salt water is in my blood — whenever I leave, it pulls me back.

On spring.

What’re your thoughts on spring? Growing up in California, I didn’t think much in terms of seasons. It was either the school year or summer. Shoes or barefoot. Schedule or freedom. Boredom or adventure. But whenever anyone asked me what my favorite and least favorite seasons were, I always said summer and spring, respectively. Reasons of why I chose summer as my favorite are obvious. But spring, spring marked the final quarter of the school year when all you wanted was it to be over. Those hours of homework would soon cease to exist and that 6am alarm clock would soon be a distant memory. March was always the worst. It seemed to go on forever and there were never any days off to look forward to.

But after moving away from California, the first sign of a blooming flower could make me cry. It means the Vitamin-D absent months will soon be over. It means there’s a God — summer exists! But that’s exactly it, when spring arrives, what makes me happy is knowing that summer is right around the corner. I still don’t love spring, and March is still my least favorite month — for reasons now having to do with winter.never.ending — but I appreciate it more. I understand why some people love spring, the season that picks you up after a long cold winter.

Like totally.

This evening when I told a waiter my friend and I were from California he looked at us and puzzlingly said “Huh…Southern California, I wouldn’t have guessed that.” We giggled like any California girls would and carried on casual conversation as he told us he’s from Manhattan, an aspiring director. When pressed why he didn’t think we seemed like we were from lala land, he said we didn’t seem to fit the stereotype. I, lover of the truth, avoided his euphemism and said “What, because we seem intelligent?” He nodded.

 

Chubby Cheeks.

How cute is this guy?!

 

These photos of the picturesque royal family make me want to go back to London and eat these cookies, visit Charles Dickens’ grave here and contemplate rereading A Tale of Two Cities again and again and again, eat the best Indian food in Notting Hill, be a tourist here and have afternoon tea and scones with clotted cream every afternoon.

Until I can cross the pond again, I’m looking forward to checking out this place in my own backyard, metaphorically speaking. Cheerio mate.

%*&$

The sunshine this weekend was the sliver of light we all needed. The outdoor patios on Monday night were filled with an after work crowd that hasn’t comfortably sat outside in months. People eagerly waited in line to be seated outside! Then the cold rain and wind arrived today to remind us that it was all a joke, a dream. Instead of outdoor happy hour, we were forced to stand in the rain flailing our arms for cabs that didn’t exist. The smiles disappeared and the stern New York glares reintroduced themselves. Mother nature, cut us some slack!

summer, fall, winter…spring to come.

Went to Hundred Acres for dinner last night. Market driven restaurants may be more the norm than the exception these days, but that doesn’t make them any less admirable. The hushpuppies were divine, the wine delectable, the jambalaya delicious — but the brioche bread pudding and the peanut butter pie were beyond.

Food is one of my favorite things about New York City. Have you been to the Doughnut Plant or Clinton Street Baking Company? Those blueberry pancakes! How about Jane or The Smith? Or Saxon + Parole or Cafe Cluny? My favorite neighborhood spot Ruay Thai’s pad see yew keeps me and my roommate coming back ordering in far more often than we care to admit.

this baby’s coming off tomorrow — praise jesus, mary and joseph

On excuses.

 

New job.

December.

Winter.

Snow.

Ice.

Yearning for CA.

Cold.

Job.

Winter.

Foot injury.

Doctors.

MRI.

Surgery.

Bedrest.

Crutches.

And the list goes on.

The time flew, the winter never (still hasn’t) stopped, a fog swallowed my spirits — but time never stopped. It’s been 6 months, but I’m back.