Am dealing with some major apartment ambilvalence. On the one hand, we want to move. A lot. On the other, we can't. And moving is awful (I have the unhappy example of my parents' daily calls to remind me of that.)

It would be nice to be closer to produce, to food, to friends. I saw a woman being choked on the street. You can't walk after dark.

But then too, we have friends living nearby now; there's a new CSA; a small farmer's market; lovely new neighbors and sweet neighborhood kids.

Recently, L.D. moved up here from North Carolina and lives nearby: I was worried about the transition from beautiful roots to impersonal concrete jungle. But of course she has a huge container garden growing at their house and is on a basis of mutual adoration with every child under 10 on her block. I am selfishly glad of course to have another friend in the neighborhood and opportunities for impromptu drinks and settles and clothing swaps. To say nothing of a partner in crime for cooking and the dressmaking and flower-arranging classes we are contemplating (hey, a subway buddy's no joke either in this kind of country!) Last night she and her boyfriend J. came by to observe the block party; we had beers and spicy chips (I used Food52's idea) and I showed her my new cheesecloth cafe curtains and the stained sweater I'd dyed with coffee grounds. Then we went to L&B Spumoni Gardens in Bensonhurst. Friday, there was an impromptu rooftop potluck at Marie's house; they brought a goose lamp onto the roof and there was paella. Ruby works only 2 blocks away and I was able to bring her a piece of peach cake as a workday treat. In short, it might just be okay. (Although I'm still haunting Craigslist.)