Parklife

I love spring in Brooklyn. Don't get me wrong, I love fall and winter and summer in BK too, but spring...there's something about it. Everything feels right in the world. There's hope. People look alive. Little things are growing here and there. And everyone goes to the park.

Growing up in Miami, there was no such thing as: "Hey, let's go to the park!" When it's 96 degrees for 10 months out of the year, the only thing that everyone can agree on is air conditioning and shade. Moving up here, the park is such an important part of people's lives, including mine. There's something about having a picnic, drinking some mimosas, playing croquet, and laughing at hipster kickball that just makes life perfect.

In the past couple of weeks, I've had a few spontaneous picnics. Today, Auden was asleep in his stroller, while Deanna and I stole his blanket and ate Mast Brothers chocolate and sipped iced coffees from Oslo. (The white chocolate w roasted pistachios and almonds and dried cranberries that is mother effing orgasmic. I know I've discussed this before. It bears repeating.) Something funky and squishy landed on my jeans, but I survived. There was plenty of pastiness and other unfortunate things walking around. Scrawny, scabby legs in too short shorts and ridiculous ironic boots. A rainbow of Wayfarers. Coke scabby noses. I loved it all.

This is spring in Brooklyn. It's time for croquet, betches!