You know those times when you stop in your tracks and say to yourself, "I'll never forget this moment. This moment, right here, is changing my life"? Those are really rare, right? At least, for me they are. My trip to New York was full of those moments. It was so much more than I expected. It was beyond fabulous.

A few moments I want to remember:

*Our first night there, we had to rush from the airport to meet Rich, D's friend who works at the Daily Show, to see if we could get into the city in time to see the show taping. We didn't make it, but we went to dinner afterward in Hell's Kitchen (Thai food - the best curry I've ever had), and after that we walked through Times Square to get to our hotel. I'm sure I looked like an idiot, walking down the street with my head tilted up, gawking at the lights, but I couldn't help it. It was just too thrilling. I'm in New York, I thought. I'm really here, and it's beautiful and exciting and magical and wonderful. I was nearly overcome with the desire to throw my hat in the air and shout, "You're gonna make it after all!" a la "That Girl," but I refrained.

*The carriage ride through Central Park Friday morning was freezing, but the fur blanket over our legs kept us warm, and anyway we were too excited to feel the cold. The park was covered in snow and ice, and the trees were bare, but the sky was such a bright, bright blue, and the sun shined down on everything, making even the sidewalks sparkle.

*We took a ferry to Staten Island to see the house where D grew up. On the ferry we sat next to a little old lady. She was small and brown and wore a colorful scarf and hat. Her fingernails were painted bright red, the way my grandmother used to paint her nails. She really did look a lot like her. I wanted to hug her. So I unexpectedly ended up thinking of my beautiful, amazing, wonderful grandmother on a ferry ride to Staten Island. That was nice.

*The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Egyptian exhibit: Some of the tombs had very life-like death portraits on the outside of them. It sounds cheesy, but it really was like looking back through time. It's strange to look into the eyes of a woman who died thousands of years ago. And I'll never forget the stelas, which are writings on the outside of the tombs that revere the dead and their accomplishments. Most were about owning cattle and having children, but one said, "I gave bread to the hungry and gave clothes to the naked. I rescued the weak from the strong." I thought that was beautiful.

*Two old ladies in Rocco's Pastry Shop and Cafe in Greenwich Village, Ella and Phyllis, struck up a conversation with us as we ordered our coffee and dessert (soooo good - mini tarts and eclairs, Italian cookies - yum!). They were so, so talkative and animated. They even pulled out some pictures of their recent trip to Italy, and of their grandchildren. As we walked out, I thought, People want to connect. People want to talk and share and listen, if you give them half a chance. Living in L.A., it's easy to forget that. But it's true. Who would have thought I'd be reminded of it in New York? I want to strike up more conversations with strangers.

*On one of our many subway rides, there was a homeless man asleep on the bench across from us. There was obviously something "wrong" with him - some kind of birth defect. He had only three fingers on each hand, and his eyes were all sunken in. He lay slumped over to one side and snored peacefully until a group of singers came by. They started to sing "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" really loudly, and he woke up. He groaned and moaned really loudly, and I thought, "Wow, he really hates this music." As the singers drew closer, he groaned and grunted even more loudly. Everyone turned their eyes away and pretended not to notice the man or the singers. I was surprised by what happened next: as the singers passed by the man, he reached into his pocket, pulled out some change, and put it in the singers' cup. The singer holding the cup nodded her thanks, and they continued into the next car.

My first thought was, "They shouldn't have accepted the money from him. He's an old homeless man who probably needs every dime he has," but then I realized that accepting his money was the absolute right thing to do. He may need the money, but not accepting it would have stripped him of his dignity. He was enjoying the music and he paid for it, just like anyone else.

*Our last night we went to a Morrocan restauraunt in the East Village. It was one of those places that sits almost underground, where the sidewalk outside is at eye level, so you can see people's legs as they walk their dogs. It was a small place, lit mostly with candles. Though it was late, there were a lot of people having dinner. People sat in small groups. Some were studying. A couple next to us shared dessert. A group next to us was celebrating something - they lifted their glasses to make a toast.

As I sat across the table from D and sipped Morrocan tea (delicious! It was sweet and minty and hot), I thought, I'm happy right now. I'll always remember this time in my life, before anything really bad has ever happened to me, when all the people I love are alive and well in the world, when I'm healthy and content and feeling good about everything. And as I watched people walk by the window to their apartments, or get into cabs, or ride their bikes, or run across the street, I thought, I want to carve out more of a life for myself. I want to know more people, do more things, experience more of life. I want to find something more in my world, because I know it's out there now. I guess I kind of knew before, but something about being there made me sure, and that was good.

So, that's a little bit of my time in New York. But how can I put into words exactly what I experienced? It's impossible. I can tell you about all of the places we visited, all of the food we ate, the people we saw, the pictures we took, but what I really want to tell you is that during that one week in New York, my world expanded just slightly, that my views on things shifted and changed and evolved, just from being there.

What I'll always remember about New York, what I'll treasure the most, are the times when we were just walking through the city, shivering and holding hands and marveling at the lights. What I'll always remember are the moments in between the pictures we took - the moments in between the moments, if you will. It's important to me that one day when I'm an old lady, I'll be able to think to myself, Once when I was young, I was in New York, and I was in love and blissfully happy with my life, the world and everything in it.