Fall is in the Air

It truly felt like fall today. Here, I have evidence!

A truck full of pumpkins in Brooklyn! And you should have seen the guy's house! I've never seen so many varieties of pumpkins lining his brownstone steps. All I can say, is that pie baking is going to be off the hook at his place!

The Someday-Coming Idea

I always find it interesting when a notion keeps nudging at me like a dog trying to get a nose under one's hand in order to be petted. A certain concept has been presenting itself to me in many ways over the past few weeks (months?) and it makes it hard to ignore when it gets louder and more prominent with time. The idea that one feels discomfort at certain points in one's life because some future person or occurrence is pulling you into his/her/its space and trying to bring you out of your present reality and into the next one is a compelling idea. Or put more simply, tomorrow is pulling you towards it, out of the circumstances of today.

The someday-coming person or circumstance is probably feeling your same discomfort and is just as sick of it as you are. This creates some sort of strange harmony, compelling you into action, even if it is something small like going to view the leaves outside, or deciding to drink cider in celebration of the season at a farmer's market. I feel very strongly that this is happening, that something outside of me, something future, something lovely, that is tired of seeing me in the space that I am in and wants me where he/she/it is.

I received the following Note From the Universe recently:

What if loneliness was simply a feeling of impatience, telepathically sent to you by friends you've yet to meet, urging you to go out more, do more, and get involved so that life's serendipities could bring you together...Would you still feel alone?

What if feelings of uncertainty and confusion were only reminders that you have options, that there's no hurry, and that everything is as it should be...Would you still feel disadvantaged?

What if mistakes and failures only ever happened when your life was about to get better than it's ever been before...Would you still call them mistakes and failures?

Yes, what if? What do you think?

All Together Now

I kid you not. This is a true story.

I'm on the train coming home from work, and due to a police investigation in Brooklyn, my F train is rerouted over the D line. So I turn to the guy next to me and ask if the train goes to Flatbush Ave. He says that he doesn't know.

He's wearing braces.

I turn to the woman across from me and ask her. She smiles and says, no it doesn't.

She's wearing braces. Ceramic ones like mine.

The guy standing next to me says not to worry, I can get off at the next stop and transfer for a train that will take me there.

He's wearing braces too.

Good God, everyone's doin' it! I almost held out my arms and exclaimed "My People!" just like Evita Peron. I might have to sing my own song: "Don't Cry for Me Orthodontia!"

Rainbow High

"You wouldn't tell a toddler to never hope to reach the sink. Why would you tell yourself that you could only achieve that which you've already experienced? You are still developing, aren't you?...Your heart is the compass between the landscape of what you currently know and what you can yet know in your lifetime." --Tama Kieves

I realized after I read this that I really have been trying, rather hard, to achieve that which I've already experienced. I've been bemoaning the fact that I have "failed" in many ways because I didn't achieve the pinnacle of--what I now realize--is what I have already experienced. I have teeth in need of tending. I'm a little softer around the middle. I'm not the picture perfect superwoman, or at least the 21st century's definition of it.

Maybe those "failures" are simply signs that whatever experience was to be had is now earned, and there is an entirely new experience waiting to challenge and delight. Maybe I actually have indeed achieved what I needed to achieve, whether or not it may look that way. Each new experience is built upon the one that came before. It has it's own meandering trajectory, but it's the experience that is important, not necessarily the accolades.

I am attracted to the idea of listening to one's body and feeling the truth in one's heart. It's only recently that I've begun to think this of as tool, a compass, my true North. I truly believe that great things are afoot, even if they take form in the shape of only very small miracles.

Here's an example. I was on the subway going to my brother's house. The train goes above ground right before I'm supposed to get off, so I put my book away and looked outside.

There was a rainbow outside the window, so brilliant that a surprised "Oh my God!" escaped my lips. The man sitting across from me looked up, concerned. I said to him, "Do you see the rainbow?" And not only did he turn around, but everyone in the subway car did too. It was intensely bright--it didn't even look real. This is a rarity in NYC, but the fact that it arced across the entire sky was something I had never seen before in my fair city. I tried to snap some photos before it washed out of the sky:

And a little closer:

My rainbow companion (who I would find out later was named Jim) told me that it was "a good sign, a very good sign" to have this rainbow in our midst. Between the butterflies that have been following me, and now this rainbow, I don't know exactly what the message is, but I really, really like it.

Ritual Dances of Cupcake Lust and Desire

I was out with two of my favorite foodies yesterday--TJ and Amanda--and we ate ourselves through Chelsea, the Meatpacking, the High Line and Soho. We had Colicchio donuts (hot pumpkin ones with cream cheese dipping sauce) and while on our way to the new Payard, (where we would split a chocolate almond croissant and a divine Gateau Basque) we passed the Magnolia Bakery with its signature long line and pooh poohed it. (Look, I've had my sugary share of Magnolias, but waiting on a line for an hour to get them is no longer cute.) However, as we waited for the light to change, out marched eight women in fuchsia satin dresses and black high heels, cupcakes in each hand with the precision of drum majors. Suddenly, they broke into song and dance, singing "God Bless Magnolia" (to the tune of God Bless America). We would later find out that they were the Cupcake Cadet Corps, with weekend performances in the street at 3pm and 5pm.

Here, have a look:

Now, when we watched this, I didn't realize all the political significance--it was just some impromptu performance art which quite frankly in the West Village isn't so weird. I love at the end of this video, when choreographer Sue Hogan explains what happens when people are distracted from what they really should be thinking about and instead become obsessed with a cupcake or some other pop cultural phenomenon to deal with the things that are too difficult to deal with. Look, those of you who read my blog are no strangers to the fact that I had my own little cupcake obsession over the course of the past year, but hey, I was an equal opportunity cupcake consumer! Magnolia, Billy's, Crumbs, Little Cupcake, Butter Lane--I had them all and I loved them all.

But after Gateau Basque my darlings, there's no returning to cupcakes. (Isn't that what they say? Once you go Basque, you never go back!)

CountDOWN

The countdown has begun.

This marks 11 months until the braces come off. I went into my ortho's office bright and early today and he was once again full of positive comments about the way my teeth have been moving. I, on the other hand, have felt that things really haven't been moving in the last 2-3 months, but heck, if he's pleased, then I'm giddy. This time my doctor had the dental assistant do the tightening, and I can't decide if it's a good thing that it hurts so damn much or not. I know that he did something profoundly different, because my molars ache, which they haven't done since we started this process. (And yet, in less than a day, I can already see that my teeth have moved, which is crazy!) The result is that this has once again rendered chewing to the category of Olympic sport.

This is to say I'm not sorry I ordered that extra drink AND had the extra helping of french fries last night at The Clover Club. According to the New York Times, such behavior just makes me American!

Parp?

My friend Amanda sent me this blog posting, which had me guffawing out loud at my desk. I thought this would be all about toothy solidarity, but oh, it gets so much better!:

Hyperbole and A Half: The Party

If you have teeth, or kids, or have ever been heavily sedated, oh my, this one's for you!