One Week, NYC/Hamptons, Days 1&2

A few months ago, my mama said, "Hey. I'm going to the BlogHer conference in NYC. You should come with me." I hemmed and hesitated and was generally skeptical I'd be able to pull it off. Then life happened, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought, "Wow, I could use a break in a BIG way." And, really, who couldn't? So, finally, I agreed to go. It probably seems pretty funny that it was a dilemma. But I take this wife/mother gig pretty seriously--and with Chris super busy with work/school things this summer, I just didn't know if could happen. Not to mention that I had visions of myself leaving, enjoying an entire week of carefree fun, and returning a completely irresponsible human being (or worse, not coming back and living in some hedonistic colony on the beach. Although, I'm not sure they have those in the Hamptons anyway). I was just worried it would mess up my groove; my groove is very important to me. Routines, plans, things/people I can count on make me tick. It's just the way I operate.

This anxiety lasted until about the cab ride to our hotel--and we passed the Museum of Modern Art. And about a block and a half later, we reached our hotel. I was suddenly desperate to feed that little part of my brain that used to explore and discover new things. And then we checked into our hotel, and my mom told me perhaps the sweetest words I've ever heard: that though I was registered for the conference, she certainly didn't expect me to want to go to the whole thing--and if there were other things I wanted to do, I should just do them.

That night we went to Alex Guarneschelli's restaurant called Butter. As the name suggests, it was heavenly. I was feeling liberated and adventurous and ordered the sea bass, which I'm pretty sure I'll remember until the day I die; it was so great. That night we were both pretty exhausted; so we came back to the hotel where I chatted with my family on the phone; then we watched some TV and went to sleep. Perfect.

In the morning I went to a class at the conference, which was great (and which I will write about later). Then we opted out of attending our luncheon with Martha Stewart in favor of some serious New York pizza. Seriously, John's is where it's at. Then I skipped my afternoon classes and took off for the museum, not knowing exactly what I would find there. But to my great satisfaction, the collection was pretty impressive. Lots of Picasso and Van Gogh (including The Starry Night). And, to my great delight, one beautiful Rothko, which I fell in love with and purchased a small print of. My only regrets were that my cell phone died and my shoes were terribly uncomfortable and I had to cut short my excursion. But I can't even express how great it was to do something so grown-up without worrying about diaper bags or little fingers or diaper changes or nap/meal times--or anything else, really. It was just me and the museum. And before I forget, I'll just mention the piece of art that just about made me sob like a baby. It was just a smallish rectangular mirror with the word "Dieu" written on it. I recognize that there are various interpretations of this that I may not necessarily agree with. But it nevertheless reminded me of something about myself that I hadn't felt in a very long time. Perhaps never.

That night we went to a fantastic dinner on the upper west side (my favorite Manhattan neighborhood) called Sarabeth's (highly, highly recommended), and saw Amy Adams in Into the Woods at Central Park. Brilliant. And as we were leaving, I overheard a fantastic remark from one gay man to another sitting behind me: "I love Vanessa. She's flawless. But she's kind of terrible." It makes me smile every time I think about it.