A day in The City

I've written paeanic tributes to NY before, but truly, it is magnificent. With the possible exception of Paris (a spectacular city I've had the good fortune to visit twice), there is no place on Earth where I feel the deep energy I do in Manhattan. As soon as I near its threshold, a powerful rush of dynamism starts to pulse within me. The promise of time spent there is a weighty pebble dropped into my core: undulations of excitement, energy, utter aliveness ripple powerfully out; concentric, visceral waves of "anything can happen, anything is possible here." New York is so incomparably vital. The cacophonous symphony of taxi horns, worldly languages, feet pounding the pavement, ambulances whizzing by, music, vendors, emotive conversations, neon signs, larger-than-life ads, delivery men weaving bikes in and around pedestrians and buses, the hum of AC window units, construction conducted from giant scaffolds, the random drip-drops of water that always fly from above...it all sings brilliantly in unison (much of the time).

Fat, Barbie, old, young, wheelchair-bound, dressed to the nines, barely dressed at all, infinitely local, totally foreign, transgender, straight, player, gay, country came to town, unbelievably hip, shockingly not so, loud, meek, tatted out, wearing hijab, homeless, loaded, smoker, vegan, atheist, evangelical, filthy, spotless. And everything in between. Often within a block or two.

Today was restorative in a perfectly exhausting way. I don't remember the last time I did something like this. Travel has been a breeze, the weather was glorious, my dear pal Mike treated me to a wonderful lunch at Esca (part of the Batali-Bastianich dynasty), my last-minute seat at the theater was terrific.

Lucky Guy boasted a wonderful cast -Tom Hanks, Courtney B. Vance, Christopher McDonald (Shooter McGavin in Happy Gilmore), Peter Gerety (you'd recognize him), Deirdre Lovejoy (The Wire), Maura Tierney- and I thought of and missed Nora Ephron the whole time. Hanks' role was one of those that must be absolutely exhausting to do: he's rarely off-stage and his character (the aggressive, voluble Irish-America journalist Mike McAlary) runs through a huge range of energy and emotion; he was wonderful. The cast seemed to share a great bond; perhaps they all loved, admired and miss Nora too.

Lucky me is more like it! And you should see the sunset I spy from my train window.

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Friday...

That's really all I have to say in wrapping up today: Friday. One lonely word but so many suggested sentiments within. Declaration- It's Friday, yo! Fact- Literally, today is Friday. A way of placing ourselves in time- For some the end of the week, for others the Sabbath, some cheer the emergent weekend, others think 'who gives a rat's tush." Reflection- Wow, another week gone by. How was it? What did I do/accomplish/enjoy? How might I have erred? And so forth and so on.

I had a nice day overall. The cakes, a lovely walk with Percy and a neighbor and her new grandson, an impressive thunderstorm, dinner with T. Just a bit ago, I ran upstairs for something, saw J's light on and immediately barged in. He was sitting in a seriously invested way on the pot reading Harry Potter 3. And when I say sitting, I actually mean that it looked like his butt had moved into the bowl, so low-slung was it. "Jack, it is two hours past your bedtime! What are you doing?" "Going to the bathroom, Mom." "But why are you up, and what have you been doing?" as I spy his sketch pad and a pen propped on his pillow. "Nothing, Mom!" "Oh really? Not sketching?" "Er, no Mom, definitely no." I can see that he's a lot further along in his book than when I last checked at 6:40p.

Do I love that he grooves on reading? Yes! Without a doubt! Does the fact that he's been up this late now two nights in a row make me double relieved I'm heading to NY tomorrow? For shizzle! He was bordering on nutso all afternoon, so I don't envy T's duties tomorrow. Not a lick.

The shrimp salad was totally average, and I wouldn't recommend that recipe. I would, however, definitely recommend the Casa Noble reposado tequila! Muy bien! I made a simple margarita- tequila, lime, simple syrup, one huge ice sphere. Perfection. It was nice with the shrimp. I mean, shrimp are just good. So even when they're average, they're still not bad. And a good margarita is always nice, and then alongside I'd made some herbed (mint-cilantro-dill) yogurt breadsticks and a coriander oil for dipping. Those were solid. An easy Friday meal. Friday.

PS- Wanna know something interesting? I was updating Em-i-lis Essays, adding in yesterday's piece to the On Feeling Disappointment essay, and I noticed that it was almost exactly this time last year that I wrote the original bit.

Cakes, shrimp, tequila, NY

I can't believe I leave tomorrow morning for my day in NY. As my friend, Mike, said, "this trip is aggressive." True enough, but a good book for six hours of train, lunch with Mike (one of my best college friends), the show...I'm not complaining in the least! Yesterday's post on parental struggles really struck a chord with a number of readers who have felt similarly challenged lately. I have been so flattered to have received a great number of comments since: of thanks, of "yes, me too!", of "I don't feel so alone." And really, because none of us should feel alone in the weeds of parenthood is one of the two main reasons I write about my own experiences in the maternal trenches. I write to vent and to connect, and I thank you for reading and responding.

I spent the morning making three round cakes of different sizes, two strawberry and one chocolate, for Jack's party on Sunday. They will form a tiered fighting stage on which Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker will battle. Fantastic.

For dinner tonight, I'm planning to make Tequila Shrimp and Watermelon, courtesy of Casa Noble tequila which kindly sent me these darling samples of their Crystal, Añejo and Reposado distillations, as well as a few recipes for experimentation. I suspect that shrimp and watermelon in a tequila-lime sauce simply can't be bad!