Momomama
The bong is gone. Did one of my neighbors take it? Is it sitting on Duckie the retired telephone operator's coffeetable? Is creepy staring guy using it to lure lovely female tenants into what I imagine is his S and M dungeon apartment? Did Joel the aged bachelor bring it over to his mother's apartment across the street when he visited for lunch? Or did Jose just put it in the trash?
Who cares? I just wish someone would leave a new pair of pants, in my expanded size, at the bottom of the stairwell, so I can once again breathe and not feel ready to rip the butt wide open.
People leave their trash at the bottoms of the stairwells in my building. We are all very good about leaving useful items to the side, and unbagged, should someone want them. As of ten o'clock last night, no one had picked up the nearly new bong at the bottom of the stairs in the Embassy building.
A man, his muscle car and its license plate which reads "pant4me." Yet another reason to love driving to work.
I am glad I am not a phenylketonuric. Because I chew a lot of Trident and also because it's really hard to spell, and I have no idea how to pronounce it. Which reminds me, I hope there are no other words hidden in my brain that I think are pronounced one way but are really said another way. Because when I find one of those it's always embarrassing. (See the great Hedge-a-monie Shame of 1996.)
Reuben. You are the king of sandwiches. Provenance unknown...was it New York or Kansas City? Were you made for poker players or Chaplin's costar? It does not matter. All that matters is your drippy, crunchy, chewy beauty. You have made me love sauerkraut. Again. Bless you, Reuben. You are so wonderful that even one of the American Idol Contestants is named after you...Hold me, Reuben.
I wonder why I am so transparent to myself? On Saturday night, I had the following dream.
I had a baby. As in, I gave birth. The baby's name was Calla but I was calling her Lulu (or was it Lola?) She was beautiful. I loved her more than anything, and I knew that she was all I wanted. And I left her home alone to go to work.
Something tells me it's time to revisit my priorities!
I just realized my calling in life. I am made to be a guide for walking tours, am I not?
While it may feel like winter again now, yesterday was definitely summer. I know this because summer is the only time you would ever ever see a guy with a big old snake around his neck crossing Main Street in White Plains. The guy and his friend (both tough guys, by the looks of them) crossed the street in front of me. They stopped and stood in front of Two Brothers Beauty Supply, with their legs sread and hips thrust forward. I sat in my car, stopped at the red. No one else seemed to notice the snake, though there were lots of business men and women passing by, on their way to the train station so they could get home and pull off their panyhose and their ties. Just as the walk signal changed to a flashing don't walk, two girls ran across the street. One white girl with staight blonde hair down to her butt, one streak of pink tucked behind her ear. One latina with her hair in school girl pony tails and a ring in her eyebrow. They had similar outfits on - black school girlish pleated miniskirts, belts with metal grommets and spikes, and tannk tops - white girls in white, hispanic girl in red. They look young enough to be in high school still and I wondered why they are out and about, and then I realized it was five-thirty in the evening. The blonde girl skipped straight over to the guy with the snake and friend. Her friend followed with less enthusiasm. I watched the blonde girl lift the snake's head with the tip of her fingers. She lowered her face, lips puckered toward the snakes flicking tongue. And the light turned green.
For the past three months, this ad has been running in the Plattsburgh paper....
5 PEOPLE NEEDED
We are taking applications for full and part time employment. We provide training. Opportunity to earn $2,000/mo. while training. Serious applicants apply only. If you are ready to start work immediately, Call Monday ONLY!
562-3453. EOE
I guess no one is ready to work.
****
Everyday, I read that paper's classifieds online, and it just depresses the hell out of me. For a while, someone wanted a day care person that they could pay $4 an hour. And they wanted an adult, with a car, and experience with kids. A great salary upstate is $30,000 a year. Yes, it costs less to live there, but come on. The average executive in Essex County, where Bill lives, makes less than $30,000 a year. An executive. I should have learned French. Then I could commute to Montreal for work.
I want to put on a sundress and loll around on the lawn with the students. I want strapping young college boys to leap balletically over me as they chase their frizbees. I want a cone of soft serve, and I want to sit on a picnic table while I eat it. I want to bury my feet in hot sand and wiggle down my toes until I hit water. I want to sit on a patio and drink a fruity drink, or maybe have a gin and tonic and a side of fruit. I want to sit in a canoe and not have to paddle, but just be able to drag my fingers through the water. I want to sit on a blanket under the stars, and I don't mind if I have to swat at a few mosquitos for the privilege. I want to walk through my neighborhood at sunset, and listen to the kids playing and wave at people on their porches, and watch lights come on inside. I want a porch, a porch swing, and a tire swing too. I want to be working outside, mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, looking for snakes in the grass. I want to float on a raft, nap on a hammock and see the shapes in the clouds. But there aren't even any clouds. It is just the most beautiful spring day and the grass is growing and the frisbees are flying and I can not wait until five when I can enjoy it.
Today I got new contacts and now my face looks empty. It's been a while since I wore contacts (laziness). When I first went back to my glasses, my face looked too crowded, and now it's like one of my features has been removed. An ugly feature. The contacts and the haircut (which doesn't look so great today) are all part of my master plan of fighting the cases of the uglies I seem to have contracted. Now all I need is new shoes and maybe a tan and I will once again be ready to attack the world.
From today's New York Times: "Today, the Army, seeking to demonstrate that its troops in Iraq are "liberators" and not "conquerors" barred any display of the American flag on vehicles, buildings, statues, and command posts."
Apparently I was not the only person who was not completely appalled at that Marine rubbing the face of the Saddam statue with the American flag. To me all that said was "This is our country now." Granted, I happen to think that this whole war is an Imperialist mission, but can't we be more subtle about it?
Oh god. I am afraid my new haircut with bouncy layers looks like a mullet. If it does, I will pretend it is ironic.
I was standing in the door of my office when Ilja, my Sarah Lawrence Don, came in.
(If you don't know from the Don this explains it.) He took one look at me and said, "You're getting married." I last talked to him in the early Fall (or perhaps even the late Spring.) I told him about Bill, a little bit. But Ilja is one of those people who are so intuitive, so aware, they just KNOW things. "I can see there's something different in your face, my dear." That's how he knew.
Due to the SNOW we had a half day of work yesterday. I went home and did laundry and watched Passions and Dr Phil and Oprah, as I was too lazy to read. Finally at five, I decided Momo needs some snow play time, as he loves it so. I put him on the 30 foot lead, took him to the baseball field, and tried to interest him in his toy. No dice. He just kind of wanted to trot around and not play. Until angel showed up. Angels is an 80 pluis pound yellow lab (male) and Mo has always had issues with him. But angels owner let him off leash and he ran over, tail wagging. Then he stole Mo's toy right out of my hand. The chase was on. For the next fifteen minutes a ball of Brittany Lab fur rolled around the outfield. There were games like: "Tug on that End of the Toy While I Tug on This One," "Let Me Take Your Leash into My Mouth and Pull You Around aka Dog Walks Dog", "Lie Down and I Will Mount Your Head," "Stand Up and Will Mount Your Ass, Dirty Head Mounter," "We'll Bring the toy to the Lady Together," "Watch Me Steal Your Toy," and "Let's Collapse, Exhausted, in the Snow." Momo wishes it could snow everyday, evern though it means he can't try and pee on the daffodils.
Ever had a nice, reliable friend? One you can count on to be there for you. in good times and bad? One who shelters you, and helps you get where you need to be? One who protects you? And did that friend suddenly turn on you, give you the finger, stamp on your toe, and then poke you in your eye? This happened to me. My friend Trixie has betrayed me. First she started in on the whining. Just now and again, not at all the time. But enough. It's not like her to whine. Nor is it like her to get a flat tire, but she went and did that on Saturday. And we (okay, Bill) fixed her tire, and gave her the good loving, and yet, she whines some more. Why, Trixie, why? I know I should not have taken you through those deep deep puddles that time. And I should get you oil changed right at 3000 miles, and I really should give you a new windshield wiper. I wish I had a nice warm garage for you, and that you didn't have tp spend the night in that PUBLIC parking lot. But I do love you, Trix. And that is why you are going to visit Yuki on Wednesday. He comes highly recommended. I know he sounds a little snappish on the phone, but he will take you anytime, he told me so. He will love you, like I do, no matter what is wrong with you, Trix. He doesn't care what your flaws are, he just wants to see you. Yuki will soothe you. Yuki will replace your wheel bearings, if that's what you need. Or give you new brakes, if you want them. let Yuki fix you. but remember, my love for you is strong, but my check book is weak,and I haven't paid bills yet this month, so make sure you leave me enough to do that, okay, my sweet, sweet Trixie? And I will no longer let Bill talk of replacing you with a four wheel drive vehicle, at least not in your presence. Be well, my friend, be well.
My dog Mo is getting less cuddly as he gets older. He longer likes to sit on my lap all the time, and when he's on the bed, he stays down by my feet. Not last night, though. I was out late and he must have missed me, because I woke up at 2 in the morning feeling his damp puppy panting on my face. There he was just staring at me and smiling. Then, an hour or two later I woke up again, because his front paws were pressing into my back. Finally, at 6am, I rolled over onto his squeaky glow in the dark kitty kat. I think maybe someone needs a long walk tonight.
