Picking Up Speed

I have been insanely busy and, while that's not an excuse for failing to write more, at least this time I can actually provide a reason and explanation for my blatant neglect of this blog.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that Jason and I were working to launch a line of homemade sauces, marinades and salad dressings. Well, The Pour Gourmet is now nearly two months old and we are beginning to garner a lot of interest!

Last weekend, as we lamented the rainy weather that limited our usual exposure at the Franklin and Sterling Flea Market, we and two other vendors with whom we've become good friends decided to brave the scattered showers and humidity and hold a mini-flea of our own.

We set up a table in front of Bristen's Eatery and chatted with neighbors and passersby, one of whom bought a bottle of our Honey You're Money (honey Dijon) and later returned to ask if she could videotape Jason for The Brian Lehrer Show's Uncommon Economic Indicators video contest.

She made an impromptu BlackBerry video and posted it to YouTube and on the website for our local NPR station, WNYC. The audio/video syncing is a bit off, but for an improvised bit of filmmaking, it does the trick!

It's a truly exciting time for us as we explore the seemingly infinite possibilities of a new business venture for which nearly everyone we've talked to shares our enthusiasm. It is especially gratifying to have formed such a camaraderie with others attempting to achieve a similar goal: spitting in the face of a crap economy by using your talents and determination to build a business that taps into your true passions and not just your need for an easy paycheck. Those rewards that are harder to come by are all the more sweet, aren't they?

Cherry Blossoms

Last weekend was the annual Cherry Blossom Festival at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, a 15-minute walk from our apartment. We ventured out in spite of the pouring rain, which made everything lush and vibrant:

A New Venture

This past Saturday marked the opening of a new flea market in our neighborhood, at Franklin Av. and Sterling Pl. Organized by the very cool owner of Bristen’s Eatery (around the corner on Franklin), the flea market is set to take place every Saturday through September 26.

Jason and I spent the better part of last Saturday at the flea market. For those who don’t know yet, Jason is working on launching a line of sauces, marinades and salad dressings under the name “The Pour Gourmet.” He has been making his own sauces and dressings for years and has always toyed with the idea of bottling them (with my encouragement—I’ve been one of the sole benefactors of his talents for far too long!). As so many people are finding out these days, getting laid off in a shitty job market often leads to bright ideas and ingenuity. For Jason, it meant looking outside the proverbial box for new ways to put his many talents to use.

Faced with a gloomy, rainy outset to the day, we were not feeling overly optimistic about the market's opening. But after a soggy start, the rain stopped, the clouds parted and before noon, we were blessed with a sunny day. People started streaming into the streets (Franklin Av. is the main drag of the Prospect/Crown Heights border where we live) and into the flea market.

It was an exhilarating day—not only did we meet some awesome people from our neighborhood, but nearly everyone who stopped by our table for a sample loved Jason’s sauces. (For opening day, he offered a batch of his classic barbecue sauce, along with two unique variations—one infused with lavender and ginger and one with sweet peppers and pineapple.)

More than the modest sales Jason made that day, the genuine enthusiasm of people in the community for his products (as well as the flea market itself) was infectious. So many people told us they’d been longing for a community market like this one and it only promises to get bigger as the weeks go by.

Thanks to Nick, who wrote a very kind account of the day on his blog, I Love Franklin Ave (which I’ve enjoyed for months and can now associate with a real, live person).

The Pour Gourmet website will be up and running very soon. For now, if you're in the area on a Saturday, stop by the fantastic Franklin and Sterling flea market and say hello.

Moved

About three blocks from my office, a new hotel is under construction. Ten stories of unsightly scaffolding surrounds a cold, steel skeleton merged with half-finished concrete walls. There are open spaces for windows, but no glass yet in place. Buildings under construction are no rare sight in Manhattan, but I had never taken any notice of this particular building until it made headlines.

One chilly day in March, the local news media erupted with a story about a construction worker on the project—28-year-old Anthony Paino—who fell from the top floor to his death when a flimsy piece of plywood gave way under his feet. Early reports said it was his first day on the job.

Reading about Anthony and his fiancée (they had just bought a house and planned to be married in July) sent a wave of sadness through me that stuck around for a day or two, then drifted out of my mind to make room for the daily onslaught of new worries and factoids to settle in.

That is, until about two weeks later, when I found myself walking directly past the partially-constructed building. The sidewalk along what will likely be the entrance to the hotel is fully enclosed with scaffolding and, as I crossed the street to walk under it, I wondered if I would see any tribute to Anthony. A flower, perhaps? A message written in magic marker on a wooden board?

I walked the entire length of the building and was disheartened to see no such message. No sign memorializing Anthony or the spot where he died. No marker. No indication that a man's life had ended there. I was shocked and disappointed. How could people be so heartless? How could his co-workers not have paid tribute to him in some way? Or his family or friends, for that matter.

I continued walking, feeling disillusioned with people and saddened that Anthony’s death seemed to go unnoticed and uncommemorated at this, the site of his death.

Then, I turned a corner.

Before my eyes, a giant wall of flowers six feet high and 10 feet wide. Posters. Signs. Cards. Candles. More flowers. “We love you, Anthony” read one. “We’ll miss you!” read another. “Rest in peace” read so many—written in black, red, blue, purple. Some were written by people who knew him—co-workers, friends, family. What moved me most were those tributes written by people who’d never met him but had nonetheless felt saddened by his death.

My heart sank at the sight of the soaring memorial, but, as I walked away, a wave of hope and optimism took hold. Deep down, the majority of people are good-hearted, compassionate souls and I’ve always tried to remember that when negative thoughts pervade my otherwise-positive spirit.

There is immeasurable love and kindness out there. You just have to look for it.

What's Really Important

(Can you hear the sarcasm?) Still, you gotta love New York magazine's take on what's really running through the small mind of Bo the ObamaDog:

"Yay! Yay! Yay! Look at this big house! And the huge lawn! Yay! I am going to destroy every single piece of furniture in here! Especially that big bed that smells like mothballs and dead people! Yay! OMG, look at my new family! It has the cutest little human puppies!... Look how much fun they're having chasing me! Ooh, these floors are slippery. Whee!... This round, yellow room with the old wooden desk looks like a great place to POOP. I'll do it behind this couch so no one sees it for a while. If I get in trouble I'll blame it on that guy with the white plastic fur and shiny fangs. He doesn't look like he's housebroken. OH, look! A garden with roses! I'm going to go digging! Hooray! Here come the human puppies, maybe they can help! We're going to be best friends! Until they start fighting over who I like better. Yay!"

There, amidst all the important (read: depressing) news stories of the day, a happy photo and sophomorically cute paragraph to bring a smile to my face. Of course, that lasted until I remembered how disappointed I am that the Obamas went through a breeder and not a shelter. Shame on them.

A Sad Goodbye

An update: In spite of the logistical issues, we decided to add the kitty to our family. We kept her in the bathroom until we could have her examined by a vet. At first, she was very content to be out of the cold—she curled up on the bath rug, purred like a car engine whenever one of us came in to the bathroom and rubbed against our ankles as we brushed our teeth. Soon, though, she became eager to bust out and explore the rest of her new home.

We named her Scout.

Sadly, a trip to the vet confirmed Scout had the feline leukemia virus. Because our cat Phoebe has feline HIV, we could not risk her being exposed to other viruses. After several days of thoughtful deliberation, followed by a frantic search for a rescue organization or individual who could find her a home, we decided the best thing for her would be to put her to sleep.

Scout was one of the sweetest, most affectionate cats I’d ever known and we were heartbroken to end her life. I was actually quite surprised at how sad we both were, considering the fact that we’d only “known” her a few weeks. Even though she probably would not have lived long with her illness, it’s hard not to feel we failed this little kitty, dangling the carrot of a happy life in front of her, then yanking it away.

I know we did the right thing and I take comfort in remembering that—at least for a short time—she was safe, warm and loved.

Rest in peace, sweet kitty.

Should We?

A couple of weeks ago, Jason and I noticed this little kitty hanging around outside, near the basement of our building. She used a small window to crawl into the basement for shelter and someone had left some food for her. In spite of a slightly scraggly appearance, she was not alarmingly thin nor injured.


It began innocently enough... we started adding to her food dish. Then, we began to slowly build her trust and within days, she was purring and rubbing against our legs as soon as we came outside to see her. This is no feral cat--she's a bit skittish, but seems not to have major trust issues with humans.

On Monday, I bought her a little fleece blanket and spread it on the cardboard box where she usually sleeps (it's not as cold as the concrete). She purred her head off and immediately got comfy on it. That night, I told Jason that I'd lose all faith in humanity if someone steals the fuzzy red blanket from our girl.

When we went down the next morning, we found that, not only had no one stolen her blanket, but someone had fashioned a bed for her in an old dresser drawer. Now she had two cozy places to sleep! My day was made by this heartwarming gesture. We are not the only ones looking out for this sweetest of felines!


Jason wants very much to bring this kitty home, adding to our duo of felines and shifting the feline-to-human ratio in their favor. I'm not sure it's a good idea, seeing as how we already have two cats requiring food, litter and vet care. Not to mention the fact that one of them is an increasingly testy old lady (nearly 13!) who is unlikely to take kindly to a sprightly new addition.

Then, there are the logistics. Right now, we only have one litter box. With three cats, we'd need two. The one box we have now is problematic enough--where to put it and how to manage the odor in our small apartment are just two concerns we've been facing.

Much as I'd love to keep her, I'm of the opinion that we should take this kitty to a shelter. With a bath and some TLC, she'll be adopted in no time--she's absolutely darling and, after being starved of attention, she relishes every pet.

Thoughts?