Adaptation

I journeyed to the wilds of Connecticut on Saturday to see my friend Monica, her husband, and their newly-purchased house. As we were making plans, she asked me if I needed to do any suburban shopping. I thought and thought, and much to my surprise, the answer was no.

For the first few months I lived in New York, I felt like I was running a small import company (not Vandelay Industries). I would grocery shop over my lunch break and bring things home on the train. I’d shop in Maine and stuff my suitcase. On my last day of work in Connecticut, I went on a Target run that filled both the trunk and backseat of my car.

But now? I think I may have started to get the hang of this whole city thing. I have a couple little markets I frequent. There are a few items I prefer to have delivered, and I’ve found a service I like for that. And, to feed that suburban shopping hunger, I finally made the pilgrimage to the Target in Harlem. And it was amazingly simple to get there and get back home with all my purchases.

It’s like I figured out one more piece of this puzzle.

Full Canine Employment

Yes, it’s been awhile. So you know it must take something important to get me back to the keyboard.

What could be more important than finding a job for a dog? How about funding a therapy dog for a little girl who desperately needs one. One of my favorite bloggers wrote this much better than I did, so I suggest you hop over to this post.

If you have a blog, or any kind of network, please share Evalyn’s story.

Seriously

I got all serious over at PGS today.

Itinerant No More

This, my friends, is most assuredly the end of an era. For the first time in 16 years, I don’t own a car. (Okay, technically, for a lot of those years I didn’t own a car per se. Rather various lenders owned cars on my behalf.) In some ways this presents new-found freedom. I’m free from car insurance and repairs, and the justifiable-violence inducing need to find street parking three to four times a week.

But in so many ways, a piece of my freedom is gone. Having a car at my disposal made me feel so liberated, as though at the drop of a hat I could pick up and go anywhere. Not that I went around dropping hats or gallivanting about willy-nilly. But it was nice to know I could. Last minute trips are still possible, but will require a bit of planning and logistics. And shared space.

Owning a car is somehow so very American, and yet not owning one is so very New York. My identity is shifting with every passing day.

There’s Good; There’s Bad. I Hope There’s No Ugly.

The bad? It’s been way too long since I’ve posted here. The good? I posted over at The Peanut Gallery Speaks today.

What a Long Strange Trip it Was

Took a stab at talking about leaving my old job over at The Peanut Gallery today. Feel free to give it a read.

Every Day has a Snag

Sometimes it’s literal.

Today was my first day at my Big New Job. I planned my outfit the day I received the offer. I borrowed a purse from my mother to accompany said outfit. (How cool/sad is it that my elderly mother has better accessories than I do?) I watched the weather as I was getting ready this morning, and heard the weatherman say, “If it’s already sprinkling where you are, it’s going to be raining harder soon.”

As I stepped outside my building, I noticed it was sprinkling. A few minutes later, it really started to come down. And sideways. By the time I got to the subway, my feet were soaked, and I could wring out my hair. When I left the subway, it was even worse.

My hair was mostly dry by the time I had a new badge photo taken, but it wasn’t cute. The bottom half of my dress dried out sometime during lunch. It was a little after that time that I looked down and realized that I had two large runs in my pantyhose. They both started in the foot, curved up the ankle, and went all the way up the outside of my leg. Why, for the love of pagan holidays was I wearing hosiery? Well, it was the first day and I didn’t want to push the boundaries of casualness. Yah, ‘cause wearing nylons with giant visible runs makes such a better impression.

By the time I left the office, the rain had mostly cleared up. And then, walking home from the subway, my shoe fell off mid-stride. And before I knew what had happened, my practically-naked foot was on a wet New York City sidewalk, and then it was back inside my new red shoe. And now I will forever think of that shoe as contaminated.

Tomorrow, there will be no hose.