Christmas in the City: Backyard.

(I slammed my fingers in the window immediately before taking these. I almost said a bad word, & then shot through the pain.)

Storm.

6am. I need to pot these, obviously.

Raise your hand if the thunder / lightning / rain storm kept you up between the hours of 3-4am last night.

(Me!! Me!!)

I woke up about a half hour before (thanks again, insomnia) & heard it literally roll in. I love storms. I love how they often say hello & goodbye so gently, but create such a ruckus when they're really front & center.

The thunder started in the distance, as I suppose it always does. The rain came. And then I'm pretty certain that our apartment was the epicenter of it all. Storms have this unique way of creating a feeling of absolute vulnerability & humility. Last night was no exception.

It was really scary when we lived up on 92nd street (you know, back in the day) on the 29th floor. We felt like the lightning bolts were at eye-level. I'm not sure what's worse - that, or the sense that said bolts are striking within blocks of our apartment. One particular crash made my entire body jump, & then shake. Mike finally woke up at that point, grabbed me, & then held me tight until it was all over. It was loud. It was close. 

We kept the window halfway open all night (halfway so that we didn't get soaked). It was really nice, during those rolling in & rolling out parts.

Storms like this make me feel like (or rather, wish that) I'm a Priest Lake. They bring back memories of the days when we used to camp for two weeks at a time - all 9 of us - on Kallispel Island, where we'd huddle as a family as our tent got soaking wet during a massive storm. I'm pretty sure that I remember talking about how Heavenly Father must have been bowling & hitting strikes, or how the number of seconds between thunder crashes told us how many miles away the storm was. I remember other weekends where my dad would take us to Lake Coeur d'Alene just for an overnight trip to sleep on the boat (these were special trips), & we'd have to batten down the hatches & anchor close to shore when the thunder & rain came. Finally, they remind me of summers at the cabin, where inevitably at least once we find ourselves running out to the dock in our pajamas at 2am when such a storm hits to make sure that the boat is secured, the jet skis and kayaks are pulled safely up on the beach, & that anyone who decided to sleep under the stars on the dock that night is inside (although they've typically woken up long before, once the wind from the north kicks in). There's really nothing as wonderful as listening to the storm from the safety & comfort of the cabin, tucked under a big fluffy down comforter - preferably with a big cup of hot cocoa that Dad has just made. We have massive mugs at the cabin. The serve at least twice as much hot chocolate as any human being really needs at one time. It's wonderful. 

I guess it's always this time of year that I start really start missing Priest Lake. 

I couldn't go back to sleep for a long time. And then I thought about my Grandma, & how she used to call any time there was bad weather in New York. She would even call ahead of time to warn me, because she always stayed aware of what was going in my city, because I lived here, & she loved me. Always looking out for me. So formal, really. But also so considerate & personal. Supportive of me living here, which I so appreciated. I miss her in those small ways.

It's raining again.

Fire Escape.

Today I stopped by the flower shop around the corner, picked up some geraniums, climbed out onto my fire escape, "planted" them, & snapped some photos. It was wonderful, although I'm sort of scared of heights, & my building is really old (as are the fixtures that secure the fire escape to the brick wall - yikes!).

I didn't edit these photos. My geraniums really are that bright & pretty. I hope I don't kill them.

Rain.

Today, it just WON'T. STOP. RAINING. 

I have a love/hate relationship with this said rain.

I went to a kickboxing class at the gym (a block away) in the rain at 9am. I had to run errands afterwards. I had to go to Anthropologie. I did, really. I had to pick up a gift for a baby shower tomorrow - & maybe found two of the very best smelling candles that I realized I needed to get as well (coconut milk mango & almond biscotti). I had to go to Lee's Art Shop to figure out how to hang a frame from my wall (that is going to be a part of my massive frame wall project I'm working on), when it was really built to sit on a table. They did it for free, by the way - I love Lee's. I had to go back to The Container Store for the 87th time. I had to get Mike a Red Bull from our local deli because he took a red-eye flight from Vegas last night & still had to work all day, & that's really hard to do when you haven't slept in 24+ hours. The entire time I was running about - at the end with four oddly shaped bags & a purse full of a bazillion pound camera that I never used, a frame, & other various + heavy things - it was pouring rain. I wore my wellies of course, which was a good decision. I wore my bright yellow rain slicker, even though it sort of feels like I'm wrapped in saran wrap on warmer days. It was all still borderline miserable, but I didn't really have a choice. I couldn't sit at home all day & eat comfort food while watching E! True Hollywood Story like I really wanted to. Mike was home. He might think that this Lady of Leisure thing has gone a bit too far. So you see, I sort of hate the rain on days when I just have to be outside, when I have to ride the buses that have completely fogged windows & equally damp passengers, when it's impossible to get a cab, when the wind blows the rain sideways & the effort to use your umbrella is completely futile. I don't love those days so much, because sometimes in New York, you just don't have a choice about going outside & facing the elements. 

But I do love the days when I get to come home late in the afternoon, put on comfortable clothes, & cuddle up next to my husband on our bed with the window open. He told me about his trip, the breeze was blowing & then we just listened. I love, love the sound of rain. It's one of my very favorites. It's really a beautiful thing. Mike said This is amazing! It's like we don't even live in New York! It sort of felt that way for a minute, but when I looked out our window & saw the bright pots of flowers that our neighbors across the way put up on their fire escape, I felt happy that we do live here. I want a flower pot garden, too. Maybe even tomato plants like my mom told me about the other day. 

So I guess that today, I'm really okay that it's raining.

This is how it happened.

Friends Wyatt & Jill helped pack up our kitchen on Wednesday. 

Last day on 92nd Street. In a cloud, clearly.

We won't talk about how my shoe box(es) compared to Mike's shoe box.

Couch. The good news? It fit through the door! We thought we'd have to call the couch doctor.

The Empire State Building is in the clouds. Goodbye, view.

Goodbye, FDR. Good riddance to bad rubbish (although 15 minutes to LGA hasn't been bad).

Goodbye 29th floor.

Goodbye constant dust bunnies (I hope?!). 

Goodbye tall + skinny building. 

Goodbye Nazi doorman. We won't miss you, nor will our nice friends.

Off we go to our new home.

Hello new, quiet street.

Hello, Ken. We like you, & thanks for getting the elevator for me when I was carrying 17 bags at once.

Hello next week of my life. Tag sale, anyone?

Hello, fire escape. We love you, & you're especially useful when our door lock gets stuck & our super needs to climb up you & into our bedroom window (scary?).

Morning.

Me: Hey Mike, should I post this one or this one of you [2 photos in the same spot, with Mike angling his head in a slightly different way]?

Mike: Either one, my butt looks fantastic. 

MAKE. IT. GO. AWAY. 

My apartment is still full of boxes. So many boxes, so few places for everything to go, & this dull ache on the right side of my brain just won't go away.

I worked from 6am until 8pm last night in the apartment, with a quick trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond somewhere in the middle of the day. I'm exhausted. Probably more tired than I've ever been, well, ever. Mike is a trooper & has a thousand things going on - a demanding workload at work, a leadership development program he was asked to participate in that's virtually a 2nd job, teaching seminary, etc. & he's literally burning the candle at both ends - which means that I sort of had to do a lot of this move (the prep & now the clean up) by myself. I'm not complaining, because we're each pulling our own weight, but needless to say, our weight feels really heavy right now, & I'm tired. 

We went out to dinner last night (to a mediocre Italian place that we'll never go back to & isn't worth linking) & then I came home & collapsed mid-Lakers/Nuggets game. I woke up in the middle of the night with a piercing headache (surprise!) that required that I navigate through the land mine that is our room, in the dark of night, in search of drugs. Problem: where on earth was our medicine box? I couldn't find it, so I had to start a 2nd search for our first aid box hoping that I'd find something suitable. After finally finding some Tylenol, I managed to get back into bed without tripping over the wires, suitcases, boxes, frames & strewn clothing that have taken over our bedroom floor. 

I should be in Brooklyn right now at the start line for my half marathon. The decision to not run was pretty much cemented yesterday when even my finger joints were sore & I'd gotten four hours of sleep for the past week. Sometimes I guess you just have to cry uncle & give something up, & this week, I just about screamed it. I'm disappointed, but had to face it - It was probably (was.) the most ill-timed race I could have possibly signed up for. Sigh. 

It's been grey & raining for the past few days. Today - it's beautiful. We're off to the block party our church is throwing (in front of our chapel on 87th Street), errands, a visit to our new gym (yoga! kickboxing! nice treadmills!), & are hopefully making another massive dent in this mess. 

Relocated.

We slept in our new apartment last night. This morning, I woke up & said Mike, listen! 

Chirping birds & the sound of rain coming down on our 5th floor fire escape. 

I can't even begin to describe what an unbelievably wonderful thing that was. You gain a real appreciation for such simple pleasures when you've lived a few hundred feet up for four years, 2 of which were spent next to the constant hum of the FDR. Something as simple as raindrops? Beautiful. 

We love, love, love our cozy new little home. We'll love it even more when we can walk through the living room without squeezing in between boxes & when we actually have a place to sit. In the meantime, I love looking out the back. It's green.

The past few weeks have been exhausting. Have I mentioned that already? The insomnia (anxiety-produced, I'm sure - Paxil, anyone?) + the litany of tasks that had to be completed have been quite the killer combination. The physical effects of moving are evident. I received three wounds - that bled. My feet are killing me. My back hurts in 12 different spots. I think every single one of my joints hurt. This morning I woke up with sore elbows. ELBOWS. My eyeballs hurt. I have a canker sore from slipping with my toothbrush (that really hurts). I'm sure I've lost brain cells due to sleep deprivation. Last night was 1:45am. Mike's alarm went off at 5:30am. Lovely.

I'll report back in a few days when we're all unpacked & don't have to eat out every single meal (darn.) because our fridge is blocked by boxes & our stove is covered in wrapped dishes. Not that I'm complaining. 

In the meantime, I think it's important to note that this week in particular, people have just been nice. I've encountered nice people everywhere I've gone - & it's not that New York City is a mean & scary place, it's just that people aren't typically soft & squishy nice. But this week - I feel really warm & fuzzy about my city, & especially my friends.

Examples:

On Sunday, friend Erin (also 2nd-cousin-once-removed-by-marriage) took pity on us & our empty fridge & had us over for dinner. She made Cafe Rio, the best beans ever (that will soon be posted on Wire Whisk), yummy rice, fresh limeade & cookies. Did I mention that she fed TEN of us? She did. Missionaries included. That girl will get blessings. We left with happy hearts & tummies. For added good measure, she brought us leftovers for our lunch on Monday as we were in the throes of packing (me) & working (Mike). Tuesday afternoon, I met with some nice friends at Pommes Frites for amazing Belgian fries topped off by (surprise!) cupcakes - because we were in the neighborhood. Taking a break (i.e. having an excuse to shower) & seeing my nice friends was nice. Afterwards, Kelsey let me borrow some sturdy storage bins to help pack up our kitchen. That was nice, especially since we only ended up with two casualties of war - just a few small prep bowls. Also nice - the fact that Erin & Ruth came to my at-the-time-empty new apartment that night & literally scrubbed my walls. These girls got on their hands & knees & helped remove all sorts of unmentionables from my new home. For THREE HOURS. If that's not love, I don't know what is. Another highlight this week -  the comment made by Louise on this post. It made my week. Also nice? The man at Home Depot who patiently answered all of my questions about light fixtures, spray paint + peel & stick flooring. He was uncharacteristically kind for a NYC Home Depot employee. Afterwards, I ran across the street to Rickshaw to pick up some lunch, & the nice woman at the counter recommended that I try their new melonade - i.e. watermelon juice. If she were just trying to make a sale, I wouldn't make special note of her, but it really was delicious & made be happy. Props to the Rickshaw lady for making a nice recommendation. After several errands & on my way home, my cab driver was kind enough to not yell at me when it took me 10 minutes to get all of my bags into the trunk, & we had a nice conversation winding through Chelsea, Midtown, Central Park & then the Upper East Side. He told me to have a nice day, & that was nice. And then - I met one of my new doorman (in our new apartment). His name is Ken, he calls me girl, & he gave me a kind orientation of our new building (43 units, we're the only married couple - 4 couples are "shacking up" & the rest are single, mostly women. The "elderly" people who smartly refuse to move out of their rent-controlled apartments live on the 6th floor. I met one of them - Andrew - & he told me I was pretty. We'll ignore the fact that he showed clear signs of dementia, but it was still nice of him to say). He even introduced me to our mail man named Lee, & Lee is very nice. Once back to our (old) apartment, friend Jill came over & packed up my kitchen for me. We put Wyatt in the sink, & he was perfectly content. Jill is a good packer, as evident by our almost-100% success rate. Jill is nice. Mike got home late that night, but he brought me a cupcake, even though I was snappy with him all day (all week). He's a nice husband. Thursday morning - friend Ryan came over at 9am & worked alongside our movers for about 6 hours, except we weren't paying him. I'm sure he'll get blessings from Heaven, but we tried to tide him over in the meantime with a burger from JG Melon. And then last night - friend Suzi let us invade her apartment at 9pm to use her internet - only for Mike to discover that we can pirate the internet from one of our kind neighbors (who apparently believes in sharing) until the cable guy comes today. Suzi was nice enough to let me stick around to watch the last hour of So You Think You Can Dance while eating Texas sheet cake that she made from scratch. Nice friend, good baker. I'm glad that she's a $4 cab ride/10 minute walk/one subway stop away.

Thanks, nice people. I like you.

I'm off to find my box cutter. I think I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.