I Don't Know if You've Heard

but, we've got some

up in here.

(This picture is taken in the middle of a flippin' road.)

I've been living in New York, specifically in Brooklyn, for ten years, now. I love it like I love the ocean, which is to say I love it as much as I love any one person. I have wild, you-would-never-believe-it-if-you-weren't-also-a-New-Yorker stories. I was here when the towers fell. I was here when the city went black in 2003. Sublime luck, perhaps New Yorker karma of sorts, kept me in my beloved Brooklyn during the holidays this year. Now I've survived the Snowpocalypse (so far) too. How will I ever be able to leave this place?

Luckily, thanks to the tons of snow and the city's complete lack of ability to deal with it, I won't ever have to.... :)

This is the calm before the storm. Looking back I had a similar feeling to the inner excitement I'd get during tidal wave watches as a teenager. Admittedly at the time I translated that feeling into a rhyme that centered on a chorus of "preeety snow".

On Sunday night, I donned a dress and some tights and my favorite snow shoes and headed out for a little house party in Clinton Hill. I had heard tale that there was a blizzard coming. Excuse me, I am a New Yorker. I am like the postman (who skipped out on visiting me until Thursday) I go out rain or sleet or snow. I don't avoid conflict. I only avoid direct sunlight.

Flash forward mere hours. Where I legitimately feared for my life on a car ride through apocalyptic Brooklyn. Luckily I was with the brand of friends that feel like family. I knew we'd be safe, I just didn't know how. Here's a photo of Jen during the blitz. Nothing like a snowpocalypse to make you realize what's really important in life...

Lots and lots of layers, silver space/winter boots, and glamour shots.

The snow whipped so hard it gave us an ice cream headache. Sean's hair froze flat to his head! We were joking that you could break it off it was so frozen. Sadly this lead me to the knowledge that my beloved, soon to be adopted family, had never seen 'The Great Race', a minor detail in such desperate times. Sean finally battled the car and the snow into submission. Jen and I ran back and forth between him and their home in shifts. We're good cheerleaders. :(

On Monday morning we woke to a world changed. The cars and buses had all been abandoned. They still sit like great beached whales in a sea of snow.

If nothing else, this week of emergency quarantine has taught me to be careful who you marry. It's been a long time since I witnessed any full-time spousing. Jen and Sean's hospitality, even as we openly wondered if it is possible to die of claustrophobia, was epic. I can't believe how comfortable and welcome they made me feel. Sean was like a modern day Disney character all week.

"And yet, through it all, Cinderella Sean remained ever gentle and kind, for with each dawn she he found new hope that someday her his (wife's friend would go home and his) dreams of happiness would come true."

I stayed on Dean street on Sunday night, and when it became clear that no one was coming to plow a thing, I stayed Monday night too. I have seen so many people standing on their car roofs to shovel snow that it doesn't even phase me any more.

At publish time (like daaaays later) this is what Brooklyn was dealing with:

Finally, after realizing there was nothing to be done, and knowing I couldn't wait any longer. I battled my way home to Carroll Gardens on Tuesday afternoon. I could have used a grappling hook at multiple times on my commute from Prospect Heights.

This storm has left me in awe of nature, in awe of my friends and in awe of this fresh loaf of bread from Court Street Pastry downstairs. I am thankful that I live above a spa, next to a pastry shop, and across from a magical store of endless homewares. Brooklyn, I love you - even when you are helpless.

(Sanitation plow stuck in the snow on Court & Sackett)

So now you've heard, we got some snow...
Here are my favorite bits of media that I have read about Snowpocalypse 2010 since being able to breathe use the internet again.

• Cops Make an Example of Brooklyn Icicle
• Time lapse of the Storm (via @SwissMiss)
• NYT Snowday Pics
  

Every Little Thing We Can

When I was 22 I fell in love for the first time. I couldn't believe the magic that I felt was everywhere around me. When I tried to explain it to the boyish object of my affection, the only way I could describe it was

"I feel the same way about you as I feel about water."

To me that is what love is.

To this day, nothing has driven me in my life and my work more than my love of the sea.

I grew up on the North Shore of Oahu. My bedroom was closer to the Pacific than it was to the living room. My entire adolesence, every frustration and every horrowing (now hilarious) pain was always washed away by ocean waves. The sea has always been one of my closest confidants.

When I came to New York after graduating from Kahuku High School I couldn't sleep at night without the pounding of the waves on the sand. I longed for the Pacific the way I longed for my family. I am always homesick for the ocean.

When 9/11 happened I was close enough to watch the towers in the distance. I walked in Forte Green Park and had ash fall into my hair like snow. I felt the hollowing absence everywhere I went. I felt like nothing could ever be OK again. In my pain I was angry at the nation for feeling like they owned this tragedy. It had happened right in front of me, in my adopted home. How could anyone not watching in person feel the pain I felt?

On September 14th I went to Coney Island and sat on the boardwalk for hours, quietly staring into the horizon. That day my love affair with the Atlantic officially began. Through every heartbreak, and every outside stress, personal or public tragedy, nothing ever heals me like the reassuring calm of the sea.

This spill in the Gulf weighs on me like nothing has in years. I try not to think about it, and then feel guilty for protecting myself from that pain. When it washes over me it feels unbearable.
For the first time, I truly understand National Tragedy. I see how it touches all of us as Americans.

I hurt to hurt the Ocean. I realize that my loss is not the loss of fisherman and families watching the damage happen moment to moment. My home is not immediately threatened but it feels as if my heart is. I love the sea. Nothing is more sacred to me. We can help in little ways though we may be far away.

This Baby Mermaid illustration will be up for purchase with lots of other amazing art donated at
http://ripplesketches.blogspot.com/

later this week you'll be able to find larger prints of it at Etsy's Help the Gulf Coast Shop.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/HelpTheGulfCoast

In both cases 100% of the money raised goes to Gulf Coast charities.
Please pull out your wallets or your paintbrushes and contribute to this cause in your own way. With a problem this big, we all need to do every little thing we can.