backseat

when i was little i always had to sit in the backseat because my sister faked being car sick so she could sit in the front seat. since living in new york and taking cabs, i realize i feel most comfortable in the back seat. it’s a great way to ride around.

the fun thing about a cab adventure is the conversation with the cabbie. last night, i asked him how his night was going. slow, because of the jewish holiday he told me. he seemed a little put out that there are so many jewish holidays. personally, i think it’s awesome.

i don’t find myself in a cab often, but i love the ride back home from park slope, especially the view of manhattan on the BQE. unfortunately, it’s a bumpy road, so at night the photos don’t turn out really well.

hitchhiking

i attended an alumni social event this evening. my expectations were low, so i wasn’t disappointed. i left early only to find out it was pouring rain, i did not have an umbrella. there’s no duane reade near the plaza hotel. i think the closest one is at 6th and 57th.

i huddled under the scaffolding waiting for the rain to stop until it seemed like it wouldn’t. i decided i would try to hitchhike my way to lex and 63rd. (it’s closer than lex and 53rd from the plaza hotel.) made eye contact with a guy wearing some pretty fly headphones and more importantly carrying an umbrella.

i asked where he was going. he said lexington. i asked if i could walk with him. he said sure.

i told him it’s okay if you want to listen to your headphones. he said, nah.

we walked. under his umbrella. it was still raining.

i asked what he was listening to on his headphones. he told me some house.

i asked him if he’d ever hitchhiked before. he said no. i said me neither. he said but it’s a crazy city ya know.

i had a big smile on my face because it was my first time hitchhiking. he seemed to be enjoying it, too.

he asked me where are you going. i said lex and 63rd. he said i’m going to zara.

he said that was a fun experience. i said thank you so much. we shook hands.

it was only a light drizzle at this point. he crossed the street. i walked to the end of the block and crossed.

i love new york.

this here giraffe

when i was little, i was at the zoo (probably in chicago) with my grandfather. on the walk from the parking lot to the entrance, he asked what my favorite animal is. i somehow hadn’t thought about it before. on the fly i said the giraffe is my favorite. it has remained so (perhaps because i am so fiercely loyal), although there are many animals that capture my affection. dolphins, cats of all kinds, seals, sea lions, walruses, horses…i could go on. and on. i love all the animals, maybe that’s why i hadn’ t chosen a favorite before that moment. i didn’t know i needed to.

i bought a set of medicine cards a year or so ago. in it are a few blanks where you can name an animal of your  choice. of course i chose giraffe for one of them.

as it turns out, giraffes symbolize grace. one source says it is divine in origin and represents the indispensable  gift for development, improvement, and expansion of one’s character. the ability to rise above the negative events of time.

did my little 4-year old self intuit this? the giraffe just suits me. perfectly.

at the lakehouse

one of the most remarkable changes i saw this summer was during my visit to the lake. my best friend from childhood had a bunch of us out to her parents’ lakehouse near gun barrel city, texas.

it had been exactly 4 years since i’d been there. at that time it had been less than 6 months since her mother passed away from cancer. the house hadn’t been updated since her parents built it in 1971. the dock was in disrepair. the boat was not functioning. there were heavy drapes, vertical blinds, and banana yellow carpeting.

her father remarried. his new wife took charge of the updating. inside the house felt fresh and vibrant. hardwood flooring replaced the carpeting everywhere but the living room floor, still undecided and bare concrete. i recommended sealing the concrete. the heavy drapes and vertical blinds are gone. the dark wood painted white. a new dock was built. waverunners and a new boat were added. a fire pit. a huge storage shed that is completely organized. it was reminiscent of a brady bunch reunion. where everything is sort of the same but entirely different.

not sure why i didn’t take any pictures of any of these changes.

my friend’s dad built these awesome bench swings. this one used to be in the yard, now it’s on the upper level of the dock. it says waistin’ time.

it was so lovely spending time floating around off the dock. because of the drought, the lake was 6 feet lower than normal.

this is the hootin holler. a must stop when visiting gun barrel city.

fireworks from the fire pit.

this area was completely overgrown with ivy last time i visited.

remnants of fireworks the next morning.

lakes are so peaceful in the morning.

i had never seen the pool table before because it was always covered and always had things on top of it. apparently it’s in need of repair, but since it’s an antique the repairmen didn’t want to take the chance of  damaging it. my friend’s father said he’d be dead when it’s taken out of the house. i’m glad he put his foot down.

the worst part is the person next door who owned 3 lots died. the lots got split. 2 mcmansions were built and a tiny slice with trees is left between their house and the mcmansions. if someone builds on the lot it will ruin everything.

change is the most fascinating of all phenomena

did a late summer cleaning.

always start with the surface. sweeping all the dust out from under my bed reminds me how dirty the air is living so close to the BQE. although, all 7 apartments where i’ve lived in NYC have gotten really dirty really quickly. the air here is dirty.

i came across an “autobiography” that i wrote in my Life Stories class senior year at Elon. my immediate reaction was, not much has changed. how could that be? so much has changed. my voice has definitely changed drastically for starters. my friends have changed, my circle has changed. in some ways nothing has changed at all. how can that be?

the most gradual change rests in the deepest depths. the karmic lessons. maybe that’s why the only lasting change must come from within. in some ways i feel like i’m still inside of the cocoon. no matter how deep i go, there’s always another layer to peel. i feel love, joy, and gratitude for the friends who have been/are present on the journey.

from a writing prompt, what i want:

what i want…i want to be happy.

i want a job i love.

i want enthusiasm and energy.

i want to never lose my mind.

i want a perfect boy.

i want to give,

to contribute,

somehow make a difference.

i want my dreams to never end.

i want to be tan

and i want to be healthy.

i want to conquer.

i want to read more books.

i want my parents to be happy.

i want to think about others.

i want to live in Spain.

i want to travel.

i want to go to South America.

i want the earth to be clean.

the craziness to end,

the suburbs to explode.

i want to make art,

and i want to make money.

i want to learn how to blow glass.

i want to use public transportation.

i want the days to be warm and sunny.

i want to see frogs fall from the sky.

i want to eat good food.

i want to not lose touch with my friends.

reality.

maybe someday kids,

a dog,

and a cat.

i want to play.

i want to feel,

want to be,

want to want.

i want to be successful,

good things for other people.

i want to see the leaves change in the fall.

i want to swim in the Mediterranean.

i want a Picasso original.

i want to meet someone i love.

i want to run through a field

of wildflowers

and tumble down

a grassy knoll.

i want others to have good thoughts of me.

i want to look at the stars

through a telescope.

may 2001.

prague sounds lovely

i said prague sounds lovely, he said let’s go.

i didn’t say are you having a midlife crisis. i didn’t say

are you on a path of self destruction. i said

hah! i wanted to say when.

i said you’re a ginormous tease.

he said if you want to know what a tease is, read the book i just read:

dh lawrence’s sons and lovers.

she said i say go

she said prague is my favorite EURO city.

she said it’s romantic, haunted, and you’ll love it.

i said he wasn’t serious.

she said buuuumMer dude!

he said maybe you should be talking to a more serious fella. just sayin.

meatpacking district

love these meatpacking district photos from 1985/2013 from brian rose.

life of wallet, celebrated

i bought this wallet in 2002 at a little head shop in plano called retro revolution.  it was a place that didn’t exist when i was in high school, seemed like a big deal at the time. they sold bongs, in plano. and beautiful glass jewelry, i still have a piece i bought there.

the wallet was $10. i bought it because i lost the indigo yak wool coin purse i’d had for only a short time. there was an era of my early adulthood when i lost my wallet all the time. (i think i got the indigo yak wool coin purse at emeralds to coconuts in dallas. it was summertime when i lost it, so i must have only had it a month or two.) my maryland driver license was in the indigo yak wool coin purse,  problematic because i’d moved back to texas. all of this was so long ago, i was a different person then.

so here the trusty little durable velcro hemp wallet is, 11 years later. a little bit worn, but still totally functional. it’d probably last another 11 years if i wanted it to, but it’s time to move on.  i can’t believe it never got lost, that might be more amazing than its durability.

i stumbled upon a tibetan store walking down 2nd avenue the other day. i used to live in the neighborhood, but never noticed it. probably better that way, he’s got so many great things inside. at some point i have to go back to get the telescope and compass, but i couldn’t pass up this coin purse (and a couple of scarves and a magic skirt).

don’t worry about it

yesterday morning i was almost to the stairs to go underground when i realized i forgot my wallet. i quickly turned around and jogged all the way down the block back to 41st avenue. i got about halfway back to my apartment where the man sits in the morning on the brick planter in front of his building.

“good morning,” he says every morning when i pass. “have a nice day.”

i always smile and return the sentiment.

i had already passed him on this day i forgot my wallet, and here i was passing him again.

“you forgot something?”

“i forgot my MTA card.”

“oh here, let me give you some cash.”

“oh, no, i can’t.”

“don’t worry about it,” he said pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket.

he handed me a $20. omg.

i thanked him after he wouldn’t let me refuse, told him i’d get him back tomorrow morning, and was quickly on my way back to the subway station.

this morning i left a little earlier and stopped at the ATM to pull out $20 to pay him back. as i approached his building i noticed he wasn’t sitting in his usual spot. i put the 2 10s the ATM dispensed back in my wallet and figured i’ll see him tomorrow, hoping he won’t think i took off with his $20.

halfway down the block almost to the subway stop, i’m somewhere in my head.

“hello, how are you today?” are the words that interrupt wherever i was.

i look up, there he is walking with a newspaper and a brown bag presumably with his breakfast inside of it.

“oh!” i pull out my wallet and start to unzip the compartment holding the cash.

“don’t worry about it, just go to work!” he tells me.

tomorrow morning i’ll try again.

ordinary delightfulness

cleaning up tonight i found a list of ordinary delightfulness from last fall:

puffy clouds

the smell of rain before a storm

rainbows

mochi for breakfast

lounging with a lover

stringed quartet

homemade pancakes

making chocolate chip cookies with my mom

striped socks

socks with stars

socks that climb all the way up to my knees

glittery goodness in the sky

hello moon.

hello magic wand.

the smell of lilies, white or baby pink, roses, gardenias

running into an old but not forgotten friend

a big hug, both giving and receiving

laughing so hard my cheeks hurt

realizing something wonderful has come full circle

exchanging a smile with a stranger

coloring eggs

dancing

the smell of freshly cut grass

reading kurt vonnegut

reading an amazing poem for the first time

finding an umbrella corpse after a rain storm

a pot of brown rice cooked perfectly

the express train pulling up just as i make it to the bottom of the stairs

hearing a story of ordinary magic

freshly laundered linens

candles

a handwritten letter in my mailbox

a dog wagging its happy tail

kittens!

hearing foreign languages on my way to the train stop

falling in love with new york all over again

the smell of fresh pine

camping in a tent under a million stars

finding a beautiful rock on a hike

dolphins

sharing a sunset

witnessing the power of people coming together

a cup of hot chocolate when the first cold front of the season rolls in

having an epiphany

snuggles from a cat

hearing the laughter of children….

i can definitely expand this list, but at least now i can recycle the paper that was sitting around my room.