Back to the Schlepp!
The plane ride wasn't super eventful back home, but when I arrived I was able to recognize that acclimating to the definitely warmer weather conditions was going to be challenging. I went from needing to wear intense cold-weather attire to suddenly only having to wear a windbreaker as well as some kind of headpiece (mostly to make a fashion statement.)
Around the beginning of my New York relocation I remember that I used to hang out a lot with Ron on the Upper West Side, when he used to have an apartment there. One night when I was exceptionally scattered and anxious he took note that I always used to schlepp as a part of my life and suggested that I write about schlepping, so here goes...
I have described the schlepping process in pretty specific detail in the previous blog entries, however a person who is unaccustomed to the natural patterns of schlepping, this process can be rather complex, and it can never hurt to further elaborate on a confusing concept.
Now schlepping isn't just a physical process, it is also a state of mind. Back in Alaska, people do not actually have to schlepp, because they have vehicles that they can use as a portable locker to store all sorts of randomness. In NYC the luxury of cars is something most people do not have at their disposal, therefore schlepping becomes an essential process to become zen with.
Schlepping is all about innovation. For instance I have a carabiner attached to my purse that attaches to my umbrella if need be. In the above picture, I was about to head to the store and also had my loaded backpack ready with my laptop and writing materials if inspiration suddenly decided to hit me.
Come to think of it, I think I came from a natural line of schleppers. My dad being a member of a homesteading family and an engineer creates quite the combination where schlepping is virtually inevitable. My mom is just an oddball and after living in the city for five years, she has perfected the art of schlepping. I think in general women are natural-born schleppers, the whole diaper back is a representation of what I go through on a daily basis.
After all of that schlepping it is necessary to get a good night's sleep. As I've explained throughout this blog my friend Shirley has and continues to show me some of the most beautiful/artistic things about the city, she also gave me some of her clothes that she wore in her 20s. This nightgown was a part of them and after I went to Alaska and my mom did some slight alterations, I decided to wear it. I remember a part of "Eat, Pray, Love" where the main character Liz looked at a beautiful nightgown and asked herself "Pour Qui?" (for who). Even though I found myself to be in a situation where I was newly single, I never wanted to ask myself who I was wearing something beautiful for. I am always worthy!
What would a blog post be without a mention of "The Birdland." I absolutely love this venue and the friendships that I have built here and continue to foster here. Above is a picture of me with Steve Doyle the double bass player. He is so nice and always asks me about my writing progress. It's amazing that you hold up people like him on a pedestal just because they are super talented in a specific capacity. What you don't factor in is that they are just normal people who want to authentically interact.
To continue on with the schlepping theme, here is a classic picture that captures the ultimate schlepp! When I came home I realized that I was definitely lacking in the food department, therefore going to C Town was required quite a large hoist when it came to ascending the stairs that lead to my apartment. Fortunately back in Alaska I had received quite an extensive supply of smoked salmon for a Christmas gift, therefore a few days of that really prevented this large scale jaunt to the grocery store.
In New York, I have found that it's important to keep a routine going. Whenever Shirley Scott is in town I make sure to hit up "Don't Tell Mamas" to see Ricki Ritzel. At his piano bar events we really have so much fun and I've found that he is like a walking encyclopedia in anything related to musicals and Broadway. I remember one time I was simply walking to "Don't Tell Mama's" or (DTM) as we abbreviate it in texts and I ran into Ricki Ritzel on the street. He exclaimed, "Michelle" and gave me a big hug.
