Fresh Air
Excuses aside, I was struck with this poem tonight, and a thought that brought arresting clarity to the past couple of months. Months full of excitement and anticipation, planning, worry, doubt, and impatient pacing. I have been here before, many times. I have come out the other side wiser, stronger, more compassionate. But this time … this time …. there are so many factors out of my grasp. More than myself to consider. The long run to take into account. My rational side always wins, despite the fact that other parts have suffered.
This poem, this glorious poem, reminded me of exactly what my soul needs. New York - that glorious, chaotic, bustling, insane city - is suffocating me. It’s tragic - I almost want to apologize to her, remind her that she is still beautiful, incredible, and captivating. That I look forward to coming back, and reminiscing with an old friend. But I need the trees, I need the water, I need the mountains. I need fresh air, open plains, and that incredible silence. It just doesn’t happen here, not even 96 minutes north-west. Not in the way that I need it, not in the way that we can find it enough. I need to move on.
Wedded Bits: A Family Feast
We had an original plan: to surprise our (slightly suspecting) families with a wedding during the official “first meet and greet” weekend in NYC. However, my sister started whispering, wondering. Then more. And more. Turns out, we’re a little obvious with our secret plans. They totally called us out on this. Then the logistical necessity of getting married as soon as possible quickly turned into an official invitation to our families to join us in our City Hall ceremony this October.
We were never great keepers of secrets in the first place.
Regardless, our original plan was always rooted in a weekend with our families as a weekend to show them what we loved about this city; where we met, fell in love, laughed, and more importantly, ate our way through these first glorious years. With this in mind, it became painfully easy to plan out the paltry four days of family togetherness. My side is renown for their ability to plan vacations around everything food related, and ML’s family is known for their insatiable appetite for pizza. When we first met, I was living in the Lower East Side in a tiny box-car of an apt on the seventh floor of a walk-up, and ML was twelve blocks north in the East Village, living in a shared apartment, and a bedroom that barely fit a bed. Ah, young and broke. Isn’t it grand?
[Awesomeness abounds, just come on in. Lil Frankie's: 21 1st Ave in the East Village, NYC.]
Found: Only in Upstate NY
A few weekends back we spent a couple of days in and around the Catskills park for a dear friends’ wedding - cruising around the backroads in a truck, I was giddy as a school girl and in love with the sun dappled roads, trees and rivers that lined the whole way into Woodstock. Yes, that Woodstock. The one celebrating their 30 year anniversary since that infamous music festival. The same one that is a haven for city dwellers like myself looking for respite from the city. After having a quick breakfast at Oriole 9 (a lovely and bright little cafe that serves up delicious and fresh breakfast and lunch) that I came across this poster on my way to hunt down the flea market promised on a purple flyer. It was too sweet not to post - we’re definitely not in Manhattan anymore, Toto.
I’m hoping Teddy found his way back to his rightful owner. [happy claps]
Her Best Side
I feel a twinge of embarrassment when I hear myself lamenting the cost and exhaustion that comes with living in New York City. I’m surprised to find myself disenchanted with a city that held such a mythical spot in my mind. I’m surprised to find out how much all of this wears on you after time - how those weekend getaways from the city are actually a necessity in order to retain a small semblance of sanity. How the hustle and bustle that is so magical to new and wondrous eyes, takes on a painful reminder of the anonymity of life here.
Of course, those very qualities are actually what drew me here — those qualities are what make New York City the most incredible place to exist … alongside those 8 million other people. However, over time, your perspective begins to change. Things start to lose their sparkle of exciting and new. After three years here I’ve found that I’ve started to lose my patience. I’ve started to forget what a small token of generosity it is to give a smile and hold the subway door for someone is. I’ve become so concerned with getting to Point B that I often forget to look up and bask in the light of the city that is such an awesome testament to the melting pot of architecture. And while ML and I are both suspect to these feelings these days, I found this quote in the NYTimes yesterday that reminded me of the very reason why we all put up with a lot of this crap. It’s that fleeting glimpse of a city, a magical little moment that you fall in love with this place all over again. And again. Every time.
Wedded Bits: Great Expectations
[Photography by Tec Petaja. Event Design by Joy Thigpen.]
Last week this little post by East Side Bride got the wheels turning. The problem at hand was that a certain photoshoot had been perceived by some as an actual wedding, and commended as such. Much discussion ensued, mainly out of how many innocent bystanders start to create unrealistic expectations of their own wedding days when put up and inspected against these shiny, pretty images that are, ultimately, a photoshoot. [I for one snorted out loud when I saw this - while beautiful, I also rolled my eyes a little at the amount of work, and money required to create such a "deliberately eclectic reception table". I love the idea, but the implementation of such a thing ... makes my head hurt. Well, I guess that's why they pay the wedding planners the big bucks.]
[The table in question. Lovely, but ML would kill me if I started collecting things to this degree. Times 100 peeps. I'd need a second garage. Photography by Tec Petaja. Event Design by Joy Thigpen.]
Which really brings me to my point - that the reality of these weddings showcased in the magazines and the pretty websites are often so out of my (and many others) financial league. I was trolling Meg’s (A Practical Wedding - the bastion of happy moderation that she is) archives when I came across her own similar feelings towards these incredible feats of event planning:
