July 20, 2009

I've just tried the new PinkBerry coconut flavor and I am telling you, it will CHANGE YOUR LIFE. I don't even like PinkBerry. But this latest creation, this I love. I love it so much that after I grabbed a sample on the way home from disgusting repulsive hot-as-Africa yoga, then got a cup of it, I proceeded to inhale half of it on the 1-block walk home. When I got here I was so excited to shower and then eat the rest while curled up on the sofa watching Entourage on the DVR, so I walked toward the freezer to leave it there and on the way I DROPPED IT THE WHOLE THING FACE FIRST ON THE FLOOR. I fell to my knees praying to the gods of all things life-changing that there was perhaps some left in the container that I could still eat once I picked it up off the floor and turned it over, YES IT'S THAT GOOD, but alas it was not to be and I had to wipe it all up with Clorox wipes and I'm already thinking about getting more of it tonight after dinner. This time perhaps with a lid.
Aaaah. You should really try it.

July 19, 2009

Today I blew out my flip-flop. I did not step on a pop-top, but I did finally understand what the hell Jimmy Buffett has been singing about all these years. I felt sad as I tossed my trusty black 8-year old first-ever-pair of Havaianas into the trash, next to coffee grounds, old cheese and a Clorox wipe. They were the same flip-flops that had walked me onto countless beaches, thru lengthy shopping expeditions, down stairs behind bookcases and into the back rooms of Canal Street, across the Great Wall, into relationships, out of relationships, oh there you are back into the same relationships, through Sicily, the Philippines, a slew of islands, too many subway floors to count, sporting battle wounds of white paint from renovating an old beach bathroom, dulled by countless hours spent on my sweaty feet and then pedicured feet only to sweat again, soaking in the sun and sand and salt water and bbq sauce (I can't help it I'm messy when I eat). I also felt a strange sense of pride at being in a club I thought was reserved for parrotheads, pirates staring at 40 and people whose attitudes change depending on their latitudes. Today I joined the club of people who have blown out their flip-flops. And I feel liberated.

July 8, 2009

Earlier today I walked past what I thought was a handsome man crossing the street. For two seconds I actually visualized the wedding, my simple yet stunning dress and to some extent the perfect children we would eventually have. I quickly thought what a shame it is that it's not socially acceptable to just start talking to strangers in the middle of an intersection, maybe exchanging numbers and making plans for a drink that evening. Just now, walking home from yoga, I walked past the same man, only now he was sprawled out on the ground in a doorway, too drunk to sit up properly, face burnt from the sun, because apparently he is homeless and homeless people have no roof to shield them from the elements. His shirt was torn and he was also missing a shoe. I don't know what else to say really.

July 2, 2009

Waiting for the Acela this morning, along with every other living, breathing person on the planet. At one point I said out loud, "This place is like Grand effing Central." To which a cop next to me replied, "Worse. It's Penn Station."
I love New York.

July 1, 2009

This week leading up to summer's biggest holiday has meant whiling away hours of sunshine by the Hudson with the girl in a hat, waiting out a thunderstorm with the flock and our old friend Patron, learning to play new songs on six strings, Chinese food with TV's rising star and now packing for an island best known for its crabs and football. Next week when I'm back out east, my new form of transportation (and amusement) will be waiting for me...