I can see, I can see I'm not ripped off

We often lament the lack of at least some of the chain stores that make life so convenient on the main island of the city. Barnes and Noble, yes, yes, they shut down so many mom and pop joints. But, there they are. Alas, we know of no one who will cop to the occasional Grande anything, fine, fine. But, a quickly made americano, the way they just nod when I order a iced soy latte, grande.
books and coffes are to be had, freely in Western Queens. It's just different. There's coffee at The Grind on 39th Pl. and Queens Blvd; Baruir for the old style version just across the Blvd.
Books - we get those at the library here, mister. Pragmatists that we have become, our nod to poverty and righteousness all served well.

However, we were darn tired of being jazzed up when we needed new lenses and frames. The Pearls, the Cohens, the Crafters all wanted our money. A quick search online found plenty of descrepancy. There are cheap frames that are just as plastic and just as tortoise shell for half the money. There are non-glaring, super scratch resistant lenses as well.
You just have to dig around Western Queens for a minute.
The frames - get them anywhere that's cheap. My faves came from Target and lasted for years,; Sears and JC Penny also have deep discounts and wide assortments.
More finicky? Then find them elsewhere. Just don't pay retail.
But for the lenses - don't be fooled. They're all made of polycarbonate, you want the glare additions and the scratch resistance -all that. This is when you have to shop around.
Take your frames and your blind ass to CN Vision on 46th ST between Greenpoint and 48th Ave. Just a block and change from the train. The works: 94.00 with tax in two days, 15 bucks more for overnight. Not 190/ Not 179. Less than a C-note.

God Bless the Gentle People of Queens.

Enjoying Spring the Sunnyside Way

I had errands to run today, so I dropped Wesley off at work first thing this morning so I could use the car. After my two-mile run at the Y (where they seemed to have fixed their earlier problems, making for an altogether much more pleasant workout experience), I cranked up the Ellen Johnson, planning to hit the bank, the Foodtown, Mother's, and the library, before heading home to finish watching Disc 3 of Battlestar Galactica Season 1.

After depositing some checks at the bank (yippee!), I snagged a prime parking spot right in front of Mother's, giving me the most convenient access to the rest of my errands. As I walked to the library, an armful of books to return, I heard that familiar jingle, the one that always signals the arrival of summer - Mister Softee, parked right across the street. I decided right then and there that I'd be having ice cream for lunch. I ducked into the library to check out some new books, but when I came back outside, Mister Softee had relocated to the other side of the park. I reconsidered my ice cream decision. Is today really special enough for ice cream? Have I been good enough to deserve ice cream? Did I run enough miles this week? What about those nachos I had for lunch the other day? Did I remember to put a quarter in the meter? Oh, crap.

Back at the car, I was pleased to see that there were 41 minutes on the meter, so either I put a quarter in, or I got lucky. The simple, slightly off-key, more than slightly annoying Mister Softee theme wafted across the warm spring air. I dropped off 2 of my 3 books in the car, my decision made.

As I walked to Mister Softee, I took a close look at Thomson Hill Park, something I've never done before. Bounded by Greenpoint, 47th Ave, 42nd Street, and 43rd Street, Thomson Hill Park has a nice size playground, a basketball court where I saw a gray-haired Asian man sink a very nice layup in a pickup game, and a handball court. Benches line the perimeter as well as run along the wide path that cuts the park in half. It does not, name notwithstanding, have a hill. Old people were sitting, kids were playing, and everybody seemed to be having a good time.

I waited in line at Mister Softee - apparently, I was not the only one craving ice cream - and ordered a vanilla soft serve dipped in chocolate. I couldn't help but nip the top off while waiting for change from a ten. I grabbed myself a bit of park bench, and pulled out my library book (Caitlin Flanagan's To Hell With All That) and just enjoyed. My ice cream was creamy and sweet, my book was promising to be delightful and maddening, and spring was winning me over. For this confirmed winter lover, that's saying a lot.

It was over far too soon, and I still had groceries to buy. The Foodtown proved a bit alarming - no Fig Newmans, no cases of seltzer, and no quinoa - but I practically needed a sherpa to help me with all the fresh fruit I got at Mother's. I'm back at home and glad to be alive. The only thing that'd make today better is if Wesley came home early from work. A girl can dream, can't she?

Happy Easter, everyone.