Wait, I live in NYC?!?

Sometimes I forget I live in New York City. I know you think I'm crazy. How could I forget that I live in NYC? I don't mean literally - I know where I live - but it's so routine for me that it no longer seems romantic or fatastical. It's my life.

I grew up in a small town in the Midwest. There are more people living on my block in NYC than in my hometown. Crazy, right? Living on the upper east side, close to Central Park and working in Harlem also plays with your psyche a little. It's quieter. There isn't the hustle and bustle of Midtown. It seems more neighborhoody and less urban.

Occasionally, I'll go to meet my friend Adrianna after work near Madison Square Garden and I'm suddenly slapped across the face with - oh yeah, I do live in NYC. Oops, I forgot. By the way, I am so glad that I don't have to commute outside of NYC and race to catch a train at a certain time in order to get home. So, glad!

Trust me I miss certain things about my small town upbringing: my family, cards on Saturday nights, my friends, driving, not having to carry everything everywhere, hiking, the outdoors, the friendly atmosphere, the genuineness of people, how everyone says hello to each other, my theatre friends, hanging out at The Shed until wee hours of the morning and more than anything my brother and my niece. Kisses!

And then I'm shaken back to 'my reality' by the beeping of the bus lowering its' steps, the horn of a taxi and the city. I love it! I'll go walk through The Ramble later and pretend I'm hiking in the woods of the unglaciated corner of Wisconsin that was my home - by the way, did you know that once you are in the middle of Central Park you no longer hear the traffic and the city. Amazing!