A Wanderer's Prayer

A prayer for this wanderer…

To The Universe

Wherever I find my feet,

Let them connect to the ground

So I know where I am standing

Let my eyes find beauty around me,

Even when there does not appear to be any.

Let my mind be open to new experiences.

And view old experiences from new perspectives

Let me honor and respect other cultures, other countries, and other customs

Let me always remember that I am a guest wherever I go

Let me be kind.

Let me be open to new friendships along the way,

But also be smart and safe on my journeys.

Let me make wise choices

Or learn from the ones not so wise.

Let me learn the language of another country

And try a new food, 

Let me dance.

Let me dance 

Wherever I go

Whenever I can

Let me learn a new dance or a new step,

Or practice and perfect one that I know

Let me find new partners and teachers along the way

And take from them many lessons

Let me give

Let me teach

Let me share my gifts 

Let me love

Let me not take myself too seriously.

Let me play

Let me laugh

Let me laugh at my mistakes, my humanity

And the humanity of others

And marvel in the perfection of our imperfection

Wandering-Philly "The Lie I Sometimes Tell"

There is a lie that I sometimes tell.

 I told it last night.

I had wandered over the Walnut Street Bridge, to the World Cafe, for my favorite Monday night jazz jam and happy hour.

I never get tired of the view from the bridge, one of the most beautiful places in the city if you like lights, and I do. 

 I was a little disappointed when I found out that the jazz was cancelled. But  the monthly Story Slam would begin a little later, so I settled in with some red wine and caught up with my fav bartender, Robin.

The theme for this month’s story competition was “Liar Liar.”  I told my lie, not as a story, but just in conversation at the bar, while contestants were entertaining us with their escapades.

While waiting for the start of the event, I chatted with one of the organizers. He invited me to be one of the three judges for the night, to which I agreed.

And I could judge right from my seat at the bar, just shouting out my scores, when requested. Perfect.

So that’s where I told the lie, to a complete stranger.

“How many children do you have?”

It is seems a simple question.

I said “One”

The truth is I have two children. One here in Philly and one on the Other Side., which is what I tell you once I get to know you better or if I think there’s a chance that I will see you again. I lost Lisa in a car accident 13 years ago when she was almost 19.

And because that is way too much information for a stranger trying to be entertained at a lively event, I lied.

I lied to the person next to me, while I was judging stories about lies. The irony was clear. I tell this lie to keep things simple. After all these years, it is still not easy. 

But Story Slam was great with lots of laughter and a truly outstanding winner! I had fun judging, and for the most part, we three judges were close in our evaluations. I got booed once for giving a low score on the final contestant. 

I took it like a woman!

I handed in my score card and had a peaceful walk home back over the bridge.

NYC Wandering-To Cronut or Not?

Dark chocolate, champagne, and gold dust. These are the seasonal and festive ingredients for December’s “Cronut.”

I had never heard of the “Cronut” and maybe you haven’t either.  But judging from the size of the line in front of this little unassuming bakery in SoHo, NYC, this “little slice of heaven” must be worth the wait.

It is not strange to see lines in NYC: New Yorkers are great at waiting in lines for busses, museums, and movies, but Saturday mornings in SoHO are usually quiet, stores and galleries opening around 11AM.

I hopped off the Bolt Bus from Philly on a bland corner of Sixth Ave. in TriBeCa. Later I’d be traveling to Macy’s Downtown Brooklyn for my face-painting job, but now, it was time to explore.

I meandered meditatively on mostly silent brick-lined streets, a few merchants setting up their wares in front of cast iron buildings. Later, holiday shoppers would fill up these narrow streets.

And then I saw the line.

So, of course, I got on the end

And that’s where I got my introduction to the “Cronut,” described as a “croissant-doughnut hybrid, ” which takes almost three days for full preparation.  Pastry chef Dominique Ansel started selling his trademarked yummy treat in May 2013, with a monthly flavor. For the opening months they had rose vanilla, lemon maple, and blackberry lime.

But for December, they brought in the chocolate (66% dark), the champagne, and the gold dust.

Which explains why this line was still going strong on a Saturday morning just before 10AM.  The line begins more than two hours before the bakery’s scheduled opening 8AM M-F, 9AM Sun) and there is no indication that this craze or faze or obsession is slowing down.

Maybe these pastries are just darn delicious.  At $5.00 each (plus tax), they must be.

But there were rules: rules about the line and rules about how to eat them, all neatly displayed on a sign at the front of the line. I had never seen so many rules for a bakery.  I was reminded of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. Now, I really wanted to try one. The suspense was profound. And I had become part of a group, a happening, a movement!!

I could taste the chocolate swirling around on my tongue, the champagne warming me instantly.

While I was chatting with my line mates, my new life long friends, someone from the shop came out to make the dreaded announcement that they’d soon be running out of the coveted product for probably the last half of the line. There were groans of disappointment, including my own, when I realized I wouldn’t have a chance to sample this delight that day.

At last count there are 22 more days in December- that means 22 more days to attempt to fill my mouth with this heavenly concoction… that’s until the new flavor for January is unveiled. What could it be?? I’ll keep you posted.

Dominique Ansel Bakery

189 Spring Street

212-219-2773

http://dominiqueansel.com/