TO DO IN NEW YORK: CENTRAL PARK BOATHOUSE

"believe me, my young friend, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, half so much worth doing as messing about in boats!"

-the wind in the willows

fun thing to do on a saturday afternoon when the weather's nice:

1. rent boats from the central park boathouse with some friends (thanks, soukups!)

2. paddle around for a bit

3. wish you'd brought bread to feed the ducks

4. spot some turtles

5. race to see who's boat is fastest

6. paddle under the tunnel and kiss your lover

7. if you're a baby, fall asleep in yer mama's arms

8. paddle back as fast as you can before your hour's up

the central park boathouse
open 10AM till dusk, april-november
in the park near west 72nd street

AMELIE'S SCHNIPPERS OF BUMBO

the fact is, this week has been tough.

the huckles and i, we still have this lingering cold. i thought it was allergies, and it probably is, but today i decided to upgrade it to a cold, as is my right. by tomorrow it will likely have become botulism, and what of me then?

and i realized this morning that it has now been a full week since i got more than two hours of sleep in one shot. that's impressive! i like to entertain myself sometimes by reminding myself that there are sleep deprived people in china who'd be happy with two hours, or something. i mean, this is a recession.

but then friday brandon got the afternoon off after working marathon hours at work this week. and oh boy was his redly-ness a sight for sore eyes. i even asked him in the elevator, "have you always been this handsome?" to which he replied, "no, i think you are just ovulating."

how did he know?

we went for burgers at schnippers. oh schnippers of my desires! schnippers is a funny name and it makes me think of boobs.

this time around i was getting the DOUBLE CHEESEBURGER because I WAS NOT MESSING AROUND. brandon ordered onion rings but look, i'm not one to judge.

that double cheeseburger was, well. 

but first i had to return my bumbo. 

i found my bumbo on a trash pile outside my neighbor's brownstone six months ago on a terribly lucky garbage day that was also a slightly dreary tuesday. and since we no longer needed it, the poor bumbo dear, i decided to return it from whence it came. i sat it down on my neighbor's trash area with a somber "THOU HATH SERVED ME WELL, BUMBO!" i felt quite pleased with myself as we walked away. i pictured my neighbors, peeking out their brownstone windows in the moments to come, only to find that dang bumbo they thought they'd gotten rid of, scratching their heads and wondering where did it come from? and how did this happen? and what could it all mean?

it all felt rather amelie-ish, and plus i was wearing a sweater (sweater weather). 

amelie with a bumbo in the fall!

yes please.

THINGS I SAW TODAY THAT MADE ME SMILE

i woke up this morning alarmed to find that everything in the room was frowning at me.

the drapes, the lamp, all of the bedding and the mess of toys on the floor, but most of all my baby, oh how my baby frowned at me.

when i realized my sinuses were still mad at me from the night before and that their discontent had since spread to my lungs i nearly called it quits. "ugh, this day!" and then huck kicked at the blanket in frustration and nothing, not even a bagel could help us, we were too far gone.

so for the rest of the day, in an attempt to turn things around, i wrote a note of everything i saw that made me smile. in no particular order, here they are:

a very old man wearing head-to-toe polyester leaning over two seats on a bench to shout "when can i see you again?" at a sweet old lady with a salt and pepper afro.

a fluffy old english sheep dog coming out of the subway.

santa claus crossing the street at 72nd and amsterdam. he was wearing one green sneaker and one red.

a newsstand stocked with cold bottles of diet pepsi just when i thought i'd die of thirst.

there is a place called manhattan cat specialists. amazing.

there were lots of yorkie puppies by the fairway this afternoon for some reason. one got stepped on by accident and a fancy lady's driver shouted out the window from the curb, "stop texting while you walk!"

i tried on huck's red suspenders to see how serious i felt about buying my own matching pair. verdict: i'm more serious about it than i expected to be.

a man on 14th street asked me why i looked so serious. it was because i was thinking about thrifting.

i bought a whole bunch of cheesy western paperback mini novels at the borders 90% off closing sale the other day, and they've been staring at me cheerfully ever since. one of them is called "strongheart: a promise kept . . . in blood." 

i got to pet maddie, the terribly overweight poodle, in the elevator.

i stopped by tani to visit with my new swedish friends. they whispered in my ear that they would be a perfect birthday gift for me. "tell your husband!" they said. and then i said back, "are you crazy? do you know how much you cost?!" i think those swedish shoe friends are a bad influence on me, because i told him anyway.

huck ate some prunes and i got a little carried away with my prune plane. as i was executing masterful prune spoon stunts, he waved his arm at the spoon like king kong and i heard a splat from somewhere across the room (i have yet to find it).

that was the best part of this post.

WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO A FASHION WEEK PARTY ROUND TWO

i don't know how it's happened, but two years in a row now i've managed get a last-minute invite to a fashion week party. and! two years in a row i talked to a project runway winner at the party! weird coincidence now that i think of it.....

HERE'S HOW IT WENT DOWN:

dress via my bud ck

afterward i went home to change and put the huckles to bed, and then we went out again for pizza at patsy's and gelato for dessert. 

good girls night if i do say so myself.

(confession: i haven't had cable tv in years and haven't seen an episode of project runway since chrsitian siriano won it a million years ago.)

THE PROBLEM WITH TEN MONTHS

this morning as we nursed in bed snuggled up together, his arm squeezing mine as i hoped to find another hour of sleep hidden under my pillow, i realized my huckleberry was staring at me.

sometimes through the sweet chub on his face i catch a quick glimpse of his budding jawline and the sweet little boy he's becoming. sometimes he'll flash me a look, a look like he is in there--this boy in this baby body--this look like babyhood is almost over and this baby body is not always going to be a baby body and these mornings won't stick around forever.

i'm still convinced that one of these days i'll find the button that will magically turn him back to three days old. three days was my favorite. i loved three days because three days moved so terribly awkwardly, like a baby t-rex in slow motion.

i loved the scrunched little face and the head of dark hair and the soft little wail when three days cried.

i loved when three days woke from a cat naps and grunted at me. i'd lift him up, my hands on his ribs and my fingers supporting his wrinkled little head, and then he'd reach his skinny little arms to the sky and scrunch his bony little knees up to his chest and yawn his three days yawn and wrinkle his three days face as he enjoyed the end of his three days stretch.

oh my gosh i would give anything for three days again. anything in the world.

this is not to say that ten months does not have its charms.

ten months does not spit up, have terrifying mustardy blow outs, or have healing circumcisions to worry around during diaper changes. there are no umbilical cord stumps, soft spots are fairly hard now, and bumps and bruises are part of the game and worn like a badge of honor. "see this? i'm crawling!" is what ten months says.

ten months mainlines cheerios like an addict, takes sips from straws and looks up at you with the cheesiest smiles, takes more-or-less regular naps, and even is sometimes patient while you "run in real quick i just want to see something" five times in an afternoon outing.

but the problem with ten months is that ten months is not three days.
ten months comes with wanting to get down and explore instead of never-ending cuddles.

and after ten months comes eleven months,
and i simply cannot stand for the nonsense of eleven months.
ten months, okay. we've made a conciliatory peace.
eleven months? don't push your luck, bucko.

i hate to let him grow up.
but the older he gets, the better i know him.
and he's a pretty cool cat, it turns out.
so i suppose i will let him just the same.