. . .

born-and-raised new yorkers are funny. they say “stand on line” when they obviously mean “stand in line“. they know that an egg cream is a sweet frothy drink that has seltzer, chocolate syrup and milk but neither egg nor cream. they order “a slice” (they don’t say “a piece” or even “one slice of cheese pizza, please”; they simply order a slice) and they fold it in half lengthwise to eat.

this little new yorker prefers Polka Dots (aka: pepperoni) on her pizza, something that’s just as foreign to me as folded pizza.
. . .

of course, ice cream for dessert is always a treat, no matter how you eat your slice

. . .

[completely unrelated list: things that bum me out]

~ our perfect little vacuum sweeper, mysteriously broken into two pieces
~ the missing f-key on my new computer, the victim of a really annoying, really fast-running feline
~ just barely missing deadlines
~ breaking a favorite glass and a favorite carafe (purchased on Parisian Honeymoon) in the span of two weeks
~ making a travel-mug full of hot coffee at home, then leaving without it (and having to BUY a cup of coffee to get through the morning)
~ feeling so close yet so very far away

. . .

[things that are so simple and good they - mostly - make up for all that]

~ Little Dog Orchard, where you can lease your own tree
~ sitting for hours talking, comfortably
~ finding that one dress in the closet that’s perfect for any occasion and looks really good
~ really lovely perfume
~ sleeping under a light blanket, with one foot outside the covers
~ the great gatsby
~ believing that dreams come true
~ hanging out at the bookstore, reading stories and browsing the Seuss section:

. . .