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Yesterday morning, waiting on the platform for my D train to Manhattan, I set my purse and gym bag at my feet and reached up to shake out my damp hair (another drizzly morning here in not-quite-spring-but-almost-summer land).
A friendly-faced elderly gentleman, clutching two well-worn plastic shopping bags, approached me and asked, "Well, didja stay dry?"
I smiled and replied, "Yes, pretty much."
The old man—sporting khakis, a windbreaker and white tennis shoes and wearing his remaining half-dozen strands of silvery hair in a comb-over fashion reminiscent of Rudy Giuliani—got a bit prickly: "And why ain't ya carrying an umbrella, young lady?"
I quickly withdrew my compact umbrella from my purse and showed him, proudly, that this young lady came prepared today!
We talked about the weather a bit and then, in his charmingly thick, old-school Brooklyn accent, the old man began blabbering away. He was on his way to visit his secretary in the hospital and one of the plastic bags he toted contained a box of her favorite cookies, which her husband had neglected to get for her the day before. He owned a chain of restaurants and was planning to open a 7-11 on 57th Street. He told me how much he adored and appreciated his secretary and how she was being treated for a tumor in her breast, but they didn't know yet if it was malignant. (Yes, it was a long wait for the train that day!)
Short, stocky Mr. Chatty introduced himself as "Pete" and exclaimed over and over that I'm just "bee-yoo-tee-ful." Sweet as he seemed, he startled me a bit by suddenly grabbing my left hand and shouting, "Where's ya ring? Don't tell me you ain't married!" He asked if I had a boyfriend and when I said I did, he exclaimed, "Well, why ain't 'e married ya yet?"
I tried—over his repeated, cheerful compliments—to explain that I'm in no rush to get married and he shouted, "Aw, a bee-yoo-ty like you? I'd-a married ya straight away!" and described how his secretary's husband was in the dog house for not bringing her cookies but that, "See what I nice guy I am? I brings her dese cookies."
This is the point when things took a turn for the awkward (at best), creepy (at worst). Pete exclaimed, "I can't believe a bee-yoo-ty like you ain't married! If you was my girl, I'd keep ya tied to the bed..." (gives unnerving physical demonstration) "...and nevah let you go!" Hmm... scary. I mustered a smile and leaned over to look down the tracks for the train I so needed to arrive at that moment!
In between anecdotes about his secretary, Pete, quite shockingly, reached out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. Now, as a woman who likes to think the majority of humans are compassionate and inherently good, I wanted to believe Pete was just a sweet old man, trying to enliven a dreary day by being sociable with a friendly young woman. But the part of me that has lived 36 years with varying degrees of cynicism and who reads the news every day and knows people can be evil was, understandably, a bit frazzled by Pete's open adulation and a lack of boundaries that was astounding, even by NYC standards. A tip for the future, Pete: kind words for a stranger are welcome. Touching? Not so much.
Well, almost springtime. It's been raining on and off since Friday, pouring in staccato spurts at times. In the past week, we've had days barely reaching 60 degrees and others with such high humidity I thought I would melt.
But, here are some photos of a much nicer day as I walked to my cousin's house for a lovely Mothers' Day brunch.
I took this shot while standing at the entrance to our subway station. This is the path I walk along twice a day, on my way to and from the train:
The Brooklyn Museum, a 10-minute walk from our apartment:
Call me juvenile, but I snicker like a kindergartener every time I hear this clip of our local news anchorwoman's on-air episode of potty mouth.
Maybe I'm crazy, but I have a feeling Sue Simmons made a lot of new fans that night.
And speaking of juvenile, one of the highlights of yesterday's NYU graduation ceremony at Yankee Stadium (congrats to my boyfriend, who donned his cap and gown proudly--photos to come) was the spontaneous stunt attempted by this kid.
He made it from far right field almost to home base before being tackled by not one, not two, but SIX security guards. Six burly he-man tackling this gleeful, skinny white kid to the ground. For running across the field, arms in the air. It was excessive, no doubt. But if their goal was to dissuade other happy grads from trying a similar stunt, well, mission accomplished!
Still, it was giddy fun to watch from the stands and the newly-minted NYU grad (assuming they don't revoke his degree!) has a cool story to tell his grandkids.
More on the wild stunt here and here.
And, not to ruin the mood, but I was pleased that the NYU ceremony began with a moment of silence for the victims in Myanmar and China. My heart aches for what they are going through.
Anyone who knows me or has read this blog, oh, once or twice, knows I'm no fan of President Bush. But a few months ago, I happened upon a Larry King interview with daughter Jenna, speaking about the new book she'd written about her UNICEF work in Latin America and I was pleasantly surprised by how intelligent, articulate and unpretentious she was. Really. Was anyone more shocked than I by this discovery? I found myself actually liking her, in spite of the horrors her father has perpetrated on this country and the world.
Perhaps it is because of this newfound respect for at least one of the Bush progeny (or because Dubya's IRS deposited a nice sum into my bank account last week) that I actually smiled upon seeing the photo in yesterday's news of the proud papa, Laura and their daughters at Jenna's wedding. Whatever your feelings for the Bush clan, it's hard to deny it is a lovely photo of an exceedingly handsome family (and what a gorgeous dress!). Much as I dislike Dubya and just everything he has done (or failed to do) these last 7.5 years, I can't deny he's a handsome man, that his wife--useless though sweet as she seems--is a very pretty lady and their daughters, both beautiful.
While it pains me that Bush can appear so happy and proud and beamng when so many people have suffered as a result of his actions, I found some relief in the amusing fact that the man who officiated the wedding--Bush's religious adviser and friend Reverend Kirbyjon Caldwell--has endorsed Barack Obama. Ha!
Few can argue that Bush has been (to put it kindly) a disappointment since Inauguration Day, 2001. I will be delighted to witness him exiting the presidency that many believe was never rightfully his to begin with.
And yet, I smiled at the photo of him standing proudly (albeit with that trademark blank look on his face) with his beautiful daughter and family on her wedding day.
Am I going soft?
...so Melody elects to sit here whenever the possibility presents itself. What's odd is that she never sits on my laptop--she prefers Jason's, for some reason known only to the fickle feline mind.
Very likely due to the fact that I've been horrendously lax in writing here, my (literally) oldest friend, Aviva, has tagged me! (Sorry for the overdue mention--I really only get to read blogs on weekends.)
Now, because it's a cloudy, gloomy, rather unpretty Saturday morning and I have been avoiding work by futzing around the apartment since 8:30, I think I'll give it a shot!
On to the rules:
1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules in your blog.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag 6 fellow bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged bloggers' blogs letting them know they've been tagged.
Now for 6 unspectacular quirks (of the many gazillions I have) about me that, hey, you may just find interesting:
1. I have been addicted to crossword puzzles since I was about 18, when my cousin Dalia introduced them to me. Oddly enough, the only thing that has ever been able to break my crossword addiction is a NEW addiction: to cryptograms, introduced to me by my boyfriend, Jason, last year.
2. I "face and fan" all the bills in my wallet. That means they must be in order by denomination (ones, fives, tens, twenties) and they must all be facing forward and upright. If this delicate placement is upset, I'm convinced the world could end.
3. I talk to my cats. All the time. I also sing little nonsense songs to them. They often purr when I do it, but I can't help but imagine that blank stare on their faces indicates complete contempt for me and all humans.
4. I get nauseated from perfume samples in magazines. Sorry, Vanity Fair, but the first thing I do when I get my monthly issue in the mail is rip out all the foul fragrance ads (and, frankly, all the other ads, as well--easily removes 100 unnecessary pages and makes the magazine much easier to shlep around).
5. I get extremely tipsy from one glass of wine. Particularly red wine, which is unfortunate, because I enjoy it so much. But seriously, it's embarrassing. I could hold my liquor much better at 22 than I can at 36!
6. I can't stand it when any digital clock in my house isn't on the right time--that means the DVD player, microwave, alarm clock, etc. must all be set correctly at all times. (I am a very busy girl on spring forward/fall back days.)
There you have it. I am a freak of nature.
Now, to tag 6 of my fellow bloggers:
1. Marney, at The World According to Marney (I know you're a busy newlywed with a new home to unpack, but we miss your blog!)
2. Seth, at The Wind Beneath My Chicken Wings
3. Aaron, at Aaroniously Yours
4. Adam, at Touch My Genius
5. Jackie, at Jackie-Blue
6. Christopher, because he has a website but really should write more