Boy the way Glen Miller played

Well I took the day off yesterday to celebrate Columbus Day in style because I feel like it’s what Columbus would have wanted. Especially after Caroline declared a few weeks ago that Queen Isabella of Spain couldn’t have been that popular since she’d never heard of her.

And so I spent the day in New York City watching the Columbus Day Parade on 5th Avenue. Except that’s not really true because this is all I saw of the parade.

That’s the end in case you can’t tell.

But I also saw this dog wearing a Yankees cap and tennis shoes so it’s not like the experience was a total loss because A DOG IN WEE TENNIS SHOES.

If there was ever a day I was going to quit blogging forever this would be it because what else can I do now that I’ve given you the gift of dog tennis shoes?

In truth I wasn’t in New York to celebrate Columbus Day. It just worked out that way.

Several months ago, our editors at Tyndale emailed Sophie and me to let us know that Jane from Barnes and Noble wanted us to come to New York for lunch. Of course I said yes because that’s slightly more exciting than my normal lunches that usually involve whatever cheese I have that hasn’t gone bad and some Triscuits. Sometimes I’ll have a side of grapes if I’m feeling fancy.

We made all the arrangements and Sophie and I flew into New York on Sunday afternoon. She flew into La Guardia, but I flew into JFK. And, thus, she was spared the sight of me fighting carsickness in the back of a very erratic cab on my drive into the city. It caused me to have flashbacks to the bus in Ecuador when I threw up in front of Ann Voskamp. I had to totally mind over matter myself while taking deep, cleansing breaths to avoid having to pay a $50 cleanup fee for getting sick in a cab.

On Sunday night we walked through Times Square and enjoyed fall weather that actually feels like fall as we made our way to an incredible Italian restaurant called Morandi. I had the pasta with bolognese. Not that you really care about that detail but that’s what I eat in New York. All pasta, all the time. It’s important to carb load for all the walking.

Sadly, Monday morning I awoke to what was apparently an overzealous door closer staying next to me in the hotel. Because if they closed their door once at 6:45 a.m., they closed it seventeen times. Over and over again. Part of me really wanted to go out in the hall and lecture them about hotel etiquette, but I remembered I was in a very large city and that’s how people end up being the subject of a “ripped from the headlines!” episode of Law & Order.

But then I fell back asleep and Sophie brought me some Starbucks later in the morning and it redeemed the beginning of the day. We walked from our hotel near Times Square to Craftbar down on Broadway. That’s where we met Jane and she was just as delightful as I hoped she’d be. We talked about books and Texas and New York and television. So it was pretty much the perfect lunch. And I haven’t even told y’all about the cheese plate yet.

It was a top three cheese plate of my life moment.

And the best part is we didn’t have plans to order the cheese plate. It just showed up and we’d dug in before the waitress told us she’d made a mistake. But there was no turning back because you don’t get between women and their cheese.

This is Sophie and me with Jane. I know it looks like I have spoons in each hand ready to eat that dessert but I assure you only one of those hands belongs to me.

After lunch we took a cab back to Rockefeller Center. We looked at the ice skating rink, went in the MOMA store and the NBC store. And then. AND THEN. We went in the biggest Free People store I have ever been in. Like it had ALL the Free People merchandise. I could have stayed in there forever. I could have tried on various clothes forever. But we all had flights to catch.

So we went to grab our suitcases from where we’d stored them at the hotel and get cabs. Sophie and Carol from Tyndale were both heading to La Guardia, but I had to go back to JFK and, frankly, I was dreading the cab ride with all my being.

But then the bellhop at the hotel said there was a town car heading to JFK for the same price as a cab and I felt the heavens open and angels began to sing. I jumped in that car so fast it would make your head spin and had a wonderful ride to JFK driven by my new friend Miguel who is originally from the Dominican Republic and the second oldest of thirty-five kids.

Thirty-five kids.

Let that sink in for a moment.

I felt like Miguel and I understood each other when he immediately told me how to turn down the A/C when I got in the car. But I knew it for sure when he turned on what was obviously some kind of 80’s Greatest Hits music for us to listen to on our way to the airport and asked me if I enjoy the music of Lionel Richie.

Umm. Who doesn’t? Not anybody I’d want to know.

But the best was when we made a shortcut to the airport to avoid some traffic and wound our way through a neighborhood in Queens and I asked if we were close to Archie Bunker’s house and Miguel totally acted like he got my antiquated pop culture reference. I appreciate that in a person.

Now I’m sitting in JFK waiting for my flight. I’m supposed to get home at midnight tonight so I’m sure I’ll spend tomorrow feeling as fresh as a daisy. Assuming you’re thinking of a daisy that has been run over by the lawnmower. Twice.

And just to make you laugh, here’s the official logo from our trip to the Big City provided by the folks at Tyndale who never fail to have a sense of humor.

Is it just me or has the Statue of Liberty never looked better?