Wow. Jack got a real wooden horse for the holidays this year! It was a gift from Great Aunt Ellen and Great Uncle Will… although, I suspect Great Aunt Nancy may have participated.
But, no matter how it got here, its pretty damn cool and Jack likes it a lot.
Here’s proof:
http://media.dandyjack.com/P1020615.flvMommy and Jack having a laughing party.
http://media.dandyjack.com/P1020602.flvto make up for my crabbiness.
I think my husband is getting pretty good at this whole “picture” thing.
There are moments where living in New York City is a real pain in the ass. Moments like trying to get your kid, your diaper bag, your purse, your grocery bag, your stroller and your evening work load into a mini-elevator with several other moms, all trying to do the same thing.
There are moments when New York is incredibly uplifting and you feel like you’re a part of something very, very special. That happens occasionally during the Grand Central Holiday Light show, which I tend to watch from a very secret corner of Grand Central, far away from the rampaging hoards.
And, there are moments where New York City is downright scary. Like today, when the emergency loud speakers in our offices burped out the words, “nothing to be alarmed about, just a teensy little incident on the 9th floor, we’ve shut down all the elevators as a precaution, no need to freak out but you’re all going to die.”
Okay. I am paraphrasing. But really? Just a little.
I work in a building that would be downright cinematic if it were blown up or something. And so, today, I ran down 23 flights of stairs in stocking feet.
Arch and I have been toying with the idea of moving out of the city. Why pay such exorbitant taxes? Why pay over $1100 a square foot for real-estate? It’s not like we actually use the city anymore…and I could use a little extra space for all this crap that is underfoot. Also? places in other cities may not be as likely to implode.
It makes me sad to think of leaving the city. I fell in love with New York before I fell in love with my husband. But seriously, today was a gas leak and I am still nursing my big toe. I stubbed it on the 17th floor landing.
edited to note: the irony of me complaining about Texas in one post, and New York City in the next is not lost on me. What can I say? I am fickle.
I am pretty sure I have carpal tunnel syndrome. My right wrist hurts like a mofo when I do anything, but it especially hurts when I do things like carry luggage through George Bush crap-tastic airport.
I’ve been here in lovely, sophisticated and oh so witty Texas since last Saturday. I’ve learned several things about Texas over the past six days.
1) Here in Texas good food is all about BIG food. Portion control apparently doesn’t exist and then you are stuck with A LOT of really bad food.
2) My son is not in Texas. He is in New York City, where sensible and sane people live.
The main source of my crabbiness is that I have spent the last 6 days inside a soulless, windowless, exceedingly over-air conditioned conference room. I finally escape only to find out that my flight back home to my family is 3 hours delayed.
Texas? You suck.