So Scott and I had a quiet New Year’s at home. We cooked up a yummy dinner (grilled wild salmon and pasta with asparagus and a lemon cream sauce), watched “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” and various add-ons from the DVD, and then flipped the TV on at midnight to watch a rebroadcast of the ball dropping in NYC.
At which point I got incredibly homesick, and started crying when Sinatra’s “New York, New York” came on. This morning I’m still sad. There’s something in the air that makes me wish I were tramping the streets of the West Village, heading off for brunch in a noisy diner, and then just out for a walk, maybe clutching a carton of coffee to keep my hands warm.
We only got home to NY once in 2005, and I think that has something to do with why I’m feeling so homesick today. I need a city fix.
It comes down to reality
And it