long conversations with interesting people
long lines & competition for everything. hard to find good doctors
timed traffic lights
cool black guys on nice bikes in Prospect Park & me the lone white girl riding the loop on my red Raleigh
Knicks (Ewing, Oakley, Starks)
dazzling choice of movies
good Italian restaurants, cannolis in Little Italy, pizza…cold sesame noodles & broccoli with garlic sauce…warm sugared cashews in that little crinkly bag
earnestness keeling over to boredom
exchanges about rain/coffee/apps with non-committal people
great doctors, great hospitals
oddball traffic habits
one cool black guy at work
Indian faces in the crowd
Reggae show on KEXP (“King Tubby on the mixdown!”)
Seahawks! I love you Russell! Lynch!
either the moldy, has-been arthouse or the multiplex
Thai food, Gordito’s, sushi
My new practice is really helping me find balance, and I’m committed to it. I needed something that’s all mine and I found it at my local studio. But this blog isn’t about how much I love my yoga teacher. I have a different story to tell.
My material ranges from early Stony Brook days, racing on Long Island Sound, the pull of the east coast. I want to tell you about my son and his indomitable spirit and how the world is still not ready for kids like him, but first. First, I need to quit dairy, and the only way I can really do without pizza is putting it way out there (here), being accountable to you and writing about it. Like you, I’m on a spiritual quest and it’s that self-help time of year. What are you putting down? I know I’m not grounded yet and I still have lots of things left undone.
Like you, I’m on a spiritual quest and it’s that self-help time of year.
Quitting dairy will help me be more honest – because I can be really dishonest about food. When I got sober decades ago, I leaned pretty heavily on Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk that I’d pick up at the corner store on my way home. I needed the sugar because the beer was gone! Anyway we all know animal fats are bad and that it’s unnatural to eat something meant for a little baby calf. C’mon, deep down you know it too.
Today I made a list of what I’ll miss besides c-h-e-e-s-e and top ones are half & half in my coffee, butter and all the baked goods that have butter, yogurt, milkshakes at BurgerMaster and Peanut Butter Moo’d shakes at Jamba Juice (true confessions). I’m gonna quit from now until January 31 and see how I feel. Yeah, looking better in my yoga gear is one of my goals. Shallow, I know. So it’s goodbye Nancy’s Organic Vanilla. Goodbye to the Fran’s Salted Caramels we got for Christmas. Au revoir Pagliacci! Wish me luck!
I wasn’t one of the 40. Even though I slipped a picture of the writer’s cabin in the corner of my mirror months ago and imagined myself in it. Imagined spending hours, days just writing, drinking tea, eating tomato and Swiss on something they probably call Farmer’s wheat. Swallowed up in its A-frame-ness and puffy pillows stuffed in a nook, my windows open to moss and trail, warm light spilling into mystical island wildness. Breathing in, a mix of cedar and salt.
I learned about Hedgebrook a few years ago and the more I looked, the more I wanted. Free writers’ residency, writing all day in that gorgeous cedar-shake cabin, communal meals with fellow women writers at night. Morning walks on the beach. Meandering paths in the woods. Even the writer’s cred of calling yourself a “Hedgebrook alumna” after you got chosen, but alas I’m just one of 1,860 applicants.
Maybe next year, Hedgebrook. I worked hard on that application. My 10 pages were strong. I will do the same next June.