Home

I had the distinct pleasure of working in Manhattan today, one of my two days a week when I can return to the gritty, shitty, wonderful mecca I love. Ah, home! Walking to work, I passed a construction site and was nearly flattened by the profound aroma of pot fumes. Part of me thought 'Well, right on, this is what the city is all about' while the other part of me thought, 'I wonder if the guy operating that huge crane is the same guy who just toked all that dope?' It does make one wonder. Oh well.

It was heaven to return to the office after an absence of a week and a half. Yes, I return to my insulated cramped office, but I also return to the hugs of effusive co-workers and noise and the pained squeal of the dysfunctional color printer. Home! I catch up on the Glamazon's dating life. I get the lowdown of people and doings and the scene, all punctuated by the odd "oy vey's" by Mamela. Jewels does a little soft shoe. Even Dr. P, our medical education chief, embraces me. What's not to love?

I also returned tonight to the gym. I felt sheepish as I walked in after my absence, despite the legitimacy of my excuse for not being there. Given my limited access to Tiger's emporium with my new work schedule, I am doubling up my workouts when I'm in New York, going from one hour sessions to two. Tonight I did an hour of kickboxing followed by an hour of grappling--I feel good now, but I'm sure I will be crippled tomorrow. At the end of class, the Joshu approached me and noting the three stripes on my belt said (in a hushed tone delivered like the wise blind monk on "Kung Fu"), "It's time for you to test for your blue belt." This requires a written and physical test. I oddly covet the blue belt and the notion stirs my competitive spirit, so I committed to starting the process on Friday. I'm sure this will involve some drill sergeant urging ("Drop and give me twenty"), but, well. that works for me.

I made Hollaback Girl swear to me today that if I ever started wearing twinsets with pearls and adopted a color palate of lime green and pink that she should bitch slap me. I trust her to do so.

I love this quote from Christian Morganstern: "Home is not where you live, but where they understand you."

Indeed.