Every time, and really, it’s never often enough, that I escape the ankle-deep slush and relentless face-paralyzing gusts of wind that New York City is so fond of thrusting at us for warmer climates, I’m always bewildered when I arrive. Wait, it is spring here? It’s usually like this? Did the weatherman just say to take out your winter coat because it’s going to be 50 today? And then, there’s always the great undressing, so much less exciting than it sounds unless you were me on Saturday, stepping outside without a sweater, tights, tall boots, scarf, hat, gloves and thick down jacket for the first time in months, light as a feather, happy as a clam, albeit with the skin cast of someone who had just crawled out from under a rock. Ah sunshine. How we’ve missed thee.
March, 2007 Archive
I have been tagged by Cathy at one of my favorite new (to me) food blogs, Not Eating Out In New York, to tell you five things you might already not know about me. I find her site—and those pickles!—impossible to resist, so here we go:
1. My parents have two of my oil paintings in their living room. I painted them while taking a class on the Greek island of Corfu one summer between college semesters. I think I really thought at back then I’d be a painter when I grew up. I barely touch paints anymore, but when I occasionally run into one of my old boxes of art gear under the bed and get that whiff of turpentine, I kind of long for it. Later, I got more into ceramic sculpture, and this I miss all the time. If hell ever freezes over and I end up living in a house far from the city’s borders, I want a kiln. Just thought I’d put it out there.
2. I’m not sure that you don’t know this, but I am a reporter for my day job, where I write about techy stuff. What this means is that I could probably bore you to tears with an at-length discussion of the UAC features of Vista, but promise not to. (Alex, sadly, gets no such assurance.) It does not mean that I have even once successfully programmed a VCR. (Could I sound more old?) Of my ten immediate coworkers, I am the only girl. I am also the only one who brings in loaves of freshly baked bread, but I suspect that goes without saying.