Panties in the Park

Today I was innocently deadheading the Spiraea bushes thoroughly enjoying the sound the Hudson crashing against the pier and listening to my volunteer tell me about her upcoming trip to Morocco when I noticed a piece of cloth tucked amongst the branches. I reached into the hedge and lo and behold I found myself gripping (in my gloved hand, thank the Lord) a pair of pale blue panties.
Now, my first thought was, ew that's really gross, and I dropped said panties.
My second thought was, gee, where is the owner of said panties?
So, what did I do? I started looking for a body laying under my bushes (one without panties on of course.)
Now, Michael thinks I'm crazy. But, I mean really. Law and Order is filmed in the park where I work, so they obviously know something that I don't about the amount of heinous panty pulling crimes that must occur there. Honestly.
Well, after a long search, unfortuately, no body was found. However, there were several condom wrappers also tossed under the bushes, so I'm even more extremely thankful for my gloves and I have a whole new respect for the trash guys who keep our park (apparently not so well) clean.

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Who knew when I traded in my wings for a pair of bicycle tires that four weeks later I would still be experiencing a heartache that I haven't felt since college.
See, I honestly thought that when I met Michael my days of broken hearts and crying myself to sleep would be over. The boy I was with before him taught me enough about love to know that I never wanted to be in that vulnerable position again and that I would guard my heart against evildoers and naysayers at all costs.
Then I started flying.
And this job, well, it began to treat me just like that boy had treated me. It would build me up and wave utter happiness and dreams-come-true in front of my face, promise me the world and the sky above, it would make me feel special and fun and then... Then, just like that boy, it would break my heart. I would be short-called at 3am, yelled at, worked for days without food on 6 hours of sleep... furloughed... crushed. But then, almost apologetically, something would happen to make me fall in love with it all over again. And once again I would find myself wrapped in the loving arms of my airline, safe and secure and happy.
But, just like in college, I knew deep down that this relationship was not right for me, it wasn't healthy. So, I built up my courage and I broke-up with my dream. I quit my job.
Saying that, even now after four weeks, it still hurts.
As a child I used to stop whatever I was doing to watch a plane fly overhead and I would wish with all my heart to be on it going wherever the fabulous people on board were going. Now, everyday at work in my little park I find myself searching the sky for a jetplane to take me away...
Don't get me wrong, I know I did the right thing. And just like in college, this heartache will pass too. And hopefully there will come a day when I can drive past the airport without tearing up just like I can now watch a magic show with shedding a tear. But for now, my heart is broken. And for now I'm sad.

Happy 4th

So this was my first official holiday to be off (without having to sell my soul to the Delta devils or call in dead) in seven years.
I was so excited. Four whole days with my sweet hubby and no family obligations whatsoever. No airplanes. No hassle. Just us.
And let me tell you, it was exactly what I wanted it to be. We slept in. We ran errands. We celebrated Michael's big promotion at work. We went to a Broadway show. (Steven Lynch in the Wedding Singer, I highly recommend downloading his comedy routine or renting his DVD, Live at the El Rey - he's hilarious!) We even went on a Target/Home Depot shopping adventure in Brooklyn (and yes, any car trip to Brooklyn is an adventure.) But the highlight was our bike ride to see the Little Red Lighthouse. This is the cutest little lighthouse under the GW Bridge, I've decided I want to live there and be the lighthouse keeper, if there is such a thing. If not, then I'll just have to create the position for myself.
Oh and, on a side note, after hearing my ten-year old niece's recent revelation regarding my sister and her baby, I have decided that children should be the policy makers for the world. First, the father of my sister's unborn baby is black. Amanda, while extremely tan with dark hair and dark eyes, is white. I have no problem with this, my parents on the other hand are less than happy about the situation and have made my poor sister extremely sad over the situation. So, she was slightly reluctant to tell our nieces who love her more than their own mom (who is a chronic tanner - she's very dark, scary dark, skin cancer wannabe tan.) But, Amanda was brave and she told the girls. Well, Anderson, who is ten, thought about it for a minute and then looked at her mom and then looked at Amanda and promptly asked, "Well, that's cool I guess, but will the baby be as dark as my mom?"
From the mouths of babes...
Overall, it was a great weekend.