I love New York
I was once convinced that I would live in
Anyway, that passed and I stopped naming my children 30 years in advance and have yet to get that concussion taken care of, but I figure that’s what gives me my cute quirky obnoxious behavior. But
People say that it’s magical and gorgeous and there’s that inexplicable feeling that I can’t very well put into words, but I’m convinced that someday I will learn how. My first visit that I can actually remember was about 12 or so years ago, with my parents and brother. We saw the Rockettes and ate hot dogs and Ray’s Pizza, discovered that it is entirely possible to consume a Ruben roughly the size of Djibouti and that cheesecake is the size of my head, that the Saks windows were magical and that I cannot play the piano with my feet like Tom Hanks, but damn I’ll try.
I’ve been asked about that visit before and about my most recent visit to the City, on how awkward it is to have both of my parents go on a trip. Really it isn’t awkward at all and I’ve never been a child that sits around hoping and praying that mommy and daddy love each other again some day. In fact I’d find it more awkward if they did. I actually find it to be a really great blessing as my parent’s divorce saved me from 18 years of standing on crowded subway platforms with one saying “Do we take the A train or the D train?” and the other responding with “OK” and then subsequent eye rolling ensues because clearly coming to a comprehensible decision together without one threatening to push the other onto the dreaded center rail, was never their forte. But they procreated quite well, so I'll give them that.
*In that last picture…yes, my parents are midgets. Midgets who gray and go bald early.
**It’s also de-lurking week. So de-lurk if you’d like. Or you can be a troll and I’ll make fun of you and possibly call you a dumb whore or something equally unintelligent. But if you say hi, I’ll share my secret of drinking a bottle of wine without puking or hangover.