One of the things I love most about life in NYC is the sense that I can never completely know it. There will always be secrets to uncover. Something new replacing something old. Mysteries just down the block.
Photo property of ScoutingNY.com
And here’s one: a beach of sorts right in my neighborhood.
OK, so it’s not South Beach, or even the Rockaways. But I had no idea you could get so close to the shore of the East River.
Who knows: maybe in a few more years, we’ll really want to.
My childhood home is just shy of a shrine to the old me. I never really gave it much thought because as an only child, who else would be featured on my parents’ walls for decades? Surely not, like, art.
When I visited for Christmas, I snapped these photos thinking they’d be good for #TBT on Instagram.
When I shared these pics on Instagram and Facebook, I expected giggles. Instead I had a LOT of people comment that they either didn’t know I danced or that they didn’t realize that I really danced. They were surprised.
So yes. A long time ago, I used to dance. A whole lot. And not just ballet. Also tap (so fun and still a good party trick) and jazz. This wonderful woman was one of my teachers.
I quit studying dance cold turkey when I left for college at seventeen years old. Part of it was due to injuries, but mostly I was over the time commitment dance required through the years and ready to, well, goof off.