My mom was right about March, ‘In like a lion.’ And now? pretty lamb-y.

It even rained yesterday like it was April. A good ol’ morning till night, howlin’, blowin’ rainstorm. And all the while it was 55 degrees. I reveled in the murky puddles, unsuccessfully using my canvas bag as an umbrella and waiting for the crosstown bus with fifteen other soaked-to-the-bone commuters, most of which were rammy kids. 

With all of its Spring-like symbolism, Red Hook is blooming into a lively neighborhood again. We got Kevin’s, Lobster Pound and Fairway back all within the same week. Homemade has been back to semi-regular hours. It looks like the old Dry Dock space is coming along, but by the grace of some libation lords, they’ve been in a temporary space since early November. I’m not sure what post-Sandy would have looked like for me without their whiskey and Nebbiolo. I’m not kidding. It was sedation, medication, therapy. They supplied me with ‘thanks for letting me and my dog crash here, for two weeks’ wine. They sold Sandy-ruined bottles for 20% off, so I got a Barolo for 21 bucks with this really great soggy, melting label. 


Big changes are around the corner for me and I swear meditating on this blog brought some crazy dreams to fruition. I feel that i’ve grown more in the last year than I have in ten, and in some ways feel I’ve outgrown my current shell. Details, in the form of a breathy story, soon.

For now we are soaking up the changing of seasons, on This American Life, starting to drink iced coffees (too soon? too soon) and spending lots of time with good people, out of doors. Oh, and eating sprinkle cake for breakfast.