Perhaps not as sexy as Fifth Avenue, 5 AM (a delicious title by Sam Wesson), but I did find the suggestion to do my Rockefeller Tree viewing in the early AM to be a good one.

I don't have it. Not really. True that I've written shamefully little since moving here (I have a day job, I have a new city to explore, I'm still working on my gemology certification, etc.), but the main reason for my low post-NYC-move word count, and I'm embarrassed to admit this, is that I'm stalling. Is that a thing? Writer's Stall?

I've been planning this post for a few days, spurred on by the holiday cheer in the air, snapping pictures of NYC at its most festive. And in terms of Christmas prep, I've never been more on top of my game.

Last year's Thanksgiving post (Grateful) remains my most trafficked to date. Like, by far. As in thousands and thousands more hits than anything else I have ever written. It baffles me a little, because the post was about heartbreak. And are people really that interested in my romantic misfortune? Probably not. But most everyone can probably relate...love and loss inevitably go hand in hand.

You're looking at the books currently being readied to be added to the Cartier Rare Books and Archives at the world headquarters of the Gemological Institute of America. There's my little Jeweled, sandwiched in between such titles as Color Encyclopedia of Gemstones, Silversmithing, and, my favorite, Exquisite Agates.

Because it's only official when you've gotten a library card. New York Public Library, here I come.

I had the chance earlier this month to see one of Carol Burnett's last performances in Love Letters. She's a hoot, but what has stuck with me since the show is the letter writing.

I just spent a week in Cleveland. I know it's not home anymore, but it still felt an awful lot like a homecoming.

I'm currently reading Olive Kitteridge (and no, it's not because of the new mini-series...what do you take me for?), and I must say I'm impressed with Strout's character development skills. Some of the people in the book only get a few pages, so to be able to convey enough in those pages to leave your readers not only understanding a character's background and motive but also wishing they could keep reading about said character is a skill indeed. 

It's like this. Billy Collins is my favorite poet. Although I'm in an eternal argument with my parents around whether his work really constitutes poetry, I find it delightful no matter the classification.

I say this as if I experienced some sort of hardship, some great loss or personal struggle because of the impacts of Hurricane Sandy. Which, of course, I didn't. True, I was here. In NYC.

First time on the Boardwalk: Priceless

This city is going to make me fat. I know I'm only 6 pounds, but I’m still a girl. At any rate, it's gone. It's all gone. The stairs are gone. Even all the rooms are gone. But I'm a glass half full kind of cat, plus I sleep upwards of 18 hours a day, so I can do without the rooms. And the stairs. And the bay windows. And the couch. And the cable box that was always warm. I digress.

Step 1: Locate closest laundromat.
Step 2: Schlep clothes (and detergent) down all flights of stairs in your elevatorless building, down the block, and across the street to said laundromat.

They are the most human part of us. Stories. They are why I write, they are what I like to write, they are the only part of an otherwise boring lecture or presentation or sunday school lesson that will make an impact on me in any way. I'm sure if you think about the lectures, presentations, and sunday school lessons that have made up your own life, you'll agree that stories trump all.

Let's talk about the apartment. Which won't take long. Because this is New York. Where else can you pay such an obscene amount of money for such a small space? Lest you remind me that I signed up for this, rest assured I'm not complaining. Quite the contrary. I love being so contained. There's so much less to keep track of. To worry about. To lose. To clean.

Ok, so it was more like 3 bags (plus a backpack and my cat), but I arrived in NYC this week, this time to stay.