Baxter Bark Twice

Oh hello.

Recently, thanks to the wisdom and maturity that comes with turning 30, I have been able to face some harsh realities about my person:

1. I can be lazy

2. I have a penchant for over-indulging

3. Time to put my money where my mouth is and start writing that damn book

4. I overthink everything – I am my own worst enemy

5. I need to give myself more credit

None of this is brand new information, obviously, and self-awareness is an important trait, but it’s pretty worthless unless I start modifying my behavior. So…that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to be a go-getting, self-disciplined, published author who doesn’t dwell on the mundane and gives herself a pat on the back every day.

Too deep? I feel uncomf. Let’s head back to the shallow end and talk lobster rolls.

It’s not a total non sequitur: lobster rolls are something in which I  might very easily over-indulge if I didn’t enforce some self-discipline (see #2). I would eat one, like, every day if they weren’t $28/ea and didn’t have 8,000 calories. For this reason, and I have a similar rule for fettucini alfredo, I only get to have it once/year and it has to be worth it. IE, from the best restaurant and I don’t mess around with portions. This way I’m neither deprived, nor am I disgusting – you know what I say about moderation and how key it is. I don’t respond well to words like “no” and “don’t” and “can’t” and this system allows for indulgence but in a – what’s that? – yes, moderated way. Playing mind games with myself is exhausting, in case you were wondering. And this brings us to #4, doesn’t it…

that’s some straight food porn right there

Enough with psycho-babble BS, BBT. Dinner at Pearl Oyster Bar, home to the best lobster roll in NYC, was so fun. Three cool girls, some rose, a heaping serving of lobster and mayo on buttered bread with shoestring fries and some fried oysters on the side… Laureo & EDon, we’ll do it again soon, but we’ll have to go somewhere else because my lobster roll quota for 2013 has now been fulfilled.

I am moving over Labor Day. The moving part blows, obviously, but the end result is very exciting. I’m headed downtown, y’all, and it’s going to be great. I’m on the river, I’ll have a balcony overlooking the river, there is an ice machine and a washer/dryer IN UNIT. Plus my rent is going down by like $300 – I feel as though I’ve struck real estate gold. I was running along the Hudson River Running Path the other evening, and I took this pic at the intersection of my new street + Westside Highway (my building is half a block behind me).

what up JERSEY!

Speaking of running…I use Songza, an app whose virtues I’ve extolled on many occasions, for tunes. I first choose the day and time: it was Monday evening, then the activity: working out, then I choose the genre: the selection varies – I usually go with Aggressive Rap but I chose Upbeat Country. I forgot how enjoyable country is…anyway, Miranda Lambert’s Mama’s  Broken Heart came on, and one line really stuck with me…reference: today’s title. Ladies, hide your crazy.

BOOM – I never do what I say I’m going to do, and this week I did: dos posts en una semana.