The North Woods

I woke up too late to head to the Socrates Sculpture Park like I had planned. And the weather was too nice to sit inside. So Liz and I took a leisurely stroll around the park, up to the Harlem Meer and then ascended the rocky steps into the north woods.

If you want to have the illusion of solitude in the city, this is the place to go. The woods sit atop a sizable hill, and so only a handful of adventurers make their way up there. We stumbled upon this funny building:

It's a lumpy, brick and mortar building that seems to be used only as a protective shelter for a tall flagpole. At least, that was our best guess when we saw it and puzzled over it. Actually, it's known as Blockhouse No. 1, and it used to be a protective fort, and part of a much larger structure. It was built to help protect the city during the War of 1812.

The building is situated on some high, rocky terrain, which turns out to be a great place to lay on a prematurely warm winter's afternoon and watch planes go by.

I also learned that, if, on a Saturday, you're on a long wander and you want a super chocolaty cookie, then Le Vain is the place to go. It was probably the chocolatiest cookie I've ever eaten. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my customary picture-of-food-with-a-bite-taken-out-of-it. They've got a line that goes a ways down the block, and that's always a good sign:

Lastly, the landscape of the park is always fascinating to me.

Subway Daemons

You can see the most remarkable things if only you open your eyes. The other day I had a job interview in Chelsea, which is pretty far from home. I arrived almost half an hour early, and you can only wander around CVS for so long before they think you're trying to steal something. So I shambled out onto the sidewalk without a thought in my head as to what I should do for my remaining twenty minutes. That's when I just happened to notice this little creature:

What luck, to run across such a portly and officious little police woman (though I've vacillated about its gender, since its features, and its adiposity, are decidedly masculine, but there are two fairly distinct indicators of ladyhood). She even comes complete with gun, badge, and nightstick. I stepped back a pace to get a picture of her milieu:

As you can see, she perches to the left of the Subway elevator, guarding the door from nighttime rapscallions. It wasn't until after the interview on my way back to East Harlem that I realized that I had missed her companion, who stands above the elevator looking downwards.

Upon further research, I learned that these two are just part of a much more extensive art installation at that station called Life Underground. I couldn't help but think of the daemons found in Greek Mythology. These are lesser gods or spirits who attend and protect mortals, or take stewardship over some natural feature. We don't have many wooded groves to oversee in the city, so I guess these daemons protect their local subway stop from danger.

Funded!

Money. It's been the biggest obstacle barring me from my end-of-the-year round-the-world voyage. Well, obstacle, consider yourself overcome!

I spent the last week in marathon job interviews and phone calls, and I've now landed a big-boy job with a real live salary, an office, and benefits. No more invoices! No more waiting on the mail for my paycheck! No more calculating my own taxes! No more working next to the snoring guy in the library! I might even go to the dentist! And I'm starting on Monday!

But here's the real kicker - I still get to take the trip. At the end of an über-intimidating, ten person, group interview, my supervisor-to-be asked what the deal was with the three month "vacation" I was taking. I gave it a quick sum-uppance. To which he shrugged his shoulders and simply said, "Okay."

The sweetest two syllables ever to come out of anyone's mouth.

So they're going to let me work while I travel - bonkers, right? I am blessed. Blessed blessed blessed.

Note: I don't want to gloat. I'm privileged. Note my white American maleness. And I now have an obligation to make some contribution to the world that put me into this position. But sometimes, I do have to lean back in my office chair and acknowledge that it is, in fact, good to be me.

Prospect Park

Admittedly, I had been the one to suggest we spend an afternoon in Prospect Park. However, she was the one that was training for a marathon, and she needed to get her long run in. And so we thought, what the heck? Why not kill two birds with one stone and run the eight miles in the park?

The fact that we didn't rethink our decision once the snow started falling - that was a mutual thing. And good thing, too, because running through Prospect Park in a snowstorm might make for pretty poor picture-taking, but it's pretty fun nonetheless.

We started out at the Grand Army Plaza, the home of these beauties:

The arch above is the Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch, a tribute to those who fought for the Union in the Civil War.

The Grand Army Plaza opens up into the park, around which we ran. Twice. Like champs. I may or may not have tripped my running partner. The injuries may or may not have been severe.

Okay, they weren't that severe.

We took a ten-second look inside the lovely Brooklyn Library, then wised up and went home - shivering and exhausted, but happy, all the way.