thirty-three

Today I am privileged to celebrate our Lord's resurrection. I think Easter is my favorite holiday because the commercial powers that be may have exploited it, but they can't manufacture a convincing reason as to why we celebrate with bunnies and candy a day that is about love and hope. A day where our brave Savior rose from death, allowing us the chance for redemption. It may seem silly to other people, but Easter always excites me because it is the day Christ defeated death, the most important day in my faith, the crux of what I believe.

It was a lovely day today that started out with a sunrise service in Central Park on the Upper West Side. I was a little exhausted, having only had two hours of sleep, but I manned up and even came armed with my camera (photos to follow). Afterwards James and I hit up Fairway for some brunch items and came back to my place to eat and rest. We trekked back to the Upper West Side to our mutual friend's apartment to partake of Easter lunch/dinner. It was absolutely fantastic. I ate way too much. After dinner we had a chance to relax and just hang out without Trader Joe's owning our time. And it was great.

I'm so exhausted I'm going to hit the sack. Hopefully pictures will follow soon.

thirty-two

Today I was threatened by what I am assuming was an eleven year old. I was running to catch the subway and threw my hands between the doors. I know this wasn't the brightest idea, but my overwhelming fear of being late for my crummy retail job took control. While my hands were wedged between the doors and struggling to push them open I heard some yelling behind me. I didn't pay too much attention to it because people are always yelling for completely unnecessary reasons in NY. I managed to wedge the doors open (thank you Trader Joe's for beefing me up) and squeeze into the car. I grabbed a seat and looked up to see this eleven year old running up to the doors. He hit his hand against the window and shot me an angry look. I tried to apologize via body language for not understanding/hearing his calls to hold the door. He raised his hand, pointing his index finger and middle finger at his eyes and then turns his hand and points his fingers at me. As soon as this happened I burst out laughing. I better watch my back because there is an angry eleven year old who frequents the Franklin Avenue 4/5 stop, and he's watching me.