New York Natalie, Day Three

July 15, 2010



On Monday night the Moscow winds blew in gusts of dust and pollen, turning me for the past two days into a ticking sneeze bomb. My throat burns like a cast iron pan. You can tell where I have been by the trails of tissues littering the floors, and on more than one occasion I have startled both the fetus and the dogs awake with my righteous sneezing. So I will cut to the chase. Here is day three! I was sick then, too! (I just made that connection, how precipitous is that?) (Is that even what precipitous means?) (Not even close!) I promise, Holbsy, only one more day of reruns after this!





The most pathetic 5k ever run in the history of the running of mankind was run last night. The husband and I ran the Running with the Bulls 5k in lower Manhattan, despite the fact that my throat was on fire and the Holbs’s sinuses had been screaming at him all day. Me, my cankles, and my sweet, patient, ginger-haired athlete of a husband made our way through the Financial District and ran the 3.1 miles in a glorious 47 minutes. A slow, painful, 47-minute death march that halted every block and a half as I wheezed and moaned and clutched and prayed that the Lord would let me live to see another day.

Heaven bless me, but I am not a runner.

But I got a tee shirt!


In other news, from the mail-gods yesterday came a cute little Flat Morgan from my niece for us to dress up and cart around the city and document photographically for an elementary school class in California.


Since the arrival of Miss Flat Morgan, Holbs has been calling me "Flat Natalie." (Figure it out.) 

And so we set about taking pictures of Flat Morgan. Flat Morgan with Holbs, Flat Morgan with (flat) Natalie, Flat Morgan with our insane view of Brooklyn, and Flat Morgan with Peter Pan (who promptly removed Flat Morgan's flat pants). Then we took Flat Morgan to our friends' apartment on the seventh floor, where we would eat the flattest, greasiest, best pizza ever (not counting Grimaldi's) (but who wants to count Grimaldi's anyway?).

These friends happen to have a 2-day-old human that I've been dying to meet and spread mushy kisses over, so we slipped Flat Morgan into a paper bag. She traveled down the elevator in style with packets of flat parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes. 

Hours later, our bellies filled with flat pizza, we embarked home on our Elevator of Fantasy, back to the magical land of the seventeenth floor, upon which time we realized that we had left our Flat Morgan in that flat paper bag, in that greasy flat-pizza box, on the flat coffee table, on the flat seventh floor.

We rescued her just in time to avoid a flat pizza death.
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7 comments:

  1. Yeah for you! I am sure you are awaiting every moment to live in NY. I'll probably never be able to run though. In fact, I remember lying to my PE teacher in college and telling him I ran when I only half ran. Well bc I am lame like that and didnt want to get all sweaty.
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  2. Wait, these reruns have not been a charming and well-planned way to hearken back to the beginnings of this blog, celebrating the return to the big city while keeping all of your new readers in the know? WELL!

    Regardless, I like the reruns, mainly because you and the Holbs look like little kids!!!! Not that you look like old fogies now, but there's definitely a difference in the NYC Mr. and Mrs. and the Moscow ones. Ca-UTE!

    Please, feel better - the dogs need their rest!!!!
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  3. My little sister had one of those flat dudes except his name was Stan and she sent it to my sister who lives in Idaho. Puh-lease. I have to tell you that the Husband has been trying to convince me to move our family to New York because he lived there once and loves it to no end, but I can't imagine schlepping two kids and all their stuff along with my lazy arse to a place that doesn't have front or back yards, driveways, privacy, or sky. I will be reading with bated breath to see how things go for you. You'll probably prove me silly, and I will end up being jealous of you.

    PS-Did you perchance major in English at a little school called BYU? If so then that would probably be while you look semi-familiar to me.
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  4. Was that the 5k that prompted you into runninghood? Just wondering, because I'm no runner, even though I like the idea of me BEING a runner. (Clear up until the time to start running, of course.)

    My allergies are nearly gone (thank heaven! They started in April and ended roughly 3 months later! No thanks!). I hope your sneezing stops soon...
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  5. Dang, allergies and pregnancy just don't mix- nothing to do but sneeze, no good meds can be ingested to fix it all. I'm surprised to see that you weren't always a runner- you seem like a natural, you know, one of those annoying people who just go out for a 10 mile run for fun?!?
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  6. I don't know much about Flat Morgans, but I was a big fan of a little man called Flat Stanley. And, being a generation removed from Brooklyn living (and, flatly, a tourist incarnate), a BIG fan of Grimaldi's, though that is relatively unrelated to the 5k (impressive).
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  7. No, Holbsy! More reruns! Please let her post more reruns. I'm loving them. And also I realized that I have NOT kept up my end of the deal, that is, I have not sent you anything funny or imaginative or day-brightening like I promised I would. Shame on me.

    However, your use of precipitous delighted me. Especially since it really was nowhere close! Ha! I loved it! :-)

    In Iowa, those traveling paperdolls are called Flat Stanley. Having now met Miss Flat Morgan, I am wondering if there are yet more names for them. Hmm.

    Something to ponder in bed at night.
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