Fall in New England--Two Views

There is nothing quite like fall in New England. Here we have all the colors. On the left, Brookline. On the right, Cape Cod. Spectacular.

What's On Tonight?

I am so bummed. I get the Boston Globe delivered to my house every Sunday. I read most of the paper, but the original reason I subscribed was because of the TV Weekly insert. All of the shows for the week are clearly laid out. I can scan, highlight, and know every night what I'm going to watch.

Last week there was a message printed at the top of the TV Weekly. As of next week, the TV Weekly insert will cease to exist. It said something along the lines of "if you want a weekly TV listing, buy our newspaper every day or get a subscription to TV Guide". Dammit! I don't like TV Guide, even less now because they made it huge; it looks like a magazine. I don't like scanning on the TV to see what's on. I like to hold the paper in my hand and highlight. I might be forced to get a subscription.

Yes, I am a TV addict. So sue me. There are worse things.

Shelby Update

Shelby's lab results came back. They're all within the normal range, thank goodness. But now I wonder, what the heck is wrong with her?? I've learned that I'm an expert at popping pills down her throat, and she doesn't even get mad. She knows that Mommny just wants to help. We'll see how she does in the coming days. She's eating more, so things are looking up. Thanks for the good vibes!

Happy Halloween!

There's this place called Camp Sunshine. Last night they tried to break the world record for most lit Jack-O-Lanterns in one place. It was spectacular. It even got political.

Baby's Not Feeling Well

Poor Shelby. She's sick. She's had the runs for four days, and it got so bad I called the vet and they told me to bring her in. She was weighed, prodded,and poked, and had blood taken. She's lost one pound in two months, which is a lot for a cat.

First the doctor took blood from her front leg, and he said it wasn't enough for the tests he wanted to run. He tried her neck next--can you imagine the job of sticking a needle into a cat's neck to take blood?? Two people had to hold her while this was being done, and he couldn't get a good vein. Next, he tried her rear leg. Nothing. I told her if her veins were as big as her paws, we'd be fine, but no such luck. Finally, he tried her other leg and got some more blood, which he said would have to do.

Then they took her in the back and gave her some fluids. Then back to the exam table to get a giant blue pill stuck down her throat. I watched the doctor's technique carefully--lift the head all the way back to open the throat, pop the pill down, then put her head down for swallowing. She fought him, and it will take two people. I have to do this twice a day for the next 7-10 days. A picnic. I can't wait.

$217 dollars later, she's home resting from her traumatic morning.
I have to go buy human baby food so she'll eat something. Poor thing. It sucks getting old. I get the lab results on Monday. Fingers crossed that it's not too serious. Please send good vibes her way.

Quotable Kate

My friends are going away for the weekend, and I'm taking care of their daughter, Kate. I'll spend the night at her house on Friday and Saturday.

Last night Kate was talking with her mom about me spending time with her, and she said, "Mommy, I bet you're gonna be sad." Sounds like Kate was thinking her mom was gonna miss her, right? Sophie thought she'd check.

"Why do you think I'm going to be sad?" she asked.

"Because you and Daddy don't get to spend the weekend with Alex!" was her reply.

Next time I'm down in the dumps, I'll read this post. Thanks, Kate.

Katydid It Again

Photo on the left: second time I've seen a katydid in my life. Photo on the right: first time I ever saw one. I thought they were supposed to resemble a green leaf, but the ones I've seen have tried to camouflage themselves on asphalt. Are katydids dimwitted? Lost? On their way to greener pastures?

Maybe one day I'll see a rhino trying to hide in a field of grass.

Quote of the Day

Tate, 11, has just asked her mom for some Advil because she has a headache.

Tate: I can swallow pills now!

Alex: Wow, really?

Tate: Yeah, I learned it at camp.

So much for swimming and macrame.

This Won't Hurt a Bit

Last weekend I went to the Cape with friends. Diana made dinner the first night-- beer infused chicken. The idea was to stick an open beer can up the chicken's arse and the aroma of the beer would permeate the skin. I felt like the bird was being violated, but I took pictures anyway. I was grossed out and fascinated at the same time.

Here you can see before and after pictures. Did I eat it? Damn right I did, and it was good.

Get Used to It

I've lived in Boston for 16 years, and I still don't know the network channels here. To me, CBS is channel 2, NBC is channel 4, and ABC is 7. That's New York, of course. What channel is CBS in Boston?

Another thing I can't get used to here is pizza bags. I'll never forget the first time I got a slice of pizza to go in Boston. They laid the pizza flat and put it in a stationery bag! In New York, they use flat bags for cards you buy at the stationery store. For pizza, they fold the pizza slice in half and put it in a lunch bag like one of those brown paper bags kids put their lunch in.

I have gotten used to asking for a frappe when what I really want is a milkshake, and I use the words "wicked" (I'm wicked tired!) and "no, sir!" (I don't believe you) regularly. There's still hope.

Fire Alarm--Don't Panic!

The other night my friends and I went out to dinner before going to a movie. We went to this restaurant and had a good time, laughing, reminiscing, and catching up. Towards the end of the meal, the fire alarms went off. The first reaction of my friend Imke and myself? Ugh, stop that annoying noise! There was no visible smoke. Dawn was more proactive; she thought we should leave. We sat there for a few moments, and when we saw a line of guys from the bar start to walk out, we got up. It was like a wave--everyone eventually got up and walked out of the restaurant very calmly.

I remarked about this out loud, and some guy did a fake panic scream for me. We all gathered along the sidewalk and noticed that it was the whole building that had alarms going off, not just our restaurant. We looked at our watches and noticed that the movie would start in about 15 minutes, so we just went to the movie theater. Yay, a free meal! At the movie theater, we started seeing fire engines arriving. Was there really a fire?

The thing that struck me was the fact that so many people were desensitized to the alarm. Yes, we didn't panic, but we also didn't get moving. That's a little scary. I bet if we had seen smoke there would have been a mad dash, and people would have gotten hurt. Dawn was amazed that no one was in charge. No staff person ever came out to tell us to leave or stay put, or anything. That was also scary.

In the end, I hope it was just that a cook burned the fries or it was a false alarm. It was nice to have a free meal. It was delicious, too.

UNO!

When I do English conversation with kids, we often play card games. One favorite game is Uno; we play "the Japanese way", where you get to put down several cards in a row. For example, if the color is red and the number is 5, you can put down as many 5's as you have. You can also do this with any other card.

Here's one of my students who whittled down all of his cards until he had four left, all draw 4's. See his expression of glee? He won, because he went out with those four, and his poor brother had to draw sixteen cards.

That day the kids also learned Spanish; they had no idea that "Uno" meant "One".

People at the Gym

Dear Readers,

You may have been wondering why I haven't blogged about the gym lately. It's because I haven't been. Before yesterday, I hadn't been in 11 days. I also don't train as regularly with Steve, because I've graduated to doing it myself. Consequently, I don't go as often. This is probably how I should have started in the first place, slowly, then working up to more days. I'm kind of doing things backwards.

In any case, I was at the gym yesterday, and the first person I saw was this woman whose husband wanted to take nude photos of me about ten years ago. Say what??? Yeah. I was working as a puppeteer at a child's birthday party, and afterwards, one of the dads said he was a photographer and he'd love to do a photo shoot with me. At the time I had a bleach blond crew cut and an earring in my eyebrow, so I guessed he was after my alternative look.

I went to his house, met his wife and young son, and saw his work: naked women. They were tastefully done, artistic, and all, but still. He told me he did nudes and he wanted me to shave my head. Uh, no thanks. I was creeped out, but agreed to take some photos with all my clothes on, thank you very much. I haven't ever seen him in town, but I see his wife occasionally, and I always get an icky feeling when I see her. She didn't remember me, thank god.

Later on, I saw this guy I've seen a few times before. He has curly black hair, very long, pulled back into a ponytail, and he wears a white sweatband around his forehead like he's living in the 70's. He was walking with a chain belt around his waist, and attached to the belt was a kettle bell. It looked like a cannonball with a handle. He was walking with this thing inbetween his legs, and I wanted to shout, "You got balls!", but I restrained myself. What he did was grab this bar and did pull ups with this thing attached to him. So strong and macho! Maybe I'll try it next time.

I got on the bike and didn't pedal quite as fast as the old man on the bike next to me, but I'm working my way up to it. Gotta protect myself from injury.

Watercolor Class--Any Better?

My friend Chris told me she was taking a one-time watercolor painting class, and when I said, "Oooh!", she asked me if I'd like to join her. I'd always wanted to take a watercolor class. It was just one night, two hours of our time. Perhaps this was the class I should have taken instead of Linguistics for the Linguistically Challenged. We got our supplies at the art store, and arrived in the basement of the library ready to learn.

There were five people in the class, including us. The teacher didn't introduce himself; he just pulled up a table and told us we could sit there. The three other people were already painting. It turned out that this was a two-part class, and we were at the second part. Perhaps these students had already been schooled for two hours?

We sat down and waited for instruction. And waited. Finally, the teacher told us to sketch the scene and then to paint it. I looked at the still life and groaned inside. It was so cliche--a wine bottle, a loaf of bread with one slice cut, and two brown eggs, all on a cloth, draped dramatically and taped to the wall. Look, it's France in the basement of a library in Boston!

Chris and I started sketching, and the teacher walked out of the room. Huh? He came back a few minutes later and looked at everyone's work. "Very nice shading", he said to the man next to Chris. "I like what you've done", he said to someone else. He came to me and said, "Why don't you erase all of this and turn the paper the other way?" I replied, "Check this out!" and I just flipped the paper to a new one. He sketched the whole scene for me, looked at Chris's work, and then left again.

We wondered why the teacher kept leaving, and why no one was talking. They were all so serious. The man painted one French scene after another, whipping them off his pad as if it was a new sport--Watercolor Racing, first one who uses his whole pad wins! I fell back into my comfort zone, and starting making wisecracks just loud enough for Chris to hear so that she'd laugh. We felt like the bad kids in school; I had to stop myself from passing her a note.

The teacher came back and announced that there was an art show upstairs and if we needed a break we could go get free refreshments. So that's where he'd been! Scarfing cookies and juice while we waited for some interaction. Technique? Tips? Answers to questions? He leaned over me and said, "How you doin', Kiddo?" He didn't know that one nickname I happen to hate is "Kiddo." I am forty years old, I am nobody's Kiddo. I told him I didn't know what I was doing. He told me that it was all about dark and light, the draping, the shadows. He told me where it was dark and where it was light, complimented Chris, and then left again. At least that time we knew where he was going.

I didn't see dark and light. I saw a vacant bottle of wine, probably emptied by our fearless non- leader, a loaf of stale bread, and eggs with samonella. I realized that I was not a watercolor artist, I was a photographer and an anthropologist. I liked watching the teacher interact with the different people in the room, and making assumptions about him based on the stories he told us about how people had seen his work and bought his paintings on the spot for lots of money.

I took a picture of the scene and compared it with my painting. My loaf of bread at first resembled a turkey, but once I added some shading, it turned out to be a hot dog. One of my eggs looked like a lemon, and the other one melted. My background just looked dirty. Chris's painting was much better than mine, but she kept blotting at it furiously in order to make it appear lighter. We agreed that what we both liked was watercolor outlined with black so that it was crisp and not flowy. We decided to look at children's books and admire what illustrators had done.

I gave up. I started sketching out the words for this blog post, I texted someone, and I went upstairs for free cookies and juice. I met a very nice artist and saw a book I wanted to borrow from the library.

At the end of the "space rented out so we could use the things we bought from the art store" session, because it turned out not to be a class after all, Chris and I met up with friends for dinner. Maybe she'll come to the "Dark Side of Boston" walk I signed up for at the end of the month. Whaddaya say, Chris?

Back to School

My school got a voucher for a free class at my alma mater, and after asking the rest of the staff if they'd like to use it, jumped at the chance when they said no. I was so excited to be taking a graduate course again, and I knew the professor, though I had never taken a class from her.

The class was entitled, "The Nature of Linguistic Language." I thought it would perfectly coincide with the work I was doing after school, teaching English conversation. We would learn how people learn language, how they acquire second language, and a host of other things.

The class was taught by two professors, and they had taught the course together for many years. They wrote a book, which was our textbook. I ordered that book as well as another book to read if we were interested.

In the first class, we talked about how to make plural nouns in English. We learned how to make plural nouns in Armenian. As always, I was quick to speak in class even if I didn't have the right answer. I figured out the young women to the left and right of me had the answers, and I made a deal with them: if we worked together, they could come up with the answers, and I'd be the spokesperson for the group. They agreed to do it.

The first class was hard, and the second class wasn't any easier. I learned this was a research course, and we'd be making hypotheses. I hypothesized how long I would last. I started making jokes under my breath, much to the delight of my new partners in crime. When one professor was talking about the soft palate in your mouth, I whispered, "I think my soft palate is up here", and I tapped my head.

I spent much of the class with a quizzical look on my face (see photo), and I talked a lot. Here's a sample of what we had to read in our textbook:

"The concept 'plural' is semantically interpreted at the NP level, as a result of the NP and the morpheme {plural} merging. However, the phonological form of the morpheme {plural} can be found on the head of the N of the NP, on the adjectives modifying the N, on the determiners, or on all of the above. Or on none of the above; that is, the morpheme {plural} does not have to be realized phonologically at all within the NP." (copied without permission from Honda and O'Neil, 2008)

Get it? Me neither. When the word "morpheme" came up in class, all I could think about was morphine, which I felt like I was on. I withdrew from the class and will now be watching Oprah on Thursdays instead of making my soft palate even softer with morphine.

iPod Fun

A lot of people put their iPod on "random" mode to get a good mix of music. Here's another way to do it: click on "songs", and just listen to them in alphabetical order. It's so much fun to see how they're organized.

How else could I listen to "White and Nerdy", a parody of a rap song by Weird Al Yankovic, followed by "White Lines", a classie rap song by Grandmaster Flash? How many songs begin with the word "Don't"? A lot.

Don't (Elvis Presley)
Don't Ask Me Why (Billy Joel)
Don't Be Cruel (Elvis Presley)
Don't Believe the Hype (Public Enemy)
Don't Break my Heart (UB40)
Don't Go Breaking my Heart (Elton John)
Don't Know Why (Norah Jones)
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me (Elton John, George Michael, David Archuleta)
Don't Play Me (Prince)
Don't Stop Till You Get Enough (Michael Jackson)
Don't Stop the Music (Yarbrough and Peoples)
Don't Stop--Planet Rock (Afrika Bambaataa)
Don't Take Your Guns to Town (Johnny Cash)
Don't Talk 2 Strangers (Prince)
Don't Worry, Be Happy (Bobby McFerrin)

Can't wait to get to the end of the list, where song names begin with numerals...

English is Stupid, part 52

I just read an article talking about a new store, and it said something like, "She clothes her new space in blacks and tans..."

It occurred to me that in that context, we pronounce the "th" in "clothes".

When we're talking about things we wear, it's pronounced "close".

Ridiculous.

Countdown to Halloween

The other day a dad at school told me about a costume he once made for Halloween. He wore tennis whites; shorts, shirt, sweatbands, the whole bit. Then he made a gruesome hand out of papier mache and stuck it to his back. Ready?

He was a tennis pro with a vicious backhand!!!

That rivals one of my favorite costumes, The Madonna/Madonna! (seen here with newly adopted David)

No Halloween parties scheduled yet, but it's always good to be prepared...

Happy Fall!

Now that's a fresh apple!

More from the Early Ages

Written right before I saw Pre-Modern Pharmacist, while eating dinner at Panera:

I don't understand the baguette. What is appealing about a bread that looks and feels like a lobster without its appendages? It's so hard to rip apart, you end up gouging it with your fingers. I feel like a cave woman. Ugh! I beat my chest in frustration.

The middle part of the shell of bread does go with the soup, however. I'll deal.

Me Want Drugs!

There's a pharmacist at my local CVS who looks exactly like one of the Geico cavemen, I'm not kidding. He has long, scraggly curly brown hair, a full beard and mustache, and a Cro-Magnon-shaped face. He wears a white button down shirt, a tie, and dress pants. He looks like early man trying to fit into modern society. I have to keep from laughing every time I see him. Dude, get a haircut, and maybe shave a little!

The Scent of a (Single) Woman ('s Studio)

The other day I went out to breakfast with my friend Sophie and her daughter Kate. I had a scrambled egg, and Sophie had a fried egg. Her egg looked so good, I told her the next time we went out I wanted a fried egg.

Today I have the day off. I decided to get fancy and I made a fried egg for myself. It was yummy, though I always get scared that I'm going to get salmonella from eating a runny yolk. I put the air purifier on to get rid of the fried egg smell, and went out to do an errand.

Came back an hour later, and now my apartment smells like fried egg and cat poop. Thanks a lot, Shelby. Looks like we're going to get a visit from our friend Mr. Bleach Cleaner!

Do the Funky Chicken

The other day our school went apple picking. There was this toddler there who was hanging out with a chicken. They kept doing the same thing! From the top...
1) On the fence
2) Walking away
3) Squat down...
4) and up again!

Time to Go Through It

It's that time again...I'd collected about four containers worth of papers, and it was getting a little out of hand. As usual, I dumped it all on my couch and made myself go through it. Probably took about two hours. I shredded a lot of stuff.








My goal was to have everything fit into these three boxes.




Great news! Not only did I fit everything into just two boxes, but I found $60 in cash, leftover from my birthday in April! The next step is to immediately go through these two boxes and file everything in its proper place. I swear I'll do it next weekend.

Bobby with a Bulb

My grandmother used to have a lamp exactly like this. It looked like a British policeman to me, you know, a Bobby. See the hat, and the small space for the face, and the puffed up chest, down to the slimmer legs? Can't you see the brass buttons? I think of my grandmother and Bobbies every time I see one of these lamps.

Haunted Haircuts?

Looks like the local barber shop is ready for Halloween!

Umbilical Pot Pie

I go to this place called The Soup Factory for takeout sometimes. They have the best chicken pot pie ever. It has a flaky crust at the bottom, chicken chunks and veggies in the middle, and another flaky crust at the top. It's yummy, and very filling. Every time I eat it, I tell myself to blog about it, and I never do. I just had to put it to the side so I could write this.

The crust at the top is hard to cut up with a spoon, but I usually manage to do it. The crust at the bottom, however, is impossible to cut. I always try with a spoon, and I always give up, deciding in the end to gnaw at it with my molars. Every time I do, I get an image of me as a mother cat gnawing at her newborn kitten's umbilical cord. That's exactly what I feel like when I'm at the bottom of my chicken pot pie. Ah, the miracle of birth! How delicious.

Mystery Solved

I teach English conversation privately, in people's homes. One place I go to is a high rise luxury apartment building. They have signs outside advertising studios and 1, 2, and 3 bedroom apartments with amenities. There are 10 floors, and lots and lots of apartments. The place is huge!

After going to this building on a regular basis, I noticed that there seemed to be a striking number of college aged people living there. A lot of them know each other, and go from floor to floor via the elevator. It resembles a college dorm building at times. I wondered, "Is this a dorm? How can students afford these apartments?"

Last week my curiosity got the best of me, and I finally asked two young people who were in the elevator with me. I said that there seemed to be a lot of college aged people around, and they said that they were mostly Boston University students. I then asked, politely, how college students could afford luxury apartments.

The students both got red in the face, and the girl said, "Well, my parents pay for mine." And the boy said the same thing. They agreed that most students' apartments were paid for by mom and dad. That's what I had thought, but at least now I knew.

Note to families: Do not rent an apartment at this apartment complex, unless you like loud parties on weekends!

Orange You Glad I Blogged?

See this orange? See how it's cut? It came like that. That's the Japanese way of serving oranges. It's easy to eat that way, and not messy.

What you do is, you get a bento box at the local Japanese restaurant, and if you order what I did, you get a little piece of teriyaki chicken, a little bit of white rice, a few pieces of lettuce and tomato with soy sauce dressing, and two slices of orange. It's perfection in a meal.

Tom and Mary Go Downtown

Mary: Tom, it says here in the Kelley Blue Book that the Ford Taurus isn't worth jack these days!

Tom: Oh god, are you talking insurance fraud again?

Mary: Could you not put it that way, please? Look what happened after just one day downtown. They got the back door and passenger door off, but they left the radio and hubcaps. Must've heard someone coming in the middle of the job...

Tom: You know, Mary, you seem to know a lot about illegal activities. Is there something you want to tell me?

Mary: Oh, you're so dramatic! Why don't you get that rolled up newspaper out of your ass and live a little! By the time they strip our ride, we can clean up with the insurance money and maybe take a trip somewhere. I was so silly to leave the car unlocked, wink wink!

Tom, under his breath: And I was so silly to answer that personal ad.
Uh, Mary? There's something I have to tell you. I'm gay.

Mary: Yeah, and I'm the queen of fucking France. Get in and drive, Pretty Boy.

Recycle Guilt

Question: If I switched to using a canvas bag for grocery shopping, where would I put the cat shit?

See, my bathroom is way too small to put the cat litter box in, so it's a ways from the litter box to the toilet. Consequently, I scoop the litter box contents into a plastic bag and throw it in the trash. Easy, no mess, no smell.

I use paper bags for recycling the newspaper and other paper that I shred.

I suppose I can buy brown paper lunch bags for the litter; we'll see. Till then, I'm trying hard not to feel guilty every time I go to CVS.

Driveby

Here in my neighborhood, we have so little crime that people resort to sticking decals on their cars to make it look like they've been riddled with bullets. Ooh, that's so badass!

FedEx Fun

Do you know about the arrow in the FedEx logo? Look inbetween the orange E and the x.

Now find the teaspoon in the purple e.

Once you find them, you'll see them every time you see a FedEx truck. Have fun!

Fall-out

Forgive me, Readers. It has been 10 days since my last post. I will say 20 Hail Bloggers.

It will be fall in a few days.

Pom Pom Puppy

This is Gizmo. He was the cutest dog I saw today. I think he weighs 6 pounds, about half of what Shelby weighs. He's a Pomeranian puppy; he's losing his puppy fur, so he should be a lot fluffier in the coming months. I hope I run into him again.

Katydid!

Wow! My friend Kari commented that the creature I saw at the T station was a katydid. I Googled it, and sure enough, it was, thanks, Kari! That is beyond cool. Katydids are related to grasshoppers and crickets. Did you know that they change colors to adapt to their environments, and that there are pink ones?? Katydids are found in grassy areas. And T stations.

And I'm still glad it didn't fly in my hair.

Poser, Part Deux

If could do this pose, I would rule the world. Hmm...seems that I wrote that exact sentence in my Feb. 21st post, entitled, "Poser". But I tell you what, that's how I feel when I look at the Athleta and Title Nine catalogs. I see these strong and powerful women in these amazing poses, and I wish I could do them. Not that I'm going to yoga right now, but if I was... and I was 25 years old...MAN!

Sure, I could think of Dara Torres as my inspiration. She won Olympic medals at 41, soon after having a kid. If she can do it, I can do it! But my knee hurts sometimes. And I have two jobs, and a very needy cat. And I like to sleep, and I like cake. So for now, I'll look at those catalogs. And dream.

Flippa Flappa

I was just at the T station waiting for the train, and this...thing flew past me and landed on the opposite platform. It was a big thing; I didn't know if it was a bird, a bat, or a moth. It flew, it didn't hop. When it landed, I could see that it was green. Could it be a giant grasshopper?

I went over to see, and I'm still not sure what it was, but it was some sort of grasshopper imitating a leaf thing. It was really big, I'd say about 2 1/2 inches long. What the hell kind of wings and legs it had to enable it to fly is beyond me. It let me take pictures of it without flying into my face, thank god. The picture doesn't do it justice.

I'm sooo glad it didn't fly into my hair.

The Night Before

Micro: Puffy, this is wrong. I know it's wrong. But it feels so...right.

Chair: Shhh. Baby, ain't nothing wrong with love.

Micro: I know, but...but...I always thought I'd be with...I'm sorry. An...appliance. A hot plate, or a gas stove, hell, even a refrigerator! But I knew you and I had a connection, the day I moved in. Steve would always heat up dinner in me, and then go sit in you. It was like we were living our relationship vicariously through him...does that make sense?

Chair: I know exactly what you mean. I felt it too. How could I not? Whatever came out of you was so...hot. Damn! I'd hear those buttons...beep, beep, BEEEEP! and I knew you'd be close to me, soon as that door swung open. But it wasn't close enough. Until now.

Micro: (sigh) Yes. Now. It's hard to believe, isn't it? It feels so good to be in your arms. You're so soft. And puffy. And...and...(sniff) it's all going to come to an end tomorrow morning! That weaselly little desk lamp told me that a big truck was gonna come, and separate us, and...and...it's not true, is it? Say it's not true!

Chair: Aw, Baby, Lamp is just mad 'cause Couch told him he didn't have enough watts to light up her life. Don't listen to him.

Micro: Hold me.

Photo Project Incomplete

I have this photography project going; I've been doing it for many years. It's in my head. Here's the project:

There are some people in the world I could never get tired of looking at. I would like to photograph these people and make the photographs into a book, a big coffee table book. The thing is, I never actually take the photos because I don't know how to get the subjects.

I see people on the subway or just walking down the street who are, to me, very interesting to look at or just really really good looking. What can I do? Go up to them and say, "Excuse me, I'm doing a photo project of people I could never get tired of looking at. Could you come to my studio so I can take your picture?" They would think I was crazy! I don't know what to do, so I just do nothing. I've been doing this for about 10 years. I actually know some of the people I'd like to photograph, and I suppose I could approach them...I could say I'm doing a portrait book. That would be true, but not the whole truth. I'm still thinking about it.

I think the best looking man in the whole world is Johnny Depp. Just saw him in the movie Chocolat. I could look at him and look at him and never get tired. Could you?

They Are Everywhere

The other day I went in to school to meet a new family and show them around. There was no one else at school because we're still cleaning up and getting ready; school starts next week.

After they left, I was straightening up one of the cubbies. I was by the basement door, which was open. A guy who was in the basement whom I didn't know comes over to me and says, "You work with kids?" I said yes, because I was in the nursery school and thought he had heard me with a kid earlier.

He said, "Wanna see something? Come here!" and he goes into the labyrinth of the basement. My goodness, is it my lot in life to be introduced to serial killers, or what? Like I'm about to go down into a basement with a stranger, with no one else around. Yeah, right! "Wanna see something?" That has got to be the oldest line in the book for serial killers!

Once again, I had to think fast. I was just about to tell him that I was really busy, and back quickly up the stairs, but then he said that he was part of the Boston Camera Club and he had a huge roll of paper he'd like to donate to us. I saw it. I saw all the camera equipment. We introduced ourselves. We talked for a few minutes.

Did I feel like a jerk for suspecting a fellow photographer of murderous intent? NO! I'm sure he still was a killer--a killer with a hobby, trying to lure me with paper for the children. Well, I'll take the paper, all right, it'll be good for our painting easel. And maybe write Jim a nice thank you note. It was a nice gesture.

Scenes From Around Town

I came upon the following scenes while walking around during the past two weeks. At the top, we see a still life nature scene on a bench. I call it, "Still Life with Sticks and Beverage Containers."

In the middle photo we can witness the generosity of people in my town. Where else can you find free hair color and ironing starch at the T station?

Lastly, someone was protecting their giant dead sunflower. We are kind in this town. "Please Do Not Take. Thanks!"

Take a walk today and look around you. See anything out of the ordinary?

Breakfast Blues

Last night I used up the last of my milk, so I was planning to go to Starbucks for breakfast this morning. I mean, with no milk in the house, I couldn't drink my tea, and what else could I drink? Water? I don't think so. Besides, there was nothing to eat. No more cereal, which I couldn't drink anyway, with no milk.

I decided to eat some yogurt so that I would at least have some protein before I ate a 400 calorie muffin. Lo and behold, I found the leftover Yoo Hoo from last night's dinner at the new Tex Mex place up the block. I also remembered that I had English muffins. And a banana. So I guess I'm all set for breakfast.

Starbucks will have to be a mid-morning snack.

apple? or Apple?

I'm at my computer, and I just heard on the TV, without looking at it, "Next: some news that apple lovers can sink their teeth into!" My very first thought was that Apple was coming out with some new feature on the iPhone.

I turned to look at the TV and saw apple trees. Oh my god, they were talking about real apples, and I was thinking about a product. I am under the spell of advertising moguls. Lord help me.

The New England Aquarium--It's a Whole Other World

Notes from Observations at Starbucks

8/20/08

I should have been an anthropologist, I like observing people so much. I wish I knew as a child there were so many things you could be. Is it too late for me to be an anthropologist?

I begin my study at the local Starbucks, one that is not on the list of 600 that is slated to close. There's an old man in the corner, trying to read his newspaper in peace. He can't seem to relax. A boy at the table next to his rocks in his chair. The man admonishes him, "Stop doing that!" the boy's grandmother says, "Listen to the gentleman."

Across the room, a Starbucks employee is training a newbie. The trainer has such an annoying voice, it's almost as if she's a caricature come to life. That cannot be her real voice. Her inflection is loud and so nasal it's like she's speaking through the space between her eyes. If I had to work with that voice, I'd apply for a job at Dunkin' Donuts.

A man comes in and talks to an employee at the employee entrance, the side of the counter. The old man looks up at them in annoyance. They are disturbing his newspaper reading.

A young man gets settled with a bottle of water and a newspaper. A beautiful young woman comes in, and the guy says to her, "Would you stop following me?" He's joking; they clearly know each other. He stands up, and they chat. She shows him the book she just got. He stands close to her and looks her in the eyes. He says positive things about her book. He is interested in her. She moves on, and playfully taps him with the book. She is not interested in him. "Stalk you later!" she says, walking away. She has made his day. And all these observations have made my day. Until next time...tall iced hazelnut latte!

Strike a Pose

It's happened again. I found Shelby in a position so cute I almost couldn't breathe. Here she is, having fallen asleep gently holding her feather toy. You can't make this stuff up. I need to go lie down; I'm feeling lightheaded.

New York in a Day

Last Friday I went to New York City for two hours; I had some business to attend to. I got on the train at 9:15 and arrived in NYC at 12:45. Took the subway to the bank and completed my transaction in approximately four minutes. I ate lunch at the kind of coffee shop you can only find in New York, and got back on the train an hour and a half later to be home by 6:30. While on the train I pretended I was a businesswoman. Here's what I wrote while eating lunch:

I'm eating a cheeseburger, well done, with a side of cole slaw and a pickle. And to drink? A chocolate milkshake. Not a frappe, a milkshake. This coffee shop is aptly named. It's called Utopia. This cheeseburger is the best I've tasted in years. So good, in fact, I was moved to write the preceding sentence on a piece of paper nad requested to have it delivered to the cook.

The waiter read the note and said to me, "What about the serivce?" I told him it was great, but I came here for the taste, not the service. He laughed and shouted to the cook in accented English, "This is forrr youuuu, the lady with the cheeseburger give it to youuuu!" Lord knows how many calories are in this meal, but right at this moment, I don't care. It is pure bliss in the form of a beef patty and chocolate.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I haven't even posted anything about Snow. Not the white stuff that comes out of the sky, but a kid. In our preschool's summer program, we had a girl named Snow. Her mother is a meteorologist, I'm not kidding. Snow was one of the cutest kids, and she said funny things.

One time a few of us were all at the art table, and I was talking about George Michael. One kid asked, "Who's George Michael?" and my very good friend and mom at the Co-op said, "Oh, he's a washed-up singer." A few beats went by, and then Snow said, "He is not washed up. He's dirty."

On a different day, another child, Erik, was talking about Snow. He said, "They should have named her tornado, then we could all go down in the basement!"

I will never get tired of my job. I'm looking forward to the beginning of school.

What TVs do Before They're Picked Up on Trash Day

So much to say, so little time. Thought I'd fill in the space by posting a pic of a scene I came across one day: the rarely seen TV playing hide and seek. As I was passing by, I could hear it:

"8, 9, 10! Ready or not, here I come!"

The coffee cup and the shovel tried to hide in trees, but they were soon found. Can't hide from a Sony, yo.

English is Stupid, Part 68

I teach English. Sometimes it's hard. I don't know much about the rules or origins.

I was looking at a sign the other day. It the word TOMB on it. It made me think.

Why do we say TOMB as TOOM, and BOMB as BOM?

Seems to me we should say TOMB as TOM, and BOMB as BOOM.

Thank You Ma'am, for the Mammogram

I turned 40 this year. You know what that means, ladies. Time for your first mammogram! Just went and got mine done. Fascinating. The best part was in the waiting room. In the first waiting room, they called two of us up at the same time. I said, "Is this a two for one special?" Ha ha.

We changed into robes and went to sit in a different waiting room. It was like a private woman's club because we were all wearing the same thing. I started talking to two older women. The one across from me made a positive comment about my tattoos, and the one next to me snorted in disgust. "Agh!" She said. I said, "You don't like them." "Agh!" she snorted again, "Not at all! My granddaughter, she has a...thing in her nose, I don't like these things at all!" She had a Russian accent. She said she came from Russia.

The older woman across from us said that she liked them, they were colorful. She and I kept talking. We talked about tattoos, how it was in the old days when you couldn't even afford to go to the doctor, vaccines (she asked me, "Do they give vaccines anymore?"), and TV. I learned she was 87 years old. I said, "87! God love ya!" She laughed and said she was starting to lose it a little, though, in the past six months. She couldn't remember the name of the guy who had won American Idol. She thinks that's losing it. Wow. She has her own room in her daughter's house. On the 3rd floor. She walks up all the stairs, no problem.

This woman was amazing. I wanted to have tea with her. She said she likes talking to people, she talks to everyone. I wished we could have talked longer. Eventually she left, and I watched Family Feud with the next woman who came in. The waiting room was a party and a half!

I got called in and had my boobs manipulated by a woman's hands and a machine. When was the last time I had this much action? And why don't women talk about this machine? It was the strangest procedure I have ever had, bypassing the time a nose camera went up my nostril.

Women close to 40, pay attention. You stand real close to the machine so the parts are in your face, and the technician puts your bare breast on a shelf, like it's not attached to you. You tilt your head to the side, and another plastic shelf squeezes your breast flat like a pancake. You stand in a very unnatural and uncomfortable position for a few seconds, and then she does the other breast. Four poses in all, unless she gets a fold, and then you have to have more done.

As the technician was adjusting my breast, I said to her, "I would love to see what kind of training class you had to take to learn this." She told me it was mostly on the job training. I asked her if she liked her job, and she said, "It's a job. Somebody has to do it!" and I told her I was glad it was her. She was nice. I was told I would get a letter in the mail and she'd see me next year. Hopefully the whole gang will be back.

Sometimes I Feel Like This

I just learned how to scan photos. I experimented with a drawing one of my kids did a few years ago. You can scan drawings, too! Somehow I feel like I must be at least 10 years behind (how long have people been scanning?), but I don't care. I can do it now. I'm going to pick my best photos to scan from all my old photo albums, yee heeeee!

Canon Rebel XSi

I got a new camera. Here's one of my fave new shots.

Olympiwo-man

So I'm still watching the Olympics, despite the fact that my boyfriend Michael Phelps isn't on TV anymore. As I told a friend, hurdles, schmurdles. I still watch, though, because gymnastics are still on, and diving is cool, and I even caught some trampoline the other night.

The other night in gymnastics I saw a woman who literally looked like someone had screwed a man's head onto her body. She was on the German team, I think, but she wasn't German. I think her name was Oksana. Anyway, the other thing about her was that she was like a grandma in terms of age of gymnasts; she was 33 or something. I found her just fascinating (see pic).

And just now, there was a male gymnast who looked like a younger Michael J. Fox. I love the people watching on TV.

TP Trouble

I was going crazy. I got one of those defective rolls of toilet paper where the two plys don't line up, and therefore there's not a clean rip when you tear a piece off. I HATE that. One ply comes off, the other one stays, you have to rip them separately...I tried to find an even place and ended up making a huge pile, still no even place (don't worry, I saved the pile and used it up, I'm not that wasteful).

I considered throwing away the whole roll, this phenomenon bugs me so much. Alas, this morning, guess what? The plys lined up! My bathroom is a peaceful place once more.

Tan is NOT the New Black

I stayed in Vermont with a former Co-op family; Peg, Paul, Emma, and Theo. Tons o' fun. We saw a lot of nature, which leads to dirty feet. One day, mom Peg suggested to daughter Emma, age almost eight, that she should wash her feet.

The next day, Emma and I had the following conversation:

Me: Hey Emma, did you ever wash your feet?

Emma: mmm, no.

Me: Don't you think you should?

Emma: They're not that dirty.

I look at her feet. Me: Hmm...

Emma, in all earnestness: They can get black.

I look at her.

Emma: These are rather tan.

Get Gold or Go Home

I think the Olympics should award the Gold medal or nothing, because that's all they focus on anyway. I thought this two years ago at the winter Olympics. I can't stand the way the commentators remark on the medals:

AND THE UNITED STATES IS IN THE LEAD, THEY WILL GET THE GOLD, YES, YES, YES!!!
And Germany Gets the Silver!


and china gets the bronze.

And then they go up to the exhausted Gold medal winners and say, "How do you feel?? How did you do that??" Leave them alone, already!

And then they go up to the Silver medalist and say, "You didn't get the Gold. What happened?"

If it were me, I'd go up to all of them and say, "Great job! You're in the Olympics!" Then again, I am a preschool teacher. Everyone is special in their own way.