the evening light. And well of course, the views of hills and earth-filled horizons out either window.
 The road began to get more and more narrow. At one point, I was creeping around the mountain with my eyebrows raised, heart a little jumpy. What the heck was going to be around the corner? A speeding car ? A bicycle built for two? Another road? At one point, I was fairly certain that I'd made a wrong turn somewhere, and the thought of turning around had crossed my mind. But I gave my trust to Alto Drive. I kept on going, and after a few more sharp turns, and winding arounds, I started to see houses up on the hill ahead that looked familiar. Familiarity. Certainty. My detour was approaching it's end.
 After I reached the road more traveled, I couldn't help but drive myself up to the top of Mt. Helix and park my car to the side of the rock wall. I've probably walked by this rock wall a million times. I've grown up taking walks up this hill and am accustomed to seeing other young ragamuffins parked to the side, taking in the view. Of course, they're usually accompanied by rich smells of cigarette smoke and weed to better take it all in.. But, I had to go watch the cloud cover come in from the coast. And I had to kind of smirk at myself. Because more often than not I'm scared and a little nervous about my journey. About the road I chose. About the destination ahead. But hell, my whole life is Alto Drive. A detour that leads somewhere beautiful. Well, I'm hoping at least.
So I was proud of myself for trusting my instinct tonight. I didn't turn around. I didn't freak out. I didn't even speed ahead... I just wound around, slow and steady, all the while taking in the wondrous surroundings. And I have to say: I liked it.

Sunday afternoon in my room....

The Parthenon, old movie in Spanish, Richard Gere, The Ab-doer twist aka "the non-workout workout", Senator Tom Coburn, tornado watch until 8pm in NW Ohio including Toledo, big black woman singing for church, buy this mop on QVC, Pirates vs. Cubs, the Samsung prevail available on HSN, Legally Blonde 2, John McCain on Fox News, George Banks and Frahhhhnk, book now at Atlantis Bahamas, animated wooly mammoth, a defined dining room area on HGTV *neutral colors now give it a fresher look, war movie, old movie, Andy Griffith, Bing and decide with your friends, the Pope, black and white fuzz....

think i'll go for a run now.

Sunday

I've been back in California for about 3 weeks now. Aside from my trip back east for a wedding with Clayton, I have been out of New York, and into make-up. I mean California. Where one wears make- up... well at least more than they are accustomed to.
Last night I went to a college friend's backyard birthday BBQ at her stunning home in Los Feliz. She shares this house with her darling fiance, and their two peppy pups. While I was having a wonderful time catching up with old college friends, who have also found themselves transplanted to LA, and enjoying the cool almost cold California nighttime air, I couldn't help but start to panic.
Yeah, you know panic... He comes and goes as he pleases, but this time he scared the bejesus out of me. You know sometimes when you fall unexpectedly, and you just feel sort of shocked after? Not to mention a little embarrassed, stupid and a bit foolish? Well, that happened to me last night. I lost my balance, and I fell backwards. Not a big deal. And while I'd hoped no one would notice the tears welling up behind my eyes, and choking behind my heart, one of my good friends did.
We stepped aside to a dark corner, and I realized that these tears were coming from that place of shit damn fuck what the fuck...I felt scared, and overwhelmed. This is all so new. I might never belong or feel comfortable. I've also been regretting not making this westward move so many years sooner. Maybe by now I too would be living in a house with a fiance and a pool. Those two usually come with the other, no? And yes, I realize that this all takes time, and that I haven't even officially moved to Los Angeles yet.  And I also realize that there is a wonderful man moving out here in hopefully only a few months time to be with me. So until then, I just have to find a place where I can hang my hat (literally, because you know I have to wear one out here in this sun), and call home for the time being.

But today, on this grey May Sunday, I woke up, looked at a possible sublet (it's a no), and drove myself back home to my folks' house as fast as I could. It's been a long weekend. Full of skinny girl margaritas, endless driving, and lots of eye make- up remover. I'll figure this out. But right now, I'm just happy to be home.
ps. thank you Heidi.

WeHo

A couple of days ago, I went up to Los Angeles for a meeting. I'm not officially moving up there until June, so there's just going to have to be a few up and downs until then. Upon my arrival, I met my friend Mike Hoagland at a hotel pool in West Hollywood, aka WeHo. Just when I thought I had left a city of Ho's...

The view from the hotel rooftop (where the pool also hangs out).

The pool. I refrained from swimming. Porcelain needs protection, you know. 

When I wasn't squirming under my umbrella to avoid the sun, I was posing for pictures. Someone put me in a vampire show already. I promise, I know how to work the night time...

California MEOW!

 I had a lovely morning the other day. The sun was hot, the umbrella was up, new book on my lap. But we have two other house guests here at Chateau Chadwick. Meet Henry and Charlie -- our little visitors from the east who are staying with us for a while. I love a cat. Or two..

la vista

Charlie

Henry

his fur was so soft and warm after lounging in the sun. MEOW!!!

so long big city

So long grimy, gritty. So long, eastern sun..

I'll miss your subway platforms. I always liked looking for the rats.

And I always looked both ways before crossing Grand.

I did really love to follow Brooklyn sunsets...

But this little red-haired girl has got to swing on home for now.  

 See you on the west coast. 

love, kate 

All over this country...

Sometimes, late at night, I remember various hotels. I remember that I used to lay my head down in Arizona, or Ohio, and I'd fall into the deepest sleep. I remember how sad I was. I remember how scared I was for it all to end, and to begin again. I remember that I fell in and out of love with the same person all over this country. He and I, me and him- we are stretched and spread so thin for thousands upon thousands of miles.
But this isn't about him. It's about me. There are little, tiny fragments of my heart in at least twenty-two states. And I just want them back. I think about driving around with a looking glass. I think about hiring a search and rescue. By whatever means necessary, I want those precious pieces of my most vital organ back. I want them back. Every single one.
So if you're in Austin, or San Francisco, or Portland, or even Norfolk, Virginia, and you see a swollen little piece of me fading and pulsing on the ground, please pick it up, put it in an envelope, and send it my way. You can facebook me for my address. That's fine. I just want those pieces back.

Thanks so much.

So Delicious

So Delicious
By Kate Morgan Chadwick

A take on food…

I love to eat. I love to eat really good food.  You know, I have friends who could eat spaghetti and meatballs or peanut butter and jelly for the rest of their days, and they’d have no problem with that.  (I mean, as long as they had some Gato Negro to wash it all down with, of course.) Hey, believe me, this is a much cheaper, and um….cheaper way to eat. But I think I’ve been spoiled.  When I was touring the country with a certain classic American musical (as an actor, mind you, not a foodie), I had the privilege of being able to dine in some of the finest cities, at some of the greatest restaurants in the country. I had the cash, I had the boyfriend who wanted to come along, and man did I have the appetite. Frenchy by night, delish diner by later night.  It was awesome.

There are a few of us young, artistic, financially struggling twenty somethings that, if we could, would be eating out at restaurants here in New York every night of the week. Hell, lunch too. Hell, who am I kidding?- breakfast, lunch and dinner! I am one of those people. And while I always notice a little more of my cushion doing a little more pushin’ when I’ve eaten out more in one week, I don’t really care. I realize I should be eating lean chicken (no sauce) and broccoli (no sauce) for dinner every night, according to certain lean machine gym gurus and of course, Jillian Michaels.  But I find that lifestyle to be a little dull. And hey, like I said, I’m an actress.  I gotta stay somewhat fit. And now that I’m moving to Los Angeles, I think that the term “somewhat fit” is probably an understatement. Whatever, this is NOT a diet manual.

Moving along..I’m no food blogger. I’m no expert. I have no degree in the culinary arts or writing for that matter. I just think I’ve had opportunities to taste REALLY good food in these past few years. And therefore, my palette has expanded. What once might have satisfied me on the fine dining spectrum, takes more of a doing now. I don’t just want a good steak anymore. I want it to melt in my mouth, make my heart beat a little faster, and I want it in every bite. I don’t eat my steak with diet coke anymore. I eat it with the biggest Cab I can find… or more often than that, can afford.
So I guess what I want to do here, is sample food at some of my local Williamsburg restaurants, and see what I can say about it.  I love to write. I love to eat. Let’s marry the two shall we? Oh and P.S.… I know its not the most eloquent phrasing, but as my friend so kindly pointed out, he said, "Kate, every time you love a restaurant we walk by, you simply point that way and say “SO Delicious!”… yeah. We’ll see if my foodie jargon improves, but there’s something about even just saying the word “delicious” and my mouth waters.  So with that, enjoy.
-Kate

The Pickle Plate
Available at Post Office, 188 Havemeyer Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 963-2574

You know when you just need a crunch in your mouth?  A pre-dinner bite? Nothing filling. Just a lil nosh to have with your cocktail…
Well, this is just the thing to order. Chef Sam Glinn has decided to pickle outside of the patch with this one. With other unexpected delights in here such as pear, cauliflower, beets, ginger, carrots, watermelon, blackberries, and my personal favorite, the pickled crimini mushrooms, your taste buds will be like, “yeah gimme more of that”. Of course, the open sore in my mouth (HEY, I like to bite my front lip occasionally) wasn’t exactly loving the briny suckers, but I sure was.
I sipped my Floridita cocktail (Ragged Mountain rye, maraschino liquor, and fresh lime juice) made by one of my new favorite Brooklyn bar keeps, Jeffrey. And while he said this cocktail is more typically made with a lighter rye whiskey, (they are getting more 'American spirits only' up on the shelf daily) I enjoyed the fresh, sour punch it gave me alongside my pickled pretties.

Le Comptoir 
251 Grand Street
Brooklyn, NY, NY 11211
(718) 486-3300

I bought a groupon here about a month ago. And yesterday, my friend and I decided to use it in search of bloggable food items, scrumptious fare, and as always, a few drinks.
So, this place sells itself as something French. Not like, rustic and butter French, but as I said to my friend, it seemed "more clubby, Tunisian French"… I don’t even know what I mean by Tunisian. But we’re going with it.
I order a quartino of the Bordeaux, my friend gets the Cab… We decide we like each other’s better, and switcharoo.  I am kind of the grass is always greener girl, and sometimes it works out.  Here comes the first course!

A seared, sushi grade tuna appetizer:

OK, first bite. Warm. The sauce on top: some bland mixture of mayonnaise and maybe a tepid jalapeno? Whatever this sauce was, it did absolutely nothing to enhance the flavor of the flavorless, warmish tuna. The tuna itself was prepared well, seared outside, raw middle. But I saved my calories for the next course, which was this:

*Foie Gras crème brule. I was major big time looking forward to this dish, hence my asterisk over there.  So now is probably a good moment to let you know that I am no supporter of PETA. I love our family dog, (enough). I like our cats (enough). And yes, I realize foie gras is about as controversial as it gets.  That being said, let me tell you how this all partied down in my mouth:
Really well, for the most part. So the dish is served in a traditional crème brule ramekin and it has the traditional  flame caramelized, “Lay off, I get to crack it open” top layer that sits delicately upon the surface. And so we CRACK! What lies beneath is an ultra smooth, velvety, creamy, seriously savory mousse. The whipped foie gras spread on a little warm baguette was heaven. But something is missing. Here’s what else I wanted: I wanted that top caramelized shell in every bite. Perhaps some candied kumquats or something to accompany the delectable mousse. Of course, we needed more toasted baguette, (Why do they never give you enough bread?) I was tempted to order a Riseling with this, not that I checked if they had one, but then I figured that I’d let the dish stand on its own. And lets be honest, I’m at restaurant on Grand Street, in a neighborhood started by Jews, not Napa Valley-ians… But I was in search of that contrast that I love so much when eating foie gras. You need that honey, that sweet blossom taste to heighten the deep, rich fatty succulence. Overall, this was my favorite dish of the night.   And the good thing about this dish is that it’s not pure foie gras. Not only would that rack up the cost, but since it’s so whipped and airy, you don’t have to feel how that poor little duck felt.  Yes, thank you little overly pumped duck. I’m sorry you had to die like that, but you were really delicious.  HEY LOOK OVER THERE! Oh you missed it, let’s move on.

to…
Short Rib with Parmesan Risotto
Ok, so this place keeps juuust missing it.  Well, actually this dish missed it by more than just a little. The short ribs were good. Not great. But pretty good. They could have been more tender.  Unfortunately, they were glopped onto this mass of starchy parmesan risotto.  And risotto always makes me nervous. I feel sometimes like I may as well just have cream of wheat with some cheese thrown in. This risotto, in particular, was pretty lame. Really bland. Really starchy. I mean, totally edible, just not so enjoyable.  And tell me if I’m wrong, but not something you’d typically find at a French/Tunisian/techno European restaurant either? I don’t remember France being big on the pasta. I feel like that was Italy. Who knows, I was drunk. Anyways, this dish, while comforting at best, does little to satisfy the palette. It did, however, take me back to Cafeteria Fridays in High School. There was always some “fancy” lunch we were given on Fridays. I’m pretty sure Lupita served this exact dish up with a big smile. Thanks Lupita. No thanks Le Comp.

So, after this, my friend wanted one more bite of something savory before dessert. We ordered the side of “Peas and Bacon”.  The peas were big and plump, and the broth they swam in was pretty good. The chicken broth (we think), butter, and the little chunks of bacon fat harmonized *total foodie word, pretty well together. At one point, in my attempt to “really taste” the broth, to my friend’s complete horror, I lifted the hot little bowl to my mouth, and went in for a hearty slurp. His eyes went bug wide, and then I realized that most proper food tasting people probably don’t do that. So then I did it again, just to make sure his eyes worked properly, and also I still couldn’t tell if it was beef or chicken broth in these damn peas. Overall, a fine little meal filler.

In between peas and dessert, we glanced around the room some more, and continued our initial contemplation of what the hell this place was trying to accomplish style wise? Our napkins were French country, our tables and wall mirrors black, glossy, and modern, and our waiter, a watered down Sasha Baron Cohen.  And apparently this place has a DJ on certain nights. So either I’m about as hip as a wicker basket, or this place is having a huge identity crisis.  But then, in an attempt to break up our confusion, dessert arrives! P.S. dessert is my favorite. I am that girl. I am the girl who wants dessert after breakfast.

I ordered The Floating Island: a soft whipped, egg white meringue delicately placed into a vanilla, condensed milky pool of delight. There were toasted slivered almonds floating nicely in there too. I loved the textural combination of the whipped island, the crunchy nuts, and the very sweet sauce.  But again, the only thing French here is the word “meringue”.. and it wasn’t even a real meringue. This dessert gives much more tribute to something con mas mucho sobroso, El Flan!

My friend ordered the “Prohibition Sundae”… not sure what was so prohibiting. The vanilla bean ice cream was lightly drizzled with dulce de leche (totally French) and I think a coffee liquor…well I guess, because they used that lil’ bit of alcohol, there lies our rub with the name.  My bad.
This was also good. Not as inventive as mine.  But really yummy. God, maybe I shouldn’t discuss desserts, because really, someone could pour a few packets of domino sugar in front of me, flambé that, and I’d be totally set. Also, the word yummy (used above) tends to make me cringe. Only because sometimes its used in more of a, how shall I put this delicately, sexual way? Whatever, it grosses me out. I won’t use it again.  Sorry.

So, overall, this place is probably worth a second try. People seem to be really keen on their $20.11 all you can drink brunch. But here’s my thing- with so many good restaurants around the hood, if the place doesn’t really knock your socks off, what’s the point of going back? Yes, we all like our neighborhood diners, delis and dives, but when it comes to going out for a new dinner, a new flavor, a new sensation, don’t we want it to be the best that it can be?  With that said, I think I'll let Le Comptoir sit on the back burner for now, but I wouldn’t mind going back if the opportunity presented itself. I’ll just be sure to bring my own candied kumquats.

birthdays and such..

Ah. the Birthday. Comes but once a year. And while the occasional half-birthday celebration can be fun, I don't partake too often. So...my friends know that I like my birthday. I like it a lot. It's perched at the beginning of Spring, and it's just such a perfect day. April 3rd. Perfect day to be born. 3 is just such a good number. And since I can remember, my mom has always gone well out of her way to make sure her little baby cream-pop had the most magical day. For example, when I turned 17, she blasted ABBA'S "Dancing Queen" on our totable boom box at six a.m. and danced me (and possibly the neighbors) awake before the school day..She couldn't wait for me to open my beautifully wrapped gifts, pour me some fresh squeezed, and kiss me on my way.  

It all just felt so good back then. Getting older was exciting. It was riveting even! But now, flash forward eleven years.  These past three birthdays... not so much? And not in the 'oh no i'm getting older' sense. But in the 'oh no i'm getting older, and nothing has changed!' sense...well that's not entirely true. Good people have passed away, happy couples have honeymooned, and little babies have crawled. But not for me. When my mom was my age (28, my friends).. she was married to her 2nd husband, and really beginning the life she had wanted to live. I'm not sure if my mom ever knew what she wanted, but I think she got it for the most part.  I guess I'm beginning to wonder what I want for myself. Or if I want anything at all? Or the scary part, if I'll ever get any of it...

Well, this past birthday weekend *yes, I gave myself the whole weekend, was pretty outstanding. I decided not to make any concrete party plans, and just go with the flow. There was sort of an outline, but definitely no birthday itinerary. Friday night, my friend TJ took me out and about the 'burg. We tasted wonderful food, and drank merrily, capping off the night with date cake at Moto. YES! I then had a Saturday morning workout in Ft. Greene, and took myself to brunch after that. I like to do that sometimes. Go out and eat a meal solo style. And then after a good scrub down of my apartment, MAGGIE CAME! Maggie is one of my dear college roommates, who has turned out to be a wonderful friend through out the years. We just haven't gotten to see enough of each other! But we had a great time meandering around the neighborhood all day, enjoying the last outstretched arms of sunlight before he said bye bye and hid behind the clouds.. 

And so into the night we went : great dinner at Rye, impromptu street art purchasing, and all around lower Manhattan Saturday night madness. Our other dear friend Christina joined up with us later, and ended up driving us back over the bridge into Williamsburg. Ah, sweet borough. I loved exiting Manahattan. All was much calmer. We three stopped at the best diner in the world for some late night fare. Well, actually, early morning birthday fare. 

And then, on Sunday afternoon, after saying bye to the college gals, I was treated to a matinee of "Anything Goes"  by my dear friend Heath. The show was just the perfect  birthday blend of tap dancing frothiness and musical delight. I smiled the whole time. Heath and I then hit up Aureole for a cocktail and some major couture bites of food. I so loved my afternoon with Heath. He is a true Texas gift in my life. xoxoxo to you Heathy baby!!

But then, my birthday still wasn't over! I had to rush home for my birthday dinner! My wonderful roommate and now darling friend Steph, made the most amazing meal for me, Colin, Steph's sister Anne Julia, and our neighbor Bryce. Salmon with fresh dill and creme fresh, roasted fennel, and to top it all off - a home made carrot cake with the best damn cream cheese frosting... I was in hog heaven. I can't even begin to express how lovely and kind that was of her. She's such a busy, hard working gal, and for her to do this--- I was just touched. I Love you Steph!

The beautiful Maggie.

view from Williamsburg river front. sparkly.

every girl should have a birthday banana split at the Kellogg Diner with her buddies at 2:30 am. 

the marvelous and darling Heath, everyone.

Joey sent me a hipster mustache. I love a mustache! I think I  handled  this one well...

So.. after all that. All that outpouring of love from people that I'm just so, SO lucky to have in my life- it was a wonderful birthday. Of course, it's still hard to think about what I want next for myself. I'd like to say its a meaningful relationship that leads to marriage and kids and the whole sha-bang. But alas, I know there are other exciting avenues yet to be explored. And hell, if by the time I'm 34 and I haven't popped out a kid yet, I'll just do it.  *u have it in writing, Michele... And while I will feel kinda bad bringing a life into our presently very unpredictable and scary world, in all reality we are just so damn lucky to be alive. So for now, I'll be glad for that. Because as my ridiculously brilliant/beautiful/poetic dad has always said to me : "Katie, Life: It's the only game in town."  So with that, Happy Birthday. To me. 

It's like riding a bike....

she prepares to mount..

So, today was a really great day for me. My dear neighbor, Bryce, is a bike man. Like, he knows his shit about bikes. Major. The other night, I rode around the park near our house for a few minutes. Just gettin my bike legs back. Ya see, when I was in 6th grade, I took the worst tumble down Rushville Lane, and I never really had the courage/guts/desire to get back on the damn thing. I've even tried a few times over the past decade in our front driveway in California, but always ended up using the garage door as my crash post (sorry for the marks, mom)... Anywhoo. This lil cruiser that Bryce has lent me is just the perfect thing. Small, and a little rickety. Sort of like yours truly. 

Today, we biked at least a mile over to a coffee shop in Bushwick. And I have to say, it's just rare, as an adult, to be able to do something that still makes you smile like you are ten again. And to do something that still scares you a little... The cold wind rushed against my face, but even the numbing sensation couldn't steal away my smile. Gosh, it feels so good to smile. And it feels really good to be back in the saddle. Or bike seat. 

And we're off! Like a hoid of toitles... *you're welcome mom

I'm comin' to getcha, I'm comin' to getcha!

Bliss.

Thanks Bryce man. xx

Rhinebeck

Last week, I took a little trip up to Rhinebeck, New York to visit my dear friend Tony. He recently purchased the sweetest lil' cabin, and has began the process of turning it into a lovely get away. We ate some grub, warmed our footsies by the fire, and explored some Hudson Valley nature in its last few weeks of frost. It was so good to get out of the city for a night, and drink some wine with one of my favorite people. Thanks Tony!!

la cocina

the darling bedroom I got to stay in. Cool masks!!

neat-o pictures on the wall.

view from the hallway into the kitchen/entry way

the Winter pond out back

sweet Tony

deer poopies!!!

an old friend

This past summer, I got back in touch with a very dear childhood friend of mine. Her name is Jessica. And now that we live four blocks away from each other in Brooklyn, I'd been hoping to bump into her more often. And thanks to Key Foods, today we did!
I ended up having a wonderful afternoon at Jessica's apartment, where she brewed us some fresh coffee, and we got to play catch up.
This kinda thing never happens anywhere else. And that's just one of the things I love about New York.
Pretty special that way.

nutella

i ate half a pint of nutella when i got home tonight. the world should know. know this, world : Katherine Morgan Chadwick ate HALF A PINT (or whatever the metric measurement is for a tub of nutella) tonight. When she came home. This is what she ate. There it is. 

Goodnight. 

Williamsburg walkin'

The other day, my neighbor/friend Bryce and I walked all around our lovely neighborhood. There's so much to see over here. There's so many stores, so many streets... I just took a few pictures.

surf shop, lunch at jimmy's diner on Union, a bakery.... I wish I never had to leave the hood.

Joey

(deep sigh)
For those of you that know me well, you know that it goes without saying, there has been a certain man in my life for the past seven plus years..
We met in history class our Junior year of college. His first year at Fordham. A trans-fuh.  European history? Who can remember. Anyways, I thought he was super cute. And while he'll be the first to deny this, he had the prettiest frosted tips a boy could have. Anyways, then he opened his mouth.  And while I knew at that moment we would never end up in bed together, we just may end up being best friends.
And we did.
The years here in New York would never have been the same without Joey. He's made me laugh when I thought laughter didn't exist anymore. He's lifted me up. He's dusted me off. We've shared momentous theatre experiences, wonderful dinners, laughter, tears, and as always, many a fishbowl of wine. Thank you Pomodoro.
But most of all, we've shared the most amazing friendship. A friendship that has already withstood the test of time, but also my life away in Vegas, on tour, and beyond..
This boy is my life. He is my New York pulse. He is the best thing that's happened to me over here. I'd take Joey over sliced bread any old day... and I love bread!

And so, one week from today, Joey will depart this New York roller coaster for the next adventure. He's heading back to his roots. Back to California to find out what else he can shake up in life.
While I can only imagine how dreadfully boring it will be here without him, I know this is just a temporary displacement.  And he's gonna do great things. Wherever he is.

Besides, real friends never leave. They're always there beside you. And I know Joey and I will pick up right back where we started from...where bowers of flowers bloom in the sun. Each morning, at dawning, birdies sing and everything.. a sun-kissed mist so don't be late. That's why I can hardly wait. Open up your Golden Gate, California here he comes..
love you.

it's in the air

The winds blew fast and strong;
she didn't have much time.
The wait was less than long,
but longer'd be a crime.

The winds came hard and fast;
they whispered what to do.
"Entrust yourself to us,"
"and we'll entrust to you."

As city buildings wept;
and dust flew in her eyes,
she thought of all she'd promised,
the familiar lullabies.

And with a whip of wind;
the decision could not fade,
she'd look for western skies
where greener pastures could be made.

Breezy, balmy, sweaty, lush green eyes. That’s what I’m sitting next to right now.. In rural Massachusetts, on a well-manicured porch, of a cookie-cutter hotel. We drink coffee that tastes bitter, but it’s good because we paid for it. Well, he paid for it. But I’ll pay for it. Eventually…

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY...

One of the things I miss about California :
This is my godmother, Jane. She's not my godmother by birth terms, or anything like that. I deemed her and her husband, Randy, my godparents, probably like seven years ago. They're my fam.

Let me tell you about this woman. She's one of the greatest people in the world. She can host a party of twenty plus people in her house while standing over her stove cooking spaghetti, with a vodka tonic in one hand, slotted spoon in the other, and a cigarette dangling out of her lips. "Katie, come in here and eat some of this!" she yells with her raspy Elaine Stritch meets Kate Hepburn voice. Of course to me, it just sounds like heaven.
Over a year ago, Jane lost her husband, Randy. Life, of course, has not been the same without this beautiful man. He had a heart of gold, and a love for his 'Janie' that burned brighter than the furthest star. He was, without a doubt, and will always be, her soul mate. But it hasn't been easy. And I just wish so much that I could be closer to her because I really love her.
I LOVE YOU JANE!

young brooklyn love

Last night, while walking to my gym over in Ft. Greene, I had the privilege of witnessing this:

gaggle of fourteen year olds standing on the corner, huddled in a circle, the whole gang'
buzzing, excitement, squeals, eyes scrunching in embarrassment..
BIG KID: "Do you love her, do you?"
scrawny kid: "I don't know, yeah, I think I do. I love her.."
BIG KID: "WHAT THE FUCK MAN, YOU'VE ONLY KNOWN HER FOR A WEEK!"
scrawny kid: "I know, I don't know what's happening..."

my weekend in Providence

This past weekend, Natasha and I hopped on the Mega Bus up to New England. First stop, Providence, to see Tony in "The Lion King"...

Natasha (left) and myself, assuming the position of real Lion Kings

                          

Tony, post amazing performance, and still looking dap dap dapper.

In NYC, we don't get to experience that wonderful suburban architecture, that is, THE MALL.  So we ventured forth to the Providence version, where at one particular kiosk, they were selling hand painted hermit crabs. So, I mean, you could take home a hermit crab with the Batman emblem on his shell.... totally normal.

     On Saturday we headed to Boston to visit Natasha's brother, Dylan. We traveled via the commuter rail. I took some of these photos you are seeing with my new Hipstamatic app. Me likey.

Massachusetts out the window....or Rhode Island.

Here is the wonderful Dylan, with his baby kitty Gina...or as Natasha says "Geeeeeeeeeeena"

Natasha wanted to laugh in the snow. So she did.

On the way back from Boston yesterday, I got to take some great pictures out the window. I have a thing for Sunday evening cold winter sunsets...

and the light...

it set my hair on fire.

All in all, we had a really great weekend. As per usual, I may have had too much to drink. And probably smoked too many cigarettes, but that happens from time to time.
On a personal note, being in Providence was sort of haunting. For me, that city represents the beginning of a very certain time in my life. It was a transitional time where I also fell in love with someone. And then that journey began and ended.
Places, cities, they all change. And we leave them, and we come back. And sometimes, we're surprised by what a bar in a hotel can make you remember. Memories that you thought you had forgotten about, they are still there. Sometimes we just have to shake the dust off, and go back.