Thursday, July 29, 2010

Joan, Joan, Joan

Yesterday I went down to the Village to the IFC Theater to see Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work. It was surprisingly good. Funny, poignant, but also sad. The theater is small and you get to it through utilitarian doors and metal stairs and sit on some sort of sofa seats with armrests that break up the expanse and delineate one "seat" from the next. It was very much an NYU crowd, not surprising since the place is right by the university, and I wondered if most of the audience was there as some sort of class. I thought it was fascinating that whatever our age we all laughed at the same jokes. Joan Rivers is definitely funny. She also pushes too far and she didn't seem to be the person who reined herself in, as if she didn't know the difference between going to far and not. Her people reined her in. Which I thought was fascinating. As a book person, I wondered if her people were like her editor. Though when she was confronted by a heckler in a audience, on her own, having to think on her feet, she dealt with the situation that was both harsh and got the audience back on her side. What really got me, however, was how unfair it seemed that at 75 she was having to work so hard to get work and not be a has been. It seemed so unfair - until they showed Don Rickles, a man who seemed to be content with his place, whatever that is, at this stage in his life. Joan Rivers isn't content to have had a great run and and now sit back. She wants to be current, the hot talent in a world that worships youth and beauty. I left the theater not sure if I was sad that she was still having to work so hard . . . or impressed that she still had something she was willing to fight for.

Saturday, July 24, 2010


I am surrounded by people who are fearless. My husband has skied glaciers. I have a brother who has climbed the ice falls of Everest, a sister who runs ultramarathons around the world, and another brother who packed up everything and drove cross-country with a rickety trailer attached to his bumper ready to dive into a new city and a new job without giving it a thought. There is the nephew who bungie jumped off the 18th story of a high rise and a niece who went skydiving to celebrate turning 21. Two other nephews who got their scuba diving licenses the minute they were legally old enough to do so. And my husband and brother-in-law are currently threatening to dive with sharks in that cold and wicked place in the pacific northwest.

Then there is me. I'm not fearless. I have mountain climbed and rappelled, run the marathon and skied black diamond slopes. But I do it because I refuse to give into the fear rather than because I enjoy it. What I love is living in New York City surrounded by energy and people doing all sorts of things, and I love writing about people who take chances. Call it living vicariously, call it the greatest job ever!, but every day I feel alive walking through the streets of New York, more alive than when I am hanging off a mountain or forcing myself to push off down an impossibly steep slope.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Calling Ringo Starr!

This morning I ran the park loop rather than the reservoir loop in Central Park. As I was headed up the east side I noticed a couple of people waving at some man running down the road. When I got closer I swear it was Ringo Starr. But is that possible? Does Ringo Starr even live in NYC? Does he run??

Anyway, Ringo Starr or no, the beauty of NYC is that no one blinks twice over whack jobs, weirdos, or assorted whatnots (no wonder I like it here!) (and usually not celebrities) as long as said WWWs aren’t infringing on the imaginary, but very real, lines NYers draw around themselves. Case in point: the other morning as I was finishing up a run and there was a raving homeless man and a woman dressed in fishnets, hooker heels, black and pink hair (remember: it’s morning), both mixing seamlessly with busy, suit-dressed men and women on the way to work. There was nary a blink of an eye. But then comes a woman, clearly out to get her run in before she joined the suit-clad masses on her way to Wall Street, running with headphones, singing out loud (loudly, and not even a good song) in what appeared to me to be a desperate effort to finish up a torturous run. SHE pissed people off. SHE was interrupting people’s quiet space. SHE crossed people’s lines. I say whatever it takes to finish the run . . .

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Welcome to My Blog!

Finally! I am getting the blog up and going, sharing my adventures around NYC! Fun, Food, Running, and insider views of what it is like to live in the city that never sleeps!