Thursday, July 24, 2008

Fantasy street

My friend hosted a party last weekend at her mom's apartment on 90th Street between Central Park West and Columbus. Let's just say, NICE neighborhood. I tend to gawk at the brownstones whenever I find myself in one of these sections of town. I stopped to take a few pictures, and then looked quickly around, half-expecting the neighborhood watch matron to come swooping down on me to tell me there is no picture taking allowed -- and then demand a photo ID, Social Security Card, and 2007 W2s to see if I earned enough to qualify for the right to walk down this block.

I mean, people are friendly here -- I said hello to a family out walking their cocker spaniel and they said hello back -- but let's get real, they are making a LOT more money than I do. I ain't living anyplace like this anytime soon. Maybe if I DO write my novel (not the fantasy novel that I joked about being almost finished on MySpace earlier today).

So, that's one fantasy of mine -- a Manhattan address. Overall, it's not a HUGE goal. I hate my commute, I hate being jammed like cattle into the train because there are never enough trains, and I don't like that our apartment is so small. But Queens is nice; we have a place to park our car for free, it's pretty quiet, and we aren't killing ourselves paying the mortgage and expenses. It's also pretty safe, and except for our crotchety neighbor downstairs who's always complaining about noise, I like the people in the building.

Sigh... it's just that I've always wanted a STOOP. Not like the fancy one above, just one of the straight old brownstone stoops. I used to read stories about this when I was little ... families would all be out after dinner, would shout across the way to each other; everyone would hang out on the stoop. Or, "all the kids out on the stoop," from that Paul Simon song. (Where I come from in South Jersey it's just "the front steps" or "the front porch.") If I had a stoop, I swear, I would be out there every night, playing my guitar, or writing, or reading, watching the kids playing in the street.

All right, all right. I know. It does no good, really, to pine away for something I don't need, anyway. If we really wanted to live in Manhattan, we COULD find a way to do it. But we're better off putting our money away for better causes right now. Like flying to Vegas for Shadow Lane parties... or, that pesky retirement savings.

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