One of the things I love the most about Gotham is the plethora of options available to follow one’s passions and express oneself, that ventures well beyond business networking!      Friday happy hours, cocktail parties in the TWA terminal at JFK airport, pizza crawls, golf, bowling, Yankees at Mets games at Citifield, softball, sports blogs, “Gotham Green,” Encores and BOB aka Battle Of the Bands, just to name a few.   

Have any?    I’m starting to think about the summer and wondering where we might run for a quick weekend or two.  No big plans in our future, I’m afraid, but a quick getaway or two sounds nice.

I sat last week in my doctor’s waiting room for over an hour waiting to be seen (why doctors can keep people waiting for over an hour is the subject of another blog).

You may already heard about it. Read about it (Friday’s blogger blogged about it two days ago.). Listened to it. Maybe you were there. All I know is I keep humming this song (see the title of this blog.). From a LP of the same name some 55 years old. A really good one.

 In the tradition of our hunter-gatherer ancestors, I woke up with the songs of birds outside my window, traveled a great distance, and braved the wilds of my kitchen.   I hunted by foraging through the dense jungle of my refrigerator and the vast plain of my pantry.   Armed with only my hands and arms, I gathered the ingredients, skillfully avoiding the expired and the mysterious leftovers and triumphantly, cooked my bounty and feast, celebrating my survival, yet again, with each delicious bite.

On Tuesday night I enjoyed a Boyz Night Out with 3 Gotham stalwarts, Paul (Wheelman) Napolitano, Corey (Music Maven) Bearak and my Mentor Partner Robert (Insurance Doctor) Intelisano.

It was our anniversary and we had nothing very special planned.We made reservations for dinner at a local restaurant and left very very early for a stroll down the Main Street. Leaving extra time. Hours purposely left with nothing planned. When you walk, you see things you don’t notice otherwise.

Having returned late Mother’s Day night from a week long conference in Nashville, a comment made from my significant other made me stop in my tracks and realize my priorities were skewed. As I was going to bed, after getting my goodnight kiss, I cutely asked “Did you missed me at least a little bit?”. The answer, with no hesitation was, “Not really. You being out of town isn’t much different than when you are here and always in the office.”  Now he is prone to being, as I have told him numerous times, passive aggressive. But this comment was said without any humor.