a toast.

the first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are.

john pierpont

i've begun the slow and painstaking process of moving myself down the street. one suitcase at a time. and that's a form of movement, no?
sarah, amanda, and i toasted tonight to the many things just around the bend.

perhaps this chapter of blowing air through my lips to keep myself calm is just about to end. or shift, a little.

i was wearing a cnn cap (you know the news network?).

spring skipped new york entirely today.

instead, summer arrived a few months too soon (or at least a few weeks).

but i was determined that zoobie and i would not stay cooped up in the apartment with the air conditioning whirling away. nor would we escape to the bookstore and the comfort of any even bigger central air system.

instead we would go in search of renegade breezes, neigh-neighs (horses), and a lolly-gagging afternoon walk. all to be found in central park.

but after walking, removing again and again our shoes and socks, traipsing up and down countless slides, we. were. pooped. any other day we would have still had some juice in us. but the warm air did us in. and we were ready for naps, both of us.

so i began a circuitous walk home. walking only where there was shade to be found. zoobie was nestled into the stroller a bit like a rag-doll--really back and in the corner. her cheeks were red and we were never far from an eye-rub or a yawn (universal sign of exhaustion). i had a lovely little sweat going. and was hiding behind my beloved red sunglasses and an orange cnn baseball cap.

it was around 80th street that it happened.

it's a funny thing with strollers. when you're pushing one, it's like your part of some club. and you suddenly look at all the other kids and you smile at them and then you smile at the parents and there is this mutual moment of understanding. and because i babysit, i'm an honorary member of said club on the days i take care of my eighteen-month-old-friend.

so back to 80th. i was pushing zoobie and there was another kid in a stroller coming toward us. pushed by their father. their cute father who took a look at zoobie and smiled and then looked at me and smiled, as if to say, cute kid--boy does she look wiped. and i smiled back as if to say, i know, i know. and somewhere in this .3 second exchange i though, oh huh. that's matt damon.

yes, that matt damon.

i'm just gonna thank the gods for that one.

it sure made the dry heat and sweat worth it.

(and i may have looked like a hot mess, but i bet that cnn cap made me look pretty erudite. {and hey, i'll take what i can get}).

saturday night.

the weather saturday night was perfect.

a cool breeze. an invitation to play.

so i decided to do something i never do.

go to a party. at a hotel. downtown.

i had on black shorts, a denim shirt, ratty boots, and not a stitch of makeup on my face, but for my bright pink lipstick. i was not really dressed to go out, but i didn't mind.

i got off the one train and headed in the direction of my friends. and it was there, walking west somewhere on 18th street, that i had this revolutionary thought: i am young. i am single. god, there's nowhere better in the world than new york city for a night like this. i should do this more often. i should be young and sow my oats and do ludicrous things that will make for a great late-in-life memoir.

i thought back to my first year of college. i had a group of girlfriends that went out every weekend and did things that i cringe thinking about now. we danced on the banquettes of high-falutin downtown clubs. allowed investment bankers to buy us exorbitantly priced bottles of vodka. ran through the streets barefoot. stayed out until 5 am. it was a time when smiles far outweighed the need for ids to get into bars.

perhaps that is a time i should return to. perhaps with a little age and slightly bigger breasts i'd have even more fun.

so i got to the hotel. met a few friends. and inquired as to how to get into the private party. i was promptly shown the line. the very long line, stretched around the corner. the line comprised almost entirely of girls wearing the customary saturday night uniform of black heels, black tights and very short black skirts. and lots of makeup. did i mention that i wasn't really wearing any makeup?

and pop went the bubble.

i don't want to go back to my first year of college. wiser or not.

god i'm thankful to be young and single, but i sure as hell have to find a better way to spend my saturday nights.

don't get me wrong, i'm still gonna sow some oats, but in a slightly different setting.