Grrr…my pretty little ‘hood on the Hudson is being “discovered” by the masses. How do I know this? Because of the incessant jack-hammering around all the new condos and rentals going up to accommodate the many like-minded peeps who want to ditch Gotham but still keep it in their sight-lines.

In fact, there’s so much construction goin’ on ’round here that it reminds me of Battery Park City, which we fled three years ago because of all the…

…incessant jack-hammering.

Okay, snapping out of Whinge & Whine mode now to report on a phenom that I positively adore about where I live: the multi-culti morning rituals I see when I go for a rog (i.e., my special blend of not-really-jogging-and-not-really-running.)

Take yesterday, for instance. As I trucked along the marina, I saw my neighbors:

1. Sitting on park benches engaged in alternate nostril breathing.

2. Moving gracefully through a series of tai chi moves.

3. Lying face-down on a beautiful embroidered rug, grabbing ass cheeks. (Okay, it was just one guy, and maybe he was a big perv, but it certainly looked like part of some super-serious, elaborate routine.)

4. Power-strollering the mama-weight off. Yay yay yay! Way to go new mommies!

5. Twisting into pretzel-esque yoga positions on the lawn by the so-cute-you-could-just-squish-it miniature lighthouse.

6. Sculpting the booty of their dreams by doing leg lifts with resistance bands.

7. Huffing and puffing through jumping jacks and other flab-busting calisthenics, in a group class in the Town Square led by a fiercely barking fitness guru.

So inspiring, right? Just writing all that has made me jones for a little rog right now, before our big Sunday-morning breakfast and mandatory afternoon viewing of The Smurfs. And I’m off like a prom dress.