Travels with a Chiweenie

Sunday – April 6th

Sunday mornings are sacred to me, not for going to mass, although I should be better about that.

Sundays are – CBS Sunday Morning, Billy Holiday on the radio, coffee and (for a while, the Sunday Times, until it became too depressing). I would read the Times…see something happening on Weds and hit my head – I can’t be there…ugh.

However, when you are living in NYC…you can pick up the Times and determine what is next. 

I am so grateful to come home to Frida, a sunny deck and the Times, in NYC.

The “visiting” Susan – Sundays, in NYC are usually a late flight home. So, the morning is devoted to coffee, bagels, and the Times on Jim Henson’s bench in the park.  One time, someone thought I was a local and asked me for directions…thankfully I knew the answer so I could continue my imposter self.

My relationship with this city is the greatest lover of my life, even though I have lovers I might pick over NYC…like Washington DC…Mexico City…European spots I didn’t get to spend as much time with…you get the idea.  What I realized after twenty-five years of dating, this relationship needed a chance to become more than a whirlwind tryst over four nights, only to wax poetic for months, longing to be in their arms again.  I needed to know…could we have staying power, could we live together?

Four days into a thirty day stay I have had to battle downpouring rain, dank nasty weather, fifty-five stairs to my apartment, often caring a twenty pound animal. You have to remember to body check yourself before you leave, keys, purchasing power, phone – check.

Crap, I forgot to bring the trash down.

Another lesson – do NOT buy stuff while on a walk with your dog.

Most everyone has been great about letting Frida in the store and she has already won invitations to a few local bars.

The issue is, if you have bags…and a chiweenie, someone or something will need to take two trips.

But I am learning, my lover’s ebb and flow. Which wine shop, which grocery store, what days to catch jazz in the village. Spike, the owner clued me in on that intel.  And it was the New York Post which shared the “secret” of where to purchase last minute eclipse glasses.

The weather finally turned lovely, and everyone was out enjoying the sun and the blooms.

Frida and I walked…and I found myself at the National History Museum.

My chance to buy glasses.

Frida.

UGH – the checking of what to bring where and when failing me again.

So, I took a shot. I just needed to go into the store.

I picked Frida up – when you look into her face, she is pretty undeniable. The security gal was happy to let me go in with her to purchase protective eye wear for tomorrow’s event.

Once, inside, I am told – “You have to purchase a ticket.”

UGH – but no mention of the twenty-pound creature I was carrying.

I arrived at the counter, following a couple with a chihuahua.  What is it about museums and dogs…hmmm?

“So did you feel the earthquake?” I asked the attendant, small talk is always a good distractor when you are trying to smuggle a non-service dog into a national institution.

“YES! I was on the third floor, it was crazy!”

“I was in the shower…missed the whole thing,” I replied.

“You can pay what you want,” she announced.

“I thought the ticket was 25.00?”

“Yeah, but you are just buying glasses, you can pay what you want to get in.”

My brain took a pause…wait a minute….

First – I believe in supporting museums, so they are getting the 25 bucks…but if I am paying full price…oh Frida is going to get to see a dinosaur.

Through the turnstile we went – no questions, it was like she was invisible.

I have never been to this museum, don’t judge…I already explained my time here is always limited; the park gets a day, MoMa gets a day and try to double dip that with the MET or Whitney. I have not had time to give to the history of the earth.

Well…let’s just say – this was giant adventure and step collector on my Garmin.

Once again, Frida was a champ.  Calm, sweet to anyone who approached and didn’t mind the odd looks we received – as if to say “Hey…that’s a dog?”  She sat patiently, even if confused as I tried to take her photo.

It was a grand day indeed.

Once glasses were purchased and ancestors met, we headed back to the apartment where she was glad to get a treat and sleep and I headed off to my favorite neighborhood spot Genaro’s. Already a regular, I had tales to tell, pasta to eat, ten miles that day – no guilt.

Best Sunday in NYC ever.  We will learn whether living is a possibility, but today was helpful.