I Heart New York

Kate and I just returned from a short trip to New York. I love going there, but I'm always happy to get home.

Favorite things about New York: The weather, the architecture, the history, the amazing way the city works, Lincoln Center, any and all theaters, Central Park, Grand Central, the wooden escalators in Macy's, 30 Rock, St. Pats, cheap flowers, iced coffee, musicians hurrying to gigs, the library's lion statues, Jews in black hats, Japanese tourists, and the scarcity of blondes.

Least favorite things: The smell, the endless grey, winos begging on corners, the lack of light, the noise (mostly honking and jackhammers), subway stress, bitter looking people, the barrage of grime that spits down on you from the skyscrapers.

Things I love when I get home to Texas: Green grass, lawns, square footage, driving all over, huge grocery stores, cheap shopping, happy dogs that don't live on concrete, and Tex-Mex.

Things that are hard to come home to: Nothing, except for the ceaseless 100 degree oven-like heat, the cloudless sky, the wilting flowers and broiling car interiors.

I saw a little sign years ago in a Hill Country shop: "Texas is not for amateurs."

I've always thought New York was the same way. Forget the Manolo Blahniks you're seen on Sex and the City. Comfy shoes are a must. I think we walked about twenty miles just this morning.

Kate was delighted to walk through a beautifully green, misty Central Park and sight a rat (which I mistook for a squirrel with a straightened, fur-less tail) and two well-dressed men kissing.

At one point during yesterday's rush hour we were walking across a busy street in Midtown Manhattan. An ancient, stooped woman with a dowager's hump minced alone beside us, clutching her cane. Becoming impatient with the traffic, she suddenly started talking to the cars:

"Gow, gow if you're gowing, ya bastids! Son of a bitch."

It was our favorite New York moment.