Saturday, August 19, 2017

The NYC Ferry

Samuel went to the beach with a friend today, and Ethan and I slept too late for an all-day adventure, so I suggested we try the new NYC ferry, which launched earlier this summer.

Ethan said, "To where?"

I said, "I don't know. Who cares?"

We rode from Wall Street to Governor's Island, then north up the Brooklyn shoreline, and finally back to Manhattan.

$5.50 well spent.

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Jet skiing in Jamaica Bay

This was a biggie on the summer bucket list, both psychologically and financially, and we crossed it off today.

Jet ski rentals don't come easy or cheap in NYC. Most places offer "guided tours" instead of rentals, presumably so they can charge more money while keeping a closer eye on the idiots who drive up their insurance premiums.

We had to go all the way out to Rockaway Beach, a nearly 4-hour round-trip subway ride from the Upper West Side. We would've rented a car but the jet ski rental was $160/hour. We needed to cut costs somewhere.

Samuel and Ethan were up first.

While they were gone I took a few buff selfies. I figured Samuel would be putt-putting around at 20 miles an hour the whole time, but they informed me later that they "got it up to 38." So I look calmer than I should have looked.

When Ethan and I went out, he immediately said, "Dad, can I drive?"

I said, "Son, you know the rules state that operators must be 18 or older. Letting you drive wouldn't be legal or ethical. I'm shocked that you would ask."

A few minutes later I had been thrown from the jet ski due to an overly sharp turn into a wake. It turns out there probably is a good reason for the rule after all.

FYI, this is the last photo ever taken of me wearing my black running cap. 

But three thumbs up for jet skiing.

Saturday, August 12, 2017


The boys are with Jen tonight.

I needed to write a manuscript, even a sloppy rough draft, just to force myself to get something down on paper, even if I hate it tomorrow.

Tonight's manuscript was about an old bulldozer and a young bulldozer who dig two tunnels that connect in the middle.

“Husky,” said Mac,
“The sandbox is wide.”
“Don’t worry,” said Husky,
“we’ll dig from each side.”

They smiled at each other,
One little, one big,
Then they lowered their blades
And they started to dig.

I miss my boys when they're not here. But I like writing love stories.

Monday, August 7, 2017

The ice caves at Sam's Point

They're not really caves so much as deep crevices, and they're not made out of ice. But they are kind of cold inside. And there is natural spring water that you can drink from the stream (I did).

The ice caves were on our Summer Bucket List, and today we crossed them off.

Sam's Point is the highest point of a large ridge, and the views were impressive.

Here's the trail leading down to the ice caves.

And down...

There were stone steps in most places, so while the hike itself required some stamina it wasn't physically exhausting or particularly difficult. 

Oh, I made a friend. Of course, it's not enough for me to just say hi and move on. #iamwhoiam

We had fun. It's fun to go on adventures with my boys, to put my personal cares on a back burner for a while and just be in the moment with them. Everything will be okay. 

Saturday, August 5, 2017

Why is there love?

Why is there love?

Why doesn't it last?

Why doesn't it bind us to each other and become stronger and stronger? Why does it sometimes weaken?

Why isn't love the foundation for everything else? Why doesn't it start and end there?

Why does it sometimes seem like love's only purpose is to perpetuate the gene pool?

Why are people who have been through love so wary of loving again?

Why are so many people alone, so late in life?

Do they not want to be in love? 

Have they given up?

Do they not know how great love is?

Friday, August 4, 2017

Everyone is miserable

This is what people tell me:

"I'm in a great place. It's been rough, but I feel like I've finally turned a corner."

"It's hard sometimes. But I try to laugh every day. That's the secret."

"It's not perfect. No marriage is. I'm happy with myself, and that's all I can control."

"I finally met someone who accepts me for who I am, who asks me about my needs. And I finally feel like, okay, I can breathe again. We've been dating for a couple of weeks now."

"I'll tell you, when my kids were finally out of the house and the hubby and I split, I was lonely, I'll admit. It's hard. But for the first time in my life, I feel completely free."

"It took me a long time to get to this place. I just needed to give myself permission to be happy. It's a process. I'll get there."

"I'm loving life right now. I have my ups and downs, like everyone. I miss being touched. I miss being held. So...but, yeah. I've never been happier."

Monday, July 31, 2017

What is it about 2-year-olds?

This is my two-year-old neighbor, E. (Her parents might not care if I use her full name, but I didn't ask, so I won't.) 

Every time I see her she makes me smile, and I stop whatever I'm doing to say hi and try to make her smile too, which she almost always does.

The pictures are her "walking" Kahlua. She "walks" Bailey too, but it usually ends with him pulling away and leaving her on the sidewalk on her tush. But she happily lifts herself up and skitters toward Kahlua instead, who isn't as fast.

Last week I was walking past a playground and saw E with her dad. I shouted, "I'm coming in!," then proceeded to play and chase and jump around with E for the next 20 minutes.

It was the highlight of my day.

I saw her again yesterday on the sidewalk and said, "Hey! Where do you think you're going??" And she giggled, and I said, "Whatever you do, don't come over here!" And she giggled again and lurched toward me, then giggled and ran back to her mom's legs. Then I said it again, and she did it again.

It was the highlight of my day.

I like people of all ages, but there's something about a two-year-old that's more magical than any other age. Human beauty peaks at age two. It's my favorite number for a person.