Kathryn

New York cab drivers should all have GPS units installed in their cars, not so much to show them where they’re going but to show the passenger where they’re going and how many circles they’re driving to get there. I also think all fares should come with a can of whiplash repellent or at the very least a disposable neck brace or collar.

And how much should you tip a cab driver? Do they get the same as a hair dresser or bank teller? And who all should get a tip? It’s been a long time since I’ve traveled anywhere tip-worthy and I’m a bit confused. You tip the guy who takes your bags and the one who hails you a cab at the front door of the hotel. You tip the crazy guy who plays the trumpet poorly on the street corner with his eyes closed so you’re left wondering if he’s blind or if he just thinks you’ll put more money in his hat if he’s not looking directly at you.

I think you tip the door-holder guy but do you tip the guy in the uniform standing next to the revolving door and smiling at you as you walk in? Do you tip his mom? I’m not sure about all of this. I think I’ll just stuff my bra full of ones and shimmy everywhere I go, letting the bills fall where they may.

Back in the day, I traveled a lot for business. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in big cities across the US but I’ve never been anywhere like New York. People seem to laugh louder here and walk harder, beating the pavement into submission with their feet. I try to walk like them but I’m not sure if I’m doing it right or just look like Laylee on the verge of a fit.

Traffic lights mean nothing to pedestrians here. To cab drivers they’re simply a justification for running people over.

I’m torn between my desire to take pictures of every brick and speck of dirt and the wish to appear like a hip city dweller despite my white sneakers and wide-eyedness. I’m beginning to think the secret to this is weaving boldly through the speeding cars with no apparent concern for health or safety. I think it will take more than 2 days in the city to cultivate this type of peer-pressure-induced kamikazality.

And the honking. There is a lot. And sirens. And crazy people. And hot dogs.

The cars outside my window sound like a river and I’m smiling because my cab driver was honked at multiple times by other cab drivers and I think this means we won.

On Tuesday I was heading for serious sickness but I was conflicted because I had serious tickets to see Mamma Mia! with a few of my SeattleMomBlogs peeps and I felt I MUST GO. So I did. I packed my huge mom purse full of tissues and headed out with Eve driving my car because I was unfit for the road.

She is just getting over a nasty little something as well and we were worried about cross contamination so we drove with the windows down most of the way as I sniffled, snorffled, hacked and coughed my way to girls’ night out.

Isabel, lovely as ever, did not seem even a bit bothered when we called to tell her we’d arrived at the theatre early and could she please bring us some cough lozenges when she came. And she brought them and all the people sitting around us rejoiced. I tried really really hard to time my coughing fits and nose-blowing fests for the height of the crescendos during the big show stoppers and I used hand sanitizer liberally. I feel fairly confident I did not infect any of my fellow ABBA lovers and honestly I think everyone was having too good a time to notice my… ahem… special sound effects.

To a lifelong ABBA fan, Mamma Mia! was complete and total fun. It was like a really well choreographed slumber party with several hundred excited friends. The acting and vocals were fabulous and I’ve never seen an audience that pumped up at a Broadway musical performance, laughing and clapping as each new ABBA song was woven into the story. I was amazed how well it flowed and today as I listened to my Gold album, I couldn’t get the images of the play out of my mind. I love the CD more than ever.

Just before bed tonight I took a wee break from being sick and had a full on dance party with the kids like my mom used to do with us when we were little, only back then the ABBA was on vinyl and it was a little less “old school.” If you have a chance, go see the show sometime. It’s only in Seattle through this weekend but I think it’s touring all over and there’s a film version coming out this year starring Meryl Streep, Colin Firth and Pierce Brosnan. Can’t wait!

Magoo is obsessed with bubbles. He is driven to play with them. Whenever he has a hole in his schedule, he slips out on the front porch for a little quality time with his liquid soap, glycerin and a plastic wand. Dan is not nearly as traumatized by the thought of Magoo playing with that kind of wand as he is about him wearing the pink princess pull-ups I snagged on freecycle from a seller who forgot to mention the gender of her recently potty-trained child and whom I forgot to ask.

He brings the bubbles in the van whenever we go out and leaves them in his cup holder until it’s time to get out of the car. Through the Target parking lot, down the sidewalks of the outdoor mall, standing outside of Subway. Everywhere we go he blows the bubbles while I hold onto him by the scruff of his parka.

The bubbles match his personality perfectly, round, happy, bouncy and colorful until suddenly he pops and I throw him in bed.

I am forever entertained by him.