Carrie Bradshaw's got 'nothin on me.
The iconic symbol of the single 30-something chick, Carrie is respected and revered by women all over the world. The main character in the Sex and the City social zeitgeist of single ladies everywhere, Carrie is kind of the baseline for the neuroses, inhibition, restraint, drive and frivolity sometimes demonstrated in her three counterparts.
Man, oh man, I was so tickled when I got an exclusive invite to talk behind the scenes with Candace Bushnell, the creator of SATC.
Her publicist reached out to me and invited me to talk with Bushnell about her latest book, "Summer in the City," which is a follow up to a prequel series that highlights Carrie's teenage years before she morphs into a prolific column writer who wears Manolos and sips Cosmos.
I was supposed to head up to Kenwood last Saturday afternoon to see Bushnell (in true, sans-car style, I was going to hop on Metro Rt. 4 Kenwood), and decided to pop my head in my mailbox to collect the day's deliveries.
That's when sheer panic set in.
"Sorry we missed you," the card said. The postman had a package that needed signature for delivery.
I knew exactly what it was. My passport was en route to me after spending a couple weeks in NYC to get a visa from the Indian Consulate.
The days prior were filled with hurried phone calls and online status checks, all in the name of determining a) if my visa was granted and b) where my passport was at any given moment.
The scenario was kind of nerve wracking because there was about a 48 hour period where neither the visa provider nor the USPS claimed to be in possession of my passport.
I was so worried during this period that I literally chewed off all my finger nails and had begun stripping away the ragged cuticles and flesh around my fingers. It was very Black Swan, actually.
No passport = no international travel = no happy Kate.
I snatched the cream colored card out of the mailbox and careened out of my gate, my head swiveling up and down Walnut Street. I noticed the postman a few blocks away.
The time on my cellphone said it all. I could run to my bus and meet Bushnell, or I could trudge my way to the postman and put this passport issue to bed.
Card in hand, I stalked the mailman like a bulldog ready to nip on his blue polyester pants.
Waiting outside a building on Walnut at 13th, hand on my hip, the postman finally came out. I smiled and waved the card in the air and he told me my package was back in his truck.
Some more waiting, and I was finally reunited with my passport. Crisis averted. Destination: India, still a go.
What is the best way to celebrate overcoming great worry?
Why, getting a great pedicure, of course.
My tootsies and I walked to Incredible Creations on Vine St. and and got my toes done by the talented Nicole. She used a bright red polish on my toes called High Roller. My toes look dynamite.
I think Carrie would be proud.
Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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