Villages

After a wild week at work, one which left me reeling by Friday but which I do not wish to revisit (because I'm beginning to feel as though work is this alter ego of mine which isn't even part of the texture of my real nature and therefore isn't worth mentioning, ever), we had an incredible weekend. I want to begin by thanking Craig one thousand times for not only supporting me in everything I think and do, but also for relaxing with me and loving every second of being in New York. I keep hearing things about finding your dream and pursuing what you want, and Craig reminded me the other day (prior to the weekend) how badly I wanted to be with him and how I did absolutely everything in my immediate power to make that happen. It reminded me of this particular Friday back in Detroit sometime in 2003, the only time in all the times I left Detroit to get to him that my flight was canceled - not delayed, just outright canceled. I used to leave Friday nights and fly to Connecticut (and later, upstate New York) and land and have a couple of hours with him Friday, all of Saturday, and minute hours on Sunday before leaving for Detroit again (and later St. Louis during the brief stint that we were that far apart, when he was in Syracuse and I was west of the Mississippi). Anyway, that night, that shitty Friday when my flight was downright canceled (and I will never forget it because not only did the experience suck but also I was flying out of one of the ends of our mile-long Detroit terminal - not typical for my flights from Detroit to Hartford) I felt positively absolutely helpless. No matter what I could do to pursue Craig from afar, no matter how many times I could and would call him, write to him, remind him of my existence and so on, what was I to do with a canceled flight? All of this said, there are two things that I have pursued and have found and have to love - being with Craig, and living in New York. Both were things I can't believe to this day are mine to claim. So, so what that work isn't quite fulfilling some magical obligation that I have to the greater good? I've got possibly more satisfaction than some people experience ever. And it's only begun.*Friday we ate Brazilian across the street. Saturday we woke up very early and headed to the West Village for breakfast - wound up at a cool place called Sweet Life close to the Hudson. I say cool but Craig was annoyed a little (we probably won't go back). The guy's partner didn't show up so he was servicing the entire group of maybe 15 people on his own. But, as Craig pointed out, the guy also wasn't very urgent in his customer service abilities. After that, we just walked. We haven't spent a lot of time in the West Village, but it was great to be there. The photographs I took don't do the neighborhood justice whatsoever. It's cute, unique, intimate, proud New York. The above shown pink building was the most hideous thing and while Craig couldn't stand it, I thought it expressed a lot of the character of what we were seeing on the West side of the Island. We stopped for crepes at the Shade Bar around 1, and Concrete Blonde (old KB fave) played on the speakers and later during lunch we even heard a little solo Johnette (Concrete Blonde lead). Then we went to Lederhosen by Bleecker on Grove Street. We saw Lederhosen on Three Sheets a while back and have been meaning to check it out. The beer was so awesome! Nothing like drinking some quality German beer in the heart of NYC. The bartender women spoke German to one another at one point, and Craig and I were both a little absorbed in it. When they parted ways I turned to Craig and said, "What did you think of that?" and he said, "What, our little trip to Germany?" We will definitely take my parents to Lederhosen. My dad will try to help translate - it will be fun!*We went to several other places after - the White Horse, which was crowded, the EAR bar or BEAR or something - a bar Craig told me was listed in our Best Bars book as a "haunted" bar, but I never saw a thing - not even a glass move by itself. We wound up at this other bar, too, which we were in, sitting in the exact same spot, back in 2002 on one of our NYC trips when we were young. Craig swore it was the same bar and near same booth, but I didn't believe him until today he showed me our photo album from back then - he got lucky - the same framed painting hangs in both the 2002 pic and the photo we shot Saturday!! Then Craig did two things for me: he took me to see the French Culinary Institute (just the outside) and he took me to 421 Broome Street, to Heath Ledger's apartment. I was definitely overwhelmed standing there in front of it. It's a beautiful SoHo apartment building and of course it just looks about the same as all of SoHo, but it was magical to stand there, for me. I identified Heath as an artist all the time I loved his acting (I watched Candy not long ago and was amazed even then that he could pull off Indie just as impressively as he could Hollywood) and the fact that he was just a couple of years younger than us and we lost him remains sad, to me. It's a fairer tragedy than some, I'd say. Anyway, we didn't linger about too long there, just long enough for me to snap obsessive amounts of photographs that all look similar or the same!*And today, we ate bagels and took a trip to Bed, Bath and Beyond for miscellaneous. Tonight I cooked a curried chicken in a creamy almond sauce and it was delicious. There were so many things in the sauce: cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, turmeric, Madras curry, cardamom, chicken broth, onion, garlic, sugar, salt, sour cream, flour, sugar - and the Basmati and Naan bread I made with it complimented it perfectly. And now I approach ten. I'm tired, listening to Elliot Smith and blends of sounds of No Country for Old Men which Craig watches from the living room. I'm going to go give him a huge hug and thank him for hanging around. I already thanked him exuberantly many times this weekend. I think he's as glad as me that I was persistent. And I'm grateful for every day that we have.*