Oh, God, Hon....

My Birthday began and ended with a telephone call from my daughter.

5:45 AM: "Happy Birthday, Mom!" Then, she sang to me. What's not to love (even at 5:45 AM when she is up in order to be on  the job by 7 AM). Sweet. I managed to fall back asleep for another hour.

All good.

Then, after a lovely dinner and a few glasses of wine at home I was ready to call it a day. Lying in bed, lights out around 9:30 PM my phone buzzes. She's calling again.

"How was your Birthday, Mom?"

"Really good." (and I share with her some of the highlights)

"Guess what.....?  I have a new fish tank and five new fish."

"Whaaaat? What happened to the old tank?"

"I still have the old tank. The new one is a twenty gallon and there's a little scuba diver that goes all around the tank."

"Why are you doing this?  Why are you buying all this STUFF? Why are you getting all this STUFF that you have to take care of?"

no answer

"Mom, the worst was when I brought the tank home and put it on top of Kate's (roommate) bookcase in the living room. The weight of the tank broke the bookcase and the fish spilled out EVERYWHERE."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah, and I freaked out and tried to save the fish and clean up the mess. I saved three of the fish."

"Oh, God."

"Petco gave me new fish when I explained what happened. They never told me I needed to buy a special stand to hold the weight of the tank."

"Oh, God."

"Kate's bookcase got ruined and I need to buy her a new one but that's no big deal. She's not upset. The bookcase was only like thirty bucks."

"So now you have two tanks of fish? Why are you doing this? I don't get it, Hon. You'll never be able to leave. Ever. You're tying yourself down."

"Mom, you don't realize that I've turned into a 'home-body'. I literally stay home now. I don't go out much. I grow plants now. I have a pots with vegetables growing outside."

"Oh, God."

"Haven't you ever heard of a fish ball, Mom?  It's this thing you put in the tank to feed the fish when you're away for awhile."

"What about the guinea pig?  Why are you doing this? Why are you getting more and more stuff to tie you down?"

"Mom, it's a hobby. They make me happy."

"Oh, God."

"I also bought a beta fish today."

"What???? A third tank?"

"No, the beta is just in a regular fish bowl."

"Oh, God."  I can't talk anymore.

"Ok, Bye."

-------------------------

Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God.

What is the Color of Water?

What is the color of water?

I haven't a clue although the question crosses into consciousness on a regular basis.

A glass of water resting at my bedside, the rushing river powered by snow melt off the mountains, the peaceful glacial lake in the North Cascades, the rolling waves of the southern Caribbean pounding the north coastline of a certain volcanic island.......what color?

What of the day-in, day-out color of the Hudson River, the working waterway of the northeast? The river that flows both ways also known as Muhheakantuck by the Native Americans is the subject of Spencer Finch's art installation in Manhattan's newest park, the High Line. Located in the Chelsea Market overpass, the expanse of stained glass panes appears at first look to be part of the old building that once housed the above ground railway. Not.

The plaque on the wall tells all. Artist Spencer Finch "from a tugboat drifting on Manhattan's west side and past the High Line,  photographed the river's surface once every minute. The color of each pane of glass was based on a single pixel point in each photograph and arranged chronologically in the tunnel’s existing steel mullions. Time is translated into a grid, reading from left to right and top to bottom, capturing the varied reflective and translucent conditions of the water's surface. The work, like the river, is experienced differently depending on the light levels and atmospheric conditions of the site. In this narrative orientation, the glass reveals Finch's impossible quest for the color of water".

As much as I love the shifting qualities inherent in the color of water in this impressively large piece (some 720 individual panes of stained glass), what amazes me is how easily we (I) forget that water reflects back the ambient light and how quickly conditions change moment to moment if we dare to notice. Water is all these shades of itself, from inky black to white.

All this brings me back to the the mesmerizing color of the Caribbean waters of Aruba. Wouldn't such a wall of stained glass reflecting the complexity of her colors amaze and delight?  Another project, Mr. Finch?

The High Line

Earlier this month when in NYC for the BlogHer Conference, my sister and I walked through one of the city's newest parks, The High Line. Built along the route of an old, elevated railway adjacent to the Hudson River on Manhattan's lower west side, the park preserves the feel of the old railway yet surrenders the space for a public park. Concerned citizens came together with a vision to preserve this run down part of the city extending from 14th to 30th streets. The project progresses in stages; we walked the portion completed from W 14th to W 20th Streets. The final plan includes parkway up to W 30th Street in the second phase.

This park delights. Artwork, native plants, preserved portions of old train track, clever public seating; wind tunnels that catch the natural breeze on a warm day; this park offers up the works. We were smitten and seriously impressed.

The High Line website offers a link to the public art of the park. My favorite, and the topic for another blog post, would be Spencer Finch's The River that Flows Both Ways (the Indian word for the Hudson River is Muhheakuntuck, referring to the natural flow of the river in two directions). More about this coming....the artist attempts to explore the "impossible quest for the color of water."  Ahhhhh. That would also be a quest of mine but in words.

The High Line....a great place to visit.

Heading for the Coast

D and I are headed to the Washington coast today; a few days at a hotel near Ocean Shores. Shhhhh.....in addition to walks on the beach we're taking in the Quinault Casino. We play the slots and never win or lose much more than twenty bucks at a time. Neither of us can stand to lose money. It's all good, although a walk on the beach will likely pay off  in the realm of spiritual renewal much more than a smoky, loud gambling hall.

I had a most perfect birthday yesterday.  D made it wonderful from start to finish.  The Wave will find eventually find its ideal spot in our home; probably upstairs in our bedroom. I spend so much time lying in bed writing (as I do now) that I'm tempted to place The Wave within view for inspiration.

Instead of cake, which I'm almost certain to have eaten every single birthday of my life, I ate pie. Weary of cake and craving fruit pie, we enjoyed a "Forest Pie" (boysenberry, marionberry, and blueberry) with

vanilla ice cream after a dinner of filet mignon and baked potato.  All at home.....we had toyed with the idea of going out to eat but since we'll be eating out on our two days away, home seemed best. He's chef extraordinaire (for the savory; the pie came from Whole Foods).

Now to pack up a small bag and head to the coast. Life is sweet. Life is good. August and the dusty days are almost over!!! I'm feeling better already.

Happy Birthday Wave Sculpture

Today is my 56th Birthday.  Check out what my dear husband gifted me with today.....in honor of our mutual love of the wave, my passion for blogging at Ahead of the Wave and the celebration of this, my special day.

Earlier this summer we stumbled on the gorgeous glass sculptures of David Wight displayed in an art gallery in LaConner, Washington. David creates his art in Bellingham, sharing his passion for the wave by depicting the three dimensional form the instant before the wave breaks, the precise moment of peak power.  He says: "With my sculpture I work to capture the beauty, grace, and power of water in its most dynamic form: the wave.Using the molten liquid of hot glass, I endeavor to create, by hand, a glass sculpture that embodies the essence of movement in water. Each sculpture is distinctly unique."

Oh my, but I love this glorious piece of art. The colors, the form, the force of movement caught in a single instant, frozen in time.

So beautiful from every angle, forceful yet graceful, the impending implosion of water against water, spraying foam and power, taking my breath away.

Sorting, Discarding, and Donating

Four years ago this August my parents moved out of their home. At 89 years of age, they could no longer  safely manage the challenge of independent living. They left behind their home largely intact, taking only the clothing and other things they needed for day-to-day living. The house became a guest house for out-of-town family and a place to host family gatherings. The committee of five (Mom, Dad, and we three grown children) decided that selling the house and downsizing their belongings to the bare bones would represent an enormous and wrenching undertaking at a particularly vulnerable time. In fact, in order to encourage the move, we told them over and over again that should they be unhappy in their new surroundings, they could always consider coming back.  The house was a positive counterweight to the scary, looming prospect of loss that came with declining mental and physical health.

Over the years, Mom and Dad enjoyed coming back to their old home;  familiar furniture, artwork, cookware, and views of the backyard provided comfort of the familiar. Lately, they talk less about the house; the four walls may contain a lifetime of memories and things but I sense they've pulled back emotionally. Dad certainly knows that he'll never live there again.  Mom asks less frequently about once valued personal belongings left behind.

Yesterday my sister and I put in several hours of solid, good work going through a large closet and chest of drawers in my parent's former bedroom. We weeded through clothing, shoes, belts, underwear, socks, handbags, and boxes of knickknacks, making  decisions about what would STAY and what would GO.  Most is going.

Why now?  I guess the answer is the undeniable fact that we'll eventually, and probably sooner than later, need to go through the entire household and make disposition on every single item. Why not start now?

We took lots of photos, especially of Mom's clothes. She always took pride in the way she presented herself. She wore very stylish, colorful outfits to church or to family gatherings and on their last big trip in 2001 when they cruised the Caribbean and Panama Canal.

Was it hard?  Not really. We both took comfort knowing that Mom is still with us. She may not be "all there" mentally and would certainly look askance at us discarding clothing even though it would never fit her now. We did save all the wonderful outfits she wore to our weddings and the weddings of her grandchildren. For now. What in the world does one do with all these things?????

Dad had fewer items; mostly shoes and shirts/ties.His style has always been to pitch stuff out.

 Mary Margaret found this Kit Kat bar in an old purse belonging to Mom and hidden in the back of the closet. Unfortunately, no cash. Not a bill in sight!  We did find another set of car keys though.

I shudder to think what it will be like to go through the entire 3 bedroom house and garage when the time comes. Maybe we can continue a slow and steady approach; a bit here and a bit there so that when we need to sell the house, we'll be "ahead of the wave".

Small Steps towards Adventure

I'm looking to "try new things" this year; a (sort of) birthday resolution rather than a New Year's resolution. But, knowing me, I'll start out with relatively tame adventures, ones that can be hidden if needed. Case in point: here's what I said YES to yesterday when the pedicurist offered me a flower design on my big toes. Usually I just smile and say NO THANKS when asked. What the hell, I thought. Why not?  This small step launches my resolution for big(ger) adventures.

Unfortunately, my day today has been totally boring. I didn't do a single thing I haven't done a jillion times before, including eating ice cream for dinner.

Blogoversary #3

Three years of blogging as of today!

The online posting began on August 24, 2007 with the first entry a tribute to an event I've longed to repeat but have not.....the Danskin Triathlon. Ironic somehow that the "high" achieved from completing the event fueled my entry into the blog-o-sphere and completely wiped out my distaste for the month of August. Yet, I've not been able to replicate that good fortune owing to knee and shoulder woes. Although the heart (and I refer to the fist sized muscle inside the chest) was willing, the joints were not.

Something inside tells me I'll find myself at that start line in my tri suit and swim cap at 6:30 AM on an August morning by the shores of Lake Washington again. Not sure if 2011 will be the year (or 2012) but it will be. I know for a fact that my participation in the tri inspired my former college roomie (Ms. MBJ) and niece (CG) to slog away with endless hours of training and complete their own Danskin events. Ms. MBJ is now seriously hooked on exercise, something I wish were true for me. I'll need major "rev-up" to get in shape again.

Since that first athletic post, I've written on topics far removed from swimming, biking and running. From my bloggy label tags, I'm reminded of what comes up most in my life. Here are the top 5 tags:

Musings:  167 posts
Celebrations: 109 posts
Elderly Parents: 108 posts
Mothers and Daughters: 96 posts
Everyday Living:  76 posts

Does this make me a contemplative, celebratory middle aged woman with (extremely) old parents who traverses the line between a 93 year old mother and 22 year old daughter ofttimes with trepidation and wonder whilst trying to live my daily in-and-out regular life?

I guess so.

And for this next year of blogging?  Here are my hopes:

1. Keep up my blogging.
2. Hone my writing skills.
3. Banish worries about readership, popularity, kudos, and comments.
4. Cultivate creativity.
4. Keep it real, keep it honest, keep it true to my heart.

Thanks to all who've been reading and supporting me on the blogging journey!

Dusty Days of August

By the time mid-August rolls around, I'm almost always in the thick of the doldrums. What is it about this particular time of year that saps my energy, leaving me apathetic and listless? The changing light perhaps; the shortening days and the waning brilliance of the sky, even on a sunny day. The dawn comes later, the long evenings of summer recede into memory and things seem, ...well....dusty.

Last year I wrote a poem entitled August. I'm feeling the same right now. At least there's a consistency to my cyclical emotions, the roller coaster of time traversing those same twelve months of the year.

Ahhhhh. August. Sigh. I feel uninspired. Tired. Old. Defeated.

Can't wait for September.

He Tries Not to Buy Anything Made in China

My brother is a stickler about not purchasing products made in China. He says it's very difficult to universally follow through on his commitment but he tries. I admire his resolve. Things tend to cost more and there a few items that you've just got to do without. Amazing.

I saw this book recently, A Year Without "Made in China" and realized there are a lot of  people out there experiencing similar feelings about their purchases. I must say, my brother inspires me to find alternatives to the path of least resistance (e.g. "made in China").  His arguments are compelling.

But, what about athletic shoes??? Ever looked at where all of those are made?

Case in point: when he was visiting several weeks ago, I raved about my little butter pot and encouraged him to check it out. I was so certain that Butter Bell produced their delightful crocks in the good old USA that I started bragging on the company, made in America and so on and so on. He turned the pot upside down and what did we see?  Oh my....
made in China. Dang it!

Not to be discouraged (guess he's had a lot of experience looking for similar products made elsewhere) he came back later in the day with four butter crocks of a similar design (and more expensive; that's the catch) but made in France. He bought one for himself, one for each of his daughters, and one for my sister. Perseverance.

Yay for choices!  This Emile Henry pot a beurre looks every bit as wonderful.


Addendum:

My brother gave me an update on butter pots in the Houston heat.

"I loaded up the “left over” butter tub a couple of days ago.  Now I've found out why these little gems don't sell here in Houston (maybe I’ve never looked).

It is too warm in the summer as the house most likely gets to 77 or 78 during the day and I’ve noticed that the butter oozes down the container and drips into the awaiting water barrier.  Perhaps its one of those after Labor Day activities—and not after Memorial as it becomes a seasonal habit rather than year round."

Does this Encourage you to Consider Kidney Donation?

I found this masterfully rendered drawing of the human kidney while reading medical blogs this evening. Designed by Nizar Swailem, the poster promotes organ donation at the American University of Beruit.

"Sometimes you don't have to give up your life to give life to someone else."

Very powerful indeed.

S'more

I'd much rather this post be about the traditional S'more made with graham crackers, Hershey's chocolate, marshmallow and a fire pit.

Alas, my tale assumes a different context.....

She may be picking up S'more, the guinea pig from the pet store today; he was returned for observation as he was not eating well. She took me for an introduction yesterday and used the opportunity to purchase another fish for her tank. "Two birds with one stone", as they say.

"Isn't he the cutest, Mom?"

Cute never seemed worth it to me when considering how long they live and what is expected of a responsible small pet (read: rodent) owner. But, I can only say back, "Yeah, he's cute....but...." And then the conversation is over.

Sigh.

My Daughter Buys Things...

Just to be clear, she and I had the conversation about how much is too much when it comes to my blogging about my daughter. Despite the rolling of the eyes and the stray comment here and there, fundamentally she is OK with me using her milder escapades as blog fodder. I never discuss serious issues or if I do it is only referenced by the word DRAMA, which she claims is still OK. Nevertheless, I thinks it wise to check in with her periodically to be sure we're on the same page. Affirmative.

Yesterday we went shopping. Allegedly we were in pursuit of a few items of great necessity such an ironing board, iron, and the little butter pot. The latter item is an impossible find in Spokane; we checked out Macy's, Bed Bath and Beyond, Target, Cost Plus, and Pier One. Even Burlington Coat Factory which I was surprised to learn sells way more than coats/clothing.

However, one does not leave a store empty handed when they don't have the item in question. Purchases were made at every stop.Yeah for me!  I paid for none of them. Although I tried to talk her out of some of these impulse purchases, it was to no avail. I guess she has money to burn right now. But still, who needs this stuff and who buys it?  Well, now I know.

Every thought about buying an inexpensive waffle cone maker for the two times in your life you'll be so inclined?  We tried it out last night; this fire engine red press the proximate cause for the newly lightened up freezer putting on some extra tonnage. We felt inclined to buy multiple flavors of ice cream to adorn the waffle cones. Obviously a learning curve operates when you embark on cone making. The first one burned. The remainder were better but ended up feeling  like a torch in my hands, even through a hand towel. Tasty indeed but doubt I'll ever make another. Guess I won't have to since the machine belongs to Laura!

Ever felt that a ceramic bowl in the shape of an ice cream cone was a must have?  No?  Me neither.

How about a ceramic ladybug that holds a dish scrubbing sponge?







Maybe a 5 x 5 square plaque that says "MIND THE GAP"?

We still haven't found that butter crock. I'm just back now from Williams Sonoma empty-handed. Guess I'll have to order one from the web site or buy one in Seattle for her. Now hat's what I call a useful item. Then again, 'tis all in the eye of the beholder.

Would I Rather Clean out the Fridge or ....?

"Hon, do you want some help cleaning out your refrigerator?"  This would be me after opening the freezer door and having bricks of frozen food fall in my face.

"YES!", her response. And, I thought.....how sweet it is. Now that she has her own place and lives in financial independence, my observations about her stuff  is, well....none of my "bizness".

Freezer before

But, this time she was practically begging for my assistance with a fridge and freezer overflowing with the good, the in-between, and the very, very bad. Love such a task, truly.

We filled a trash bag with discards and poured some nasty liquids down the sink but (sigh) there was still a lot of this being said to me...."Mom, I will eat that; save it! You need to ask me before you pitch stuff."  I rationalized that when visiting again in the fall, I'll maybe have another shot at the marginal stuff which guaranteed, will still be there.

There is food to feed a family of four for a couple of months between the refrigerated stuff and the dry goods/cans in the pantry. Hoarding tendencies, I wonder? 

Nonetheless, we both felt considerably better when the job was done even though there were compromises along the way. The only problem is....we restocked the freezer with 4 kinds of ice cream (why you ask? and to which my response will come in the next blog post) and the visual of the interior of freezer looks not much different than it did before.

Freezer After (with ice cream)

As for the refrigerator, well....you be the judge.

Before

After

Shortly before embarking on this cleanup, I mused.....and tweeted....'would I rather clean my daughter's refrigerator or visit my 93 year old parents today?'  My bad...I picked the refrigerator and meant it. I so need this little hiatus in Spokane.

Great Author, Great Reads

Years ago I read Chris Bohjalian's book Midwives. Amazing read. What impressed me was how well a male writer could capture a feminine first person voice. Was it the power of  his research and/or life experience? Great editing? He captured in gorgeously penned words the absolute terror and need for quick, decisive and no-going-back action in the setting of medical emergency (all taking place on a stormy, snowy March night in the "sticks").
 

Recently I "read" (in quotes when I listen to audio books in the car) two newer books written by this author and both caught me in a tight dance with the plot. Great storytelling, all the way to the end. In fact, I would recommend never reading the last page in Chris's books until you're at that point because the bombshells come alive in the last moments. Very cool. I had a friend once who would always look ahead when reading a book. Spoiler!

The Double Bind cleverly incorporates the story of The Great Gatsby, including the two children of Daisy and Tom Buchanan into present day modern life in upstate Vermont. I've not read a book quite like this which focuses on a variety of themes including the homeless, sexual assault, and mental illness (schizophrenia). Again, the firecracker goes off at the very end of the book, answering most but not all the big questions; some are left dangling intentionally and that in itself, brings greater power to this book. Wow!

I finished Secrets of Eden today on the drive to Spokane. This is a murder mystery, a love story, the horrors of spousal abuse all told from the perspective of  four characters narrating the tale after the strangling death of a woman and the suicide vs murder of her abusive husband. The plot builds and builds until the final few pages. Awesomely good and only in hardback but I found the audio book and the hard copy at the library. Weird to be listening during the day to the story and going home at night to read, in the traditional sense. That's how tightly this one held me.

Chris Bohjalian, you rock.

Will He Short Out or Rally?

And the beat goes on with this darn guinea pig.....this time on Skype instant messenger tonight. We've been discussing my upcoming trip to Spokane this weekend.

She: You won't be able to meet my guinea pig.
Me: Why not?
She: He hasn't eaten much at all since we (?) got him so since he has a 15 day warranty, we (?) called and they said to take him in to see if he'd eat their food. They need him for like a week, in solitude!
Me: He's stressed!  Give him back!!
She: Apparently I wasn't supposed to play with him, take him out, or talk to him much for the first week so he'd "acclimate" to the new environment.
Me: Hmmmm
She: They refunded me the money. Temporarily; just in case he shorts out* and dies.
Me: Hmmmm

I can only hope for the best outcome in this setting. We'll see.

*short out: a commonly used verb in our family, applicable to anything from a blown fuse to a malfunctioning brain. Inclusive of the ultimate form of system failure: death.

You're Not Going to Like This But....

She:  I'm so tired today. I haven't had any coffee.
Me:  Why don't you go to Starbucks and get some?
She:  I don't have time to go; I'm at work. And, I'm so sick of "Folgers".
Me: Any coffee is better than no coffee, dear....

She: Mom, you're not gonna like this.....
Me: What? Tell me.
She: I don't want to.
Me: You've got to tell me.
She: I got pulled over on Division.
Me: Huh? For speeding?
She: Yeah.
Me: Did you get a ticket?
She: No. I told the cop my job depended on a good driving record.
Me: And he didn't give you a ticket?
She: Naw....I talked him out of it.
Me: You've gotta be more careful. You gotta be. Please, hon.

She: There's something else you're not gonna like.
Me: Oh God, what now?
She: I bought a guinea pig.

HUGE SILENCE

Me: Awwww no. Are you serious? You'll never be able to go anywhere again. They live for 5 years, remember? Why did you do that?????? Why?????
She: She's so cute. Her name is S'more.

Sigh.

Me: No more drama. Please.
She: This isn't drama, Mom.

Birthday Gift

This sleek, peacock blue leather bag was a gift to Mom when she turned 90 years old (today she turned 93!) and was what I call a "concept" gift. She admired the color of this bag as she paged through the Levenger catalog in early summer 2007. She mentioned the item multiple times admitting, "My, I'd love to own that bag." Purchasing a gift for an elderly person is tough; my Mom in particular has few needs and few wants so when I heard her admiration for this bag, I said to myself, "why not?".

The gift shipped in a large box, encased in its own protective, soft fabric sleeve. Mom was entranced with the gift but as predicted, there was no place for her to go with such a large handbag. After a point, when you go out on a shopping spree, you don't need a purse or a wallet; a caregiver brings along the credit card or cash.

So, the bag parked itself in its box under her dresser. Every once in awhile, we'd bring out the box and admire the purse's "lovely color" and style. Back in the box it would go. She never commented about the fact that she wasn't using the gift. I'm sure she imagined that "some day" she would.

When I went to the BlogHer Conference in NYC, I asked Mom if I could borrow her peacock blue bag and she was more than happy to oblige. It was the perfect size for my laptop and other necessities. Today, on her birthday, I brought it back and replaced it in the box under her dresser.

"Thanks, Mom."

Today I gave her a silver Ann Klein wrist watch to replace the old Timex she'd been using for years. This is a gift she'll use more than the briefcase style bag. Funny the gifts we select for those we love; some make no sense at all.

Happy Birthday Mom

She's 93 years old today. Amazing.

Celebrating was extra sweet today at the adult family home with Heather, Chris, Denny, Caroline, Charlie, Lulu, and surprise guest from Houston; my brother John.

Mom and me...

I posted Birthday Wishes to her on FaceBook and heard from a number of her former students who sent her (indirect) greetings which I shared with her today.

Dad, also 93

Each passing year is a blessing.

"I love you, Mom."

"I know you do dear. And I love you too."

Chris, Heather, Denny

John and Mom

That's good enough for me. The tears in Dad's eyes as three generations of his family joined in on celebration today; two children, two grandchildren, and two great grandchildren along with significant others, told the story. Blessed.

Happy Birthday!

When the Battery in the Camera Poops Out...

Marquis for (probably) the best play I've ever seen

When the battery in my camera gave out this morning, I knew it was TIME, time to head home. And so it is; I'll board a plane this afternoon and 5 hours later step off in Seattle. I hear the weather is rainy and cool; 65 degrees compared to 95 degrees in New York City.

I'll post more about my trip once home. There's much to share about The Highline Park and the Broadway plays we saw, in particular Next to Normal which blew me away.

Cattails  in High Line Park, NYC

Images of NYC 2010

The Naked Cowgirl of Times Square

I love New York City.

As a kid, I spent at least 3 summers here while Dad attended summer school, working on his doctoral degree. Then there were the times we spent just an overnight or two in the city on the way to upstate New York to visit family. My memories are patchy, bits here and there but they come alive when I'm plunked down in the middle of all the action again.

As a young adult I visited the city half a dozen times for various reasons. Then there was a long hiatus, some twenty plus years before I walked the streets of one of my favorite cities again, this time with my teenage daughter. Her enchantment and excitement made my experience all the richer as I witnessed her response to sights, sounds, smells of NYC.

The BlogHer Conference compelled me so completely that for 2 days I never left the Hilton Hotel. I might have been in Anywhere, USA. But with the final wrap up session of the conference today, it was time to once again walk the streets, experience the subways, people watch, and take in another Broadway play.

Something uniquely interesting attracted my eye constantly. Enjoy....

E Train

Times Square

View from Highline Park

Times Square Cops

Halal Street Vendor

Hot temperatures (I've become a wimp since moving away from Texas) in the high 80's and low 90's  mid day had me overheated big time, especially two levels below the street waiting for a subway. By evening, temperatures cooled off and the wind picked up. Glorious weather for a promenade through traffic, pedestrians and a never ending new array of sights.