If I Can Make It There...

Nine days to go! I'm moving at lightning speed now, folks. I'm tearing through the end of this list. Feels pretty good, actually.

So in the absence of a dinner party last Friday night, I ended up going into New York to meet my friend Sarah for the evening. Sarah is awesome. She loves truth and loves Jesus and loves me, and she has a way of seeing right through surface circumstances to the heart of the issues that lie beneath them. Not only that, but she's a woman of both vision and action, and that's a relatively rare combination. She inspires me to dream big, and then she asks me questions like, "What steps could you take in the next six months to help make that happen?" Also, she still loves me when I take none of those steps. :)

I don't get to see Sarah nearly often enough, a fact that was once easily attributed to her living in Orlando. But she's been in New York since January, and until Friday I had yet to visit her. I don't go into the city much. It's expensive. And scary.

In my new spirit of adventure, then, I tossed one of the items on my list that I won't be able to finish (my abdominal muscles aren't going anywhere...they'll be on the next list) and added "Go into New York City by myself."

I wish I had time to go into all the little details...the silly stuff that made me feel grown up and independent and happy...the unexpectedness of feeling SO FREE without little ones to tote around the city...the people-watching and the introspection it inspired...but alas, time is pressing. So here are the basics.

We met at Penn Station and walked down Broadway in the direction of Gramercy Park. It was just about rush hour, and the streets were crowded. Go figure. It's New York. We managed to make our way, though, to a stretch of 23rd Street that had a bunch of vintage clothing stores. (Lightning-fast! Look at me go!) The first one we tried, Vintage Thrift, had closed at dusk, but I'd love to go back in and hit it again sometime. We tried a Salvation Army store, but there was no way I could justify calling any of their stuff vintage, so we moved on.

The next place we went was "A Cause for Paws," a vintage/thrift store benefiting New York City's homeless animals. They had a fabulous beige lace gown that I'm assuming was vintage on a mannequin at the entrance. If it had been a) not $100 and b) made for someone who looked less like the mannequin and more like me, I would own it now. As it was, Sarah and I poked around the racks in the back, and I bought a wacky, gauzy, voluminous, capey blouse and a cool necklace at $8 each. Nice. And...check. Vintage clothing.

Afterwards we found a couple more vintage spots, the most interesting of which was "City Opera Thrift Shop." (Pic at left was lifted from the web...we were there after dark.) I wish I'd had a couple of unhurried hours to check this place out. It was slightly pricey, but their stuff was gorgeous, and some of it had to be opera costumes. Wild. I did see a dress for $35 that I absolutely would have bought if I were about two sizes smaller. I hear their furniture is fantastic, too, but it was getting late and we were hungry, so we tore ourselves away and continued on toward the East Village.

I figured this was my opportunity to finish off my ethnic food journey...if I couldn't find an ethnicity I hadn't tried in New York City, something was wrong. We were heading toward a Venezuelan Arepas Bar, but before we got there we happened across Khyber Pass, an Afghani restaurant that Sarah had been to before. She pointed it out, I was totally game, and in we went.

Khyber Pass had some awesome ambience. It was dark and intimate-feeling, with low ceilings and an air of mystery probably fueled by the lingering scent of hookah. I have zero idea what an Afghani accent sounds like, but all the servers had great, exotic accents, and the whole experience felt ultra-authentic. Sarah asked our server to choose a dish for her and ended up with "Kabuli Palow With Lamb: brown basmati rice topped with raisins, slivered carrots and almonds; served with tender chunks of lamb." The rice was surprising and fragrant and sweet. So nice. I ordered "Fesenjan: sweet and sour pieces of boneless chicken flavored with walnuts and pomegranate juice; served with white rice." It was tender and sweet and savory and I ended up showing no restraint with it at all. If I cared less about appearances I might have licked the bowl. The pics below don't do the food any justice, but the top one is a nice shot of Sarah. The bottom pic makes me think I need to wear more makeup. But I'm posting it anyway. :)
And so...check. That makes Persian, Hungarian, Turkish, Ethiopian, and Afghani. I would never have tried even one had it not been for this list.

All along we'd been having a great conversation. We caught up on things like ministry, family, kids, marriage, and church. We learned about what God has been doing in each of our hearts. We grieved and rejoiced and laughed and gasped with each other. And Sarah spurred me on, as she does, toward not settling for "what if"s.

Leaving Khyber Pass, we walked back through the still-crowded, neon-studded streets toward the train. She showed me some great little spots I'd love to check out in the future, including a restaurant with a chocolate focus and the flagship "Fresh" store, where their sugar-based body scrub left our hands sweetly scented and unbelievably soft. You should look at that link. It's an amazing store.

We did eventually make it back to Penn Station, and we continued our conversation until the moment they posted the track assignment for my train and I made my way through the throngs of people who needed to get back to New Jersey.

It was way, way fun, you guys. I need to do this again sometime.