Yes! The 4th of July is here tomorrow, and me and the family will be hanging out with friends. We’ll eat all the holiday staples; chips, dip, burgers and hotdogs. But this year, I’m telling you, we need to add an item to the Independence Day menu. And that my friends, is a Chopped Cheese sandwich. A New York deli staple since I’ve been here, and if you don’t know what it is, you need to know.
And when it comes to the 4th of July, my dog thinks that this is the day that the world is coming to an end.
It’s pretty hot in New York today; 93. Tomorrow it’s going to be even hotter; possibly over 100 degrees. And don’t get me started on the humidity and the dew point! It’s hot, sticky, and swampy outside. And though July and August can feel pretty oppressive around here, the temperature rarely gets close to 100. So, when it does that hot and awful, it can be dangerous for people who aren’t used to it.
This morning, as the wife and I were having our coffee and watching the local news, and the weatherman was telling us again at how awful and dangerous it was going to be today, I pointed out that back in Texas, where we grew up, 93 degrees with a 70% dew point in late June wouldn’t cause anyone any concern. But 93 in New York is like 103 in Texas, the wife pointed out.
True.
Writing on this blog, I haven’t hidden how much I hate hot weather. That I completely blame on growing up in Texas. But I will say this; that I know how to handle the heat. First of all, you just don’t go outside. If you do go outside, make sure you get in your car, preferable parked in the shade, crank up the air conditioning in the car, and drive some place that will also have air conditioning. The worst part will be parking, and then crossing the parking lot to get to that building that has air conditioning. And make sure you have a hat, and light clothes. But if you have to wear jeans, it’ll be fine, you won’t be outdoors that long.
I’m not joking when I say this; you just don’t go outside during the hottest part of the day. That’s why there are siestas. You do stuff in the morning, and you do stuff at night; both are times of day when it not THAT hot out.
See, it’s not that hard. Provided that you have air conditioning.
If you don’t have an A/C, then it’s very dangerous and you need to be careful and hydrated.
The other day, the kid was asking me and the wife lots of questions of what our life was like before she was born. It’s a fair and very good question, or more accurately, questions that she was asking us. The wife and I were together for nine years before the kid was born, so we had a good amount of time of being a couple before we became a family.
As I reminisced about our past life, it dawned on me that we had a very unique period of about two years, where we host other couples at our place for dinner parties. And on the flip of that, we were invited over to several couples dinner parties. It was a very specific time of us and all of our friends, as we were entering our thirties, beginning to be established in careers, all in committed relationships, but we weren’t married yet and didn’t have kids. I mean, as soon as people started getting married, kids weren’t far behind, and then some started moving out of the City.
I still have a Spotify playlist for one of our dinner parties from long ago.
It was a fun time. Usually we hosted on a Saturday night. The wife, at the time the girlfriend, would come up with the menu and I would shop for it over the week. We’d do some prep on Friday night, and most of that would be the making of the desert. The wife was the chef and I the assistant. My strength was in cutting veggies, and making drinks. The wife did the heavy lifting for the rest of the food. We made a really good team in the kitchen, and by the time the other couple arrived, I only had the entertain for maybe 30 minutes and then we were eating.
The other side that I miss was the conversation. Most of the time, it always started off the same way. When the guests would arrive, we’d talk about what trains they took to get to our place, and transit in general. Next we’d sit for the meal, and the conversation would move to food; either on cooking or places we’d eaten at recently. By the time desert came around, people had a drink or two, then things got really fun. People would tell stories, or experiences they had, or a friendly debate would occur. It was the moment when we started really getting to know people, who they were, and how they worked.
I remember that after one particular fun and engaging dinner party, me and the wife high-fived after the guests left because we were so excited and proud of ourselves for hosting such a good evening.
But things changed, and having an adult evening over at someone’s place, only adults, is a pretty rare thing now. I’m not complaining, because it was a moment of our lives that existed for a very specific time, and place.
(In a city of the future it is difficult to concentrate…)
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Today, I’m too tired to write my blog, so AI is taking over. While I rest, it effortlessly strings words together, capturing my thoughts with precision. No brainstorming, no editing—just a seamless flow of content. It’s fascinating how AI can mirror my style, keeping my readers engaged even when I lack the energy. Technology has become my writing assistant, ensuring consistency and creativity without burnout. Maybe I’ll take advantage of this more often. For now, I’ll sit back, recharge, and let AI handle the words. Who knew laziness and productivity could go hand in hand?
Old ladies in New York City are the toughest, meanest people you’ll ever meet. They’ve seen it all, and they have zero patience for nonsense. They’ll shove past you on the subway, glare at you if you’re walking too slow, and scold you like you’re their grandkid. Try cutting in line at the deli? You’ll get an earful. Hold up a bus because you’re fumbling with your MetroCard? Expect a sharp sigh and a muttered insult. They’ve earned their attitude through decades of city life, and honestly, they might be the real bosses of New York.
Radiohead’s Palo Alto is a cynical take on the heart of Silicon Valley, portraying it as a soulless, corporate dystopia. The lyrics describe a futuristic city obsessed with technology, wealth, and progress but devoid of real human connection. The song’s narrator expresses alienation and dissatisfaction, sarcastically calling it a “city of the future” while feeling lost in its artificial environment. It critiques consumerism, isolation, and the emptiness of modern life, themes that Radiohead often explores. Beneath the upbeat, distorted guitars, Palo Alto is a bleak reflection on a world where innovation outpaces humanity’s ability to find meaning.
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– The introduction sets a relatable stage, but consider providing more context about AI’s role in your writing process to deepen reader engagement.
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For years now, winter around here hasn’t felt like winter. More like a “Perpetual End of Autumn” that carried on till the start of April. At least one Nor’easter would blow through every year, and dump four to six inches of snow on us, but within a week it would all be gone, and the reign of light coats would return. This was such a reliable pattern that the wife and I started to wonder if the winters of our first years in the City were a thing of memory.
But starting Christmas week, the winters of the past returned; Snow fell and stayed on the ground, the temperature hung around freezing, and a feeling needing to be wrapped up on the couch was ever present.
Perhaps I am a bit romantical when it comes to winter. I did grow up in Texas, where it rarely got below forty degrees in the deepest part of winter, and just the hint of snow was enough to close down the schools and services. I think it is true that most people are drawn to the thing they are most denied, and for me that was cold weather.
For you see, my whole family was born and raised in Illinois. All, except me. I mean, I was born there, but we moved south when I was six months old, so my experience was the opposite of everyone else. My family would talk about snowball fights, building snowmen and snow-forts. There were foreign chores of shoveling out driveways and sidewalks. Keeping blankets, kitty litter, and chocolate bars in the car just in case. I remember seeing a pair of my father’s old snow boots, black rubber, that were up on a self in the garage, where they only thing they did was gather dust and become a relic of his other life.
When I moved to New York back in 2006, it briefly snowed on my first Thanksgiving here, and it was close to the most magical thing that ever happened to me. That first snowstorm the following January was a moment of excitement, but also hammered home how unprepared I was for winter. I only had a Texas winter coat, which wasn’t a winter coat. No snow boots, but I did have a huge scarf that a good friend had given to me before I moved. I soon got a peacoat from an Army/Navy store on 16th and 6th, and still own it to this day. I have gone through several different pairs of snow shoes, and I am proud to tell you that I also still have that original scarf I was given – As it is rather long and thick, I pull it out to wrap my face on exceptionally cold days.
The last time I talked to my dad, about a week ago, he was telling me of the coming winter storm headed his way in Texas. He dreaded it, and honestly, I think it annoyed him highly that it will get so very cold. “I moved down here to get away from all of that,” he told me, “I had enough cold to last me several lifetimes.” When he got the opportunity in his life, he ran to where it was hot, and took all of along with him.
