drinking through the fire hose

My neighbor Barry warned me that a week in New York was going to feel like trying to drink through a fire hose, and he was right.

I fit in as much as my feet would allow. 

My brain was working on overtime also- when I was NOT at the institute, I was intensely focused on figuring out which train to take, and which way was up when I emerged from below ground. 

When I WAS at the institute, I was trying to sort out math coaching, literacy coaching, coaching-coaching, self-coaching,.... META coaching, as my friend cleverly suggested.

• I can report with complete confidence that I walk more in one day here than I do in a week in Denver.  I walk up/down more STAIRS here in one day than I do in at least two weeks, maybe longer.
• I brought some pretty shoes, which I won't likely do again.
• I brought some makeup which, why bother? First of all, no one's looking at me, and second of all, it all melted off in the first hour.  I never put any on again.
• I brought a ton of jewelry and never wore any of it, because it's so oppressively hot here that I could not stand the idea of having anything extra on my skin.
• I thought that it would be sexy if I bought some SHOES IN NEW YORK. So I went into a shoe store to try some on and when I looked down I DID NOT RECOGNIZE MY FEET because they were grotesquely swollen like tree stumps.
• Which makes me feel old.