Funny how I honor my routines, even in a new city.

I find myself unable to fight habitual tradition - even in an amazing, vibrant, powerful rush rush city like New York. Drinks with the girls at the Hudson Bar followed by a ride with Leah to Bloomingdales and a walk back to the hotel. I could walk for DAYS here…if my feet would just stop fighting with my shoes. Raw flesh on the sides of my tootsies from trekking around in flip flops. Blister on my left pinkie toe from wearing heels yesterday (with a suit, oy) and giving up on my hose half way through the day. My feet are SO attractive right now. Tangent. Back on track - walk back to hotel followed by a soak in the jacuzzi with my book, then room service and sleep by 11.

After hitting snooze on my wake up call a few times (the woman was actually laughing at me) I did manage to get up and take a run through Central Park this morning. Not nearly long enough but I rationalize that it was offset by the extensive hoofing around I’ve been doing. That half a block from the hotel to the office is just brutal.

Not sure what’s on tap for tonight, mostly I just need to finish coordinating things for the event tomorrow. The event? Maybe that’s being generous. I’ve arranged for our NY staff to have the afternoon off — to come drinking, snacking and socializing with Jack and I at a local pub (hello, where did you think I’d have it?) where I’ll give at least one of them tickets to the US Open and the rest of them random company premiums - and then we’ll ship them all off around 3.

Right now, I want to play under the blue sky with its few whispy clouds. The breath of New York is still lingering on my skin, nearly 30 minutes after my last encounter and I’m left wanting more.