(Said in a Greta Garbo voice, pronouncing want vant.)
As I sat on the train heading south to Hudson on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I considered my decision to take the trip solo. I had made two attempts to find a companion for the day, but didn’t find a taker. No worries whatsoever. I’d been thinking about this little adventure for some time and today was the ideal day to enjoy a little time out of town.
I’m so glad I’m not reluctant to explore the world on my own. I have no problem grabbing my wallet, a bottle of water and a camera and taking to the road. Doing things by myself isn’t an inferior experience, it’s just a different one. I like being with me.
I know I’m perceived as an extremely social person, working jobs that require lots of personality and interaction, but that doesn’t mean that I am incapable of going it alone. Spending time with other people is enjoyable because people are interesting and fun. But, so am I!
I’m interested in living a full life, fashioning an existence where beauty is embraced and experiences are curated. Waiting around for someone to accompany me on my explorations isn’t even a consideration. There’s just too damn much to see, to taste and to experience. Alone is not a bad thing – especially when there are two oysters and you get to eat them both.
I’ve worked on Lark Street between Spring and State Streets for nearly 13 years. That’s like a third of my life (+10).
My head has so many ideas racing around. I really want to make Lark + Lily the kind of place I’ve always looked to frequent – comfortable, consistent, warm, not overly serious.
That kind of sounds like me, doesn’t it?
I don’t have an aesthetic as much as I have an energy.
Making the transition from watching OITNB to Girls, Season 1 has been…. interesting.
As I become more involved in restaurant matters, I find myself culling other areas of my life. I don’t have time for things which make me feel weighed down. Those unmatched socks and that pile of mending to be gone – one way or another.
Sometimes when I run with Jeter I worry that he’s going to have a heart attack. That being said, I haven’t run much this month. Between the bugs on vacation and the heat and humidity of this recent hot spell, I’m just not feeling it. I miss it.
Speaking of the weather, when its this hot all I am interested in eating is plain Greek yogurt with fruit and granola and Caprese. And ice cream , of course.
I never, ever imagined I would own a business. It’s crazy exciting.
I can’t wait to share some of the things I’ve got planned. It’s going to be fun.
The older I grow, the more I know how short life is. It’s going to sound silly but no one in my life illustrates this point to me more than Jeter. At a mere 18 months, he has probably already lived more than 15 percent of his life, a realization that makes me want to give him the happiest life ever. Two weeks at the beach are bound to earn me quite a bit of credit, don’t you think?
This is his first vacation and I had some trepidation about his behavior, imagining him knocking the not-quite-three-year-old down the stairs with his exuberance and gnawing on various objects made of wood around the house. I wasn’t sure if he would go crazy when we left him alone and bark or misbehave. To transition him, I brought a couple of roasted marrow bones (long, not round!), his toys and his bowls from home.
Other than an incident with an abandoned bag of Smart Food, he has been stellar. We start our day with a walk and breakfast followed by a longer walk and a swim. He naps on the deck where he has his choice of sun, shade or tabletop and has been lovely with all of the kids. There have been other dogs to play with on the beach and he loves swimming in the bay and playing monkey in the middle whenever there’s a game of catch in which he can insert himself.
Jeter has tried to come paddle boarding with me but refuses to commit to sitting on the board, preferring to leap off and climb back on repeatedly. He also enjoys high tide bridge jumping impressing everyone with his fearless enthusiasm to be near his people in the water. All of his time spent in the water necessitates a post-swim shower and I’ve been getting Jeter accustomed to a quick rinse in the outdoor shower. It’s growing on him.
Our first evening here I picked three ticks off of Jeter, (although I think I may have picked the same one off twice) and the green head flies feasted on him prior to the full moon high tide, drawing blood on more than one occasion. Despite these aggressive parasites, I’m pretty sure Jeter would happily revisit the beach every year of his life and I’d love to be able to make that happen for him. It’s definitely a dog’s life.
2 out of 3 (again) on the Lunar B*tches
After missing last week’s run at Five Rivers, I was excited to get back on the trail with Thursday night’s 3 miler up at Thacher Park. And I do mean up. The first approximate mile was pretty much an uphill climb. The saving grace was the fact that the trail wound about a bit, in a similar fashion to the lines for the amusement rides at Disney World, so you never really saw how far there remained before things might level off.
Thacher Park is known for the phenomenal views from the escarpment, but the trails we were on were set in the thick of the woods with lush, green views and gurgling water from active streams. I’ve only run up here in the fall when most of the foliage was already making a bed on the forest floor, so this was a new perspective for me. The trails were a bit rutted and rocky, with some potentially slippery moss, but more than wide enough in most places for three runners to run shoulder to shoulder. The surface was intermittently marked by mud after the rainy week we’ve had, but there was room to avoid it.
After the intense opening climb, the path leveled off for probably* a mile plus before the descent and loop back to our starting point. Those parts were pretty damn idyllic and nearly inspired us to take a second loop, before we decided to cross the road and run along the escarpment trail a bit until we felt finished. Of the three runs in the series which I’ve been able to make, this was the most challenging and I’d like to get back up there to explore more of the trails. Maybe I can find one (or you might know one to share?) that doesn’t start quite so aggressively.
Check here for next week’s run, but I think I heard it might be back at Thacher – with a bar-b-q! I’ve got the Albany House and Garden tour that night, but I’m confident I’ll meet my goal of hitting at least 50% of the runs in this series.
*continuing to hold true to my vow of not taking any electronic gadgets into the woods.
It looked like this starling.
Apologies in advance for this post’s title. I don’t intend it to convey any disrespect, it’s more my attempt to emotionally remove myself from an incident which I found to be upsetting. Here’s what happened…
Over the weekend, my son came across an injured bird in the lawn next to our house. The poor guy was lying in the grass on its stomach looking uncomfortable and afraid. Naturally, Jeter was very interested in the bird, although not in an aggressive way. I think he was just happy to finally get close to one of those “things” that tease him with their ability to flit about as they visit our front porch feeder.
Twice, Jeter got close to the bird and it responded by hopping away, inadvertently landing on its back both times. Each time, I ever so gently rolled it back into its seemingly preferred position of belly down, an act which didn’t cause any apparent additional distress. I brought the hose to the bird and dripped some water directly in its mouth, which it seemed to appreciate. Beyond that, I simply didn’t know what to do.
As expected, by the next morning the bird was dead. I considered what to do with it and concluded that digging a hole and burying it really wouldn’t be much better than simply picking it up and placing it in the trash. I mean, at this point, what was the difference? I’m okay with my decision on how to dispose of the bird, but I’m questioning my actions relating to what I did when the bird was suffering. To me, it seems unreasonable to bring a “wild” bird to a veterinarian for medical attention, but should I have taken it somewhere to be euthanized? I don’t think I could have “put it out of its misery” myself, but should I have tried to find a means to do that? What have you/would you have done in the same situation?
I’ve come to realize that I don’t do well with pain, at least not pain of the emotional sort. As a matter of fact, when someone seriously hurts my feelings, I get angry. Really, really angry. Like I practically see red and have a tendency to behave in an irrational and borderline insane way. It is not pretty.
Physical pain is a different story, though. I’ve experienced some pretty painful things – unmedicated childbirth, separated shoulder, multiple surgeries on various parts of my body, and nothing as caused me to truly lose my sh!t.* I’ve developed some skills along the way to help me cope, things like focused breathing and visualization have gone a long way in making me able to contend with severe discomfort.
As long as it is my own pain, that is. I don’t do as well with other people’s pain. When someone I care about is hurting, I’m good with trying to make them more comfortable and doing my best to provide them with whatever they might need to get well again. To a point. If it feels to me that there is a lack of positive progress or a wallowing in the pain, I find myself stepping off. I guess I just can’t handle it.
What are you more able to tolerate – physical or emotional pain?
*Delivering that baby with Pitocin and without pain meds was probably the closest I’ve been to out of my mind with pain.
There was a phrase a couple of years back that became so ubiquitous that I developed a physical response to hearing it. Each time someone uttered “It is what it is,” the hair on the back of my neck legitimately stood up and I began to exhale loudly. The phrase annoyed me, I think because it seemed so passive, so completely relinquishing control. Not my way, I guess.
The phrase that I’m hearing kind of frequently now is one I find less irritating – You do you. My hippie wannabe son has been dropping it on me for quite a few months, yet it hasn’t even begun to wear on my nerves. In fact, I kind of love it and I find myself smiling each time I hear it. You do you.
During my run tonight, I was thinking that nothing so perfectly illustrates the transition from It is what it is to You do you as Caitlyn née Bruce Jenner. Olympic hero and put upon parent to a collection of 10 (?) children, Bruce Jenner could have elected to continue flirting with Caitlyn, perhaps indulging his desire for female attributes and accoutrements exclusively out of the public eye, but instead, he decided to do him. Or, more accurately, her.
I can’t imagine the conflict experienced by a person who constantly feels that their external self does not accurately reflect their internal reality. It’s hard enough to look in the mirror occasionally and behold an image that doesn’t match the way we’re feeling – where did those lines and wrinkles come from? I still feel like I’m 22! The continual clash between personal perception of self and the visage we present to humanity can’t be anything short of perpetually jarring.
At 65 years of age, Caitlyn Jenner was introduced to the world in a way that has caused a social media frenzy. Some folks are having a difficult time reconciling Bruce with Caitlyn, are struggling to accept that a man who became an international hero by asserting his athletic prowess in one of the world’s most ancient events, prefers to define himself as female. You know what? It is what it is. You do you. All the best to you, Caitlyn Jenner.