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I love coffee. Sometimes people try to switch my coffee to decaf when I’m not looking. I can always tell the difference. I also like Pringles, but only the reduced fat kind because they crunch better when you bite into them and they don’t leave grease on your fingers. I’m…

About Me
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As part of our quest to support women’s issues, Katana Photography is excited to announce our first ever Celebrating Survival contest!
Having any kind of cancer is frightening and confusing. In recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Katana Photography is welcoming all survivors from all forms of cancer to participate…

Weekly Photo
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When I was looking to buy my wedding invitations (back in April), I found a lot of designers on Etsy. After narrowing it down to a couple different designs/companies, I contacted both for their pricing list. One was pretty significantly more expensive–almost $2 per invitation more. Which I think all…

Weekly Style
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When talking to people about photography, I hear one phrase over and over again: Kids and dogs are the hardest subjects to photograph.
I, personally, don’t have this problem with my clients…kids and dogs are among my favorite things to photograph. Maybe it’s because I like to have any excuse…

Weekly Puppies
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Last week, Sean and I had our morning coffee on the balcony and watched as the Enterprise shuttle was pulled down the Hudson on a tug boat. It’s on its way to the Intrepid and I can’t wait to see it up close at the museum!

Weekly Coffee

The Bald Guy

This story has nothing to do with Luna….but…

Sean decided it was time to shave his head again. I prefer long hair on him (not like Fabio long, but boy band long…long enough to style, but not so much that it hangs past his earlobes), so once a year he’ll grow his hair out for me. Last week, he got fed up with the long hair, so he decided to trim it. Only, he forgot to put the safety on his electric razor…so, now he’s bald. And I mean, he was BALD for the first day or so. Like Ed Harris Vin Diesel type of bald.

The Bald Guy

We went to breakfast at our favorite Greek diner for Valentine’s Day. We go to this diner SO OFTEN that the two weekend servers and the owner know us by name. And when we walked in, the one server looked at Sean and lovingly fawned over the new (lack of) hair.

“You look Puerto Rican!” she exclaimed with a thick Brooklyn accent.

“Really?” Sean and I both said at once.

“But he’s so Irish pasty…” I looked at her doubtfully and then whispered, “Really, you don’t have to say you like it just to be nice! We’ll still tip well…” I winked at her.

“I’m not! I really like it! But I’m Puerto Rican, so…”

Sean and I had assumed she was Greek because she looks SO much like the owner. We had assumed she was the Greek daughter of the Diner’s owner. And while I tend to worry about making such statements…always attempting to stay politically correct, Sean thought nothing of it. “We thought you were Greek!” He blurted out.

My head fell into my hands. Could this be offensive? Are we gonna be cast out of our favorite diner?

Luckily, she just laughed. “I’ve worked here for so long that I now consider myself Greek-a-Rican!”

The Thought That Counts

“Thank you for thinking of me, baby.” I stared at the t-shirt in my hands. Seriously? The boyfriend! goes to Las Vegas and this is what I get? It’s the thought that counts, it’s the thought that counts, it’s the thought that counts…

“It’s the Borg! From Star Trek!” He looks at me excitedly…like a puppy waiting for its positive reinforcement.

“Ohhhh, THAT’S who that character is! She’s much cuter as a character,” I run my fingers over the animated Borg on the t-shirt, “Like Peak-A-Choo or one of those cute Japanese characters.” I’m impressed with myself and the fact that I knew who Peak-A-Choo was.

“The Borg IS NOT Peak-A-Choo! You can never compare those two things ever. Again. Or you will be single.”

Now, I know when to choose my battles. Star Trek is what used to be Sean’s mistress…like his dirty little secret. He was embarrassed of her–afraid of what the implications were of obsessing over something so stereotypically geeky. But, you know what, honey? You ARE geeky. And it’s one of the many things I love about you.

And in the past couple of years or so, he finally started to truly own the fact that his dirty little mistress…those slutty Star Fleet Officers…make him a nerd. And I have accepted the fact that I am in an open relationship. Me, Sean…and Captain Picard.

So, this shirt said a lot while saying nothing at all. I accepted graciously, happy that he had thought of me in the city where prostitution is legal, and knowing that it would most likely never see the light of day. It would most likely become part of my pajamas…

However, this weekend at Comic Con……………..

The Thought That Counts

I had a reason to where it with pride. And it was a hit, folks. It was a hit.

Saved By The Mug

Saved By The Mug

For a year now, Sean has been trying to get me to drink out of his ugly ass Star Trek mugs. I despise Star Trek…I’m always competing with that stupid show for Sean’s affection. (kidding) But I do hate the show. It’s so boring and will instantly put me to sleep with all of its monotone talking and white noise in the background.

So, the week we were moving, we realized that we needed to keep a few plates, glasses and silverware so that we could…oh, you know…survive for the week. And Sean–that punk–ONLY kept his Star Trek mugs. I tried everything to avoid using them. Cupping my hand under the faucet to sip water that way…but it seemed inevitable. I was going to have to drink from the horrid Star Trek mugs. And just as I was pulling a mug out of the cupboard to pour myself a glass of milk…I saw a package sitting on my counter from Sean’s cousin, Jeannie (who frequents this site a lot…HI JEANNIE!) And inside this care package was not only delicious home-made biscotti…but THIS MUG she bought for us in the Bahamas:

Saved By The Mug

I drank from that thing every single day for a week…Jeannie, you are forever on my good list.

ARRRRG.

Reason #1 why the Weekly’s haven’y been updated: I cleared the cookies off my computer and did an overall spring cleaning of my hard drive and erased my stored password to this site. And of course, I could not remember it to save my life.

Reason #2: I moved. And I think most of us have moved at some point in our lives and know what an effing stressball everyone becomes during one.

Reason #3: During the move, I somehow misplaced my camera cord that uploads all my images…big problem when my Weekly posts rely on photographs. I blame Sean. It’s not necessarily his fault…but I still blame him. I’m sure I could find an indirect cause that links back to him at some point. (Kidding, kidding…all you Sean-lovers out there, don’t get too bent out of shape. I don’t blame him…this time)

Reason #4: Did I mention the move? Because really…that’s all I got going for me. That and laziness.

Fancy Towels - Do Not Use!

Fancy Towels - Do Not Use!

When I lived in Hell’s Kitchen, a friend of mine came to stay with me for a couple weeks while he found an apartment in the city. In so many ways, this friend was a wonderful house guest. He was very clean, walked the dog for me during the day, stocked my pantry, took me out to dinner…and only smoked pot outside on my fire escape (awww, so nice of him, right?). But at the beginning of the third week, when I knew there was only another couple of days before he moved into his own Brooklyn apartment, he spilled half a jar of spaghetti sauce in my kitchen. I heard the crash from my bedroom and shrugged it off. I spill shit all the time. I grabbed the paper towels which were in my room since I had been cleaning and headed toward the kitchen. When I reached the doorway, I saw him bent over the mess using my beautiful William Sonoma towels and a hand embroidered towel a friend had gotten me from Italy to clean up the marinara sauce.

It took all of my strength not to make him sleep in the street those last couple of days.

Pictured above are my new towels. The bird towel I found in a tiny boutique in Long Island. Within a day, I caught Sean using it to dry the dishes. Is this a man thing? It must be…my only solution was for the first month to have a post-it on the towel that said “Fancy Towels - Do Not Use!  It finally got through to him.

Adventurer

Adventurer

On another one of our hikes, Sean discovered this tree which had fallen into another tree. Having learned NOTHING from his father’s near death experience with trees, he climbed up and onto it. And the next thing I know, I feel a tug on the leash. Luna had jumped up after him and followed him! I tell you…that dog has been playing us for a fool…she’s not really retarded. She just gets away with a lot more if we think she is.

Why I Refuse To Share A Bowl Of Anything With Him Anymore

Sean: “Do you want any more?”

Me: More than those two small bites I had? Yes, I want more. Sheesh, if I don’t eat fast around you, I don’t eat at all.

Sean: So you want more?

Me: Grr, don’t do that!

Sean: Do what?

Me: Ask me if I want any more when what you really mean is, ‘I WANT THE REST.’”

Sean: That’s not what I mean.

Me: Buuuuullshit. You just don’t want to admit you want the rest of it so you make me say that I don’t want anymore first!

Sean: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Me: Oh, you know. Just say it. SAY IT. SAY that you want the rest of it. Sayitsayitsayitsayit….

Sean: Ok!! Yes, I want the rest of it, but I also want to make sure that you don’t want any more.

Me: Ooooh. Someone’s oh so political suddenly!

Sean: It’s true!

Me: THEN WHY DON’T YOU JUST SAY THAT YOU WANT THE REST OF IT?

Sean: BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW IF YOU WANT ANY MORE.

Me: No you don’t.

Sean: YES I DO.

Me: NO.

Sean: YES.

Me: Fine, fine! You win. I DON’T WANT ANY MORE!

Sean: Cool. Can I have the rest?