taking a break

Some days I feel like I've said everything I need to say at least once, and writing more is just a different version of something I've already written.

Other days I'm even more critical wondering who really cares about my day-to-day when there are so many important, bad-news stories around.

I have friends and family I know who would be happy if I gave up my blog. They think I either expose too much or should use my writing time to do something more productive — like volunteer.

And when I write, I reveal a part of myself to the world, and therefore risk being judged. Right now, I'd prefer not to take that risk. I could never be a politician or celebrity. My skin is not tough enough.

So I'm taking a little break through the end of the year.

I won't bother people at Thanksgiving who just want to socialize and have fun without worrying about seeing their photos on my blog.

Or friends who would rather not be photographed or written about at all.

It's not good-bye; it's more like see you soon.

new commitment

I'd like a dog but my building doesn't allow them.

I'd consider a cat but I have no obscure place to put the kitty litter.

No other pets interest me.

My sister Jean is coming to visit today. I want the apartment to look nice; she hasn't been here in almost six years.

I go to the local florist to buy some flowers. I'd like some color. But flowers are so fleeting. 

Instead, I walk out with this:

I have never been good with plants, so I'm a little nervous about its care. But I'm told it only needs watering once a week.

What I'd really love is a Fiddle Leaf Fig tree, but that feels like such a major commitment.

I'll start small and see where it leads.

My new little plant will be my test. Poor baby.

new york's finest

If anything, I'm resourceful. 

Today is the NYC Marathon. All participants travel up First Avenue; I live between First and York. Last year I remember leaving for work, around 11:30. I was met with three-deep cheering crowds and inspiring runners converging on First Avenue. Barriers and police prevented any crossing. I ended up getting a ride with a stranger whose car I approached on York Avenue.

I didn't want this happening again.

So I decide to leave early, before the runners make it to First. I'm showered, dressed, and out-the-door by 10. First Avenue is empty, but barriers and police are still blocking the street.

"Sorry, ma'am, but no one is allowed to cross the street until later today. If you want to cross, you'll have to go down to 59th Street." 

There are no runners yet. Only a handful of bikers. I beg. I plead. It does no good.

And then some older guy, on crutches, says he needs to get to Urgent Care across the street. When the police don't let him through, I know I have no chance.

I walk over to York.

No busses. No cabs. And Via can't get through. Maybe I just won't go in. Work has been dismal lately anyway.

Then I see a police officer on a scooter and get an idea.

The policeman guarding the barrier on York and 79th sees me eyeing the scooter and says, "Don't bother. Those are one seaters."

But then I see another, better possibility.

So I approach.

I plead my weak case. 

The two police officers consider my request, discuss it between them, and then, unlock the door and say, "Jump in."

My first time riding in a police car. 

I can't believe the generosity of the two officers who are likely going against police policy. That's why no photos of them.

But I did manage a few non-incriminating ones.

The cage and blinking red lights behind me.:

MY driver and his partner in the front

Maybe next year I'll see if I can get a ride on a firetruck.

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