(Bright lipstick for skating confidence).
(Sometimes it's the littlest things I love: dried flowers, lit candles, homemade banners. Sometimes it's the little things that remind me who I am).
(The corner nursery is now suddenly full of trees and wreaths and the whole neighborhood smells of the holidays).
(Brooklyn Flea Market find)
(NOTE: that leg FELT as though it was much higher than it appears in these photos).
(Lots of giddy smiles and laughs).
My new job is more traditional in that I always have my weekends off and I cannot tell you how miraculous and special this feels (it's the simple things right? But after so many years of that not being the case, a normal schedule is anything but simple). Of course there are errands to run, but I do them with my Canon in my purse and a bit of adventure in my heart. I am always attempting to make a vacation of the ordinary. I bring the latte and I take the long-scenic-route-of-a-walk and I give in to the girlfriends who suggest that we do the most touristy of things on a Saturday night: ice skating in Rockefeller Center. Living in New York is hard--I'll be the first to say this, but it is upon occasion, unparalleled. And to enjoy it for all that it can be, you have to do the off-the-beaten-path-things and then temper those things with the most renowned, like ice-skating in one of the world's most famous venues.
Thanksgiving is without a doubt my very favorite holiday. And everywhere I look right now I see things to offer up gratitude for: a good job, and a beautiful flat, and Saturday mornings with nothing to do. Old friends and new, the ability and willingness to forgive, white wine and truffle fries, words, words, words, small and meaningful flirtations. Long walks, good books, deep laughs, the ability to dance and try again. And again.
Life is one delicious event of unfolding and circling back--finding that part of yourself that straps on a pair of skates and remembers what it is to laugh in a way that belongs to cold weather and ice rinks. And very good friends