Yesterday I fancied myself European.

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I sat on the sidewalk for much longer than I actually needed to eat burger and salad. And I wrote (if you look closely I'm actually blogging). And marveled at the cool October air. I should have been at the gym, but I thought French Women Don't Get Fat nor will I, not today anyway. Plus, I felt really good about choosing salad and getting my veggies as opposed to inhaling a plate of french fries. Small victories. Small, small victories. 

The Perfect Visit.

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Last year in the middle of October my mom came for a visit. The weather was perfection. We ate lunch in the park every afternoon. And when I came home from school at night she was there waiting for me. And she was there when I woke in the morning. We walked along the Hudson and through the Conservatory Garden. We went to Sotheby's to see the Grace Kelly exhibit.

We gawked at the dresses. And the jewels.
And we shopped as all girls must. And I felt so protected and loved. She braved a week in New York City, which she hates, just to be with me. She went everyday to Fairway. And she made sure I had enough Tupperware. And we bought New Yorker magazine covers from the street venders by Time Warner just so I would have more in the apartment that felt like my own. She loved me as only a mother can at a time when I needed it most.
It's a year later and she's back. Though this time we're both technically in NJ and I can only see her for about 20 minutes in the morning before I leave to babysit and then 30 minutes before bed when I return from the daily sojourn to Brooklyn for class. But this go round I'm a bit happier and Ned's grip is a bit looser and that is due directly to her visit one year ago.
So tomorrow instead of Brooklyn, I'm gonna sojourn to Ikea. And I get to do it with my mom. And when I turn twenty-three on Saturday I get to do it with my mom.
I'm so, so lucky.

My "the Year of 23" Resolutions.

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I've been thinking alot about beginnings lately. New beginnings (is it even possible to have an old beginning...off topic, back to the point). Those events that mark our lives, bookend memories and then open the next chapter. Here I am twenty-two and the whole of life is just beginning to open up to me. The future is pregnant with possibility.

So in the spirit of Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) and my new numerical age I've decided I'm not going to wait around for January 1. I'm gonna make some resolutions now...and they shall be called..."the Year of 23" Resolutions (the title makes me giggle)

Smile More
Take More Pictures
Live by the Mantra: "No Shame, No Guilt, No Punishment"
Fall in Love a Hundred Times A Day
Stop Waisting All My Money on Starbucks Mocha Mint Chip Frappucino Lights
Turn My New Apartment Into A Fabulous Little Abode
Enjoy the Parks. Explore the City. Live like a Tourist (kinda)
Live on a Budget. Save, save, save and make, make, make some Money
Accept the Path which "fate has me assigned"
Risk More. Live with Courage
Put Ned to Bed. For Good.
Open my Mind to Worlds Outside My own
Fail Graciously. And Gracefully (or Flat on My Face)
Live and Speak Truthfully
Of my twenty-three years of life, this is what I know: As soon as I've got something all figured out (especially about myself), it changes. And that's the exciting part.