It’s official, we’re deep into fall here in Brooklyn. The air is crisp, the sweaters are plentiful, and my bed becomes harder and harder to get out of in the mornings. Especially when the cats are infinitely hitting snooze and I’m stumbling around trying to put an outfit together without a full length mirror (I know, I know! I’m working on that!). The real dilemma is having to leave my new couch everyday. I mean, did everyone know how amazing couches were, because they’re the best. THE BEST. Now the cats and I can all spread out but still sit on the same piece of furniture. At this exact moment Fitz has squeezed himself into the armchair I’m currently writing on which I have to admit isn’t really built for one and her 15 pound cat. But like the old saying goes, “Love is patient, love is kind, love means sharing your chair even when the couch is fully open next to you.”
When I do finally pry myself away from the perfection that is this couch, I get treated to what I like to call the “subway transformation.” You leave the house looking like a perfectly together human being and somehow in the 44 minute commute, when the elevator doors finally open to the 6th floor, and I tumble out in a heap looking like a giant wind as blown me from Park Slope to Chelsea. So to all the coworkers I see first thing in the morning just know … I tried. And as another season comes to an end, I’ve been contemplating all the things, little and big, I hope never do.
Mo Welch‘s comics.
Mariachi bands. More specifically mariachi bands playing behind tables in restaurants and people trying to compete with the overwhelming crescendos to finish their stories. They never win and it gives me such joy.
Disneyland’s Christmas decorations.
Phantom of the Opera and Wicked being on Broadway.
Oprah being the cover star on every edition of her magazine. I mean if that doesn’t say you’ve made it, what does?
James Bond movies. Though they could have more conversations about consent and stronger female characters. Just a note.
The pumpkin cranberry muffins at Blue Sky Bakery.
My cats letting me use them as pillows when I wake up from a nightmare.
The Graphic Novel Bookclub at the Brooklyn Library. Since I work Saturdays, I’ve never been able to make a meeting and I’ll be damned if I never cross that off my bucket list.
Yes, I’m putting this on record, I hope my dad never stops singing (more like tunelessly yelling) “Drop of Jupiter” even though he gets half the words wrong.
Susie’s Senior Dogs and the amazing work they do raising awareness about senior dog adoptions. #adoptdontshop
Netflix’s long archive of detective shows. Please, PLEASE never stop acquiring these!
Harry Potter jokes.
Unsweetened black ice tea. My heart of hearts.
Campfire and pine scented candles.
Leslie Jones being a SNL cast member.
Ian McEwan, John Irving, and Toni Morrison’s ability to create literary masterpiece after literary masterpiece.
Free yoga in the park.
The unlimited bread rolls at Miceli’s.
The Little Bakeshop staying open until 11pm every night.
Dax Shepard and Kristen Bell’s joint interviews.
Nail saloons and hair dressers offering booze.
The 2/3 train aka my New York lifeline.
Puddles the Clown singing covers of “Hallelujah” during his live shows. That and Clair de Lune are the two songs guaranteed to make me cry two notes in.
Starbuck’s inability to spell anyone’s name.
Bars serving free popcorn or pretzels to your table. Is there a nicer thing than that? I vote no.
Chapstick. After the lip burn incident of 2005, I’ve never depended on a product more than chapstick.
The postal service.
Peoples’ drives to make the world better, even when the conversations feel impossible and hopeless. It’s this unrelenting drive to never settle for anything less than equality and freedom that makes us stronger. Lucky for me, I have incredible, passionate friends, coworkers, and mentors who keep me active and inspired everyday.
The cinnamon cookies at Google.