I treated myself to a trip to the city yesterday. In case you don’t subscribe to my Twitter feed, I texted in some tweets that went like this:
- Riverbank State Park makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley.
- Whole Foods @ Columbus Circle makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley.
- The A Train makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley.
- The Pope is ruining my day. (I was going to say that shopping at Century 21 makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley, but the pope had to bless Ground Zero, and all of the streets were closed and I couldn’t get there. I hope he at least stopped to get a deal on new shoes to go with that jaunty hat he wears.)
- Pearl River Mart makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley.
- Starbucks makes me… Nevermind, we have one of those in town.
- Paragon Sports makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley. (The store sells every conceivable sporting good known to woman.)
- Giving directions to foreign tourists in the 42nd St. Subway makes me regret moving to the Hudson Valley.
- Max the hairdresser is one of the best things about New York City.
My visit to Max was the purpose of the trip, but I got there wickedly early so I could swim in the Olympic-size swimming pool that rests atop a sanitation facility off of the West Side Highway. I used to swim there quite often when I was living in Manhattan, and going back to my old pool got me nostalgic to visit all my old haunts in the hours before my appointment, and nostalgic it was.
But then I came home to the Hudson Valley where I have friends who check up on me when I break my ankle, and are there for me when I break my heart, and actually return my phone calls when I want to talk (and sometimes I don’t even have to call them first!) I have a crappy home on a beautiful piece of land (there may be a swarm of bees in my mudroom, but there are fish jumping in the pond!) I can park my car without worrying about circling the block 5 times to find a spot, and when I turn out the lights at night, it is so dark that I can’t see my hand in front of my face. Also, my commute to work is less than 8 minutes, and I pass a drive-in movie theater on the way. I think the only solution to my where I belong conundrum is to split myself exactly in two and live both places at once. And once I master that, I’ll create even more horcruxes so I can live in England, Virginia, Colorado, Los Angeles and Australia as well, but I won’t do it in the evil way that Tom Riddle did in Harry Potter.
BTW, the delay of this post is due to the nature that I’m waiting for Max to send me the picture he took after blowing out my hair, which explains the title. It still hasn’t come through, so I’ll have to add that later. in the meantime, please enjoy this picture that I took with my camera in Chinatown:
