Nothin much to report except that A. Stephen Colbert was dipping his finger into the holy water after Mass just before I was [I was too shy to catch his eye and make him feel watched at church] and B. H. and I took Punch to Central Park today while Figgy worked at Speakeasy Vintage.
We parked for free on Madison Avenue near 66th Street and walked over to the Central Park Zoo. No dogs allowed, so I volunteered to wait outside with Sug--plus, it was thriftier. I didn't feel too left out. You get a good view of the sleek wet sea lions at 4 P.M. feeding time from outside the zoo gate--the trainers reward them with little silver fish for every trick--and Sug and I also had a chance to walk around and observe. I got a small paper packet of hot cashews, studied the Honey Bear statue that someone endowed to the park and read the plaques on the benches, so sweet and touching, wishes from parents to kids, grandparents to grandchildren, husbands to wives, friends to friends. I liked the Delacorte Musical Clock, though there's a sign saying it's being repaired; not sure what it's like in full working order, but music joyously marked the time at 4:30. [Just checked the link--the animals move when the clock is working right. Wish I'd seen that! Another time.]
Then we walked over to the park playground @ 72nd Street and Fifth Avenue, and again no pets allowed, so Sug and I explored outside the gate. It got cold, but I liked watching the passersby, especially one couple with a baby and a young child. I saw them for a fast 60 seconds tops as they glided by, but they made a lasting impression. The mom was wearing a beautiful trim black Burberry jacket and high-heeled black booties. A lavender Bergdorf Goodman paper shopping bag swung from the stroller handle, which was pushed by dad. I think what I liked is that the mom hadn't lost herself and her style in the throes of motherhood. I can't tell you how many times, even though I had only Figgy, that I would be throwing my clothes on at the last minute and feeling unkempt. I also liked seeing an older woman with long blonde hair, blue jeans and a camel coat belted at the waist, heading home with a grocery bag from Whole Foods. And the little children who ran up to ask if they could pet Sug. And the handsome young men walking alone and the group of prep-school kids traveling the path in the last rays of light before the sun dipped down.
When we walked back to our car, Punch and I studied the clothing in the Madison Avenue windows of Gucci, Oscar de la Renta, Michael Kors and other boutiques. Figgy would love that, I said about a floor-length floral dress with a cozy little sweater over it. And look, Alice, Figgy would love that, said Punch, at every window we passed after that, pausing to point at a short orange dress, an evening gown with golden gossamer threads, even the Cartier store, where the display was emptied of its precious jewels but still had some pure white risers and ivory petaled flowers.
Back home, Swiss cheese sandwiches, Mexican dip that Punch helped assemble, homemade guacamole and the Super Bowl. Go Giants. But being a true Cape Codder at heart, I do feel bad that the Patriots lost.
Good night.
TCOY
We parked for free on Madison Avenue near 66th Street and walked over to the Central Park Zoo. No dogs allowed, so I volunteered to wait outside with Sug--plus, it was thriftier. I didn't feel too left out. You get a good view of the sleek wet sea lions at 4 P.M. feeding time from outside the zoo gate--the trainers reward them with little silver fish for every trick--and Sug and I also had a chance to walk around and observe. I got a small paper packet of hot cashews, studied the Honey Bear statue that someone endowed to the park and read the plaques on the benches, so sweet and touching, wishes from parents to kids, grandparents to grandchildren, husbands to wives, friends to friends. I liked the Delacorte Musical Clock, though there's a sign saying it's being repaired; not sure what it's like in full working order, but music joyously marked the time at 4:30. [Just checked the link--the animals move when the clock is working right. Wish I'd seen that! Another time.]
Then we walked over to the park playground @ 72nd Street and Fifth Avenue, and again no pets allowed, so Sug and I explored outside the gate. It got cold, but I liked watching the passersby, especially one couple with a baby and a young child. I saw them for a fast 60 seconds tops as they glided by, but they made a lasting impression. The mom was wearing a beautiful trim black Burberry jacket and high-heeled black booties. A lavender Bergdorf Goodman paper shopping bag swung from the stroller handle, which was pushed by dad. I think what I liked is that the mom hadn't lost herself and her style in the throes of motherhood. I can't tell you how many times, even though I had only Figgy, that I would be throwing my clothes on at the last minute and feeling unkempt. I also liked seeing an older woman with long blonde hair, blue jeans and a camel coat belted at the waist, heading home with a grocery bag from Whole Foods. And the little children who ran up to ask if they could pet Sug. And the handsome young men walking alone and the group of prep-school kids traveling the path in the last rays of light before the sun dipped down.
Grass Is Always Greener
Raising kids near Central Park must be very nice, between the zoo and the pond and the green lawns and Bethesda Fountain and all of those old-fashioned benches. Not to mention how lovely it would be to live in a building with a view of the park.When we walked back to our car, Punch and I studied the clothing in the Madison Avenue windows of Gucci, Oscar de la Renta, Michael Kors and other boutiques. Figgy would love that, I said about a floor-length floral dress with a cozy little sweater over it. And look, Alice, Figgy would love that, said Punch, at every window we passed after that, pausing to point at a short orange dress, an evening gown with golden gossamer threads, even the Cartier store, where the display was emptied of its precious jewels but still had some pure white risers and ivory petaled flowers.
Back home, Swiss cheese sandwiches, Mexican dip that Punch helped assemble, homemade guacamole and the Super Bowl. Go Giants. But being a true Cape Codder at heart, I do feel bad that the Patriots lost.
Good night.
TCOY
- Mass. I usually sleep late and go @ noon, but today I went @ 10:30. Really liked hearing the choir sing a nice old spiritual.
- Went to Montclair Art Museum to drop off Figgy's photo contest entry and realized I want to go soak in some art soon! Then stopped at Speakeasy to bring a jar I'd happily filled with my own mix of Go Giants candy [blue and white theme: Baci, Lindt dark chocolate truffles, blue lollipop, white lollipop, blue-foil-wrapped Dove chocolates] to Figgy and her boss, Johnny, since they were working on Super Bowl Sunday. Really enjoyed being there amidst the flapper dresses, the pocketbooks, the beautifully lined coats.
- A little exercise and fresh air in my beloved NYC.
- Hugs given to and received from Punch and later, Nikki.
- Writing right here, right now on this blog. It feels good to process thoughts, reflect on them and record them.
- Emotionally, I owned what I need to own, not what belongs to others. [I know that's cryptic--sorry.]
Posts
Sounds like a fun day, but is there a secret code hidden in this post? All the large, pink fonts, when put together seem to say something:
ReplyDeleteStephen Colbert Punch to Central Park Zoo. sea lions walk around and observe music joyously marked the time watching the passersby, hadn't lost herself and her style last rays of light before the sun dipped down how lovely it would be clothing in the Madison Avenue windows
Am I missing something? Please tell :-)
Love, Linny
Hi Lin....no secret code hidden but what an intriguing idea!....it's just that as a writer and a reader, i don't like long uninterrupted blocks of copy to wade through, so instead of adding subheads throughout, I thought I'd highlight the point, kind of, in each paragraph..or what struck me the most. love, alice
ReplyDeleteI like that idea, to break up the large blocks of copy. It works in a design sense, too.
ReplyDelete