It still exists.

Making the most of an early-morning calendar mess-up, I traveled into the East Village for breakfast. Stopping at B&H, a kosher diner with a quaint counter, I had two eggs over medium, their special home fries, homemade challah (back) bread, coffee and the cutest, tiniest cup of Orange Juice. Delicious. And even better for $4.25. So, it still exists.

Afterwards I stopped into the UPS Store to ship a package. The box I purchased cost $5.80. Maybe it was my 1950-priced breakfast, but I had a little sticker shock. Never fear, I'm back in the New York City of 2010 with its Food + Sex erotic readings satiating guests with Crif Dogs (might be worth going for one), Yoga in Central Park and yes, $20 glasses of bubbly. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I. Am. In. Love.

Schweppes Soda Water just got a whole lot more chic. All of their sodas did, but the glamorous redhead is my favorite. Where-o-where can I find one of these beauties that I will smuggle out in my bag (after I pay, of course) and reuse as a vase?

Schweppes Limited Edition Beverages designed by DeDonato.

Mmmm. . .

It's not necessarily a bad thing, but I can buy a fifth of Bourbon (though not Basil Hayden) before I can buy a stamp. Any day of the week. Seven days a week, in fact. Thank you New York. Who shouldn't enjoy a pull on the way to the Post Office?

Not that I have.

Baby it's cold outside.

So I now know what 17 degrees feels like. Another discovery of note: Tights fit under leggings, which then fit under jeans. Maybe not the best look my J. Brand's have offered, but I'm warm. In the spirit of staying on the plus side of freezing, I'd like to send a huge thank you to my sister, who actually lugged an ushanka all the way back to the United States FROM RUSSIA for me. That thing, which is both impossibly glamorous and warm, has never worked so hard. It's winter's work is hardly over, and that's worth mentioning.

Now, off to visit my coffee man who has yet to forget me despite one week of Theraflu, apartment-made press pots and a morning coffee uptown. Nonplussed, he set my coffee with cream down on the counter with a smile. Life is good.

I'll be home for Christmas.

Today during the morning rush that is 7:45 - 8:30 at 168 Henry, Jack and I readied ourselves for the day with a medley of Christmas tunes."Let it snow," "Wonderful Christmastime" and "Happy Xmas (The war is over)" were some of the few we heard courtesy of Jack's clock radio. He remarked that because of now living in New York the meanings of some of these songs have changed for him - for us. While he spoke of the fact that we are more likely to get snow - in fact we're slated for some precipitation this weekend - I began to think about how these songs I know by heart and sing in my heart each year might mean something different - something more to me this year.

"I'll Be Home For Christmas." That never was a question for me. In all my 30 (almost 31 + yes, I still have many (half) of my list to check off) years was I expected or expecting to be anywhere else but North Carolina. That is still very much the case, but an almost-$400 plane ticket has a way of giving pause. At the same time, the very minute I purchased that ticket (Merry Christmas to the fam, by the way) I had the biggest (to date) surge of homesickness wanting to be there in my parents house, in the kitchen laughing and cooking immediately.

When I was a little girl, I remember being seized with panic that one day I wouldn't get to come home for Christmas after hearing this song. Why, "if only in my dreams" I asked my Mother. She quickly assured by I could ALWAYS come home for Christmas. She then set about showing me, and my sister that "home" is truly where the heart is, where the love is and wherever family is. More than a framed piece of art that hung on our kitchen wall for years, my Mother made that idiom a way of life.

So, "Christmas Eve will find me, where the lovelight gleams." And on my first return visit to my childhood home since moving to my newest adult home. And. I. Can't. Wait.

A portrait of how Christmas looks in my mind, and in my heart.

Grandma + Papa, December 24th, 1963. Their 25th wedding anniversary. (My sister would be born 19 years later.)

When Coco Chanel + Jay-Z come together.

I went to Paris last week. Paris Theatre, that is. My friend (and urban family member) Jen and I went to see "Coco Before Chanel", something we've had on the calendar since we arrived in New York. It. Was. Amazing. I have to admit, I'm STILL moved by her inspiring and intriguing life. Her will to move forward (as progress does) and her fierce sense of self and self-determination. And am in total (renewed) awe of her simple, elegant style marked by confidence.

After our film, which was celebrated by champagne POPS, we stopped into the Plaza Hotel for a cocktail. Being in Midtown, we decided to make it a "classic" New York night. Entering the hotel, is like walking back in time to a more gilded, gorgeous era and I was struck by the beauty of its grand interior.

Warmed by a delicious Manhattan and good conversation I headed to the train; iPod in and on shuffle. That's when Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" filled my ears. "Concrete jungle, where dreams are made of. . ." Maybe only Sinatra could have said it better, but I think in 2009, Jay-Z nailed it. For Coco it was Paris. That's where she always longed to be, where she felt called to, where her dream would come true. For me, it is (and always was) New York. For the energy, the excitement, the reinvention. For the dream.

There's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York.

These streets will make you feel brand new, Big lights will inspire you.

The Commuter train.

Since I work out of my very large (even by outside-NY standards) apartment, I don't often - as in never - take the train to work. In the spirit of trying something new, I took the uptown 6 with my roommate (and talented architect) jmh this morning. We got off at 68th + Lex, got coffee from a cart and he walked into his office. I walked down Madison, then crossed over to Fifth, picked up "Mrs. Dalloway" (I know, it's a shame I've just now cracked it open, but her "life epiphanies" are quite juicy and relevant at this time to me) at The Strand kiosk and sat in Central Park (on a bench) reading.

It's certainly Fall in New York, and every tree that wasn't yet bare had brilliantly colored leaves. It was cool, brisk even and there are holiday lights and decorations being thoughtfully hung. Next week brings Thanksgiving - my first in the city. I look forward to sharing a table with new friends, and with old. I look forward to giving thanks for many, many things. The morning commute being one of them.