take a walk with your russian relative day

fur-lined hoods and fabulous russian accents drifted through prospect park yesterday afternoon. my black coat, blue jeans, and blue hat blew my cover as i tried to immerse myself in the lilts and shhhs of canes and dialects while they slowly meandered up and down olmsted and vaux's baby slopes.

i had originially left the house in hopes of a nice stroll and a simple bench upon which to perch and to read a little hobbesian political theory. it was, after all, sunny. the wander did not exactly start off as planned. my ipod died. then a dog bit my leg. luckily, it didn't pierce the skin. "oh, my. she's usually a bit fiesty but rarely uses her teeth. so sorry. so very sorry." i lulled behind the dear dog's owner until the fork, at which point i chose the Other Path. as much as i don't appreciate being attacked by small creatures on leashes, i must thank the dog for sending me left instead of right. for just over the first crest past the fork, i found myself in the middle of russia. they must have come up from brighton beach for the day, for a walk, outside, arm in arm. i love this about this city: wherever you go, even if not more than a mile from home, you find diversity and culture of somewhere other than here.

new finds

even though i am absolutely awful at pool, i recently found myself joining in on the festivities at two local halls. both rather grimey-as pool halls should be, no?-i quite enjoyed the non-sex-and-the-city aspect of nyc. people hanging out in plain (read: not designer!) clothes, $1 sodas, and the simpsons or bad rock on in the background. it's a bit odd and a bit releiving to find that, in spite of the fact the your table is not nearly alone, and in spite of the groups of pool-players clumped together throughout the space, your party is private. invisible border surround each table. in a city like this, such clear boundaries are not easy to find. so cheers to that.

for a second

finally, we found cold. new york, new york, what were you doing basking in glorious seventy degree weather in the middle of january? how unlike you! we did not know what to do with ourselves. parents clothed their children in down jackets, just in case; in the subway, sweat lined their pink faces as they bobbed up and down on their mothers' knees. the cherry blossoms bloomed in the brooklyn botanical gardens. the electric bill was low.

seriously.

lucky for us, we did not swelter in the metro. instead, we left new york city. the beaches of fire island aren't too far away. a few hours in the car-and a few battles with the map!-took us to windswept perfection. we walked among the dunes with nothing drowning out the ocean waves. no ambulance, no horns, no delivery bicyclists chiming their unheard bells. peace as we know it.

but now, outside, flurries are finding speed. the north wind's a-knockin'. and i cannot wait for snow.