I love everything about New York. I've never been there, but that doesn't matter. I'll get there. I love the city, I love the culture, I love the people. I love the idea that when you live in the city it doesn't make sense to have a car. I can envision walking to the market, the park down the street, and taking the dog around the block. It makes so much sense to live close enough to all of your needs - to get everything done in a familiar circuit.
But then I thought about it today . . . I live out of my car, in the figurative sorta way.
My 'trip to the market' requires a weekly menu plan, list-making, coupon clipping, a drive across town to the bargain market, the next town over for my specialty items, and across the bridge to the produce market. Toddler in tow, grocery bags, diaper bag . . .
Then I add a run into my day - which brings up issues of the baby jogger, the rain fly, blankets, dry clothes if I'm grocery shopping, mapping a park route via the grocery trip that has swings and walking space for the jogger-rider.
At this rate, I'll be gone so long, I'll need to pack a snack and water for myself and a lunch for the little guy, and consider time for a diaper change. So, in all of this, my car shuttled my kids to school, carried ten bags of groceries (we eat a lot), transported the jogger and all my gear, became a snack table, and later a changing table and a dressing room (with some clean-up both times).
I run in some amazing places with the little guy napping in his jogger. We did ten rainy miles today on a paved park path along the lakeshore. Evergreens dripping down from way up high, woodpeckers in the trees - and hardly a soul out and about. And we made two grocery stops. And ate in the car. I just don't get how they do all that in New York. I think I'm enamored of it all somehow because it seems so simple. But maybe I'd miss all of my planning and complexity and my adventures.
