Here. And there.

The gallivanting continued, apace. The 20,000 step mark was duly broken, as was, more than somewhat coincidentally, my inferior-issue body. But no matter, we had a whirlwind girls’ week to finish up, and did so in style.

Toughest item on the itinerary was the 9/11 Memorial and museum. It is a heartbreaking pilgrimage that must be made. You’ll want to sign up for a tour. I’m not saying you will enjoy it, but it must be done. Takeaways: the voiceovers of “where I was” when it happened, the playback loops of endless voicemails sent to the phones of that day’s victims. The videos of the attackers going through airport security. (If only someone had listened…) The photo of what a perfect, crystalline morning that was in New York City…

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The memorial fountain, where the birthdays of victims are annually observed.

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Soberly, and then less so, we moved on to brunch at Fraunces Tavern, where George Washington famously dined with his troops in 1783.

In the interest of breaking that 20,000 step barrier, we walked across the Park later in the day to take in the Camp exhibit at The Met. Takeaway: I have even less of an understanding of “camp” than I did previously, but it was pretty and I appreciated the Oscar Wilde references.

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We assuaged our lack of campiness with a glass of wine on the Met Rooftop on a perfect afternoon after a perfect NYC girlfriend week. So very much perfection…

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Except for the fact that drama was brewing in the wind to the west. 3,000 miles to the west to be exact.

“It was a colossally bad idea”, said the never-one-to-mince-words CE by phone. By that, he was referring to our bass-ackwards game plan that would allow us to make a previously-scheduled trip to NYC at the same time we acquired a new puppy. No problem! The CE would take care of her on his own the first week, and then she would go to be with our beloved trainer while we were both away. It seemed to make sense at the time. In theory. 

But in practice, um, things were shaping up a bit differently. When it came to shipping Princess Lily off to doggie boot camp for two weeks, the tough guy blinked.

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Lots of discussions with Delta Airlines. Lots of discussions with Friends of Lily. The princess pretended to behave when Kirk and Pamela visited.

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But when Christi stopped by, and Lily gnawed ferociously on her forearm, she wisely allowed that could see the wisdom in some quality time with the trainer.

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What to do? The CE was either departing or not in a matter of hours. We needed a solution, fast. I generally disdain unwieldy plot devices, but the deux en machina in the third act was so swift, so sudden and so welcome I could not help but applaud. Dear Tammy and Tom, set to watch over our house, hearth, chickens and Dodger volunteered – no, insisted – that Lily split the difference and stay a week with them before packing her gear and reporting for basic training.

These guys, soon to be canonized:

Oh, and Saint Oliver, who gave Lily a little taste of his own brand of training (“No, you may NOT eat from my bowl”, and, I believe, something along the lines of “Down, girl!”) Lily finally learned who’s boss:

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So the CE made his trip after all, for which we are especially grateful since this guy breezed into town the next day:

We saw American Ballet Theatre’s delightful Whipped Cream – kind of like a summer Nutcracker:

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Less delightful – even though I greatly esteem Kerri Russell and Adam Driver – was the Burn This Broadway revival. The original helped make John Malkevich a star but for us it did not time travel well across the decades.

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Last night we strolled over to Feinstein’s 54 Below for a great walk down memory lane with Chita Rivera’s one-woman show. She’s still got it at 86 and I loved, loved, loved hearing her sing “A Boy Like That” from her role as Anita in West Side Story.

We get to do this, thanks to Tammy and Tom holding down the fort:

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And, for one more day, they and daughter Claire have this:

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And then it is really off to boot camp for Miss Lily. But you just wait – she has lots of happy adventures coming up in a few weeks. And we’ll spend the next few years trying to make this up to Tammy and Tom. Thanks so, so much you guys! (And Christi – your turn in the barrel is coming up, lol – hopefully that little princess’ tiara will be on straight by then:-)

 

 

 

About polloplayer

Empty nester searching for meaning of life through the occasional chicken epiphany.
This entry was posted in Life, Music/Art/Literature/Culture, New York city, Spoiled Pets and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Here. And there.

  1. Anonymous says:

    A wild tale, complete with touring friends and their escapades, domestic intrigue, frantic searches for solutions, a tail wagging micro-tornado and advocates for the same, the city that never sleeps, and finally – settling in to yet another wonderful NYC experience; in other words, a happy ending.

  2. Katherine says:

    There’s NOTHING like a bigger, older, wiser dog to teach a puppy how to behave. Kudos to Saint Oliver (and all the humans who are helping too of course!) Continue to enjoy NYC.

  3. Dad4Gracie says:

    Yippee! More puppy photos!

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