Summer Night & Gandolfini

Yesterday after work I went to Washington Heights (north end of Manhattan) to help a friend pack up her apartment. She took the whole week off from work so she was leisurely getting it done, but had friends coming over here and there to help with the process.

I got there in jeans with my game face on ready to wrap and pack. She seemed less enthused. We did a lot of kitchenware pots/pans (including my ALWAYS useful advice whenever one is deciding between throwing away or packing up an item in relocating: "Would you miss it if it wasn't in front of you? WHAT IS YOUR HEART TELLING YOU?!) before she wanted to take a break.

She has a basement level apartment which is actually quite awesome because they get the entire back patio for themselves, which is shaded by a lovely mix of trees, surrounding buildings, and barbed wire. (Nature). We laid on the lounge chairs in the back, in the deliciously warm and breezy summer night, drinking beers, talking, and getting to pet and play with her roommate's Dutch shepherd dog. It felt so normal, it was the most normal thing I'd done in a long time, which maybe just says I'm not from New York City, but that total house-party Californian. We then proceeded to order in food and watch Arrested Development before I left before midnight. That was the easiest packing I had ever done!

And today is James Gandolfini's funeral, which is being held at St John the Divine's Cathedral, just down the street from my work, and directly across from my old faithful bar.

I walked by it on my way in to work this morning and it's all media and celebrities, and a little sad.