I finally visited New York a few months ago. Kinda hopeless considering I lived in San Francisco for 6 months in 2004. But the time finally came when the idea of leaving the little ones didn’t seem too scary. So I packed my bags and followed my fella on his annual trip. Yes, he goes once a year. And I still had never been.
It’s an amazing city and I had a brilliant time. We stayed up way past our bedtime and slept till almost noon. More than once. Wild times.
We bowled in Brooklyn.
Bought sandals for half of what they cost here. And dresses and more shoes and hair products I’ll probably never use.
Ate a cupcake with fingernails to match.
Bought coat hooks and door knobs we probably didn’t need. But damn, they’re gorgeous.
Walked The Highline to a dinner reservation for 10.45pm.
And so much more.
But after ten days of that incredible, endless city, I’d had enough. Enough of the excessiveness of New York City. It may sound ungrateful and boring but I couldn’t wait to come home to my beautifully simple and real life. And bake something. And take my kids to the park.