He Is Happiest Who Hath Power to Gather Wisdom From a Flower

I'm in a fantastic mood today.  I subbed a class I don't usually teach this morning, and it went well.  Coffee is delicious.  Flowers are blooming all over the place because it's spring, and the weather is reflecting this seasonal joy.  I'm wearing my favourite black military jacket and my favourite dress,  the one with the kissing birds on it today.  

 

The first Game of Thrones book?  Finished.  I'll be on to book two tonight if I finish my yoga homework, because I'm holding myself accountable to complete that before I do any "pleasure reading".  That was in quotes because the yoga books are extremely pleasurable as well, but they are required, whereas Clash of Kings will be read simply because I feel like it, and dragons.  

 

Also, back to the first point here. I love my job.  I love my job.  I just love it.  I have the best job.  It's so great.  I'm so blessed.  Like, wow.  Every day I'm tired, but I never don't want to go to work and teach Voice and Speech.  Ever.  It's exhilarating, and honestly, that might be an understatement.  I'm doing exactly what I feel like I was meant to do, and what makes me full of purpose and happiness, so that's pretty neat. 

Back to flowers, for a moment, though.  Two weekends ago, my parents came to visit!  We had a great time hanging out around Brooklyn, taking walks, going out for nice meals, and just spending time together.  I even went running through Prospect Park with my dad!  It was a rare occurrence, and loads of fun.  Bizarrely, it was such a great experience that I'm considering repeating it.  I hadn't run on something that wasn't  a treadmill in years, but I liked it.  Mostly, because the park is so fabulously gorgeous and serene, especially at 7am on a Saturday.  Everyone was pleasant.  Something is very strange about where my life is going, folks.  I'm becoming someone who enjoys running.  Woah.

But, um, actually, back to flowers. While my parents where here, we took a trip to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and it was stunning.  I've talked on this blog many a time about how much I adore flowers, so it shouldn't come as a shock that botanical gardens fill my heart with glee and turn its stone cold facade to shimmery rainbows.  I took a lot of nice photographs, some of my first in a long time, and I want to share some of them with you!  I've been a-slacking on the photography thing for the past few monthes, mostly because I've been pursuing my other hobbies, especially the ones that pay me, like that job I love.  But, I'm attempting to do more photography work in the coming weeks.

Here are some of  the results of that day's work!

"He Is Happiest Who Hath Power to Gather Wisdom From a Flower"

I LOVE that.

This world is awesome.  Yes.  Yes, yes, yes.

Thanks for all ya do, readers!

~Emily

La Piccola Italia

Little Italy, little snapshots.  Little bits of signs, little bits of menus.  Little bits of food, little bits of life.

During the day, on weekdays, when there aren't men harassing you and attempting to get you into their restaurants, Little Italy is charming.  The storefronts are pretty, and the touristy stores have fun, cute, and sometimes lewd wares that are entertaining to peruse.  At night, the place is a total zoo, but during daylight, it is so lovely.

It's a little slice of Europe, in a way.  Not that there aren't other European neighborhoods of New York City- there definitely are.  But, this one is commercial, touristy, and kind of silly in some ways.  Yes, the restaurants are mostly classy Italian upscale fare, but some are decorated to look so mafia-tastic, that it is hard not to imagine a Don sitting in the back, smoking a cigar, and conducting business.  Sometimes, you don't even have to imagine- they are there, doing just that.  However, almost no Italians actually live in Little Italy any more, due to the fact that, you know, the Italians thrived, mixed in with everyone else, and moved wherever they felt like it instead of staying in their own stereotypically ethnic and mafia-associated neighborhood.  Many of the employees in the restaurants aren't Italian either- most of them are Eastern or Central European, but are from countries like Albania, Montenegro and Slovenia.  Some waiters are even from Puerto Rico and Cuba.  Not that that is a bad thing, I frankly find that kind of neat.  But, tourists can't really tell the difference a lot of the time.  They hear a foreign accent, see some dark hair,  the sign painted in the colors of the Italian flag, the ravioli on their plate and just assume that they are being treated by some seriously real Italians.  If the waiter says something to them in Italian, or corrects their pronunciation of "gnocchi," it's all over- they've been duped.  The food is rather authentic though, and I've never had bad service, so I'd say it's not a dupe worth complaining about!

Little Italy is fun.  Loud, boisterous, and entertaining... but not particularly Italian any more.

Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA