When I was a little girl, and we would make our yearly New York City trip from the country, my eyes used to roll out of my head toward every dog I saw.
It was hard enough to accept that people actually lived in the expansive skyscraper jungle of Manhattan. Seeing people with dogs blew my mind. I grew up on acreage where neighborhood dogs roamed free. I couldn’t imagine a dog being in an apartment, particularly an apartment someplace like Fifth Avenue.
I was thinking this as I strolled up Eighth Avenue with the puppies this morning. The road I took to get back here got so bumpy at the end; I lost sight in some ways of what exactly I was swinging.
To widen my smile further, I wound up passing a woman around the age of my mother – standing in front of one of the hotels smoking her 6am cigarette. She beamed at the sight of Frankie and Peanut and greeted me with, “Look how good they are! They are CUTE!” And then she buried them in pats.
The lady reminded me of me as a kid. She made me realize that I grew into one of “those people” who once seemed like mythical creatures to me – people who not only live in midtown, they live there with dogs.
Frankie has brought a unique joy to my life. Taking care of him and watching his health improve in my care has grounded me in ways I never knew were coming. I’ve been grounded like this before, but I let it go for a minute.
Frankie reminds me of history to hold, and what to let go of. Here’s to staying and keeping light.
On the first day of my 51st month of updating this page (blogging? still uncertain), it is my pleasure to announce… we’re moving back to midtown blog family!
Henry dying and living in the house where it all occurred not only ruined my life for awhile, it made me promptly pull my head in and make things happen. Six days ago I said something like, “Hey, I reckon I’ll get a new place so I can visit Lily during lunchbreaks.”
Abracadabra blog tribe. I’m moving December 15. I’m going to be living smack set in the middle of the city’s guts. A ten minute walk from work. In Times Square, essentially. Fortunately, my apartment has a balcony overlooking a secret courtyard, so it’s surprisingly quiet. Hell’s Kitchen serenity. I think this will suit Lily and I nicely.
Life truly does blow my mind on occasion. This is one of those. I never thought I would live in the part of town I’m moving to. I’m excited to be able to take Peanut to Central Park every morning. It’s a far stretch from living on 1st Avenue and 3rd Street, my first NYC squat back in 2000… EXCITING.
I’m still carrying on with this book thing in between packing (again). I was actually going to post a story, but then I decided I would keep it in my “book only” pile. Hopefully the pile is a novel soon.
I need a new one of those.
In addition to studying and practicing yoga, I am going to learn Italian.
In 1907 my great grandfather, Joseph Luciano, was fourteen years old. He traveled with his parents and little sister from Sortino to Le Harve then onto New York City.
I’ve decided that I would like to complete my second novel in Italy. So I should totally learn to speak the language.
Furthermore, Italian men are hot. I’d like to converse with them in their native tongue.
Lessons start Wednesday.
I’m on my way out the door… laptop in tow… off to spank book.
Happy weekend blog family!
PS. Who’s on Instagram?!
It occurred to me last week, when we were signing our marriage license, that (once upon a time) I was divorced, married and then divorced again in a 15-month period. Talk about some sheeeeeeeet.
Wild to think that was over five years ago now. Usually I say I was married “one and a half times”, considering I ditched number two after about 10 days.
On 23 August, I married my finally forever. David was our witness, cigars were smoked. There’s a certain silence of love that I once attempted to capture in a story, many moons ago, when I was married to husband number one. I think I missed the mark back then, but now I reckon I’m totally onto something.
Anyone who’s met me live-time knows I’m a poet – regardless of how under-thrilled I am about the connotation connected with this on the daily. I love love, I was totally in love with being in love before it was cool.
There’s a comfort and security connected to the emotional orb surrounding my husband and I. It’s like a precious lull.
I’m in the midst of deciding on Australia or back to Spain for our next adventure. Today we’re getting a car and driving to Connecticut. I found a real, actual man in a world where I literally tried to settle – twice.
That isn’t even like me, I’m totally glad I won’t have to deal with that again.
Naturally he’s a Spanish Viking who I stumbled across in midtown Manhattan…
Sunday was Pride in New York City. We danced down streets and drank pitchers of margaritas on hotel rooftops, surrounded by rainbows and love.
I’m settling into my new situation of working remotely. Considering my office is a ten minute walk from my writing desk at home, and it’s in one of the most beautiful buildings in town – with a lovely set of fellow Writers; I don’t particularly mind attending.
That said, I like having my own schedule. Sometimes I’m not popping 9 to 5, usually I’m at my brightest around 6am. It will be nice to take a break of working in unideal timeframe. Continue reading