The Turn Around..

I read not long ago in Time Out New York magazine that Carrot Top Pastries has some of the best muffins in NYC. I needed to go to the green market on 207th street for my weekly fix of Fuji apples (12), so I figured I'd hit both places since they were in the same direction. It was freezing outside. As I walked along I started to wonder if spring will ever come or if there may have been some cataclysmic global shift causing the tsunami in Japan as well as an indefinite continuation of winter here in the city.

I got my apples and continued on to the bakery. They had carrot, chocolate chip and bran muffins. I opted for carrot and foolishly asked for a decaf coffee but got regular after a snide smirk from the counter person. Finding a table in the front window I took off my camera, coat, hoodie and gloves. I got comfortable and pulled out a newspaper. My first sip of coffee scalded the shit out of my lip and tongue... Hot as lava. A minute later, after wiping the tears from my eyes, I reached into the little paper bag and pulled out the greatly anticipated muffin. It looked like any other muffin and, to my dismay, it tasted like any other muffin. I just walked half a mile to get scalded and eat an average tasting muffin? I didn't finish it and tossed it in the trash.

On the way home I decided to stop at the local diner to get an egg sandwich. Something I never eat. I ordered two scrambled eggs on a roll with cheddar ($2.75). Walking home I decided to eat it on my stoop in the sun. A little picnic. I unwrapped the aluminum foil and took a bite. I set the sandwich resting in the foil on my knee for just a second to loosen my coat and before I could grab it, half of it fell on the ground. The other half was bland and needed salt & pepper (not in the bag). I tossed it in the trash.

So far my morning was not going well.

About 1:00pm my friend Ingrid showed up. We had planned on taking some photos but didn't really have any ideas. Being too cold to shoot outside I decided to put up my trusty gray blanket in the hall outside my apartment. I set up a light and made a little makeshift studio. We would shoot a few frames until we heard a neighbor leaving or coming up the steps and quickly Ingrid would dart into my apartment. After 45 minutes or so of this I was taking down the blanket and once again the gaffer tape ripped off the paint on the wall. I had to do a quick touch-up job before my building super found out.

A real estate agent showed up while we were shooting to show the apartment across the hall. As they were leaving they didn't lock the door. We took the liberty of going inside and shooting some crazy photos for about 30 minutes. Beautiful light, much better than my place.

Finally, back in my apartment without any better ideas and light fading, Ingrid hopped up on my stove. She's a hoot.

After a disastrous morning the day turned around to be quite nice ending with a great Italian dinner of angel hair pasta with red clam sauce at my favorite place on Carmine Street.