Remember my nasty knee abrading slip weeks ago? The one from which I finally recovered enough to go back to yoga? The one that left me with an unfading pink spot that makes it look like I spend a significant amount of my free time genuflecting?
Posts under ‘Everyday’
Back in my day, we used Sharpies
One time I was at a wine bar, and I referred to my wooden purse from the 1970s as “vintage.”
The bartender slapped his hand to his head and rolled his eyes. “You kids,” he scoffed. But he was very understanding when I started losing my accessories and dignity.
Do they poach the pouch?
I went to a fancy-schmancy dinner Saturday night. Kangaroo was on the menu.
The accidental shoplifter
A few weeks ago, I read the book One Hundred Young Americans, which profiles a diverse group of very photogenic teens. Every demographic is covered - skaters, cheerleaders, druggies, cutters, immigrants, young parents, cult members, etc. It’s quite fascinating and the photographs are great.
Meet Gaston
I’m all aboout lists. If a goal is written down and can be crossed out with a colored marker, it’s worth doing. I keep a weekly written list on a large index card, make small daily lists on Post-its, and keep long-term lists on the computer.
The Great Defrosting of 2008
Defrosting one’s freezer is not a difficult enterprise. It’s an archaic one.
Today’s freezers are frost-free, but I live in New York in a building with shoddy wiring, layers of lead paint, and here’s something that reminds me of home in the tropics - the occasional flying cockroach.
Snowy day
Whaddya know? It snowed last night and this morning. Consider my defrosting the freezer a portent.
I most appreciate living on Central Park West when it snows. I need to get up early tomorrow and walk around in the powder before it’s all gone.
This is the view from the window right behind my desk. The snow fell steadily, the flakes getting larger and larger, until lunchtime.
Tights that weren’t
When I was a teacher, kids often marveled at my tights and stockings. Like a good pasty Southern girl, I can’t go bare-legged. It doesn’t matter if there’s a heat index of 110 degrees. The risk of blinding someone is too great. Wearing stockings labeled “Nude,” “Nude Bisque,” and/or “Almost Albino” enables the masses to go on seeing.
Exhibition
These last few days haven’t been very eventful. I’ve felt blah the entire week, but managed to finish up my Pilates class card and schlep my printed and framed photograph to the art gallery. Life Coach was nice enough to drive me to Westchester to do the latter. Somehow the Google Maps directions I printed were wrong, thus ensued a misguided adventure Kerouac would have approved.
They were all Top 40 once
I’m leaving Au Bon Pain at the end of my lunch break, mind atwitter. What is that elevator music tune playing over the din of soup ladling, muffin selecting, and low-carb wrap ordering? I’m extraordinarily good at figuring out what wordless songs are playing, because I either have a special talent or just really good knowledge of music in general.
