Dear Linen Pants, whoever thought of you should be knighted. You are the breeze to a July day, the ice to lemonade, the watermelon to picnics. Cool and baggy and light and airy, you wouldn’t deign to get static, and when you wrinkle you simply look more chic than before. If the hot south ever had a signature clothing item, it should be you. Dear Red Trench Coat, I can’t remember my life before I met you. Your capacious pockets…
No, this is not a post about the evils of Instagram, or about my Instagram fast, or even particularly about the merits of Instagram. I don’t have anything new to say about any of those topics- I’m not that clever or insightful. This is simply a post about what my Instagram feed looks like, because when I find something I like, I want all my friends to know about it in case they like it too. For instance, wouldn’t it…
…your bag never weighs less than about fifty-three pounds. It is liable to contain any or all of the following items at any time: a pair of shoes, two full meals, an umbrella, a banana, a five pound bag of flour, a book or maybe two, enough chargers and headphone cords to tie up a prisoner, pepper spray, an actual pepper, keys for all the twenty-three locks in your life, a hat, a sweater, a large box of cookies for…
Contrary to appearances, I am alive and not dead. When I planned to move here, I thought, I’ll have so many adventures and stories to tell, and since I won’t have any friends, I’ll have all the time in the world to write them! I planned to write voraciously, and perhaps I’d even be so bold as to write a book! Well. How the mighty have fallen. It is true that I have so many adventures worth writing about here….
“It’ll be fun!” they said. Here’s the thing. Up until now, I’ve considered myself a whole-hearted lover of flying. Part of the joy of going someplace was the getting there; flying was its own separate thing to be excited about in every adventure that called for it. Sure, sometimes you got a little airsick and sometimes your ears hurt and we all know airport food is overpriced, but it was still worth it for the joy of that moment when…
Do you ever get these little ditties stuck in your head that won’t leave for years and years? I do. There’s a line I heard once that runs through my head with shocking frequency, “Love is patient, love is kind. Love means slowly losing your mind.” Why it has stuck is anyone’s guess, but it pops in at the most random and inopportune moments to say hello. There’s another one that’s slightly less morbid that often comes to mind as…
Rosie said I don’t post enough pictures. Rosie is usually right. Therefore, here you go. Let us commence with a Sunday afternoon spent roaming downtown Brooklyn. I do a lot of roaming, you see, since I have a lot of time to spend alone and there are only so many things that are fun to do by oneself. Exploring is one of them… And we move on to a sunny Saturday spent exploring Forest Hills, Queens… And to finish it…
I don’t spend a lot of time being scared of my surroundings in the city. Perhaps I’m naive, but I carry my pepper spray (when I remember it) and watch my surroundings and usually I feel pretty safe. That said, there are a certain number of things that I deal with here that are just downright scary. Would you like to hear about them? One. I get so nervous in turnstiles. Am I alone in this fear? I don’t too…
I often think about what Judy said in Daddy-Long-Legs. “It isn’t the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh – I really think that requires spirit.” And as this Jonah week dragged on and on, I thought about it more than ever- it really does feel like there’s truth in it sometimes. Sunday was such…
I leave work with the glorious late afternoon sunshine  streaming in rays between the buildings and warming my head. It’s windy, but the bitter chill is missing from the air. Spring is actually on its way at last! I walk a couple blocks to the subway, resolutely marching past the pizza shop with the perfectly crispy crusts and decadent toppings. Another day, I tell myself. I enter the subway tunnel and pile myself into the car along with the hundreds…
I think I promised to tell you weeks (or was it months and months) ago how I was surviving my new job. Time has flown and here I am on my third week in, still alive and kicking although I could be dead in a ditch for all you guys know. I have been too busy to write- too busy moving and staying alive and eating pastries and vegging when my energy gave out, which it does about every three…
Here’s the thing. I knew church in the city would be cool. There are several well known options I had visited and loved before I even moved here, options such as The Brooklyn Tabernacle and Redeemer Presbyterian. The trouble isn’t so much not having a church to attend, but rather, having too many options to make a choice! Do I attend the one that’s closer by, or the one with more comfortable pews (come on, you think about that too),…