Happy post-holiday, friends...and now it's back to reality.
From where I sit in Andover, Massachusetts, we remain buried in about a foot of snow and the fog is so thick (hello, humidity) that the view from my home office window looks more like a snow globe than anything else I could describe. Toss in a gray, overcast day and you've got the makings for some winter blues. Except...
These past few weeks of family, food, holidays, and all the good things that come with these blessings has me feeling the complete opposite of this gloomy weather: I find myself feeling hopeful (for spring...one day), peaceful, and unbothered by the cold that we'll be enduring for another three months. I just feel full, if that makes any sense. Full and content. Not bad on any day, and so I'll take it.
About a week ago, my husband and I went to NYC for a little kid-free R&R and went to see Billy Crystal’s 700 Sundays. It's Crystal's Tony Award-winning one-man show, which is basically a love letter to his father (whom he lost when he was only 15 years old) and a journey through Crystal's life growing up in NY.
We were fortunate enough to have second row seats, and so as I sat just a few feet away from the man who will always be "Harry" to me, I had a hard time not hearing the entire When Harry Met Sally script in my head. That movie, as you all know (if you've been reading my blog all these years), is the best comedy to emerge from the 1980s, and is, by far, the most accurate he said/she said ball of relationship issues ever recorded on film.
So while one part of me sat completely transfixed at being just a few feet away from a character I feel I know personally, another part of me was doubled over as Crystal made his way through his crazy Jewish family (Redundant? I think so and have one of my own to prove it), complete with accents, impressions, and what seemed like relatives straight out of central casting. At one point, Rob and I were completely doubled-over in that good pain/bad pain kind of laughter (the best kind) and I whispered to Rob, "He has to stop or I am Going.To. Die. Right. Here. " He was that funny.
Seriously. That funny.
We had such a wonderful weekend, visiting our favorite haunts, indulging in too much delicious food, and even slipping out of our hotel room one night at about 11PM to share a banana split at one of those all-night diners that you can only find in NY. You know the ones - the places that come complete with gold-jacketed waiters sporting absolutely no facial expressions whatsoever (and about as much personality) and menus that offer shrimp scampi or an omelet at 2:00 AM. I love these joints. They remind me of my childhood and they are few and far between in my neck of the woods.
In any case, now that most of us are all back at work and digging in and bracing ourselves for a few months of winter, I am keeping my NY memories close at hand for when I need a little sunshine during the coming weeks.
Have what I'm having. You'll love it.
Until next time,