controversial

The title was meant to be a warning.

I am going to write about something about which I puzzle. I am not an expert. I do not necessarily have strong feelings, but I have a set of feelings based on my life choices. What I say and question will sometimes, then, seem to those who have made a different set of life choices as judgemental ... and they will take it personally.

It is not offered or meant in that way, but I understand if you don't keep reading. Not meaning to be cryptic. This is about birthing children.

FULL DISCLOSURE: I do not want to birth children. I cannot remember a time in my life when this seemed like a path I would entertain. I have a lot of different reasons for not wanting to do this. On one level, it is about not wanting to create a mini-me. I love children, would love to raise children. But, the experience of being a mother, for me, is not tied to the experience of carrying a child or expelling one through a birth canal. My experiences lead me to believe that love for a child doesn't need to form in that way, and that, indeed, it does not necessarily follow that love will form just from the act of making a child physically. I feel that there are so many children in the world, in our country, who have not had that experience and are now living without permanent homes or families as a result.

All that preamble to say that I often do not understand the choices women make regarding having children. For instance, having them close together because it will be easier to care for two infants rather than chasing one while the other is the infant. I get it. But if you are carefully planning for the children you want to love ... on some level should it not be about them?

I think in the world where we get to plan things such as maternity, though, of course, for some it is difficult if not impossible (more on that later), that we ought to get all the facts first.

How long does the female body need to recover before it can make the baby with the best chances for being healthy? My sister happens to work in this arena and tells me from the reports she has read it is much longer than most women who want their two wait. Something close to a child being fully one year before starting to plan for the next. Since it is nearly another ten months before one can appear, that would mean that the two children would be 22 to 24 months apart, not 14-18 months apart. Sometimes you can't plan or you don't plan ... but if you are planning, it seems like this kind of information should be considered.

In the stages of development for children, at what point do they start to achieve a kind of independence ... that is to say, when are they less reliant on their mothers? When might it be less psychologically traumatic to have a sibling that will monopolize mom and dad's attention? I don't know the answer...but I am sure someone out there has thought of it. Just a consideration ... perhaps one in a constellation of considerations when you have the luxury to consider.

As someone who wants to adopt, potentially as a single mother, I do have to consider carefully what I can handle as well as what is best for the children. For a long time I didn't even allow myself to consider being a single mom... I thought, what right do I have to make some child's life more difficult. I have reconsidered this position since I have seen that the lives most children have in foster care improve when they get permanent families regardless of the composition of that family.

But, I will admit that it still seems like a selfish choice on my part. Many of the choices I have contemplated are either selfish and/or considered.

I want school age children because if they are going to be my children, I want to be able to raise them, not drop them off at the home of someone else for the better part of the day.

I want a sibling group... after all I have seen and read, it is just less complicated than adding different children at different times into the mix. Not that it can't be done successfully. I have seen many families who just keep adding children into their loving homes without any more of the bumps and bruises you might imagine in any family. My own concerns come from my fear that alone I will have less resources for building that stable home ... perhaps these fears are completely unfounded. But, I am trying to make decisions based on what I think is best for all around, not just what is expedient for me.

This brings me to the even more controversial of my rant. If you know that you or your partner have a life threatening or other genetic disorder (physical or mental) that you might pass to a biological child, why are you willing to risk that child's life, future, health?

I cannot wrap my head around the idea that a mini me in more important than the well being of the child you so desire. I cannot.

I hear women say, well I want the experience of being pregnant. You can just imagine how well that goes over for me... so, let me get this straight. You are willing to have a child that may have a life time of suffering so that you can have the experience of being pregnant for nine months? Oh, yeah, sure, that sounds like a completely fair trade off.

I have nothing against children with special needs. I find them full of life and joy and a tremendous spirit that is truly inspiring. For the most part, I have met parents of these children who are equally inspiring. But I have also seen the pictures of countless children waiting to be adopted because their birth parents weren't up to the job.

So, given a choice, would you endanger your child just to have the experience of being pregnant?

I am talking about the people who know, the people who plan for their children like another accessory. I am not talking about people who don't have any idea of the ticking time bomb in their DNA. I am not talking about the people who don't plan and get pregnant ... though in this day and age, it is difficult to imagine the "innocence" of that statement. I am not even talking about the people who genuinely don't care which child they get because they will be equally loving and devoted. Those kinds of parents are a gift to the universe in the same way that their children are.

I am not advocating for the kind of world in the pages of The Giver where only certain people were able to birth children and others were allowed to raise them. There is a middle ground. There is the time to consider life outside one's immediate needs or desires.

But, somehow, that is not the world we live in ... we have people who WANT children so badly that they take every medical recourse until they get one or four or eight. It is easy to see the self-centeredness bordering on lunacy in those people, but how are they really different than those who knowingly have children with a high likelihood of disease or health issue or who jeopardize their children and themselves in order to have one more, right now?

Good thing I am not putting policies on maternity in place, huh?

I haven't even talked about the other half of the DNA... that's a whole other long ass blog post. I have to get some reading done...

just now...

I was writing an email to a friend about her budding relationship. Really, I was marveling at her skill in navigating this new terrain ... new in the sense she is new (or renewed through challenging personal work) and the relationship is new, but also that her approach to relationships is also new.

I had a warm feeling in my heart as I wrote her the email -- though I also admitted to the pang of jealousy that she had found someone... someone to practice this difficult dance with ... someone with whom, so far, she feels comfortable opening to. They do a lot of talking... it's a refreshing notion to think someone could be attracted to you for your personality and want to get to know you better.

I'm not jaded much. *wink*

I realized the song on the ipod was Sade's "It's Only Love that Gets You Through." How appropriate!

I thought I would share it with you... youtubed and lyrics follow. ENJOY and happy Friday.



It's Only Love that Gets You Through -- SADE
Girl you are rich even with nothing
And you know tenderness comes from pain
It's amazing how you love
And love is kind and love can give
And get no gain

It's down a rugged road you've come
Though you had every reason
You didn't come undone
Somehow you made it to the other side
You didn't suffer in vain

You forgive those who have trespassed against you
And you know tenderness comes from pain
It's amazing how you love
And love is kind and love can give
And love needs no gain

It's down a rugged road you've come
Though you had every reason
You didn't come undone
Somehow you made it to the other side
You didn't suffer in vain

You didn't suffer in vain
You know it's only love
That gets you through
It's only love, it's only love
Only love that gets you through

Every Day

The other day some one's son died unexpectedly. He would have been seven this year.

It is an incredibly tragic situation. The boy was a special needs child. I think something went wrong in the delivery, and this child paid for it with his life. Like so many special needs children, though, he was not a source of sorrow but one of joy for his family. My heart breaks for them.

It got me remembering my childhood and my little brother. It's funny because since he and his wife adopted the beautiful Evie, I have been full of memories of him as a child and what it is like to be in a family with a special needs child.

It would be safe to say that my brother, T, and I have always had a somewhat fraught relationship. Regardless of the situation, it is always a difficult adjustment for the baby who is being displaced. Add to that my mother had been especially emotionally needy in my early childhood, and, as a result of that and my own personality, I guess, I was considered a clingy child. My mom could literally not go anywhere without me. I sat on her lap as she delivered CCD classes; I sat between her and whomever was in the front seat of the car; and I was always right next to her or two steps behind her from the time I woke up until I went to sleep.

The year of my brother's birth was challenging for all of us, but probably most for my mom and dad. My mother's mother was dying; my older sister needed surgery on her knee; my parents were struggling through some of the hardest time of their marriage; and then my brother was born with Spina Bifida.

It is worth noting that my mom also has a particular aversion to challenging authority; and that she considers doctors as authorities, not trusted professionals.

When T was born, my parents were told that he probably wouldn't live a month. The doctors suggested they just let him die rather than doing life saving or lengthening surgeries.

I am not sure if it is just mother lion or her religious beliefs or a special incredible hulk like strength that entered her, but she respectfully disagreed with those doctors. I don't know the words she used, but I know that she told them that according to what she believed, everything must be done to preserve his life. T was baptized that day in the hospital, just in case those doctors were right, but he got his first surgery at 40 hours old.

This "he'll probably only live to be ..." refrain continued for most of T's life. He won't live the month, the year, to be 5, to be 7, past his teenage years. Every time, my parents (really my mom) insisted on the medical procedures. Every time, T defied expectations.

As it is in most special needs families, the condition is born by everyone. The next year, my mom was unexpectedly pregnant again, my grandmother had taken a turn for the worse, and T needed all kinds of special treatment. There were neurologists, pediatricians, therapists... every treatment, every appointment, every therapy session, there we would go: my mom, me, T and then also my baby sister. My older brother and sister somehow avoided being part of the menagerie that traveled from place to place.

I remember specifically the support group that called my parents the day after T was born ... they nourished us in unexpected ways. For one thing, their children were far more disabled than T, but taught us the way these children are gifted with so many other abilities. We could see in them all that T could be... they renewed all of our hope and faith in that what we were doing was right. They supported my mom's decisions for treatment; they talked her through the different options; they shared the euphoric moments and the challenging times.

I remember T being the funniest kid...but then again, maybe we just appreciated every thing about him a little bit more because it was precious...looming over us all those doctors' predictions.

That is not to say that it wasn't also frustrating, annoying and painful to lose the connection with my mother, to grow up so fast so that I could help, to feel forced into self-sufficiency mode at a time when I just wanted my mom to give me some of her attention. But there was genuine joy when T crawled, when he scooted, and finally when he walked. It was absolutely affirming to see him beat all the predictions.

In high school, a young man with Spina Bifida a few years younger than me, died in his sleep. I was devastated. I didn't know John well, but he was a kind of embodiment of what T could be, could have been, might still be.

I remember for months, I would wake up worried that my little brother would be gone without a word. But here he is. He'll be 37 this year; he's married, gainfully employed, driving (!) [that's another long story], and raising a child of his own.

I will never know if he has any idea what it was like to be his big sister. If he had the same worries and fears as we did. I couldn't imagine living under that cloud; it was bad enough to be in the shadow of it.

But when I read that my friend's son had been taken from their lives, I felt the familiar pang.

I decided rather than worry, I am just going to try to feel joy every day that he is still in our lives.

It is an incredible reminder to enjoy every day to the fullest, to relish your people even when they drive you crazy, and to live every moment.
picture credits... me, mostly a trip to Tomales also some from the old neighborhood in Oakland

The Cat Palace

For days, my friend who was house sitting kept telling me that the apartment was depressing.

I could not wrap my mind around the concept based on what she was telling me:
6 story walk up (okay, challenging and annoying, but not depressing)
Sparsely furnished and what furniture was there seemed to be left there not really intended for the space. (okay, bad decorating or no sense of design, hell, I'm guilty of that but not depressing)

Then, I visited.

All I could think after looking around and realizing that, with the exception of the bed, desk and dresser, everything in the apartment was for the cats.

There were cat antojos like the box under the ladder. Lady cat likes to climb on ladders and sit in boxes or sleep in boxes. Like small children who would rather have the box than the gift.

There they were unceremoniously standing in the middle of the room: old, painted ladder with box underneath.

Scratch stations placed around the two rooms of the apartment, not strategically, but where the owner figured out the cats like them. You might argue this is strategic until you had to carefully walk around them in order to navigate the two rooms. I mean, really, how many scratch stations can two cats need. And, if you were there to hear when the cats needed to scratch, you would begin to get the picture.

In the other room, another ode to the climbing cat with an elaborate climbing structure.

Perhaps even more eerie was the lack of any personal items of the human living among these cats. Okay, I snooped, and there were barely any personal care items in her bathroom...

If you are not convinced that the pet owner, I almost hesitate to call her that as it may be more appropriate to call her the cats' human, has engineered everything for the cats' comfort per their specifications, then I will tell you why she needed a cat sitter.

The cats have no litter box. The go in the toilet, but they need a human to flush for them. There is a little sign across the lid, that read: Keep seat up. I wondered if it were draped there for the cat sitter or if it was a permanent feature. Again, I wondered, how many guests this apartment hosted that would need to be reminded.

The sense that this was depressing became clear when I took it all in together. I had known about the flushing before I arrived. It was odd, but not depressing, in and of itself.

I am not that kind of pet person. Remember, I have an aquatic turtle. We love each other from afar and low maintenance is an understatement with her. (except when she was sick but that was me taking low maintenance too far.)

If you want to find another angle because depressing is too, well, depressing, consider this... Cue Rod Serling's voice...because this would be an awesome episode of the Twilight Zone.

drafts folder empty

Yay... sometimes, drafting is unavoidable, the thought jumps in your head and you start a posting, but then you have some other pressing need that must be attended.

I don't mind posting the top of the head, meandering, uncrafted post.

In fact, I love the blog for that reason. Unlike other bloggers, I am obviously not trying to entertain or maintain some large bloggy following. I am not expecting to fund my graduate program through clicks to or through my blog.

For those who do, blogging is a full time job, see Dooce.com. Love her, and sometimes her posts even feel somewhat carefree, but I am always aware of the fact that they are drafted, crafted, revised and optimized before she pushes publish. It is not something that hinders my enjoyment in any way. It is just not why I have a blog.

I like in the moment. I use letting go here in the moment as therapy...so when there are posts in the draft folder, it is pressure.

Pressure free, I do hope to keep the blog posts up because I feel lighter when I can get stuff out here, whether interesting tidbits or personal entries. But this schedule has kept my journal pretty sparse. All right, it is unfair to blame the blog (why is it blame but claim? can't we just have one rule? -- sorry, this bothers me every time I have to write one of those words) because I didn't and haven't written in the journal as I have wanted to... but there is only so much writing energy around here between all the proposals and papers and abstracts and whatnot there is not a lot of anything left for blog and journal.

Oh...and don't play balderdash after writing three very intense papers (let's see, around 56 pages) because there are no words and no creativity left. I had to surrender my Thanksgiving balderdash crown just four short weeks later ... boo

Now back to piling up drafts in the folder ...

Of Full Moons and Letting Go

I had a little impromptu full moon ceremony the other day... when the moon was still full and I was tricking myself into having free time. Besides, I had already had two glasses of champagne and a class of white wine, so it wasn't like I was going to do real work. What better time for a little ceremony.

Speaking of ceremonies, I can't help but think of Leslie Marmon Silko whenever I think or speak the word, ceremony. If you haven't read her book, please do yourself a favor and take a look. I enjoyed the story, but it is more than just a novel. It is one of those rare books that is actually a healing; that is, there is healing contained in the book, and if you are amenable as you read, it can help you to heal, too, regardless of the type of pain or anguish you are experiencing.

Thankfully a box of papers had arrived (it's a long sad story I am afraid I can't retell here without copious amounts of alcohol and tonight is a dry night...) that needed to be burned in order to release the toxins held within them.

I had been thinking for a while how I could get my hands on some one's BBQ since I don't have one or a place where I can safely burn things. It is these times that make being far away from my circle ... and in a place that is still not quite home ... very difficult.

Luckily someone from my new, still forming circle, was game to help me find a place to burn a past that needed to find its way into oblivion (in the form of ash -- after all, from ash we can make new).

First we tried the park, but there were no pits. We decided on a trash can, one with minimal amounts of plastic (who wants to smell burning plastic or let that shit into the atmosphere?). The real problem was that this is Albuquerque and there is almost always wind and I had eschewed the lighter for matches... ten or so later, my box of matches was empty and there was a small hole burned in one paper.

We decided to go back to my friend's place and get a lighter, and then we decided to just use her little BBQ. But we had our priorities straight and headed for some frozen yogurt first ... five minutes before close.

All in all, it was a great way to release some negative thought forms and memories; sage burning in their midst made for a very healing time.

Now I am looking forward to the new moon and another ceremony to call in happier thoughts and memories to fill the spaces of the ones I released.

photos lovingly borrowed from the web

...

finishing up drafts from the folder, hoping for a great blogging week

breakfast and the gym, ooh gas and groceries, but maybe not laundry...

emotional recovery from the hectic week

and a Burns' dinner, er supper, in Socorro ... will wonders never cease?

did a little research to prepare myself for the evening. wonder if they know about this? Guess we have Mr. Burns to thank for Auld Lang Syne among other many poems, if my internet research is to be believed. Get a whole book online about the dude here.

[picture credit: found objects, collected on my runs and then displayed outside the aparment; pictures are good, this one taken with the computer rescuer's camera (it's a long story).]

BNA Sights

Let me just say that the Nashville airport, at least the terminal I was in, is huge. I felt like I had walked a football field by the time I got to baggage claim. But it is not all sterile corridors, everything is plush. If I tell you that one of the first sights was the Wild Orchid Bar or the Nashville Nails and Massage Bar would you be convinced?

I think someone trapped in an airport would want the airport to be BNA. That's all I am saying.

On the trip home, I arrived to the airport just as a huge chartered bus was letting off a giant group of people wearing suspiciously similar clothing.

I curbside checked my luggage to avoid the lines inside. Seriously, why do people insist on waiting inside when they can hand the luggage to the nice guys outside? It is only a tip you have to give ... no set price. Perhaps the 24 degree weather factored in, but the guys collecting luggage are out there all day, you only a few minutes.

Anyway, when I got to the security line, I was surrounded by the aforementioned folks, some were wearing red, others blue and a few had spiffy black jackets; all of them had embroidered: Advanced Auto Parts. If I had had the time or interest, I would have inquired as to the difference between colors and shirt or jacket type, but I was pretty sure that the black jackets came with a higher pay grade.

Instead of engaging my fellow passengers, I just observed and listened. They had been in Nashville for some kind of conference.

The best tidbit came from the man going through the security machine ahead of me. They had to go through his bag because there was a plastic bottle inside. It was homemade bbq rub. I asked if he was going to make bbq, and he said that in the Maine, where he was from, it was probably only likely that he would make hamburgers.

The TSA guy searching the bag was more interested in giving some suggestions on preparing hamburgers. I had to keep moving but I was pretty interested in that conversation. I loved that TN TSA was worried about getting Maine AAP rep the low down on making good grub rather than worrying about explosives... which reminds me that I haven't gotten around to talking about my TSA explosives experience.

Another day when I don't have something vital to my professional career hanging over my head. This was warm up.

Picture: me and Rosy, in front of the Parthenon, I was there ... but not really ready for the photo shoot.

sanity?

Yes, I still have two drafted (not fully drafted, let's be clear) posts in the folder and yet I am writing a new one...

This is because I just spent the last three hours going through every scrap of paper (and organizing them, thank you) in order to find the notes I needed for an assignment due tomorrow.

When I found nothing, I decided to look for the date of the meeting where said notes were taken and then look again in the FIRST notebook for the notes. And, there they were, just were they should be.

Ah, sanity, why do you stand just on the other side of the room when I need you over here? WHY?

I still have a few hours to draft before I have a lunch commitment, class and another class...whereupon I will have to fix, redraft and finalize said assignment along with a shitload of other work I need to do and get in bed at a decent hour and no, I did not exercise today other than climbing the stairs about a million times.

I am sure that is about five or six sentences and needed at least one or five more commas, but, alas, this is how I am functioning today.

How about you?

------
about the photo: Um, yeah, haven't gotten out with my camera yet either... so, sue me. But, these dead flowers sort of sum it all up for me.

words of wisdom

“The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you,
not knowing how blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.”
--Rumi

today's post was going to be called Dumpster Diving ... in the sense that I have been in the dumps for a few days and I decided to indulge by diving head first into the dumps... but that might mean that I have to relive the dumps. So instead just these words that buoy me sometimes.

I am going to head to meditation and try to center and ground ... and hope that it will right me and I will no longer be dumpster diving.

Tomorrow...beginning of the new semester.

yesterday

...I wrote a post about practicing a new way of being ...

I didn't mention the times I did not quite make it to the emotional place I desire ...

it's irrelevant actually because I lived those moments, too

I meant to write about sending an email ... like a message in a bottle because I knew it would not be immediately answered... but really not a message in a bottle because I know the addressee will receive it and read it

I just can't control how it will be received or what reactions it will provoke

and that is what I was thinking about, but not writing about, when I told you about the car and the dead battery and the coping ... but it was a good example I could fully exhibit.

waiting... and hoping and BELIEVING

I am plotting time to get out with the camera and take new pictures to include on the blog ... for now...these busy, productive beings inspire and amaze me:

cultivating new ways of being

in the present...

Yesterday, the car wouldn't start.

As I walked towards it and pushed the little button to make the door unlock, it did nothing... first indication of a problem.

I have been having to get closer and closer before it reacts, so I didn't worry, I just noted... but the lights didn't flash either...

But the doors unlocked, so I got in and turned the key, nothing.

I was just in time to still walk to the meeting, but any action on the car would have to wait until after the meeting.

This little event could have caused a melt down or at least spiraled into some serious stress... so I decided to just be with it on my walk to the meeting.

I allowed my mind to go to the worst case: dead hybrid battery ... end of the car as I do not have the money to repair that kind of problem.

So, if I don't have a car anymore as of today, right this minute, then what?

I can call my friends to get me around for my errands today; okay, actually could only think of one friend that might be free... but upon reflection there were actually three or four people I could have easily called, and three more I would have called more begrudgingly, but I would have done it.

Today, mastered, then what?

I would follow through on the plan ... if something were to happen to the car, just get zipcar... [as a student it's $35 per year, application fee (one time), and $9 an hour ... 180 miles included every day... not a bad deal: no paying for fuel, no paying for insurance, just when you use it. Great deal, totally doable... with what I spend on my car now, much cheaper]

I also thought through the harder part: actually dealing with the dead battery car. Got to call AAA, got to research how to deal with a dead battery on a generation 1 Prius, gotta deal with the reality that I might be letting go of the cute little green car...

I arrived at the meeting with plan in mind. After the meeting, walk to the library, access internet, call friends, call AAA...go from there.

It all worked out. Dead battery from sitting in the cold for three weeks?! Not sure, but whatever, it worked... and it's been cleaned and oiled and is just peachy...

The important thing was not freaking out ... allowing myself to see that I have the resources to handle the worst case scenario made it easier to deal with the immediate feelings of fear, loss, insecurity.

Zen(ish) Thursday ... wonder what Friday will bring...

Cacophony

Generally these days you will find me under the influence of something playing directly into my ears. I remember when I used to scoff at the concept. I was able to conjure a soundtrack in my mind and didn't need to rely on an i pod. Ah well how things change. Now I look to the music as a refuge. I enjoy watching the world go on around me with the music playing in the background. I feel a little out of sorts when I don't have little ear buds in.

I started this post back after Thanksgiving weekend, though, when I was home with the multi-sensory family. It is a constant input with them. That weekend, in particular, was high frequency, with the new baby and the untold news bubbling underneath and all the nervous energy from the newness and not knowing of the whole adoption situation.

I wondered that it would be like when I was headed back from THAT trip what it would be like to walk back into my mostly quiet life.

After nearly a month of traveling ... not sleeping in my own bed, in fact, let's see, over the last 27 days, I have slept in no less than 7 other people's houses, in five states. There were moments I was alone, but with work to do, there wasn't a lot of time for thinking or writing or processing.

In fact, in so many new spaces, there were so many people and things and events to observe. Starbucks and other coffee shops in various places, a concert, shopping, dinners and lunches out, airports (um, yes, eight of them), parks, movie theaters... so much input.

So, the sense of cacophony continued.

Last night, as the plane descended into Albuquerque I was filled with both a sense of dread and longing for quiet and my own space (though I wish now, of course, that I had cleaned up my apartment before I left so that I would be coming back to a clean house ...).

Since the friend who was picking me up at the airport also invited me to dinner, the quiet was forestalled, and then numbed with television but then indulged with deep sleep and no alarm... quiet, it's not so bad. And input, it's pretty good fun, too.

Small world

There are so many chains that many corners of NY could be any big city. I take comfort in some of it like the trader Joe's or sb but I also appreciate that some things are still regional and others truly unique.

I know I can get my corn muffin from dunkin donuts on the east coast. I know patties and red velvet cakes in Brooklyn will be tasty. And times square and the village are incomparable regardless of the smattering of chain stores and restaurants.

I did shake my head at people going to hardrock and bubba gumps... Seriously NY is wasted on those folks.

Only in NY though some of the fashions I have seen not only on mannequins but also on real people walking down the street.

And I seriously want one of those winter hassidic hats. The ones the guys wear. I want to be clear I am not endorsing the gender politics or dynamics (though that is a blogpost I should have written... Not sure I will be sufficiently moved when I am not walking with them on the street to write it) since I want to subvert the roles and wear it myself.

I also want to display it on off-seasons as a bizarre obscure (in all its meanings) lampshade.

I have a plan but it's whimsical so it's okay.

There was a second meaning to this post but it will have to surface as a part two.

Now I am rambling and free associating. But did you know that a worker died cleaning the small world ride at euro Disney? I mean of all rides, the most innocuous becomes the fatal one?

Ironic or bizarre or both? you decide.

Running out of the free hour on booing here at the airport. Gotta go.

Yup, I wrote this while temporarily stranded at La Guardia, but I hadn't had time to clean up the iPod spellings til now.

Highlights

For weeks I have been thinking about what I would write when I no longer had to be prompted. Now I stare at the blank screen and draw a similar blank.

I am in the shuttle on the way to the airport, and mother nature has seen fit to gift me with snow for my departure. [Yes that was last Friday...wrote several drafts that day.]

New York is nothing if not dramatic.

Beyond the truly wonderful, almost miraculous, friend time (I think the universe was truly on my side), I have some other memorable sights and experiences.

Here are the Highlights:
Uggs -- I seriously have never believed the hype, but Janella's extra pair were a godsend. Warm, comfy, quickly dried though not water proof... When I had to walk through unplowed and unshoveled areas, no issues! And no falls, though, perhaps I shouldn't speak to soon, still gotta get to and thru the airport.

Tour o Starbucks -- perhaps not the most imaginative of study spots for me, but I was using my card and gathering points. I was in sb in Brooklyn, on Wall Street, and in Harlem. Each with its own charm though none with the kind of service I am accustomed to...but still fairly uniformly polite.

Cosi -- unexpected outstanding service. Truly enjoyed my afternoon working there.

Cupcakes! -- the review: two thumbs up for the rainbow cookie cupcake and the banana something. Truth be told I bought that last one because it was the freshest. The red velvet was mediocre... Stick to the cake man for that, price aside, you won't be disappointed. But I would seriously order fresh cupcakes from this place, I think it was called king of cupcakes?! Down the block from Five Guys in Park Slope. I drove there with my live navigator so that really means nothing to me, but it might mean something to you.

God's Love We Deliver -- enough said

Highline Park -- wow...truly spectacular even in the winter. I wish I could count on lazy days of summer or fall to hang out there. The views are amazing but the style of the park is equally inspired. Love love love it.

There is plenty more but this long enough so it will have to keep for another post.

Parkway and...

Still trying to wrap my mind around how the Parkway's idea for movies in comfy seats with food and drink (you know, including adult beverages) becomes "fork and screen" and "cinema suites" at AMC theaters.

I love that theaters are figuring out that they need a new model, but it is hard for me reconcile their upscale model with the Parkway's local kitsch.

Don't get me wrong. It is a fantastic strategy and not overpriced. The fee is $20 but $10 of that will pay for food and drink. You get semiprivate seats that are upscale comfy. In the premium suites: recliners.

At a regular theater those seats would not be as comfy, and a soda and popcorn or crappy nachos would cost $10.

I am guessing there won't be the same kind of community participation as the Parkway.

The price point and the explicit rules about unaccompanied minors mean that no gangs of thirteen year old boys will ever be your companions in the theater.

It's super interesting. Social control and business model shift in one fell swoop.

Multitasking.

Makes me long for the Parkway though.

Did I mention that they are reopening??

I posted it on fb but perhaps forgot to mention here. Sometimes my medias get confused in my mind.

Soundtrack of Life?

Sometimes, you wake up in the morning with some lyrics in your head... maybe, even if with the accompanying music.

Don't ask me why, because I just don't know, this is what I woke up to this morning:



I do love Boy George, though.

See for yourself.

Happy Friday ... goodbye NYC, hello Nashville.

UPDATE:
Perhaps the song was meant to presage the first real travel snafu... Stuck at laguardia where my flight will be too delayed to reach connection on time. Thanks for the heads up southwest.

Yeah... And after the grand tour of manhattan on the shuttle, I prefer to wait for a friend to pick me up than endure another endless ride through with shuttle driver.

Flight rebooked for tomorrow and plotting how to not lug my bags with me all over creation.

It's all good... More time to do work for money. A little journalling and I did get three blog posts substantially drafted on the shuttle.

Kept me from wanting to yell and scream.

back posting deja vu

It's January 4th...and I haven't had a chance to finish all those December posts that went to live in the drafts folder.

It has been a long time since I have back posted... just sayin' -- I think I get a pass for these.

Keep an eye out for these to get done, sloppily or well, no one knows for sure, but I have material for the new year that is backing up in my head, so as not to continue clogging the drafts folder, and it won't keep forever.

photo: sleepy baby niece, for fun and because she is so cute