...asked the shoe guy at the store today when he saw me in flip flops in 50 degree weather. (I'd just had a pedicure and was carrying my boots while my toes dried.) Things to do with this:
A. I got more WTF-stares today in flip flops than I ever have in any single 1 hour period. I think I was the only person who was wearing flip flops but wasn't homeless in the entire state of New York.
B. What do locals do with newly pedicured toes in cold weather? They wrap them in plastic before they put their shoes back on. The girls at the nail place and I were endlessly tickled by their Saran Wrap way versus my flip-flop way. Anyway...
(prepare for a tone shift...now.)
Yesterday, as the plane began to descend, I noticed a big empty space where Excitement usually sits- or rather, where Excitement bounces around, has restless leg syndrome, or does the Snoopy dance. I knew I was excited to finally be landing into my own dream (duh. If you're not excited about your dream, it's time to get a new one.) but damned if I could feel Ms. E anywhere. Did I leave her in Sydney?
As the plane touched down, I continued to soul search... There was a quick sharp stab of Fear with his seizing heart and his ice-cold blood, and he monotoned, "This is it. We've got no more excuses-" As quickly as he appeared, he was gone- mercifully shut up by something inside me that knew better than to let Fear spin anxious tales of What-Ifs and failure. In Fear's place was nothing but a shell-shocked silence that numbed me out better than Xanax.
Inner Xanax - I'm gonna call him Xander- cocooned me (thank God) as I made the heavy and sweaty mistake of taking the train to Brooklyn rather than springing for a cab, heaving my 100 lbs of luggage down flights of subway stairs and rolling/carrying the whole shebang half a mile to my new place. Xander and I met my new roommate Anouk and her precious, amazing, sweet, awesome dog Blue. We put on a decent show of alert/awake/alive Bianca, but once I was alone in my new bedroom I could only stare at my bags with polite interest- as in, "Bags. Okay."
After looking at my belongings for longer than I'll ever admit, I took Anouk to dinner. Between the wine, the stories, and the slew of welcome-i-wanna-hang-out texts from NY friends, Xander finally started to relax his hold on me and I luke-warmed back to human.
After dinner, I took a stroll thru my new neighborhood. I came across this cute bar (with a fantastic name: Pete's Candy Store) where they were showing the debate. I walked into the packed place and joined the herd of young, drunk hipsters as they shouted at the TV, cheered on Obama, and boo'd in outrage at Romney (SOLVE gun violence with a 2-parent household? I've heard smarter, more well-thought and effective plans from toddlers. Jesus.)- all debates must be watched like this. It's hella fun.
At one point, a couple huddling together next to me speaking French clearly asked some sort of question to one another. A cute drunk hipster girl in front of us turned around and explained in the most beautiful French what the debate was for, why it was important, and why they were all yelling & screaming at Romney. I think. I don't speak French.
I loved this drunk girl. It was shots, beer, shots, pointing at the TV with a political fact, beer, shots, French, French, French, then "oh fuck, I just lost my French" and she turned back to the TV to hoot for Obama. I felt like it was an only-in-New-York moment, and it made me so happy to be exactly in that spot, exactly in that moment.
And with that, Xander disappeared completely, and Excitement ran straight for me, picked me up in an Amazon woman bear-hug, and hopped me up and down as we laughed...
GOD, I LOVE IT HERE!! HAPPY!!!!!!!!
A. I got more WTF-stares today in flip flops than I ever have in any single 1 hour period. I think I was the only person who was wearing flip flops but wasn't homeless in the entire state of New York.
B. What do locals do with newly pedicured toes in cold weather? They wrap them in plastic before they put their shoes back on. The girls at the nail place and I were endlessly tickled by their Saran Wrap way versus my flip-flop way. Anyway...
(prepare for a tone shift...now.)
Yesterday, as the plane began to descend, I noticed a big empty space where Excitement usually sits- or rather, where Excitement bounces around, has restless leg syndrome, or does the Snoopy dance. I knew I was excited to finally be landing into my own dream (duh. If you're not excited about your dream, it's time to get a new one.) but damned if I could feel Ms. E anywhere. Did I leave her in Sydney?
As the plane touched down, I continued to soul search... There was a quick sharp stab of Fear with his seizing heart and his ice-cold blood, and he monotoned, "This is it. We've got no more excuses-" As quickly as he appeared, he was gone- mercifully shut up by something inside me that knew better than to let Fear spin anxious tales of What-Ifs and failure. In Fear's place was nothing but a shell-shocked silence that numbed me out better than Xanax.
Inner Xanax - I'm gonna call him Xander- cocooned me (thank God) as I made the heavy and sweaty mistake of taking the train to Brooklyn rather than springing for a cab, heaving my 100 lbs of luggage down flights of subway stairs and rolling/carrying the whole shebang half a mile to my new place. Xander and I met my new roommate Anouk and her precious, amazing, sweet, awesome dog Blue. We put on a decent show of alert/awake/alive Bianca, but once I was alone in my new bedroom I could only stare at my bags with polite interest- as in, "Bags. Okay."
After looking at my belongings for longer than I'll ever admit, I took Anouk to dinner. Between the wine, the stories, and the slew of welcome-i-wanna-hang-out texts from NY friends, Xander finally started to relax his hold on me and I luke-warmed back to human.
After dinner, I took a stroll thru my new neighborhood. I came across this cute bar (with a fantastic name: Pete's Candy Store) where they were showing the debate. I walked into the packed place and joined the herd of young, drunk hipsters as they shouted at the TV, cheered on Obama, and boo'd in outrage at Romney (SOLVE gun violence with a 2-parent household? I've heard smarter, more well-thought and effective plans from toddlers. Jesus.)- all debates must be watched like this. It's hella fun.
At one point, a couple huddling together next to me speaking French clearly asked some sort of question to one another. A cute drunk hipster girl in front of us turned around and explained in the most beautiful French what the debate was for, why it was important, and why they were all yelling & screaming at Romney. I think. I don't speak French.
I loved this drunk girl. It was shots, beer, shots, pointing at the TV with a political fact, beer, shots, French, French, French, then "oh fuck, I just lost my French" and she turned back to the TV to hoot for Obama. I felt like it was an only-in-New-York moment, and it made me so happy to be exactly in that spot, exactly in that moment.
And with that, Xander disappeared completely, and Excitement ran straight for me, picked me up in an Amazon woman bear-hug, and hopped me up and down as we laughed...
GOD, I LOVE IT HERE!! HAPPY!!!!!!!!
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| this is what I look like when I blog |
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| tilt up to see Williamsburg sky from my window |
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| tilt down to see back yard from my window |
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