Pops and Panic Attacks

I moved back to New York City seven days ago today, and here's what my keychain looks like already.

It's been a very full week.

We got our worker's comp set up, touched base with the Dept. of Ag & Markets, and received our keys to Chelsea Market (which account for only two of the above).

We argued over how to display our pops in the five-foot freezer case that was delivered today and discussed the pros and cons of using an iPad as our cash register.

We nearly took a hammer to our printer, which won't print, even after several hours of cajoling.

We picked up thyme from the Greenmarket, ginger beer from the folks at Brooklyn Soda Works (rhubarb and ginger beer?) and bonbons from Daniel at Fine & Raw (strawberry and chocolate?) with which to screw around in the flavor lab.

We ordered stools, bought paint and stamped pop sticks.

Tonight, we spent hours looking for parking in the East Village, then threw our hands up, drove back to Brooklyn and took the train home.


And we made pops for the first time this season, out of frozen fruit. To mixed results.


The rhubarb worked great, as did the blackberries and raspberries, but we were so unhappy with the strawberry & cream pops we made (bland, shardy, worthless) that we threw them out. We've never had to do that with a batch of pops, ever. That was a dark day.

Oh yeah, that same day, I got hit by a car.


Those are the nice cops who drove me and my busted bike back to work.


Suffice it to say, it has been a week during which zen moments have been somewhat elusive. Which is why we've particularly relished the task above, which has kept us busy for four nights: glueing pop sticks to the plywood frontage of our kiosk. The repetitive act is strangely soothing, and it's a good time for us to unwind, brainstorm and be with each other. It's starting to look damn good, too (time-lapse to come)

Seven days to go. And then the real hard work begins.