Man with a hat with a tan...

My father used to say that you knew you really loved someone when you wanted to put your face into theirs; nose to nose, like with infants. Or puppies.

(oh Albert..!!)

And you know you have a very good old friend when your first moments in New York involve sprinting down the street just so you can hang out while she gets her hair done. Below photo of Heather with two men that seemed like Saturday night live actors- making her stand while two of them cut her hair. Then when she started to voice her own opinion about which length, she was gay sushed and they flounced off, before handing her a $600

bill. 

The rest of our time has been filled with museums (above F at the Whitney which is a blast- but one still misses the weird old one..) and the view deck in the World Trade Center. I always forget until it's too late that I hate heights- I'm all gung ho til one of them drags me to an edge or a clear patch 102 stories up. 

I worry that we don't give New York its due: it's heaven to us, but is that because of the ship? Is it merely ship foreplay? 

I mean we talk constantly of leaving for the high seas... and we have never gone to a single show downstairs (woody Allen included) nor do we make a real effort with the best restaurants. Today we were so tired after hours in the meat packing district- we crawled into a nap and then rushed to see Jurassic park in an upper west side theater where you get to lie down in your seat. Then I had cranberry juice at dinner (on a Friday night!) 

Oh well. 

One day to go til freedom....