We just returned from our first trip to NYC.


The shadows at sundown

The roofs, that scrape, the sky


The rich and the rundown

The parade goes by…”

Ahem…sorry. Can’t help it. I’m an Annie fan.

Trite, I know.

Anyway, where was I… Oh, yes, our first trip to The Big Apple…the city that never sleeps…the greatest city on earth. Uh, huh. I’m 42 and this was our first trip there.

And we drove.

From South Carolina.

With our children.

A tween and a teen.

A boy and a girl.

I love them and they love me.

And that’s all I’ll say about that.

So we drove. But not only did we drive from home north of the Mason Dixon line, but we drove in NYC.

In it.

With our SC state license plate glowing like a neon sign.

Through tunnels.

Skirting oblivious pedestrians.

Avoiding imminent danger and sure death from reckless cab drivers.

As Sean John gave us the fist of strength, powering us on.

Sure we drove straight to our hotel, and parked, but still…it’s NYC y’all…The Big Apple…the city that never sleeps…

Oh, never mind.

But n’er another SC license plate in site toodling around the city y’all. And, get this, not only did Randy drive (that’s how I took the pictures) in the city once, but I drove.

Yes I did.

Three times.

Early Saturday morning four friends, Alice, Kristen, Robyn and Shari accompanied (and navigated) me out of the city for a day trip to PA for the Big Summer Potluck. (A fabulous time – thanks Three Many Cooks and Ivory Hut!) And sure, Saturday morning traffic is dead, but still, it’s NYC y’all.

Then we had to come back. In the city. NYC. Again y ‘all. And we’re all alive and well, and I didn’t hit anything (I think) or anyone. And I don’t recall any gestures thrown my way. Except for that fist from Sean. But that’s cool. By the way, I want one of those hip sweatshirts dude.

So there. If I can drive there, I can drive anywhere.

Except maybe Shanghai.

But I’m not planning on going there anytime soon.