I thought so yesterday, after all, and I got walloped–ended up flat on my back in bed. I did read, between bouts of profound slumber, as Dean Koontz’s newest “Odd Thomas” book had just come out. I don’t read his more fantastical, end-of-the-world stuff, but I do love Odd, and the amazing predicaments he gets himself into. This one was a fast, satisfying read, but the poetic quality of Koontz’s writing, plus his razor-sharp sense of humor, are what keep me coming back for the next one. In my opinion, he’s a master craftsman.
So, we’re up to Brooklyn, in our travelogue.
That was day 6, July 21
The whole bunch of us took the “N” train (subway) out to Brooklyn, with much phone-map consultation going on the whole time. Need I say, it was HOT down in the bowels of the subways? It won’t surprise you to know that, as many times as I’ve been to NYC, my experience with the underground is very limited. I take taxis and, sometimes, courtesy of my fabulous publishers, town cars or even limos. But, hey, this trip was about bonding, and new adventures, so off we went.
Eventually, we arrived in Brooklyn, where I have never been before. I was enchanted by the place–New York but NOT New York, if you know what I mean. Slightly roomier, with lots of shade trees.
Our goal was the Brooklyn Flea Market and we had a lot of fun there, poking through interesting stuff. I came away with some old hardware for my art and a few postcards–and I was ready to go back to Manhattan. We stopped for lunch at a neighborhood place called Mullane’s–Sally and I weren’t up for anything exotic, so we went with cheeseburgers and fries. They were delicious.
After that, the others went on to see the Statue of Liberty, while I ducked into a passing yellow cab and returned to the Waldorf. As my old dad used to say, I’d had all the fun I could stand by then. In the room, I painted and watched a couple of documentaries on Netflix. There was packing to do, of course, and I was missing my critters, my house, my bathtub and my bed.
On Day 7, July 22, we all flew in a westerly direction. The trips were long, of course, but largely uneventful and pretty comfortable.
There truly is no place like home.
Especially when bronchitis strikes.
More tomorrow. May God bless and keep you.