nothing like the sun
um.
every possible version of precipitation known to mankind has been coming down upon nyc today. all at the same time. it's a perfect mix. I'm thinking this rainsleetsnowminihailSTUFF is pretty rare. isn't it usually just one or two? or, in rare cases, three? the city is covered with this slushy angel crap.
but only two days ago, it was over 60 degrees! I was completely intoxicated by the warm breeze, my own personal soundtrack on ipod, and the thousands of new yorkers basking. I ordered new ballet shoes at capezio, bought a new dance/everything bag @ TCS, and hopped across to old navy because I'd been pondering a particular sundress for weeks. usually I would have had a heart attack at the amount of cash I blew, but I felt so light and careless. and sunny, like christopher robin!
and now I am trying to decide who is the true prophet of this evening:
is it the drunken guy at the deli who decided that the flamenco dancers on my pajama pants were tornadoes, later revising his position to contend that the upside down ones shouldn't be able to keep their skirts from flying down over their heads? he told the entire deli that he couldn't outrun a "fat girl," and that the moral of the story was not to smoke.
or is it my fortune cookie, which awkwardly told me: "Do not seek so much to find the answer as much as to understand the question better."
while I try to figure this out, it is a waiting game. waiting for saturday, st. patty's day. waiting for sunday, chipotle and catching up a friend. waiting for monday night. waiting for monday night.
every possible version of precipitation known to mankind has been coming down upon nyc today. all at the same time. it's a perfect mix. I'm thinking this rainsleetsnowminihailSTUFF is pretty rare. isn't it usually just one or two? or, in rare cases, three? the city is covered with this slushy angel crap.
but only two days ago, it was over 60 degrees! I was completely intoxicated by the warm breeze, my own personal soundtrack on ipod, and the thousands of new yorkers basking. I ordered new ballet shoes at capezio, bought a new dance/everything bag @ TCS, and hopped across to old navy because I'd been pondering a particular sundress for weeks. usually I would have had a heart attack at the amount of cash I blew, but I felt so light and careless. and sunny, like christopher robin!
and now I am trying to decide who is the true prophet of this evening:
is it the drunken guy at the deli who decided that the flamenco dancers on my pajama pants were tornadoes, later revising his position to contend that the upside down ones shouldn't be able to keep their skirts from flying down over their heads? he told the entire deli that he couldn't outrun a "fat girl," and that the moral of the story was not to smoke.
or is it my fortune cookie, which awkwardly told me: "Do not seek so much to find the answer as much as to understand the question better."
while I try to figure this out, it is a waiting game. waiting for saturday, st. patty's day. waiting for sunday, chipotle and catching up a friend. waiting for monday night. waiting for monday night.