showdown

I was pretty sure avalanches could only happen in places with mountains.  The Rockies.  The Alps.  Some location that is not New York City on a Tuesday afternoon.

But I experienced one.  Yesterday.  In my apartment.  And all I had to do was open up my freezer (lucky me).

That’s the beauty of a New York apartment.  It’s a wilderness unto itself.  You can go on a hiking expedition complete with near death experiences and wildlife encounters (I’ve been known to spot an ant or two) while wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt.  All without leaving the comfort of your own home! (How’s that for a real estate ad).

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One can’t be expected to be rational in an irrational situation.

(Or so they teach us.  In medical school. At least. That was the take home message that our class on “how to be a good, empathetic, professional doctor” left us with.  Along with a take home final. They left us with that too. Personally, I would have given both back in exchange for my time.  But that didn’t seem to be an option.)

So when things started to go crazy.

When a tornado watch was issued for New York City.

When I watched an entire hour of the 6 o’clock news at the gym and didn’t get bored.

When the Empire State Building Lighting Partner Program decided that, although it’s okay for them to honor such “non-controversial” (ha) figures as Mariah Carey and Mao Zedong. Mother Theresa? Out of the question

When I got a runner’s high from a spin class.  (Okay it was a spin class, an abs class, and an upper body class.  Two solid hours of sweat.  Exactly what I needed to make me truly happy for the first time since…November.  Not that I haven’t been happy.  But running was just…my life.  And having it taken away was slightly soul-crushing.  So you can imagine how shocked I was when I found myself positively GLOWING after spinning.  And then again after I woke up the next day and was sore in places that I forgot you could be sore in.  I missed that feeling.)

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Divine intervention made me do it.  I swear.

That’s what I’m going to say when asked why I decided to make gnocchi when I should have been studying for my exam.  Especially given my track record with gnocchi.  Which is to say that the first and only batch of potato gnocchi I’ve ever made.  Took eight hours.  And concluded with me (shockingly) covered in flour.  And exhausted.

So what was going through my mind?

Like I said.  Divine intervention.  I had a feeling.

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This week.  I practiced being on summer vacation.

I walked to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. On a weekday.  And spent far too much money on things that have nothing to do with summer.  Ramekins.  A rolling pin.  Glassware.

And far too little money on things that have everything to do with summer.  Popsicle makers.  Beach chairs.  A Mercedes convertible with the top down and Top 40 music blasting from the state-of-the-art speakers.

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