I'm not a city girl. I'm not a country girl, either, for that matter. Nor am I a country club girl or a suburban girl or a southside girl or a campus girl. I'm not precisely sure what location descriptor might fit me best, really. Perhaps I'm a midtown girl. Whatever I am it's not city. And this depresses me a little bit because, oh, the lights and the pace and the sights and the culture (yeah, sure, junkies in the park counts as culture, don't you think?). But I'd be overwhelmed down in the thick of it for more than a couple of weeks, honestly. I'd want some trees and a little space before too long.
The Unbearable Banishment, however, straddles the line between suburb and city, sometimes embracing his banishment and sometimes pining for his lost city (which isn't really lost, since he works there, but still). He's a Midwestern guy who moved to NYC and stayed for twenty years but got sucked into New Jersey suburbia and family life.
This is the dullest design ever. Oh, it's fairly innocuous. I'm not seeing any antifreeze green or anything. But it's such a downer. Seriously, folks, get with the program. This isn't 2004. Find a better template. We've got loads of links for you to find something better. UB, you take lovely pictures of the city and your family. Snag one of those and make it your banner. The design you've got now says, "Ask me about purchasing medical supplies," not, "I'm a cool, arty, urban dad with a sense of humor." I will say this, it's not cluttered. Although you'd be better served with tabs for an About page (create one, please) and your blogroll.
UB is a bookish city boy and the father of two girls about whom he writes sweet and funny posts. He reminds me of my brother if my brother were straight: neat, organized, intelligent, well-spoken, artistic, and politely irreverent (that sounds like an oxymoron, but it's not). He's into theater , theater, and more theater (Why do I feel like I need to be spelling it "theatre"? Because I'm all snooty-balooty, that's why.) and art and books.
There's amusing commentary on NYC/NJ life and funny references to Bond, which is aces in my book. Anyone who can quote Goldfinger is all right by me. But he's also remarkably down to earth and his writing is approachable and conversational. And he's a marauding cell phone jammer, a practice of which I wholeheartedly approve. He needs a fucking cape.
Most of the blog is light and funny and erudite and sort of carefree, but there are some posts that reveal what's going on in his life and his heart, and these are very fine, too. I'd like more of them.
The morning is moving on without me, and I've got to get this review posted. But what I really want to do is settle back into this blog and read some more. It's being added to my feed reader as we speak, although there's one minor problem: I want to know more. There's not a lot of talk about Mrs. Wife, which is either a little off-putting or terribly protective and sweet, I'm not sure which. And we get a lot of now, but not so much then. I'd like some more exposition, but then I always do. "Take it off, take it all off" seems to be my mantra. I get that not all blogs need to explore the sharp, rusty edges of our souls or sift through the decaying pages of our sordid pasts, but, come on. Just a little?