Reader, welcome to my life.
- Name: ThursdayNext
- Location: New York, United States
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
“Then you have some secret hope to buoy you up and please you with whispers of the future?” ~ Jane Eyre
The images on the passbooks from the bank are apropos: flowers. One has a large pink rose, and the other has orchids. He teased me about it this morning at the bank, but I think that they are the perfect covers, housing the contents of our blossoming future together.
Late this morning we planted the first financial seeds of our future as partners and opened up a savings account and a CD. Right now its not much, but within a year or so it will grow as its fed, and it is going to be exciting to see what they will look like when they bloom. Our new bathroom with dual sinks? A portion of our wedding reception? Whatever it is, it is going to be absolutely wonderful.
I cannot think of a better morning...I woke up in his arms and stayed there, not having to daydream at all because it is never necessary when your dream is literally holding on to you. Kisses filled the morning, even en route to the bank. When we sat down together and did the paperwork, I felt such a sense of inner bliss like I have never felt before. It was the first of many times we would sit side by side at the bank. The future holds checking accounts, a mortgage, college funds for our children, retirement funds. And through it all I know I will look over at the Prince with as much love and admiration as I did this morning, proud to be by his side and even more proud of the team we make together.
After the bank, we had lunch together and I was literally resisting the urge to skip in the parking lot and in the gourmet deli. The sun was shining and after we parted with kisses this afternoon, I came home and walked down the path and saw, for the first time this season, crocuses growing and beginning to bloom in the garden.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
"Besides mortar and marble and wood-work had followed upon it..." ~ Jane Eyre
I open the new door that is so new it has yet to be stained into the kitchen's foyer, and immediately my eyes are blinded to the new details of the kitchen and focus only on him.
He is in a tight black t-shirt that has splashes of dried grey compound on it and jeans with splatters of mustard-colored paint. However, the true accessory to his outfit is: the tool belt.
The Husky tool belt.
He is talking to me and I have no idea what he is saying. I am all about the belt, and how attractive it looks around his waist.
I snap out of it and then share with him how much I love this look of his. I start to pout, though. The Prince has worked on my car, he has installed a deadbolt on my door, and he has even done other work with his power tools...not once has he worn the belt. Humph. I start complaining and he says we dont have time and lets get to the store.
Tonight's store excursion has become a favorite of mine: The Home Depot.
There is nothing more adorable than watching the Prince in Home Depot. Its like a little kid in a candy store. Re-doing the kitchen has given us opportunities to go, and each time we make a run, we have to designate an hour at least. There is no such thing as running in and out with him. Every trip always includes at least ten minutes in his favorite place: the tool corral.
Ah, the tool corral. I get handed hammers and he asks, "Now isnt that a great grip?" I am shown power tools he wants and pretend like I know what the function of the tool is. He stares at the huge tool drawers with a twinkle in his eye, and I hope one day to surprise him with them for his workspace. He talks to me about the difference between Husky tools and others, and points out various models of DeWalt drills. I nod and smile, not really paying attention to the details but paying full attention to how cute he is when he explains. I love it, love it, love it.
Tonight we need a triangle (I have no idea what it is for but apparently its only found in the bathroom tile aisle) and we venture down there. He then tells me that the next project after the kitchen is the bathroom, and that he wants me to pick out the tile. Readers, this is because one day it will be the bathroom we share. I smile inwardly and then he tells me he wants to do it himself. I tell him that I am insisting on being his "helper" for the entire project and that it is a joint venture. No readers, it is not because I am passionate about DIY projects...I will learn and assist him, but the selfish reason for my assistance is because I can look at him wear a tool belt all day.
After a brief discussion about dual sinks and recessing the medicine cabinet, I then realize that since I am assisting, I also need my own toolbelt. I tell him this a day later on the phone. I want a pink one...and I cant wait to wear it.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
I rise automatically when a child enters the car. The moms are always grateful to me...sometimes I even am trusted to take the child and seat them when the train is crowded. The mornings are filled with half asleep rugrats with Dora backpacks going to school, quiet and cute. Sometimes the sleep from their eyes leaves them and they chat with me about Diego (one time a little boy took a book out and wanted to read it to me). I then think about Jack, of course, and miss him terribly in the early morning.
They are young, wearing wedding bands and looking tired on their early morning commute. They are standing in front of me holding the rail above. The entire ride they managed to somehow stay physically connected, whether it was a hand right at his coat or his hand by her arm. It was as fluid as the train, the way their two bodies connected, though barely touching. I think of the Prince in this moment and then get jealous of this couple. I would love taking my early morning commute with him...what bliss that would be. I imagine us quiet, sipping coffee, and me working hard to nuzzle my head into his shoulder if we were able to get a seat next to each other.
She is reading "Great Love Letters of Great Men Volume I" like Carrie did from the "Sex and the City Movie" and I realize I do want to get a copy of it myself to read. He is reading the latest David Baldacci novel, as do most men on this train - is it a guy thing? I am always amazed by the women who openly expose the covers of romance novels with the half-naked men and women touching in what is apparently a wind storm because their hair and shirts and dresses are blowing...I just would be too embarrassed. I get tempted to speak to the college student if they are next to me reading a classic, like "Their Eyes Were Watching God" but then realize its way to early in the morning for a book talk...and I have yet to have my coffee anyway. You cant talk about books until you have coffee.
I always know who is getting off at my stop - Wall Street - even if I have never seen them before. I admit that I get a high getting off at Wall Street each morning. Despite everything, its a great place to work and I am proud of where I work and I am proud I made it as a working girl down there. When the subway door opens and I exit, my chin is always up.
The Metro and AM New York are always read, and I peek at the latest headlines since I rarely pick them up even though I like the Metro. Sometimes I see a Post or Daily News, but the majority is always the Times (which I read online on my Blackberry). Ironically, I see The Wall Street Journal quite infrequently. It has a distinctive peach tone in the paper that makes it easy to spot. My manager tells me I should be reading that instead of the "rag" known as the Times. Oh, I disagree, boss! Sometimes I get whacked with the Times because its a hard paper to maneuver reading on a crowded subway...there is a trick to it, but I don't mind when it happens because I want people reading that paper.
My eyes are closed and I feel the rhythm of the train pass through 14th Street, Chambers, Park Place...
Labels: New York City Girl
Sunday, February 08, 2009
The breeze is warmer and my hands feel like the ice around them has melted, and so I am here typing on one of the most special days in my heart.
Today is the anniversary of my first kiss with the Prince.
I always think about our first kiss and remember the lines from The Princess Bride: “Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” I believe in my heart that the kiss we shared one year ago on this very day is one that left them all behind.
I placed my glass of chardonnay down on the side area of the bar, next to his glass of Scotch. We had been there a few hours, all the while my heart pounding every second of every minute of being around him. I grew warm under my woolen Free People dress, trying to control my breathing as much as possible. I had to focus carefully on my words, but the closer we got to that moment, the harder it became for me. I remember being mid-sentence and then noticing a spark in his bedroom eyes that made me stammer. Moving upwards towards my cheek was his hand; his fingers touching my skin rendered me speechless. I closed my eyes and within the dark amber light behind my eyelids I remember the emotion I felt as our lips touched for the first time. It was better than any storybook fairy tale kiss, because this was real and the stories are fiction. First and foremost was a pure feeling of joy. And although at that time we did not know where our story would take us, it felt more perfect and right than any other action in my life.
We kissed for hours that night, and I don't really think that the kiss will ever end. The beauty is that there have been so many unique kisses within our one, big, great kiss. But it is still always that one great kiss even today, even last night, even later on this evening when we go back to the bar to order drinks at celebrate our kiss.
I was thinking about all of the places we have kissed in the year this morning when I woke up. The galleries in the MET. The breezey and cool Jersey shore. The mountains in the Catskills. In front of Jack at IHOP when he told us "no kissing!" During football games on Sundays. His bed. My bed. The wineries on the North Fork. My car. His car. Movie theatres. The New York City Subway. The kitchen. My doorstep. The bookstore. His backyard. The fabric office. On a dance floor. The aisle of Patel Brothers. 7-11. Barefoot Peddler. The swimming pool. A moonlit street corner of New York City. After eating falafel at Naomi's Kosher Pizza Kitchen. The bathtub. Through his driver side window when he comes to pick me up from the train station.
Each time as wonderful as the last, and no doubt as special as the next.
Wesley and Buttercup have nothing on us.