Home to me is reality and all I need is something real, I feel home

i'm slacking on the blogs, but it's been a crazy week.  i basically had to move my entire life 3.5 hours to home.  it's rough.  i figure, while home might as well write a blog about being home.

kristen and i were going for our usual walk around the golf course.  if dyker heights (my neighborhood) is famous for anything, it's for it's golf course and it's christmas lights.  on our walks, we'll talk about anything, anyone, and everything.  lately, it's been exchanging our college experiences, our frustration with people, and an unspoken love for brooklyn and nyc.

conclusion: everyone outside of nyc is crazy and brooklyn is really big.  yeah, brooklyn's huge and most people have this misconception that it's either all italian or all black.  false.  it's actually a combination of everything and us italians are becoming minorities.  but, as far as we know, our little neighborhood is still very much italian (and chinese).

first, we have my block.  we're tight.  houses are attached, no driveways.  a lot of us are usually outside, especially this time of year and especially when mr. softee strolls down the block.  whenever someone's cooking sauce, the whole block smells it and it smells awesomeeee.  yeah, that's right - sauce.  what else would be be cooking?

up the block, is a supermarket, some pizzarias, nail salons and b&a pork store that has the best best cold-cuts and rice balls.  walking on the avenue, you'll hear the "hey, how ya doin."  we live the typical brooklyn-italian movie scenes.  not to mention my childhood friends who eat, breathe, and live brooklyn humor.

someone's always around, hangin out on someone's porch.  oh yeah, we all have stoops.  it's perfect to fit massive amounts of people in front of your house and especially helpful at blockparties.  during the summer, you can find a block party every saturday or sunday.  it's actually almost block party season!

there are so many kids in dyker and you can usually find all of them piled into dunkin donuts until the cops kick them out.  it's a right of passage.  every kid has spent some amount of weekends in dunkin donuts if you've lived in dyker heights.  in fact, i still do sometimes, but don't tell anyone.