Amber-Lea Says...

The end of the week came on a Thursday this time. I was handed the keys to a PT Cruiser - butter yellow - but it had a CD player, and that and four wheels was all I really needed to take me far away from the city that never sleeps.

A shiny, shiny Airstream trailer set on the bank of a large creek welcomed me with a giant Tiki head on the door, letting me know that things were a little different around those parts. The next four days were an in-between time with no clear boundaries. I sat on a rock in the middle of a stream, listening to the burble. I was ignored totally by bats, deer, rabbits, hawks, and an osprey. I drank tea by the side of the creek and a bottle of Jack Daniels by the fire(s) that took 45 minutes to ignite (the wood was damp from the sporadic rain). I listened to the fruit and vegetable man say something to me about the Mets while I smelled tomatoes and squeezed the zucchini bread. I admired the audacious mustache of Tedd, the caretaker. I did nothing that I would qualify as "work" (unless you count tindering and tending the fire, which, since it was fun, I don't consider work).

Most importantly, I learned that I would not grow bored by myself in the woods.
On Sunday evening, I suffered a fair amount of anxiety-inducing re-entry shock in the East Village and so I drank more Jack Daniels and went to Williamsburg to see the Twilight Sad.