Mobilians: You have a good opportunity to see your major guest artist of next year, and my personal favorite violinist, Joshua Bell on PBS New Years Eve.

Yours truly is in the city, but unfortunately I think the show is sold out! Don’t forget, Bell is performing with the Mobile Symphony Orchestra in Spring!

New York really kicked me in the rear today. From dehydration and not eating, I nearly passed out during a two hour wait in line at the DMV offices. I jumped out of line, raced to a bathroom at Daffy’s and collapsed. I recuperated at the Times Square Chevy’s. I was tired, agitated and weak, but my ride home was so beautiful. I passed Bryant Park and remembered that I live here now. New York is such an amazing place.

Tonight Dione and I came home and frightfully dialed our famous dancer (who we spoke to before. ) Not only did he arrange us a backstage tour at the ballet, but a possible exclusive viewing of a “Romeo + Juliet” rehearsal! An exclusive rehearsal of New York City Ballet! I’m in disbelief! Dione and I hung up and I immediately dialed Tonya Plank and she called her friend Lauren (who’s a huge fan of the dancer). We danced for joy and I played Madonna’s “Vogue” to amplify the moment. Next week will be amazing.

Steps on Broadway is like a rite of passage for any dancer who comes to New York. My little sister Dione has been to the city 8 times, and never had a chance to stop in for a class. Thursday morning we walked through wet Upper West Side to the studios, which are crammed right in the middle of a supermarket. We rode a tight elevator to the third floor, and were met with their busy front desk.

The studios were covered in dancers. They were strewn about the hallway stretching, poking their heads in classrooms and snacking at the Steps café. Dione took a intermediate pro-ballet class from Nancy Bielski and while in class, Mother and I strolled around the West Side. We shopped in furniture stores and parked ourselves in a Starbucks on Amesterdam and 67th street. I eavesdropped on a duo from ABC news who gossiped about “Nightline.”

When we returned to Steps Dione told us that she got “her butt kicked.” But was elated that her teacher gave her a “good job” and complimented her when she did 6 pirouettes. She wanted to attend the class of doom–a.k.a. Mr. Burmann’s super hard advanced pro-ballet class that all the principal dancers from ABT take, but chickened out (I don’t blame her!). I’m really tempted to take their almost-beginner ballet classes since I haven’t taken a class in 8 months!

Mass at St. Patrick’s.

Happy Holiday’s from The Arts et al. Yours truly celebrated with Christmas Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. My favorite Christmas present was the one I bought myself: a ticket to a Saturday matinee performance of Peter Martin’s “Romeo + Juliet!” It will also commemorate my first day of independence in New York City.

As Kurt Cobain sings “All apologies.” Yours truly presents herself to you in total humility. On December 23 we saw a few friends from Mobile, who like my mother and sister, have been bi-coastal for the past few years. They both read this blog, and when we parted one of them said “Don’t put my name on your blog and I’ll be happy.”

I’ve crossed a line somewhere.

I know I’ve done it because I’ve been rationalizing with myself ever since this blog turned into dance and music gossip for the sake of keeping my stats high. Heck. I used to write about serious stuff and not-so-serious stuff. I’m having trouble finding a middle ground.

From now on, however, names will be reduced to descriptions. I’ve never posted full conversations before, I always edit out personal things and private things and will continue to do so. I’m very grateful for what my friend said last night, I always need to be kept in check.

Last night was unexpected and amazing. I suffered through yesterday with a head cold and expected to spend the night in my apartment, but I ended up on the West Side in what ABT’s Maria Riccetto calls “The Dance Belt.” It seems all adventures begin and end there.

Dione met a friend for dessert at Café Mozart, and mother and I went with her to make sure she arrived safely. While she ate we walked the surrounding blocks. We stopped in Barnes and Noble to look at Kathryn Morgan’s cover, then stopped in Starbucks. We began to see the crowds from “The Nutcracker” on the streets, and tried to call Dione to see if she was finished with dessert but she didn’t answer her phone.

“If she’s not at the café then where is she?” mother asked.

“She can be one of two places,” I said. “And I hope she isn’t at either of them.” My sister is extremely gutsy, and I knew it was a big mistake to tell her where the NYCB stage door was. She called me frantically when we were halfway to Café Mozart.

“I saw Robbie Fairchild!” she said.

“What? How? Where are you?” I asked.

“At the stage door.”

Mother and I made it there as the Philharmonic concert was emptying into the plaza. Dione and her friend Laura were chatting with a member of the NYCB corps named Savannah just as I reached them.

“We saw Robbie Fairchild!” she said again, and told us that when he came outside everyone applauded and he smiled. “He looked at me. And he was so pretty in person.”

We continued to wait by the door for awhile, and I noticed how dead and quiet NYCB’s stage door was compared to the MET stage door when ABT performs.

“We’re going to embarrass ourselves if we stay out here any longer,” I said.

As we stepped from the door two dancers exited, Sarah Mearns (she’s so gorgeous, I’m so jealous) with her little black dog and her boy friend. We stood watching them walk away in the dark then said good bye to Laura and rode a taxi home. Dione had so much gossip to tell me on the way home that we were giggling ourselves into the apartment. I didn’t hit the bed until after 11 p.m.

Today marked the end of my first week in my New York apartment. I can pen dozens of cliche “end of an era” phrases to convey the tone of this time, but they don’t fit. Living in the city was a dream I’ve always had. I expected it to come true when I was 37 years old. To be here, and only 23, feels surreal.

My biggest fear is losing my love of the city. Wednesday night after a lovely dinner with friends, I trumped through wet midtown still feeling warm and fuzzy from a glass of rose Cotes de Provence wine. All the glitz of Time Square melted around me in the rain, and my hands were ice. My doggie-bag of skirt steak began to disintegrate in the freezing rain. Heck, it was a potential ”I hate New York moment” but something about it was so magical. I passed Rockefeller Center and reminded myself that these solitary joys will be mine for as long as I live in the city.

I heard you have seven years to become a resident and maybe then I’ll be jaded and cynical about city life. For me that translates to seven years of magic and to that I say: time please run slow.

Last night was marked by two dinners, the first with my mentor and friend Anne Midgette (she used to write music reviews for the NY Times, but will be taking a position at the Washington Post soon) and her husband Greg Sandow. Our meeting for drinks turned into a full meal, with lots of laughter, toasts, and talks of the arts community. Anne leaves soon to take her post as chief music critic at the Washington Post. I will miss her very much.

After hugging Anne and shaking hands with Greg, I parted just as rain drizzled in midtown Manhattan. I tried desperately to hail a cab with no luck. I made lemonades out of my misfortune by strolling through wet Times Square. Navigating the puddles, crowds, traffic and noise was like swimming. I surfaced on Madison Avenue, and decided just to ride the bus home.

Today we got a late start but decided to go people-watching in “The Dance Belt” (the streets and areas on the west side surrounding Lincoln Center that dancers frequent). Mother grew hungry so I took she and Dione to Le Pain Quintoden, the same place Tonya Plank and The Winger’s Tony Schultz ate at in July. We sat at the community table and I sipped their ultra-rich Belgian hot chocolate, Dione swears she saw Sasha Radetsky.

We walked through Time Warner Center and stopped at Borders for a copy of Dance Spirit but they didn’t have it, so we took a cab home. I think I’ll spend tomorrow learning the subway system.

I posted a few months ago that I heard a rumor that former Mobile Ballet dancer turned NYCB star Kathryn Morgan would be on the cover of January’s Dance Spirit and it’s true! I was just about to blog about how Kathryn’s dad told Dione that he reads this blog when she saw him in JFK airport on the way to the city (he was going to see her as Sugarplum) when I remembered to check their site!

The cover photo can be found at the official Dance Spirit site (you can also purchase a copy via this site) and a behind the scenes video of her shoot can be watched here. She looks amazing in the video! I know I gush a lot about dancers, but I think Kathryn Morgan is most deserving of her fame–not only because of her talent, and that she’s from my town and my former ballet company, but because she and her family are such good people!

The view from my 5th floor apartment window after my first New York snow!