Empire State of Mind

I woke up this morning.

I showered, read The Times(on-line, of course), and prepared to jog through Central Park. It is a beautiful, sunny day and I want to be outside in this crazy-wonderful city not reading Mark Bittman, sitting with my computer.

After a few miles(I'm a jogger, not a marathoner...LOL), I need more coffee and find some at this quaint little bistro right off my running path. Believe it or not they are playing New York, New York by Ryan Adams:

I remember Christmas in the blistering cold
In a church on the upper west side
Babe, I stood their singing, I was holding your arm
You were holding my trust like a child

I smile and enjoy my coffee-time people watching.

It seems that New York City is getting smaller and smaller. I ran into Zooey and her husband, Willie. They were grabbing coffee to go b/c he was part of a concert series in the park later that afternoon. I have never seen him play, but downloaded some of his music and he is way talented. They look like such a happy couple. Zooey looks the same as she did in high school.

Walking home, I stop at the market and grab fresh tomatoes and mozzarella. I am craving a light pasta salad for lunch. Tom, the proprietor of this sweet store, has owned it for 40 years and we chat about how much things have changed since then. He knows I write, for fun, and explains things so that I have a great mental picture of 1975. He is an amazing storyteller. He, also, always puts a big apple in my bag. I love that...get it, a "big apple". His wife died last year and I was worried he would, too...of a broken heart. It is unlikely I will find a love like that here in this city, but I'm still young, right.

As I get closer to my place, I realize I have gone all morning with out my iPhone and I start laughing uncontrollably. Wow, it turns out you don't die if you don't use it...and there is a life that Apple doesn't have an app for...LOL.

My doorman, Bing, holds the door for me and I tell him about my jog and my coffee. I think he listens, but as the door closes back and I'm still blabbing about the special blend, I see that he was just being his usually nice self. Hell, I still love you, New York.

I woke up this morning.