Meanwhile, Back in Mayberry...

I'm back home in Brookline now. My friend Hiro and I went into the AT & T store to see if they had sold out of the new iPhones. We walked in and saw one of Brookline's finest standing near the door. I asked him if he was always there, and he said no. I asked him if he was there for the iPhone, and he nodded. I couldn't help it, I said the first thing that popped into my head: "Fucking A!" Seriously, I should be happy that I live in a town with so little crime that they can dispatch officers to the local AT & T store to deal with a fucking promotion, but I had to shake my head. Two ends of the police spectrum from NYC to Brookline, that's for sure.

NYC's Finest

Yesterday I was walking down the street and I stuck my hand in my purse to find my subway card. I didn't find it immediately, so I wanted to go through my purse. I saw 4 police officers standing in one area, two against a building, and two near the curb. I figured it was safe to go through my purse near police officers. When I was done, I said to them, "I figured it was safe to go rifling through my purse next to you; who's gonna mug me with police officers?" One of them said, "Don't count on it", and the other one replied, "Welcome to New York."

Carrying on the Tradition

So my dad had tickets to the ballet last night, and of course he couldn't make it. My poor brother had to take the phone call of the woman he was supposed to go with and tell her why she wouldn't be going. My sister-in-law and I were going to go, but at the end of the day she wasn't into it, so I did what my dad had done on so many occasions. I decided to scalp them.

My brother was afraid I'd go out there and scream about my dad couldn't go to the ballet because he was dead, and did anyone want these tickets for a good price, but I have just a shred of tact in me, so I didn't do it that way. I actually started trying to sell them from the apartment building. I asked a well dressed couple if they wanted them, and they politely declined. Then I asked a man and woman who were getting out of their car. The woman said she would have loved to go, but they were going to Shakespeare in the Park. Another fine cultural event in NYC; we wished each other well and went on our respective ways.

My friend Victor and I got down to Lincoln Center, and I started asking people as soon as we got out of the cab. I asked two older women, but they already had tickets. I told them they were my father's tickets and he couldn't make it. "Why don't you go?" one of them asked. I told them I had family business to attend to, and I couldn't. See, didn't embarass anyone!

We made it to the entrance, and I held up my tickets like the other people were doing. A couple of people stopped and looked, but passed. It was about 20 minutes to curtain, so I wanted to get rid of them fast. Two guys approached me at the same time, and I offered them to one, but he had to go check with his friend. Victor followed him to see if he would come back, and by the time he did, making an offer, I just wanted to sell 'em fast. They were $34 each, worth $68, and Victor's guy was offering $40 for the pair. It took too long for him to come back, and the other guy was asking did I want to get rid of them, 10 minutes to curtain, so I just said yes and he gave me $30 for the pair. Victor ragged on me for a minute because he could have gotten me ten more bucks, but you know what? It was my first time, and I had $30 more than I would have had they just sat on the table in the apartment like they almost did. I felt good about carrying on Dad's tradition. I think he would have been proud, although he would have been slightly more savvy than I. Here's to you, Dad. Viva la scalp!

Small Comforts

It's so comforting to know that although the neighborhood I grew up in has changed a lot, in some ways it's very much the same. I had to do some laundry, and the laundrymat where I used to go as a teenager is still there, so that's where I did my laundry. The people were different, and the little nasty Pomeranian wasn't there anymore, but it looked basically the same. I sat outside while the washing machine did its thing and listened to my iPod as I watched the people go by.

I've been taking great shots of NYC scenes, which I'll post when I get home. New York, New York, it's a hell of a town.

Getting Personal

I don't usually get too personal on this blog, but I feel like it right now. My dad died last weekend, in his sleep, listening to classical music. A perfect way to go, in my opinion.

I "came home" to NYC from Boston, and I've been getting blasts from the past ever since I've been here. My dad has lived in this building for 39 years, since I was a baby. I lived here till I was 7, and then came on weekends after my parents got divorced. My brother has lived here with my dad for the past 17 years.

I was sitting on the step the other night, an activity I have done since I was a kid, watching the people go by. Neighbor after neighbor came into the building, and it was like "This is Your Life." I only see these people every few years, since I'm in Boston, but they always say hi and ask about my dad and brother. I got a huge dose of comic relief from one couple. I told them my dad had died listening to music, and the husband said, "What station? I'm not listening to it; I don't want to die!" Oh god, that was funny. Then the wife told me about this show they had just seen that I had to go to, it was only here till July 1st. Such New Yorkers, I love it.

I came in the other day with a bag full of stuff, and I put it on the radiator to wait for the elevator. The sound of the bag hitting the radiator gave me a flashback to my childhood. Strange and comforting how tiny things like sounds or smells can bring you back to a place you haven't thought about for a long time.

We're bonding, my brother, sister-in-law, and I. Going through stuff, throwing away bags and bags of stuff, sorting through papers. I keep calling his financial institutions, and they all say they need a death certificate. Poor man just got "out of the oven" as it were, and here I am trying to take care of business. It's the way we're grieving. I know I need to slow down, but I don't know how. Perhaps writing this will help. It's not even 9 am. Sigh.

Weather...or Not

Today is June 14th. It was 55 degrees today in Boston. I saw more than one person walking around in a down jacket. Another person was wearing a scarf. The heat is still on in my house. How can a person enjoy a picnic wearing long johns? This is not right. It just isn't.

A Clean Apartment in Half an Hour!

Want to make your apartment spic and span? Want to have it done quickly?
Here are 6 easy steps to a place that looks like new!

1) Have a meeting scheduled, in 30 minutes.

2) Have your cat go poop, but not quite all the way.

3) Have her scuttle all over the apartment on her ass, trying to get it out. Make sure she covers the kitchen, the floor, the rug, and the $69 Ralph Lauren bath rug (which was a gift, you would never pay $69 for a bath rug).

4) When the place stinks to high heaven, and her mission is complete, shove her out into the hallway, and grab the vacuum and Murphy's Oil Soap.

5) Scrub the floors and carpets with the soap, on your hands and knees, like Cinderella. It's the only way to get a floor really clean. Curse the cat you formerly referred to as "my baby".

6) Vacuum the floor and rugs.

In under 30 minutes, your place will be clean as new, and no one will know what unspeakable horror occurred but you and the cat (and the neighbor, whom you called to vent your frustrations). Voila!

Another day at Starbucks

See the guy wearing the khaki cargo shorts? He doesn't feel like holding his book, so he put it in the back of his pants. I have never understood this practice, in particular from a guy who has at least 6 pockets in his pants. Thoughts?

High Expectations

Today I had my first English lesson with two Japanese boys, ages 10 and 8. They're both very shy and quiet, and they've only been here for a couple of months. Their 5 year old sister flitted back and forth among us.

I brought a card game that I use in all of my first lessons, and I'd say it was a success. I got them to laugh a lot, in their shy way, and that's always one of my goals. The 8 year old won every game, even though this was the first time he had played it. I helped the 10 year old with English sentences, and we ended with talk of birthdays. At one point the boys had a race with their electronic dictionaries to find out how to say a Japanese word in English. I had a great time.

The 10 year old disappeared at the end, so I asked the 8 year old if he liked the lesson. Talking through his mother, he said it was "futsuu", which means "ordinary." When he saw the exaggerated look of shock on my face, he changed it to "between neutral and interesting." What I love the most is how kids will tell it like it is, no matter what. This kid has high expectations. Guess I'll have to step up my game. Next week he won't know what hit him.

It's Just Another Vermin Monday

I'm known as the animal rescuer at my school. In the past 10 years, I have rescued a frog, a pigeon, several insects, and have assisted in the rescue of an opossom and a bat. Today's rescue was a baby mouse. Poor little thing was just sitting there, separated from its nest, looking cute and forlorn at the same time. I would have liked to return it to its mummy, but there were curious children crowding around. I ended up taking it outside to the far corners of the property, where it immediately made a meal of a rain-soaked leaf. I figure it'll take about a week to make its way back.

After school I went to Starbucks to relax for awhile. My table was already occupied--by a huge cockroach. I didn't rescue this one; I asked someone to bring a broom and smash it. After I took a picture, of course.