I'm sitting outside by the brook, dripping with sweat. It's only 81 degrees but it's airless and humid. The house, at least downstairs, remains cool, and that's where I'm headed after I post this. My thinking has been until now, I paid for paradise, I'm going to use it. Maybe it'll be better later.
At 7 am it was still cool in my bedroom. I went downstairs for coffee and to walk Buck. Since Mark was driving the car to work (and picking up Marty later), I made a quick run to Pecks to buy dinner items. I'm making a cold bay scallop pesto over pasta with an optional topping of tomato-zucchini saute. I made the pesto last Fall and froze it so I'm way ahead of the game. Scallops aren't great here but they're inexpensive. I wouldn't use pesto on good scallops and you shouldn't either.
I ate a light breakfast while Mark went running. Then I went out to do two chores before it was too hot. I guess I should've done it at sunrise because it was already steamy. In what seemed like two hours, I fixed the composter ( won't last long--I need some heavy spikes that can be driven into the ground) and picked up the debris I'd cut yesterday. Time passes slowly when you're hot, if it passes at all. I'm reading a Paul Theroux novel that takes place in Africa. What am I complaining about? My "work" was followed by a cool shower.
Since I can't sit still for a minute, I vacuumed the kitchen rug, cleaned off the dining room table where one of my projects (photo sorting) has been sitting for months. We're having overnight guests tomorrow so I'm trying to straighten the downstairs at least. Steve and his son Nick are from our old haunting grounds in Rhode Island and are making their annual pilgrimage up to Bethel Woods to see Dave Matthews. I hope it's cooler tomorrow night because we only have one fan. Marty might be going on a fan mission tomorrow.
Sitting in front of that fan, I called AT&T to get my final bill, due today. I can no longer access the detailed bill since we no longer use their (atrocious) service. After finally getting a live person (who might as well have been dead), I just begged for him to mail me the final bill. He said okay but it would carry a $5 surcharge. I got really mad and demanded to speak to a supervisor, which he claimed he couldn't do. Then he put me on hold, a place he never came back from. I called back, spoke to another person who was much more helpful. He promised to mail me the final bill and didn't mention a word about a surcharge, which I of course won't pay.
I'm going inside to cook. It'll make the kitchen warmer, but you know what they say about if you can't stand the heat.
My new dog Buck is into leather. Soft, supple, expensive leather, smooth or suede. He has eaten a very expensive teal Arche shoe, a green sandal, part of a pair of brown sandals, which I was able to save by snipping off the back straps, an orange handbag I bought in Barcelona, and yesterday, a handbag that belonged to my mother. Buck has also nibbled on other shoes but not quite destroyed them. My neighbor says hot sauce is the way to prevent this from happening. My husband says he must be trained but we are at a loss as to how to do it. I am inclined to take the Zen approach.
I've been going to yoga a lot. Chronic illness makes me super inflexible. I can't be flat on my back without my arms popping up from the floor. My balance is precarious and when I have to stand up from a seated position, I look and feel like a very old person. Muscle weakness rounds off the trilogy. I do what I can and feel better for it.
Yoga emphasizes breathing and emptying the mind of details that keep you in a constant whir. My mind is particularly active--it works so much better than my body--so shutting it down requires effort. The breath can help the process. I don't meditate, because I don't know how, but I am capable of thinking of nothing for short periods of time. I give the credit for this to my teachers, who have a way of soothing and calming the spirit.
I'm not a Buddhist by any means. When I use the word "zen," I'm using it in the sense of a quiet way of living. Living in the Untied States, or many countries for that matter, challenges the concept of zenishness at all turns, at least my concept. I don't pretend to live the lifestyle, but it has its benefits.
Anxiety can be treated with drugs, but quieting the mind through breathing can have a faster and sometimes better effect. I admit, when I came home from yoga yesterday, relaxed and peaceful, only to find that Buck had chewed my mother's handbag, I became enraged. I screamed at him and put him in my bedroom as punishment. It was not my finest moment. I was more upset than usual because my mother died in 1985 and I have very few of her things. I was sad and mad.
I fully admit to a shoe and handbag weakness. I have a ridiculously large collection of shoes in every color, with handbags to coordinate. I recently put a moratorium on shoe purchases, although the Aerosoles store right next to yoga is having a sale and I went in yesterday right after yoga and right before coming home to the eaten handbag. How can I blame Buck for consuming tasty bits of leather when I'm obsessed with consuming shoes? How many shoes do I need?
What I've decided to do is keep my shoes and handbags in a safe place at all times. We will buy Buck leather chews to keep him happy. Marty will try to train him and maybe we'll even hot sauce all the leather. I will not mourn for leather lost. I will be philosophical about future leather lost. I will breathe deeply and not think or, only think about the important things in life.
Don't worry. Nobody died. In all the years I've been going to see the Yankees play, they've never lost. This includes the game I watched from behind a pole when I was 10, the games in the renovated stadium and in the new one, plus all the games I've seen on the road. They had a 10-game winning streak going. All good things come to an end. The Yankees lost to Atlanta 4-3.
We took Marty for his Father's Day/Birthday present. Our seats were pretty good. Mark and Harry enjoyed the game. We had over-priced food and beer. The crowd as usual was great. 75% are decked out in Yankee gear (I wore my Mariano Rivera shirt). Only one fan had to be dragged away by the cops. Well, only one that we saw.
For me, one of the best parts of the post-game ritual is taking the train packed with fans. Win or lose, they are your friends at that moment. LET'S GO YANKEES!
Time Traveling
Yesterday, we bit the bullet and went under the river to Brooklyn. The train ride was long and lurchy--no wonder none of our Manhattan friends wanted to visit us when we lived there. We didn't make the trek for social reasons, however. We had tickets to a Harold Pinter play at BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music), my Fathers' Day gift to my husband.
When we finally arrived, we went to the theater to find out that they'd cancelled the performance. We were welcome to see the evening performance or tomorrow's matinee, neither of which worked for us. They refunded our money and gave us free passes to see the movie Moonrise Kingdom, a quirky film with some very famous actors, directed by Wes Anderson. I recommend it.
It was early so we decided to walk around our old neighborhood. We lived in Fort Greene in more challenging days, when a crack house threatened from across the street, gunshots rang out in the middle of the night, and muggings and murders were the plats du jour. And we weren't even the pioneers, who'd preceded us by a decade.
Adelphi Street is still quiet and sleepy. We didn't see one person. We walked around the block to the Brooklyn Flea Market which was overpriced. We ducked into a small bar/restaurant on Lafayette and had some really good mojitos. A little more wandering brought us to another market which was more reasonable. I bought a long flowing dress for $40 bucks. This was more like the old Fort Greene. Not-so-rich folks trying to make a living selling their wares. I didn't see any hipsters, just a nice blend of ages, colors and backgrounds.
My friend Dianne, who lives in the neighborhood, had recommended a restaurant called "7" for dinner. It was quite good. The entrees were a bit pricey so we had smaller dishes like salad, strawberry gazpacho, steamed mussels in coconut milk and a turkey/eggplant sandwich with poblano sauce, all of it delicious.
The trip back to Manhattan went well. We got off at 86th Street and stopped at Fairway for local strawberries, cherries and oranges. When we got home, Harry was there working on his dinner. He'd been away for a couple of weeks, attending a concert in Tennessee, Bonnaroo. I would so like to see those musicians, but my hanging out with 80,000 exuberant youngsters is never going to happen again.
If you're wondering how this was a cheap day, consider that we saved $170 on BAM tickets, saw a movie for free, and consumed about $130 in drinks, a dress, and dinner. Add in the subway fare, and we were still ahead. .
Don't you just love literary devices? There's a conversation stopper. My kids can identify many of these writing elements because they took AP English and have me for a mother.
Here's some of my favorite devices, in no particular order. Can you guess what they are?
1. The day was cold, cloudy and cursed.
2. He used his anger like a switchblade.
3. Cook. Clean. Collapse.
4. He swallowed a container of death.
5. She was learning to read and reading to learn.
It's great to be back in the land of alternate side of the street parking, fruit vendors on the street, and a mobile phone store that sells every model that exists right now.
I met Mark on 86th Street and we shopped for a phone and had lunch al fresco. Mark put in a job application at a running store. I went to yoga and shopped for dinner. Marty brought home sushi and we had a chicken, leek and mushroom casserole. We walked Buck to the ice cream store and had some cones.
Today, my car was on the correct side of the street so I was free to be a slug. I ran some quick errands, read my book and went to yoga. Home to eat lunch and indulge in my Young and the Restless addiction. I've been following the story on and off for 24 years. The Dickensian plot line is terrific, even though some of the situations are worn and ridiculous after all these years. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Y & R has at least explored interracial relationships, leukemia (and other cancers, but this was pretty accurate), and people with disabilities. I don't think they've touched LGBTQ issues.
My son Harry went to Bonnaroo, a music festival in Tennessee, and hasn't been heard from in more than a week. I'm sure his phone is dead. Should I assume he'll be home for dinner tonight?
Now I'm going out in the rain to do some more errands. This is NYC at its least exciting, but I enjoy anytime I'm not living on the edge.
Ha Jin, who wrote the novel Waiting, is the author of the recently published Nanking Requiem which I just finished reading. In a nutshell, here's what I learned: war is (fill in negative adjective--they all seem like cliches); my knowledge of world history is pathetic; I need to brush up on geography.
The war in this book takes place just before World War II when Japan attacked China apparently for land expansion. The Chinese woman who tells the story is the president of a girls' college that becomes a refugee camp when the city of Nanking falls to Japanese forces. An American named Minnie is the heart and soul of the school-turned-camp. Whatever brutality or atrocity you've seen, heard of or imagined takes place in this book. The author seems to imply that all war, except for a country's defense against foreign invaders, is indefensible. This justifies most wars, at least in the minds of the country who believes its sovereignty has been threatened. Afghanistan, maybe; Iraq, ridiculous. Then there are civil wars. But let's not go there.
I know next to nothing about non-Western world history, only what I've pieced together from books, television and other media that hasn't been historically vetted. The American educational system doesn't teach you much about the rest of the world. In AP US History, you barely make it to the the late 50's before they run out of time. I should have taken more history courses in college.
As for geography, I've always been interested in the topic but was never schooled in it. Most people are like ants, seeing only what's in front of them. I actually know where all the United States are and could fill in a map of Central and South America, Western Europe and much of the Middle East and Africa. Forget about Eastern Europe, the Balkans, and the Stans. Nanking is in Eastern Central China according to my Atlas..
One more point about the novel. Jin describes facial features in a way that brings them alive. He tells you the shape of the head, the hair type and style, the eye shape and positioning, et cetera. I will note this for my writing.
Now I'm reading The Tiger's Wife byTea Obrent and Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut. My son Harry recently read Slaughterhouse Five and Breakfast of Champions. Then it's on to a re-reading of Catch-22. My son Mark read it in three days. He said he liked the non-sequential structure. Talking about books must be genetic.
The day's still young and I feel as though I should be going to bed soon. The weather is fine and we started by walking Buck to Central Park and back. Marty and I decided to do a little shopping, so we brought our red cart, $ and list to 86th Street. In Fairway we bought limes for margaritas. We bought a lot of fruit from a street vendor. Then we priced portable air conditioners because our built-in units don't work too well, and they use a lot of electricity. We had higher bills last summer in our 800-square foot apartment than we had in our 3700-square foot house in Rhode Island.
We're switching from AT&T to Verizon, and stopped at the Verizon store where Marty didn't get a phone because he says he can get a free one on line.
There's a street fair/flea market on 3rd Avenue starting at 86th Street and going south who knows how far. I left Marty at 79th Street, shopping for records.
Here's what we consumed: a vegetarian crepe and a gyro, washed down with fresh lemonade, spices (5-spice powder, gram masala and a mix for lamb), a gift for a special friend who reads this blog, a spa headband for yoga, a mozzarepa (grilled sweet corn meal stuffed with mozzarella cheese) and zeppolles .
Marty just got back, albums in tow. We're listening to Mel Torme now. I'm going to yoga in a bit, and then we're having margaritas on the roof. I was going to make a chicken curry for dinner but I think we'll go out instead. My kitchen is mini Hades. I season the food with my sweat. Just kidding.
