My dad and I walked home from Thanksgiving dinner at my cousin Wendy's house and saw trucks of Christmas trees, lined up silent in the night, ready for the moment they were officially allowed to unload.
My heart belongs to West 13th street, because it's where we lived when I was born, it's where the best Equinox is, the burritos are bananas, etc. I could go on, but then this would be a words blog and not a photo blog. So here are some photos from when we ate burritos on West 13th street.
Lucky for me, a visit home to NYC coincided with the very first meeting of the Brooklyn Book Club. Most of the members had read most of the book. (It was "Motherless Brooklyn," and we really did talk about it. For a bit.)
When it's very, very late (also known as very, very early) you would be very, very lucky to find yourself in New York City. Especially if that part of New York City is Little Italy and you are craving pizza, as I usually am.
So when we can, we like to host Lou Speaks, where he waxes poetic on GORUCK, the GORUCK Challenge, our gear, lessons of SOF, you name it. I've heard him talk roughly one billion times, but I always learn something new.
Back when travel budgets were a little loosey (looser) goosey (goosier) Polly and I managed to get the OK to go to LA for a week for the GORUCK Challenge and for the fun.
We went to some fancy schmancy hotel with Beaux, who dressed the part and loved it. He took me and Polly to our first strip club that night - kind of the Olive Garden of strip clubs, in that it was very family friendly and had unlimited breadsticks.