Fingers crossed and 25 days

I'm in Brooklyn with a kickass $10 manicure. That's one of the things I love about the city. That, and fresh pasta in a flour-dusted pasta shop, walking through a cloud of salty smoke to buy mozzarella, fish on ice in Chinatown, Indian sweet shops, coffee that is never weak, crispy croissants.



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J. and I are going into Manhattan soon to wander and have dinner. Getting dressed in NYC is not like it once was. At 26 I didn't care if my feet my hurt hours later or if it got chilly in the evening. Decades of high heel-wearing later, I couldn't give up heels entirely despite foot injuries from years of running. So now I have my trusty Nine West low-heels in several colors. They're not exactly stilletos; they're the sneakers of my heels.