Mysterious Ways

This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. 1 John 5:14

Whatever you do, don't pinch me. If this is a dream, let me sleep my fill. Y'all God is so good.

And I thank Him I don't live in a society where the powers that be think eccentricities can be vanquished with a few doses of shock therapy.

Okay maybe I'm reading too much Sylvia Plath in my slumber...then again maybe not.

I'm enthralled with my glorious, electric new neighborhood.

Historically a Native American village turned Dutch farmland and transpired into a small niche in America for Irish, Ukrainian, Puerto Rican, German new immigrants to claim their stake.

The East Village is still the best place for Pierogies, Falafel, $3 dollar pints, and a steaming bowl of rice and beans... a cultural phenomenon and a frenzied people watching parade.

Perched on sprawling green Tompkins Square Park surrounded with prominent American Elms, once a swampland as it backed up to the shoreline of the east river has since hosted war and labor demonstrations,  the Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, annual Wigstock (Drag hippie fest), Cracktoberfest, and my weekly (more mellow) Sunday farmers market.

I once heard the quote that labels are for cans and not for people. In theory I agree, but in the case of the hood; it is a magnet for the beatniks, bohemians, deadbeats, disaffected, artists, affluent, radicals, reformers, drifters, dreamers,  punks, idealists, eager, established, musicians, and now me.

Do I mind that I spent my evening sitting at my window ironing clothes for an early morning call to the set of Ugly Betty? Nope, this is an answer to my prayers.

How does your neighborhood compare?