So nice they named it twice.

Indeed.

I have offcially lived in this fine city one full year. Am I still a "new" New Yorker? Probably. Maybe. Some days.

Some days I am totally satisfied to ride the subway and judge each neighborhood from below by the quality of the passengers getting on and off the train. Some days I revel in the sameness of my tiny daily routine within the boundaries of one of the craziest places on Earth. Some days I offer directions to a tourist with pride. I wave in passing to people that I now know in my neighborhood. (Mostly people with dogs. I know the dog's names, but not the people's.) We say hello to our next door neighbors and they say hi back.

I have memorized the sounds and rythms of the streets around here, and I am not afraid to call it home. I ceremoniously turned in my out-of-state drivers license to the DMV yesterday and obtained a New York one. And for the first time in a long, long time my license will have my home address on it. This if the first time in 5 years that I haven't had to worry about where I am going to live after the year is up... we have no where else to be but here. And that, my friends, is contentment.

This time last year, Rick, doggy and I were driving (once again) across our United States. It was rainy almost the whole way from Illinois to New York, and we stopped in Motel 6's and Red Roof Inns each night because they have a very liberal pets policy. And they are cheap. When we finally drove into Brooklyn, and more specifically Greenpoint, I was on a knifes edge of sanity. I thank all my stars that Nicole was here and living just down the street from our nasty sublet apartment. I don't know how well I would have faired without her. And poor Jack. She spent so much time in the car. See, I had packed our Subaru to the gills and left only a shepherd-sized hole on one side of the backseat. She hates the car, even today. I think that last ride cross-country really traumatized her. Our sublet wasn't ready for another couple of days, so we had to stay in a hotel. And no hotel would take Jack. We ended up at the JFK Airport Marriot for like three nights. Ugh, what hell. They weren't even going to let us stay there with the dog, except that when they told me "no, we only take small dogs" I burst out crying so loud that they signed us in so I wouldn't frighten the other guests. But we made it out alive and only a little battle-ragged.

Now, here I am. I still crane my neck every morning to see the Statue of Liberty in the harbor as the F train climbs out of the tunnel and pulls into Smith/9th Street station. I get my directional bearings by locating the Empire State Building.
I have secret places in the city that I love to visit. I know how to find a public restroom in Manhattan in a heartbeat. I turn off my iPod and eavesdrop on subway conversations, which can be far more interesting that music sometimes. I sing to myself when walking without shame. I stand on line, not in line. I take my coffee regular. I am blissfully in the company of millions of Liberals who hate George W. Bush just as much as I do. No one gives a shit that I am an athiest. I can find any book I want at the Strand. I know to avoid Times Square at all costs. I walk fast. I wave at FDNY firetrucks as they drive by. I don't go a day without stopping to appreciate the place that I now call home.

Sure, there are rats in the subways and drunks sleeping on the park benches. There are also amazing violinists in the park. You take the good with the bad.

This has been kind of a mish-mash blog post, but I was really just writing as things came to me. I guess I still get to be a "new" New Yorker, but even if I don't I still get to share funny, silly, sad, and interesting city goings-on with you all.

Bottom line: I love this city. I don't ever want to leave.



The happy couple in Central Park.
August 2007