New Year's Eve.

Here I am blogging at 2:15 AM on January 1, 2011. I'm pretty sure it's the first post of the year, at least on this blog. Why am I blogging now? Well, why not? Here's what happened.

At 5:30 PM yesterday Twila and I went to the Bridgeview Tavern for dinner. I'm not sure what bridge it views, actually, but it might be the Tappan Zee. We've eaten there many times, but I haven't looked around for bridges, that I recall. The Bridgeview is one of the first restaurants that Twila and I ate at on this New York adventure, so we thought it would be nice to eat there at the adventure's end, as well. Dinner was nice, and then we went home to get ready for the main event.

We did that mostly by taking a nap. Since 8:00 PM is our usual bedtime, we knew that our excursion to Times Square at midnight would present challenges. We had a pleasant snooze, and then did final preparations.

We had certainly learned our lesson about dressing warmly. I nearly froze my nubbles off (my spellchecker didn't flag "nubble", and it's not in my dictionary, but I'm going with it anyway) at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, as you know. And Thursday night when we emerged from dinner at Zuni's the warm afternoon had given way to a chilly evening, so we shivered our way to Grand Central.

This time we wouldn't be fooled. I wore a long-sleeved T-shirt, a fleece jacket, a sweatshirt, and an outer jacket, and I put a furry floppy-eared hat on my head. Heh. Twila wore her pile jacket among her many layers. We were ready.

Ready, as it happened, for a 44 degree night. Not only was the train a sauna, but there was little relief when we emerged from GCT. Oh, well, it wasn't a big deal. Nothing a shower wouldn't take care of later.

We were a bit surprised about how few people were outside the terminal. After all, a million people were expected in Times Square. Soon enough we learned that the million people were there, and they pretty much filled it. Police had erected barriers blocks away to keep the crowd from getting too… well, crowded.

We did our best. At one point one of the numerous policemen turned his back and I quickly hopped over a barrier, only to slip and land on my butt. The crowd oohed and ahhed, but I was unhurt, and I popped up to help Twila over. A lot of good it did us, because it was so crowded we couldn't move. So we walked five blocks away from Times Square, then up to 9th Avenue, and then back. There were barricades everywhere. When we got to 42nd Street we asked a cop where we might be able to see the ball, and he said 52nd and 7th Avenue, so we hied up there. Unfortunately, no balls were visible.

For the next hour we went up one street and down another, toward the square, away from the square, battling crowds and traffic. Finally we arrived at a spot where Twila was able to see the ball with her 24x optical zoom. She took a picture, and then the ball disappeared. We gave up and started the long roundabout way back to Grand Central.

A few minutes later Twila asked me what time it was, and I was surprised to see that it was 12:10 AM. We had completely missed the moment of the New Year. No wonder the ball had disappeared.

We still had a long way to go to the terminal to catch our train. Many of you have walked with Twila, so you know that walking with her is like sprinting. She'd be strolling along and I'd be panting behind her, when suddenly she'd zig and zag and pass a couple of people, but the lines would instantly close and soon she'd be almost out of sight. I'd run to catch up, when I got a chance. It went like that all the way to the station, and it was really a waste, because we were 4 minutes early.

Anyway, we finally got back to Tarrytown at some ungodly hour, hopped in my car, pressed the START button, and… nothing. The dash lit, but that was it. So I pressed the START button again to turn the dash lights off, and they wouldn't go off. I spent some time pulling relays and wiggling fuses and cursing and kicking the tires, but the car had decided not to start, and I couldn't convince it otherwise. Finally the dash lights went off, at least. It was too late and we were too tired to deal with it, so we took a cab home. I decided to have a beer to relax before going to bed, and now I've done that, and I've blogged, so off I go.

Happy New Year!

Adapting.

Yes, next Monday is the last day Twila will be part of this adventure, but this post isn't about that. I'm putting off thinking about that as long as possible. This is about the beginning of our adventure, moving to New York.

When we left our house in the middle of June to fly to NY to check out the area and job, it was very difficult for me. I was emotional about it. I told Twila more than once, "I love our house and Colorado and Loveland. Why are we doing this?" When we drove away a couple of weeks later, moving to NY, it was only a little bit easier.

Then the strangest thing happened. We moved into this small apartment and we had to adjust our lifestyles, but it was easy. It seemed to happen instantly. And, honestly, I could stay here, living in this apartment, living this life. I don't miss Colorado, our house, or our stuff. I know I'll be happy when we're both back home again, but for now this is home, and it's good.

Some of the things we had to adapt to we wouldn't have imagined. For example: we only have one bathroom, so we use it at a lower level of urgency, in case someone might be in it when we have to go; the bathroom is too small for a scale, so we put the scale in the living room, and every morning after getting up and peeing we move the scale to the kitchen floor and weigh ourselves; our dishwasher is small (and horrid), so we do dishes almost constantly; the same is true of our washing machine; our DVR is terrible, but we live with it; Twila's office is in the guest bedroom, but she has adapted wonderfully when we've had company.

People do what they have to do, I guess, and it's okay.

Don't touch my...

...camera! (You probably thought I was going to say, "junk," didn't you?)

We get yelled at with some regularity when we go to the theater. That's because we try to take photos. Always with good reason. For example, last night we wanted to take a photo of our proximity to the stage. Here's the photo:

You can see that I didn't use a flash. And I held the camera low with the hope that I wouldn't be discovered. But in less time than it takes to put the iphone back in airplane mode, the usher was upon us -- admonishing us and, yes, telling us to delete the photo. But then she left, so we know she didn't really mean it.

The show was Colin Quinn: Long Story Short. He told us the history of the world in 75 minutes. We laughed a lot and nodded our heads a lot, too. Durf said he wasn't as funny as Rick Reynolds, but who is?

Heading back to the train, we found ourselves mired in foot traffic. I'm guessing people were already staking out spots for tonight's big event.

As you can see, preparations were already in progress:

Watch for us tonight. We'll be standing...hmmm...somewhere in Times Square.

Things I'm going to miss...

...when I leave NY:

l.

2. Waking up in the morning and thinking about the uncountable number of choices I have for things to do, places to go, people to see.

3. Boarding the train for Grand Central, scrambling for a seat on the west side of the train, putting in my earbuds and checking out the activity on the Hudson.

4. Getting off the train at GCT and knowing exactly which way to go to find the restrooms. (Hey, that's a big deal!)

5. Eating H&H bagels fresh from the oven.

6. Tripping over roots on the Croton Trail. Wait...scratch that.

7. The Chrysler Building, my north star.

8. NY theater
9. NY theater
10. NY theater

There's more but that's enough of this sappy stuff.

I take it all back.

Yesterday when I went out for my run, the sidewalks were clear -- except in Irvington. Oh and except from Meadow Street to Broadway. And from the diner to the freeway, and.... But never mind. The sidewalks were clear enough for my purposes. Furthermore, the mail was delivered, current and delinquent newspapers appeared in the same baggie at our doorstep, the garbage was picked up, and the stores restocked.

What's 48 hours of mayhem when order can be restored so quickly? Yeah, right. Tell that to the 400 people who spent 7 hours on a stranded A train in Queens -- without power. No heat but lots of stinky fear-sweat (or annoyed-sweat).

One of the perks of living in an apartment is that the snow on your steps and out to the sidewalk is cleared for you. PDQ...before you fall or do something equally hilarious and suit-worthy. I certainly don't think Talleyrand Apartments Corp arranges for the shoveling of our steps out of the goodness of its heart. After all, if you happen to own a car that you park in front of your apartment, the fact that it is completely buried in snow and you cannot go to work does not seem to stir the compassion of the men with the shovels. (It did stir the entrepreneurial spirit of the high school kid who was knocking on doors with a shovel in hand.)

Most important in all of this, Metro North trains are running again, which means we can go to NYC tomorrow!

Social networking.

Several posts ago I mentioned my lack of interest in Facebook. A lot of it is narcissistic and puerile. Personally, I have neither the need nor the inclination to twit my activities to however many "friends". That said, though, I think that social networking is one of the first signs of a major and positive change.

Thanks to technology, primarily, the world is gradually evolving into a global society. Communication is becoming more important than, say, being able to carry a 110-pound bag of cement. Facebook, Twitter, texting, et al are the beginnings of a more communication-based society and, I think, signal an inevitable transition from a patriarchy to a matriarchy.

I think men should be encouraged rather than disappointed by that progression. Society as a whole and individual societies will become stronger as it occurs, even though all changes bring temporal pain. Eventually, I think, men will evolve and society will become gender-neutral and the relationships between the sexes (and individuals) will become less competitive and more cooperative.

(Whether these thoughts are worthy of a blog post, I have no idea, I confess.)

Snow Wimps

What is it with New York and snow? It would seem that those New Yorkers who are still employed wake up each morning and look out the window. If they see a flake of snow, they shout, "Whooopeeee! Snow day!" and go back to bed. Those people would include, the paper girl, the mailman, the bank teller, the milkman, the garbage collector -- just to name a few who have disappeared (hopefully temporarily) from my life.

The whole phenomenon brings to mind Obama's comment about his own first snow day in Washington DC. Remember? He said snow does *not* close Chicago schools -- and "what is it with Washington DC?"

So during my last few days here, I'm watching garbage pile up and spill over the bins; I'm digging around in the snow drifts for treasures that might include a newspaper or two; and I'm putting my money under the mattress.

What's more, I'm quite sure I've seen the last of the Tarrytown sidewalks, whose disappearance Durf so colorfully described. I still plan to run, though. In fact, I'm thinking of returning to the Castle on the Hill where, shortly after our arrival in June, I presented my soaking wet body to the Maitre d' of the restaurant and made some joke about wet t-shirt contests. A repeat performance might require a roll in the snow, but I'm no wimp. Stay tuned.