A TALE OF URBAN SUBURBAN SURVIVAL

Friday, February 8, 2013

-the day after tomorrow-

Where's Cary Grant when you need him?

Right now I'm sitting on a train from New Haven to New York, watching the blizzard arrive, struggling to stay awake, what with all the ambient noise and warm air being pumped through the car.

Definitely wish I looked a little more like Eva Marie Saint just in case Mr. Grant should saunter in (not that I have the brain power for sexy, witty dining car banter right now, but still).

The train is snaking it's way down to the Big Apple, and I feel like a lucky refugee riding the coattails of an exodus (Amtrak has cancelled all afternoon trains). We're out for a birthday adventure!

I think the circumstances surrounding this major birthday are all very ironic. Or is it apropos?

For one, I was born during a snowstorm (at least that's how I remember the story) and now 30 years later we're battling another one. As long as the public library stays open, we'll be fine.

(PS-if you're getting all of these movie references, we should be best friends.)

Secondly, I wish I could brag about all the awesome stuff we'll be doing in NYC, but it's a surprise. That's right, a surprise. And if you know me, you know I'm a serious planner and---how to put this politely?---a control freak. But somehow, at this point in my life, it's perfect.

Finally, a few years ago, when turning 30 seemed like a very far away nightmare, I calculated what day of the week this momentous occasion would occur and excitedly flipped through my paper calendar (ah, the good ol' days) only to find that, because of the leap year, my birthday was going to be on a Sunday.

SUNDAY.

I was devastated.

I mean, in college, that seemed like the kiss of death for a major birthday (I got the double whammy of my 21st birthday being during the week). But now? It's perfect.

It's perfect that my entry into the next decade be on the holy day of Rest (good lord, I could use more of that).

It's perfect that it's a snowy weekend in NYC.

And it's perfect that the people who brought me into this world, and the person who is my world have planned a special weekend for us.

Full circle. Perfect.

(Though the addition of Jake Gyllenhaal in a blizzard never hurts.)