So You Got Hurt....

One month ago to the day I suffered an (embarrassing) injury due to my inability to recognize the need to stretch before a flash mob dance rehearsal.  Right before it happened, I was totally in control.  Chasses across the floor?  No problem.  You want me to potabourre in the front of the line?  Cool!  I'm still 20 years old and can handle it.  Not so much.

I took off running at the front of the line and felt a slam against the back of my leg, as if someone had run into me.  There was an audible "pop" at the moment my calf muscle tore... and little did I know it would be one month before I would walk again.

Even during intense dance training in my early twenties, I had never suffered an injury of this caliber.  As soon as I was told I would need crutches, the reality set in.  I am going to have to deal with this in a city that requires walking.  How is that going to work exactly?!

Here are a few things I learned during this "growing phase" in the Big Apple:

1.  Other people don't change just because your world has been turned upside down.
Nice people are still nice, mean people are still mean, and homeless people will still ask you for money.  Even if you look and/or feel homeless yourself.

2.  There at least 33 stairs just to get to a subway platform.
You don't realize how many there are until every step counts.  Once you get to the bottom it is fun to yell really loudly about the MTA!  You can get away with it now-- you're injured!

3.  You don't realize how much you miss something until it is gone.
Like your calf muscle. That thing is used for everything! When was the last time you sang your calf muscle a lullaby and kissed it to sleep before bed? I know I'll be doing that now.

4.  It's fun to try acupuncture once...or twice.
It will make you laugh hysterically or sob in puddles. If you run out of money, try making your own do-it-yourself kit with safety pins!

5.  Befriend a few children for one day.
They will make you cool cards and feel sorry for you.  But after one day, the thrill will be over for them.  Sorry!

6.  You won't always be offered a train seat just because you're injured.
A smart friend told me that acting crazy is the only sure way to get a seat.  You've got crutches, you're pregnant, or elderly?  No big deal.  But if you're crazy, nobody wants to sit by that!

7.  Friends will lie to you to make you feel better.
They'll say things like "Well, you LOOK fabulous!" or "Now you'll meet a cute guy at physical therapy!"  Even if they are all lies, lie, lies.. they really do help.  And you love them for it.

8.  Time doesn't stop for you.
It doesn't slow down, either.  Other people are out there living their lives while your leg is up on ice.  But here are some things you can do for fun that don't require walking:

• Make a joke book for your doorman so he can stop telling the same one over and over again about how you got hurt on "Dancing with the Stars".
• Build a time machine so you can go back to the time before the injury and do everything differently.
• Watch television shows where everyone is running, dancing and happy.  Someday you will be, too.
• Reply "yes" to every invite that you get on Facebook even if you know you're not going.  And while you're at it, delete a few "friends".
• Write.  Write it all.  You've wanted to do it and now is your chance.  

I hope you are all happy and healthy and never need to use any of this advice.  But if you do, please know that I am only a phone call away.

xoxoA.V.S.

There's No Place Like..?

At times like this that I wonder, "What exactly is home?" Of course, home is often a place you grow up or where your family lives. But at a time when 5,000 some people are trying to get "home" amidst rough weather and agonizing flight cancellations, it becomes even more important to get to your destination. But what about the journey? It wouldn't be the end of the world to wait. (ha!) To have patience for the world to come to you at it's leisure. But I'm writing this from Iowa, where the slow pace has entered my system and I'm cool with it. My flight has been cancelled four times, but hey!.. I'm shockingly mellowed out.

Home has become more like a concept, rather than a physical structure. It's the people I miss when I'm away that are like my home. There was a place we called "2736" in Minneapolis that I still call home-- it's physical structure falling apart in so many ways, but the memories it held will exist for as long as Katie, Erica and I keep telling the stories. It was epic because of the 6 years of ups and downs that one goes through in their twenties. If I could yell at my 25 year old self I would say, "Girl, you have got so much to learn...!" But the thing that really made this place a home was all of the people that were a part of it.

In New York, it was a place on 73rd and Central Park West that became home in a non-traditional sense. I became caretaker to my boss, a former psychiatrist struggling with Alzheimer's and the death of her husband. That "home" taught me the importance of -- everything, really. Gratitude was on the top of that list.

New York has its share of housing battles. High rent, small spaces, pests, crazy landlords, "fake" walls... all of the usual complaints. My favorite stories to tell now go back to a time when we lived in an Astoria apartment with pink carpet and a kitchen floor that bubbled up from a broken water pipe, among other interesting character traits. Katie would tell this story best, but conversations from the family living below us were a huge topic of conversation. The wife would yell at her husband, "You should have left me in India to die!" Talk about missing home.

The great thing about going home is the appreciation you feel from the people that are so excited to see you. You could be sick or cranky, but people that haven't seen you in awhile don't seem to mind (or they just think it is your new personality and accept it). I love the perspective these trips give me and recognize that all of these places I call home fit are part of a larger picture that is not quite complete -yet. It's a constant circle-- a Mandala. Going and coming-- buses to planes to cars to trains and then back around the circle again. That is, if you are lucky enough to get a flight.

Listen Up, New York! Winter Edition

Midwestern winters are legen...wait for it...dary. On Christmas Eve, fellow transplants and I regaled unknowing New Yorkers with tales of school closings due to snow and wind chill. That's right. It didn't even need to be snowing; sometimes we didn't have to go to school because it was just too cold to go outside. When we could venture out of the house, we began the wonderful adventure of road navigation.

I never had a nice car. I never had a garage (as an adult). I would have to wake up 15 minutes early to allow time for vehicular snow and ice removal, occasionally setlling for a small oval of viewing space. I would cross my fingers that the car would start. Once (and if) it did, I hated driving in the snow. I have horrible memories of "white-out;" unable to see anything but a blanket of white, but driving nonetheless, praying I was still on the road and pointed straight. I remember driving through Iowa on my way back to college in December and ending up in a ditch. I have horrible flashbacks of the night I tried to drive from Minneapolis to Lanesboro in a snow storm and totaled my car by plowing head first into a semi truck at a slippery stoplight somewhere near Farmington. Basically, Midwestern winters are responsible for my "Grandma driving."

So, New York, you should be horribly insulted that today I am wistfully, fondly remembering my former location. I mean, sure, the winters here are milder; on average it's a nice 30-40 degrees Farenheit and everyone gets to wear their tacky fur coats and all go about pleasantly. But you know what, New York? At least the Midwest knows when to say enough is enough. When we know the roads are dangerous and the ground is covered with a foot of snow, we stay home. Or we have really sturdy cars. We're a hearty stock, but normally very sensible. We generally admit defeat in the face of Mother Nature and her little surprises. We call work and say, "I can't get to the office," and no one complains. Or better still, the office just closes! Nothing is THAT important.

But New York, you don't stop! You laugh in the face of Mother Nature, even though she has blanketed your city in enough snow to stop all of your taxi cabs, your buses, your subways, and your commuter trains. Go, go, go at the expense of your residents! Where do you think they learned it from, all these people in a constant hurry to be one place or another? They learned it from watching you. Keep the businesses running! Never stop! Get there as fast as you can! Then get angry when you can't! Yeah!

And do you know what else we do in the Midwest, New York? We take care of our streets and sidewalks! See, we have these handy little devices we call snow plows. Say it with me. Snow plows. Who do you think you are, Florida? No! You are located in the northeastern section of the United States. You should be prepared! If the snow is falling at a rapid rate due to a predicted Noreaster, bust 'em out!

Get outside and shovel the sidewalks (Landlords, I'm talking to YOU!). Because that's it, isn't it? It's one of the few advantages to renting an apartment at an exhorbitant cost for years...and years; we don't have to maintain the building! Something's broken? Super, come fix it! Lawn needs to be mowed (if you're lucky enough to have one)? Someone else gets it done! So, Landlords, get off the couch and work off those Christmas cookies! While walking through 3 foot snow drifts is excellent work for the abs and thighs, it is horribly time consuming and becomes tedious (and wet) very quickly.

And please, while we're on the subject, shovel the WHOLE SIDEWALK, not just a little landing strip. Again, who do you think you are--Brazil? When you choose a minimalist method, New York, there is only room for one person to walk at a time without plunging into the side drifts. We are then relegated to walking at the pace of the person in front of us. This can get creepy (and annoying) quickly if one's pace is more rapid than that of one's predecessor. This situation escalates when the person in front remains oblivious to the winter stalker behind. No wonder crime rates are so high! I'm walking close enough to smell your shampoo, yet you don't seem to care. It is the pedestrian equivialent to getting stuck behind a slow moving vehicle (you know the kind I'm talking about...with the triangle....and usually carrying foul-smelling substances) on Route 6, and it is not the way I would prefer to begin my day!

By not shoveling the entire walk, you also require that we pause to let pedestrians traveling in the opposite direction pass before we continue. Or they pause for us. But let's be honest, it's usually "us," because as Midwesterners, we were raised with manners. Or at least raised to pretend we have some. Still, it's horribly vexing and awkward. Should you go? Me? Who? Do we need to employ 4-way stop rules here? New York, you have enough difficulties with pedestrian traffic as it is; no need to go adding more complications! It's like one giant game of winter chicken, and I never liked that scene in Footloose to begin with. Or was it Back to the Future?

Also, New York, I find it highly amusing that those of you who are intelligent enough to dress for the weather still refuse to reap the benefits of your protective clothing. Are you wearing snow boots? Rain boots? Protective footwear of some kind? Okay then! You can easily tread through that inch-deep puddle of melted snow! No need to go lingering about, calculating how you'll jump over it or waiting for Prince Charming to come lay down his cape. Wearing my trusty snow boots, I will plow past you through that puddle, and probably purposfully splash you to prove my point.

And now I turn to you, Bloomberg (or whoever is in charge of city streets). Manhattan's streets look grand this morning (aside from mountains of snow drifts on the corners), while the streets of Astoria are atrocious. Your PlowPeople are doing a half-assed job, or not doing their job at all. When I walk down the sidewalk, I can focus on nothing but maintaining my upright position (I guess this low center of gravity comes in handy after all!). You know, New York, I loved playing "King of the Mountain" as a kid. So many happy recesses were spent on the Southwest Elementary School playground, just this side of "No Man's Land," hiking up drifts and trying not to step on the landmines of air pockets. I am sorry to remind you (and myself) that I am no longer ten years old. I have places to be (see above re: never stop)! This is a pedestrian city--take care of your pedestrians!

In short, New York, shape up, or this lady is shipping back to the heartland. If you are truly the city where anything is possible, show me. Show me you can handle winter.

Your faithful resident,
Katie

A Holiday Adjustment

My friend Katie and I have been discussing the idea of starting this blog for some time. After 4+ years of living in New York City, the time has come. We don't know if our words will inspire change, but maybe at least we can find people that relate.

On my holiday travels, I experienced something shocking. Upon arrival to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I was greeted with smiles and thanks yous from strangers. It took me awhile to readjust-- "Oh, yes! This is normal here." I should have easily readjusted to my homeland, but it was not that simple. New York really does invade your spirit, in a sense, and my awareness of this has left me baffled. You mean the server is going to bring us more bread without asking? What the what??!

But I get ahead of myself. The holidays in New York are filled with "spirits" of all kinds. But you absolutely must take the good and the bad to live in a place like this. Tourists fill the streets, gawking at a giant Christmas tree, or live street performance, or a homeless man shouting profanities. Some of us don't find this entertaining anymore. I'm not here to yell at the tourists, however, because they are not the only problem.

I enter the crowded 1 Train on my way home from work right before my departure for Iowa. This train is packed with people, to the point where there is nothing left to hang onto. If I was a tall person, I could balance my hand on the top of the car and do pretty well. I hear the train conductor asking people to stand clear of the closing doors, although this doesn't seem to speed up the process at all. As the train rolls out of the station, I hear him say "If you see a suspicious package, don't keep it to yourself.." This sent a man in the middle of the car over the edge. "AAAAHH... Shut UP!" No one else reacted. It was by this time, the man directly next to me decided to open a granola bar. Crunch, Crunch, Crunch. Munch, Munch, Munch. It smelled like peanut butter. I was annoyed. This is where I start: Listen up, New York! We all want to get home and have dinner/snacks/drinks with our families/roommates/house pets/rodents. Why on this packed train-- now--? What good is this really doing you-- a small granola bar? And as I'm thinking all of this in my head, the man's granola bar droppings go into my shopping bag.

I sit here writing this in my small Iowan hometown, and still, I miss New York. The snowstorm has made it impossible to get back for at least a couple of days. But I know what I'm fighting for, and that is to get back to a new homeland-- one that makes me blissfully insane everyday. I guess what I've realized is that it's good to be in New York- and it's good to get away. It's also good to be in Iowa- and it's good to get away. Home is where the heart is? And the heart has a mind of its own.