I see London, I see France

Good is sticking with your New Year's goal (resolutions are so over) to go to yoga every. single. day. Not good is sticking to your New Year's goal and going to yoga wearing your most favorite (equally new) Stella McCartney high-waisted panties. Before I totally alienate all 7 male readers, these are 'granny panties' only on sight unseen. In truth they are the epitome of lingerie chic; gorgeous and leopard print. They are not, however, ideal for an intense hour and a half yoga class where one attempts numerous inversions only to come crashing out of one upon realizing there is more leopard than Lululemon showing. Center shaken, church laugh happened, maybe I swore. I definitely swore off any skivvies that may have been fashionably appropriate during 'Mad Men.'

Whatever.

Well, that happened.

Pulled out the old puffy coat for the first time this season. As it's not my most figure flattering outerwear, I attempted to counterbalance its bulk with wool tights and a pair of heels that I wouldn't want to chuck out the window after walking 15 blocks to the office. (Long blocks; avenue blocks.) It is here that I should thank my true friend Jennifer for convincing me not to get the ankle-length down coat my cold weather-averse Mother suggested. I believe her exact words were, "Do you want to look like a sleeping bag?" Point made. I'm not totally convinced today's puffy/slim combo was successful as I was 1) Sweating like a whore in church (Thanks Dad for that gem) when I arrived at le office and 2) Still wanted to send my Sigerson Morrison booties out the window. But there's Bon Iver on my iTunes (can't deal with Spotify's commercials + connectivity) and leftover collards in my lunch bag. So, the [immediate] future is pretty bright.

Happy New Year y'all.

For auld lang syne, my dear

It's no big secret that on the last day of the year you practically wake up in reflection. What was done, what was seen, what was felt over last year. Remember this... I'll never forget that.... It's human to at least glance back as we go forward. And there's nothing quite as 'forward' as the turn of a new calendar year.

I've always loved New Year's Eve. Less for the 'pomp and circumstance' and more for the 'tabula rosa.' It's another year - a new year - to experience the things we want, try the things we've always thought about, make goals and cross them off our lists. It's a new beginning. And what holds more promise?

When I moved to New York I began naming each year. 2010 was The Year of Anticipation. I wanted to be open, ready for what may cross my path - and excited. I was in a new city, new home, new lifestyle - anticipating what was to come. 2011 was The Year of The Real Thing. I set out expecting to find it in one place (and maybe did for a New York minute), but just as that year slides into the past, I know what the 'real thing' was for me this last year, and that I'll always have it. That's the thing about the 'real thing' it hits you just when, and maybe where, you least expect it.

The countdown's begun, 2012 is hours away. I'll be with my urban family, in the heart of my city, celebrating in style. Waiting to turn, fully, towards 2012 and all that the year will be.

Bonne anneé!

Happy Christmas, y'all

'Tis the MOST wonderful time of the year.....

Christmas in the city is grand, but I'm heading home, South to NC. Gonna spend Christmas in Dixie.

Two.

Today marks my two-year anniversary in New York. Let me just let that sink in for a minute. (For me, not you.)

It's not that I ever doubted this day would arrive. In fact, I'm more than sure there will be a three, a five and maybe even a 13-year anniversary. It's just that with each significant date, I'm the sort of gal that sits back and reflects. And today I'm doing that to a few songs and artists that have always reminded me of New York - my city, my home.

New York was in my heart long before I was in its streets. I'm not sure why, but it's a love affair that bloomed and endured over the years, the moves, the job, the heartaches, the successes and just about everything else that came my way. And like the really good love, it never wanes. So, even though these last two years haven't been a total fairytale, my love for New York is real and here to stay.

What I know now is that the city changes, and you better change with it. Fourteen months in is vastly different than nine (the approximate time I was considering packing my bags), your luck can change - maybe even by day's end - and sometimes the energy of the city is all you need. I've also come to find that New York can be a very small place. (It's true, trust me.) And that more often than not the city gives you what you need, but you have to work to get what you really want. And there's a beauty in that. And the hardest part is. . . is there a "hardest part?" Maybe it's knowing there is so much out there - so much to New York. How to feel it all?

I guess only time, and the years to come, will tell.

And to New York, borrowed from another North Carolinian-turn-New Yorker: "The world won't wait, so I better shake that thing right out there through the door, hell I still love you, New York. ~ Ryan Adams

View from my East Village rooftop.

We are always running for the thrill of it.

I've been dreading this countdown.

Saturday (as in four days) I'll make the second - no, third - most significant move of my life (to date). I'm saying so long to my gorgeous roommate, one of my dearest friends and probably my closest confidant, Jackson Hodges. And. It. Might. Kill. Me. (He will for sure be racked with grief, I'll tell you that much for free.)

We've been friends for ages, but live-in besties for the last two years and life may have never been better. From the scary-exciting move to 168 Henry and starting work, making friends - making our way - to "Jack Special," Clandestino stop-ins, Octomom light fixtures and discovering our 'hood, we made the Jewel Box (JB, if you know) home. While it will always be my (and Jackson's) first home in NYC, it won't be our last. And Saturday, I'll make my way on to the next with a heavy heart, a pretty packed moving truck, a mind full of memories and anticipation for what's to come.

So, here's to the last 24 months with jmh. (Who never once wavered, left my side or failed to make me at least crack a smile.) My MAJORLY edited Top 5.

5. BBMK. (Covers a multitude of, well, sins.)

4. Confusing people on the streets with our coupledom.

3. Cast-iron skillet cover-up. (A recent but poignant add.)

2. Single-handedly gentrifying the street even WITHOUT a sapling.

1. Sunday cuddlefests with Stop One runs, Sunday gravy and robes.

And here's to unconditional love. (That's also JMH.)

Moving day, October 4, 2009

Yeah, that happened.

MoMA and Kanye would have been just fine. But add Jay-Z into the mix and. mind. blown. Just another New York Night I suppose.

Or was it?

MoMA Garden Party, May 10, 2011