It was two blocks to Saint Paul the Apostle church, a first, and the congregation was chatty. I sensed it was a neighborhood church and they knew each  other. The choir boomed, and the priest spoke as if he was everybody’s friend.

I liked it there.

I decided my Sunday was going to be a window shopping kind of day. I walked to the West side of Central Park and then down 59th, between 6th and 5th Avenues; the South side of the park. Carriage horses were lined up waiting for business, each unique with decorations.

Walking toward 5th Avenue, I passed several restaurants and three buildings with Trump above the doors. I wondered how our President-elect was going to work around the conflict of interests with his many businesses. Then, I wondered why it would matter. I saw upscale restaurants with lines of people, and I knew I was not that hungry.

Fifth Ave. was crowded, and people became faceless, to me. I don’t think we saw each other. We were just waves of humans rushing somewhere.

My next stop was St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The choir and personal connections paled in contrast to St. Paul’s, and the service seemed quite mechanical. Maybe because it was my second service of the morning, or, maybe performing eight times on Sunday wears down their enthusiasm.

Cara Mia, an Italian restaurant on 9th, a first, was a long walk in the cold and wind. I was frozen. Greeted with an overly warm environment, including temperature and ambiance, I asked the waiter if I could stay all day, and he said, “Yes.”

I savored a glass of Merlot, allowed my body to warm, and took notice of my nearly unoccupied surroundings. I wondered how many restaurants were in Manhattan and how they all made a profit. I Googled it and there are an estimated 24,000 eating establishments. I don’t believe we (Cal, my hubby, is coming on Tuesday) will have trouble finding somewhere to eat on Thanksgiving.

I stayed well over two hours. It was luxurious to relax entirely and nourished my body, soul, and spirit.

At 8:00 I joined a writing group called Shut-up and Write, a first. Twelve writers met at a coffee house, and after introductions, we wrote for one hour. At 9:00 we left. The diversity of the group was delicious, and I wrote this blog.

It’s all good.Two Months of Firsts – #3

Written on November 20, 2016