There's an Upside to Living in NYC

There's no easy way to break it to you-- Anymommy wrote a post for my blog! If you are not familiar with Is There Any Mommy Out There? I envy you. Because you get to discover her and savor her posts and think of ways that you can thank me for introducing you to her. Would a few small gifts be appropriate or one medium one? Dilemma.
I adore her. She's my best blog friend and I'd be lost in the blogosphere without her.  Her posts are like poetry sometimes. You know, the good kind of poetry, that doesn't rhyme. She has written posts that I am convinced will save lives and she has two qualities that I admire most in people--she is a careful thinker and she's hysterically funny. (Is it me, or does it sound like I'm presenting her with a Lifetime Achievement Award?) And no one writes about bodily functions better than she does. But don't worry, she's not writing about them here. Because my blog is dainty.

I've been stalking Marinka for her hilarious, insightful commentary on life in New York City for months now. Lately, it's been making me a little bitter. Not because I think that if I'm going to live in some backwoods 'city' in Eastern Washington, then no one should be allowed to live in trendy, exciting locations. Okay, I totally think that. I started to make a list of pros for living five hours from a major metropolitan area, like great schools, low cost of living, easy access to Idaho...that's where the list went a little awry.

Seven Things That Would Not Be As Annoying If I Lived In New York City Instead of Spokane, Washington

1) I would not have to teach people geography or proper pronunciation. I am pretty sure that most people over five with a pulse can point to NYC on a map. No one screws up the pronunciation of "New York City." Even if you have an accent or a brain impediment or a tongue kink or something, I can't think of a way to get it wrong. If I have to assist one more Kansan service provider with the pronunciation and location of Spokane, I might plot to destroy Kansas. "City please?" "Spokane." "Is that near Seattle?" "I wish." "I'm sorry?" "No. It's Spokane. S-P-O-K-A-N-E. Spokane." "Spoe - cane?" "No. Spo, rhymes with Moe, can, like tin can. Spokane." "Spoe-can-y." "No. It's not like Tuscany, that would be in Italy, which would be marginally cool. It's Spokane. In Eastern Washington." "Is that near Seattle?" "Yes, right outside of Tacoma."

2) I am fairly certain that no point in New York City is fifteen minutes from Idaho. If you had sneered in my face, ten years ago, something like "oh yeah, well when you get old and have kids, you're going to live fifteen minutes from Idaho," I might have hit you across the face with my fancy, D.C. lawyer briefcase. I have lived fifteen minutes from Reagan National. An hour from London by train. Even three hours flight from Japan. Fifteen minutes by minivan from Northern Idaho seems cruelly anticlimactic.

3) I would not have been an unwilling participant in the Great Hanukkah '07 Fiasco. I'm willing to bet that most people in New York City have at least heard of Hanukkah and that it's fairly easy to find Hanukkah candles. Last year, searching in vain for Hanukkah candles a few hours before sundown on the first day of Hanukkah, I stumbled into a World Market. I was fooled by the crafty words 'World' and 'Market' implying they might market goods from around the world. Not so. "I'm looking for Hanukkah candles." World Market Girl: "What?" Me: "Hanukah candles, the Jewish holiday? It starts today. With menorahs?" WMG: "Oh, we don't do that here." Me: ? That? Candles? Diversity? Jewish people? All of the above? I had to leave quietly, because, from what I've observed, she's kind of right. They don't do much of that in Spokane.

4) In NYC, it would not be a five hour drive to decent shopping, real grocery stores, bagels or lox, real pizza, a Chinese restaurant without neon lights where the food is actually cooked by people who either are Chinese or have eaten actual Chinese food in the past, or a real airport. By real airport I mean the same lovely, clueless woman does not print your boarding pass and then run through security to meet you at the gate as your gate check person.

5) People in New York City would not bless me. I don't think they would care about me enough to bless me. I mean that in a good way. I don't mind the occasional post-sneeze bless you, but in Spokane, the blessings are out of control. My kids stand out. They're all different colors and one of them doesn't look much like me, seeing as she's Haitian and I'm descended from eastern European Jews. Random people on the street will just bust out with a smile and a 'bless you.' It makes me squirm. I'm not particularly altruistic and good evades me. We wanted a child. For the right reasons, to love and cherish and raise, etc., not for slave labor or anything horrid like that, but still, it was purely selfish. We wanted a child, we adopted. I think New Yorkers would be far more realistic about the situation. They'd be thinking, get your horrendous gaggle of toddlers out of my bagel store, you bizarre child collecting crazy woman. Not, 'bless you.' Those are sentiments I understand.

6) A New Yorker would never, ever ask me if my three-year-olds were twins. COME ON Spokanitians. My daughter is Haitian. My son is the spitting image of his Scottish/Irish/American mishmash father complete with bright red hair and skin that is the fairest of them all. NO, they are not twins. And, you can stop worrying, two white parents cannot spontaneously spit out a dark brown baby. Surely, the worldly, diverse denizens of NYC would understand this basic genetic concept. If I lived in New York City, I could stop collecting my list of sarcastic responses to the 'are they twins' question. I've never used any of them, I mostly hide my nasty, east coast lawyer side in Spokane. It's not worth it. Sarcasm is wasted on these people and it's kind of like beating a litter of kittens with their paws tied behind their backs. One day I'll bust out with one of my favorites. "Yes, I was a huge slut when they were conceived. They have two different fathers." Or, maybe, "yes, I ate a lot of Oreos when I was pregnant."

7) If we lived in New York City, I would not have to hide at Marinka's blog to list my annoyances with life in my city. My husband's head would explode if he knew I had divulged our home city on the internet. He's convinced that if I give up that information, we'll be immediately stalked by psycho internet people. And, we're not that hard to find, seeing as everyone in Spokane recognizes our house by description. Just guessing here, but there are probably more than ten or so bloggers from New York City. I live in New York City really doesn't tell you much. In the apartment building. With the canopy. Yeah, you and 8 million other people. I'd like to be one of eight million again. Some day.