Christmas Eve

At home in my thank-God-I-grew-up-here hometown and it is, amazingly, a white Christmas. My first in I can't remember how long. Today a cooking frenzy of meatballs and sausages and sauce and cannoli filling, all to be eaten tomorrow, and of course a round of filipino food that was inhaled tonight... and two better food matches I cannot imagine. Now it is blizzarding, a whirling dervish of fat fluffy flakes pelting the pine trees and the pond out back and the skylight up above. The fire is lit, the stockings have been opened, the tree waits for us to sit by it tomorrow, and I am off to bed. This is my favorite night of the year, because of who I get to share it with, under one roof, with nothing to do but eat and open presents. And now, snow. So much snow. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better.

Blizzard 2009

If you're going through hell, keep going.
-- Winston Churchill

Why I Love My Job (Part 578)

"So where you from?"

The conversation always starts off innocently enough, and almost always, I can tell what the reaction will be before I answer, all by sizing up the way he asks the question. And the annoying ones are almost always a he. Once I answer "Kansas City," it's often one of three predictable reactions: "Kansas City!" Blank look on my face. "You're a long way from Kansas Dorothy!" I then tell them I'm actually from Missouri, to which they nod and say "I know, I know!" At which point there really is no response to the idiocy in front of me. The next possible answer, preceded by an all-knowing grin as if they're about to let me in on a centuries-old secret: "New York's a lot different from the Midwest!" Clearly a Mensa candidate. I try not to let my face show the pain endured just by having this conversation. The final and most common reaction to where I was born, raised and still call home: "Really!" Yes. "Well you don't look like someone from Missouri." Oh my God it hurts. "How do you like New York?" Well mister, it's been 11 years since I got off the prairie wagon and stowed away my bonnet and gosh darn it, I'm just in heaven here. At this point the look of exasperation on my face and sarcastic tone in my voice is so bad that I almost revert to my midwest roots and feel bad for not being more accepting of other people's thoughts that they actually somehow let themselves verbalize. But then I remember I live in New York where stupid people must not be tolerated. And then I thank God for giving me two great places to call my own.

Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life.
Sofia Loren

A summer kiss to remember.

And what's getting me thru the week...

August 4, 2009

Walking home through the park today I saw the weirdest looking furry yellow caterpillar busting its ass and its many many legs across the walkway. It had apparently come all the way from the grass on the other side of the path, crossing at least eight feet of black top so far, which was like miles since he was only about an inch long. He was so close to making it to the other side, just about two feet away, and I suddenly got so nervous that someone would come up, unwittingly or not, and step on it or roll over it and kill it. And it looked so sweet and earnest just moving across the busy path in such a hurry, minding his own business yet knowing fully well that at any moment he could be smashed, maimed or otherwise diverted from all of the hard work he'd put in. So I stood on the side of him and stayed there until he had made it well onto that new patch of grass and off to who knows where. The caterpillar watering hole maybe. It was just really amazing how far he had gotten on his own. He didn't need me, I know, but I felt compelled to help. I feel like we can all use someone watching over us once in a while to make sure we cross the road safely. And he really was sweet.

July 20, 2009

I've just tried the new PinkBerry coconut flavor and I am telling you, it will CHANGE YOUR LIFE. I don't even like PinkBerry. But this latest creation, this I love. I love it so much that after I grabbed a sample on the way home from disgusting repulsive hot-as-Africa yoga, then got a cup of it, I proceeded to inhale half of it on the 1-block walk home. When I got here I was so excited to shower and then eat the rest while curled up on the sofa watching Entourage on the DVR, so I walked toward the freezer to leave it there and on the way I DROPPED IT THE WHOLE THING FACE FIRST ON THE FLOOR. I fell to my knees praying to the gods of all things life-changing that there was perhaps some left in the container that I could still eat once I picked it up off the floor and turned it over, YES IT'S THAT GOOD, but alas it was not to be and I had to wipe it all up with Clorox wipes and I'm already thinking about getting more of it tonight after dinner. This time perhaps with a lid.
Aaaah. You should really try it.

July 19, 2009

Today I blew out my flip-flop. I did not step on a pop-top, but I did finally understand what the hell Jimmy Buffett has been singing about all these years. I felt sad as I tossed my trusty black 8-year old first-ever-pair of Havaianas into the trash, next to coffee grounds, old cheese and a Clorox wipe. They were the same flip-flops that had walked me onto countless beaches, thru lengthy shopping expeditions, down stairs behind bookcases and into the back rooms of Canal Street, across the Great Wall, into relationships, out of relationships, oh there you are back into the same relationships, through Sicily, the Philippines, a slew of islands, too many subway floors to count, sporting battle wounds of white paint from renovating an old beach bathroom, dulled by countless hours spent on my sweaty feet and then pedicured feet only to sweat again, soaking in the sun and sand and salt water and bbq sauce (I can't help it I'm messy when I eat). I also felt a strange sense of pride at being in a club I thought was reserved for parrotheads, pirates staring at 40 and people whose attitudes change depending on their latitudes. Today I joined the club of people who have blown out their flip-flops. And I feel liberated.

July 8, 2009

Earlier today I walked past what I thought was a handsome man crossing the street. For two seconds I actually visualized the wedding, my simple yet stunning dress and to some extent the perfect children we would eventually have. I quickly thought what a shame it is that it's not socially acceptable to just start talking to strangers in the middle of an intersection, maybe exchanging numbers and making plans for a drink that evening. Just now, walking home from yoga, I walked past the same man, only now he was sprawled out on the ground in a doorway, too drunk to sit up properly, face burnt from the sun, because apparently he is homeless and homeless people have no roof to shield them from the elements. His shirt was torn and he was also missing a shoe. I don't know what else to say really.

July 2, 2009

Waiting for the Acela this morning, along with every other living, breathing person on the planet. At one point I said out loud, "This place is like Grand effing Central." To which a cop next to me replied, "Worse. It's Penn Station."
I love New York.

July 1, 2009

This week leading up to summer's biggest holiday has meant whiling away hours of sunshine by the Hudson with the girl in a hat, waiting out a thunderstorm with the flock and our old friend Patron, learning to play new songs on six strings, Chinese food with TV's rising star and now packing for an island best known for its crabs and football. Next week when I'm back out east, my new form of transportation (and amusement) will be waiting for me...

June 22, 2009

So I've started taking bikram yoga classes, and the masochistic part of me loves the 120 degree room. I sweat in places I didn't know could actually sweat, such as the middle of my forearm, my eyelids, my ears -- not the lobes, but the cartilage-y part that people like to pierce for what reason I don't know. Many of those people are actually in my class. They say hot yoga brings more flexibility and a sense of peace. I can only guess that sense of peace that flitters in and out during the 90-minute session is due to the melting of my brain. At one point I saw black spots and the instructor stated, "If you see stars, that means you're connecting with the universe in your brain." Later: "Bend your body like it's a grilled cheese -- there should be no space between your legs and chest -- make me believe you're a grilled cheese." And near the end of the hell: "If you get dizzy and lose your balance, find your eyes in the mirror. Focus on yourself. That will steady you." Ahhh Daniel-San. Now those are the wise words I was in search of. Very smart those yogis. Must be the heat.

June 20, 2009

And so begins My Blog, part deux. The old one is gone but maybe that's a good thing. Am sitting in my little piece of heaven staring out at the water, the rain, the big big houses across the bay. It's a perfect afternoon for a nap, before dinner later with friends. I'm off in search of a plum and some sleep. Until later...
Is nice to be back.