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Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
BONANZA
So I thought I would buy a lottery ticket today. It is up to $150 million. Just think of all the things I could do?
First, I would buy my mother and father a beautiful beach-front house at the Jersey Shore. The house would have a deck with a view of the ocean just off a kitchen with a large window. I would let mom pick it out, of course, but flex some of my influence to get a jacuzzi outside for nighttime soaking. My dad wouldn't be crazy about it because it would probably be too far from the airport where he skydives, but I would make sure he had the best toys.
I would immediately give my two-weeks notice at work. I like my job and all but come on. Then I would rent a house in the islands for an unspecified amount of time, hunker down, tan and decide what to do next. I would read a lot at first and deal with the financial planning side of the bonanza. I would make sure my friends had what they needed but keep them at arms length.
I would plan a trip around the globe. Now that I am nice and tan I would head to Monte Carlo, Casablanca, Paris and other glamorous sites to waste some money in posh hotels and hobnob with millionaires at exotic beaches and European Chalets. I would drink the finest wines and start my days with champagne.
By this point, I would probably need rehab or at least a place to dry out. So I would look for an Italian villa in Tuscany or a chalet in some cute French town to lie low for a while. I would invite friends and family to come visit me here. Many wouldn't be able to come because of jobs and families.
All the wine and fine dining is probably going to my hips by now so I would schedule an appointment with a pricey plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills. By now my mother is probably getting pretty mad at me for my jet-setting so I think I need to head back to Jersey for a visit.
In Jersey, I find my mom and dad have split because they are so bored. Nobody needs to work anymore so my dad has driven my mother mad. They sold the house I bought them and went their separate ways. The Jersey shore pales in comparison to the places I've seen.
I try to get in touch with my friends, but they've all moved on. Turns out I was gone for a while and their children have had major milestones _ all of which I've missed.
So I head back to Manhattan for a dose of familiarity.
In the end, I'm back in an apartment in Manhattan sitting in front of my computer, alone. ... Maybe I'll forego buying the lottery ticket after all.
Peace,
Tina
First, I would buy my mother and father a beautiful beach-front house at the Jersey Shore. The house would have a deck with a view of the ocean just off a kitchen with a large window. I would let mom pick it out, of course, but flex some of my influence to get a jacuzzi outside for nighttime soaking. My dad wouldn't be crazy about it because it would probably be too far from the airport where he skydives, but I would make sure he had the best toys.
I would immediately give my two-weeks notice at work. I like my job and all but come on. Then I would rent a house in the islands for an unspecified amount of time, hunker down, tan and decide what to do next. I would read a lot at first and deal with the financial planning side of the bonanza. I would make sure my friends had what they needed but keep them at arms length.
I would plan a trip around the globe. Now that I am nice and tan I would head to Monte Carlo, Casablanca, Paris and other glamorous sites to waste some money in posh hotels and hobnob with millionaires at exotic beaches and European Chalets. I would drink the finest wines and start my days with champagne.
By this point, I would probably need rehab or at least a place to dry out. So I would look for an Italian villa in Tuscany or a chalet in some cute French town to lie low for a while. I would invite friends and family to come visit me here. Many wouldn't be able to come because of jobs and families.
All the wine and fine dining is probably going to my hips by now so I would schedule an appointment with a pricey plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills. By now my mother is probably getting pretty mad at me for my jet-setting so I think I need to head back to Jersey for a visit.
In Jersey, I find my mom and dad have split because they are so bored. Nobody needs to work anymore so my dad has driven my mother mad. They sold the house I bought them and went their separate ways. The Jersey shore pales in comparison to the places I've seen.
I try to get in touch with my friends, but they've all moved on. Turns out I was gone for a while and their children have had major milestones _ all of which I've missed.
So I head back to Manhattan for a dose of familiarity.
In the end, I'm back in an apartment in Manhattan sitting in front of my computer, alone. ... Maybe I'll forego buying the lottery ticket after all.
Peace,
Tina
Thursday, January 17, 2008
:Running
The cold gets into my bones before I even leave the house.
I'm snuggled tight in my heavy running tights, bright pink fleece jacket and layers underneath that promise to wick away my sweat, a headband to protect my ears from the wind, black gloves that I know will come off sometime around the third hill with a new lavender stop watch strapped around my wrist.
I stretch in the house before heading down three flights of stairs to the front door. I do it again on the landing and head down the steep staircase in front of my house on 118th Street.
The construction guys on the corner leer, even though I feel gross and half asleep _ thanks _ and I think briefly about turning back and getting under the covers. I shake it away and start running down Adam Clayton Powell toward Central Park.
I dance around one of those nylon bands they use to tie stacks of newspapers and pick up my pace to make it through a stoplight in front of a bus filled with school-children.
I hear a man or woman on the other side of the street howling to the long-receded moon about Jesus even though its well past 7.
I see a group of African men wearing green and yellow dresses and cross to the other side of the wide boulevard to avoid collison. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm thinking about skipping Central Park and running around the block. Instead, I head to the park.
I can see the start of the first and steepest hill. It is daunting to face such a steep hill at the start of a run but I am already joining a trikle of other runners. I look down so that I don't have to wrestle with the thought of the distance ahead.
My muscles are sore from a workout at the gym the day before but I hear footsteps behind me and I know that it is too late to turn back.
The sounds of traffic start to fade away as I near the first water fountain just as the hill begins to crest and stretch out into a steadier slope. A large, brown dog runs gracefully across the road before me from a path that peeks out of the trees. I crane my neck and look to my right as I run past the path but see no owner. Everything is quiet.
I am concerned for the dog, but my legs are tired. I can't see the end of the hill but continue because I hear the pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat of anohter runner close behind. I speed up because it is in my nature.
I can hear the cawing of hawks above me but I cannot see them yet. A squirrel scurries across my path, close, but doesn't seem to care that I am here. I am finally at the top of the first hill when I pass the tennis courts. All I can hear is a hypnotic clop, clop, clop, clop, clop, clop, clop.
I start to think about the yin and yang of this city and my love, hate relationship with it.
This park is beautiful, especially with the sun hanging low and orange in the sky early in the morning.
Around me, I see only an occassional runner or biker. I feel alone, which is incredible in a city this large. I see a hawk with a red tail soaring above me. I'm probably at about 95th Street by now, but it's hard to tell up here because the woods are too thick to see the street.
I begin climbing a gradual hill and am starting to feel warmed up and more confident when the runner who has been behind me passes. Jerk.
On my left, I see the Jackie O. Resevoir. I ran around it many times after work when I lived at 80th and 1st on the Upper East Side. The resevoir is beautiful in the evening. As the sun sets, you can see the light of New York flicker on _ and it is very flat.
I am almost at the museum and I notice flashing police lights to my right and cluthes of people have stopped to gaze down from the raised park at the avenue below. I have no choice but to run over and see what is happening.
I see about a dozen cops with their guns drawn crouching beside police cars and I start searching for my cell phone quickly remembering that i don't have it with me. A couple next to me was also running and stopped to watch the fracus. The cops being to head into the museum with their guns pointed. I realize that I'm standing on a hill and that somebody might begin shooting at any time so start crouching down.
When i notice that the couple next to me isn't following suit, I gesture them to back up. They laugh. Then I hear a man yelling "Cut! Cut!" over a loudspeaker. I crane to see through the trees and see the movie cameras and stage-hands. I look at the couple and laugh at myself. They smile kindly in return.
I continue running on and remember again what I love about this city: It's always suprising, never boring, sometimes mean but often beautiful.
Peace,
Tina
I'm snuggled tight in my heavy running tights, bright pink fleece jacket and layers underneath that promise to wick away my sweat, a headband to protect my ears from the wind, black gloves that I know will come off sometime around the third hill with a new lavender stop watch strapped around my wrist.
I stretch in the house before heading down three flights of stairs to the front door. I do it again on the landing and head down the steep staircase in front of my house on 118th Street.
The construction guys on the corner leer, even though I feel gross and half asleep _ thanks _ and I think briefly about turning back and getting under the covers. I shake it away and start running down Adam Clayton Powell toward Central Park.
I dance around one of those nylon bands they use to tie stacks of newspapers and pick up my pace to make it through a stoplight in front of a bus filled with school-children.
I hear a man or woman on the other side of the street howling to the long-receded moon about Jesus even though its well past 7.
I see a group of African men wearing green and yellow dresses and cross to the other side of the wide boulevard to avoid collison. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm thinking about skipping Central Park and running around the block. Instead, I head to the park.
I can see the start of the first and steepest hill. It is daunting to face such a steep hill at the start of a run but I am already joining a trikle of other runners. I look down so that I don't have to wrestle with the thought of the distance ahead.
My muscles are sore from a workout at the gym the day before but I hear footsteps behind me and I know that it is too late to turn back.
The sounds of traffic start to fade away as I near the first water fountain just as the hill begins to crest and stretch out into a steadier slope. A large, brown dog runs gracefully across the road before me from a path that peeks out of the trees. I crane my neck and look to my right as I run past the path but see no owner. Everything is quiet.
I am concerned for the dog, but my legs are tired. I can't see the end of the hill but continue because I hear the pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat of anohter runner close behind. I speed up because it is in my nature.
I can hear the cawing of hawks above me but I cannot see them yet. A squirrel scurries across my path, close, but doesn't seem to care that I am here. I am finally at the top of the first hill when I pass the tennis courts. All I can hear is a hypnotic clop, clop, clop, clop, clop, clop, clop.
I start to think about the yin and yang of this city and my love, hate relationship with it.
This park is beautiful, especially with the sun hanging low and orange in the sky early in the morning.
Around me, I see only an occassional runner or biker. I feel alone, which is incredible in a city this large. I see a hawk with a red tail soaring above me. I'm probably at about 95th Street by now, but it's hard to tell up here because the woods are too thick to see the street.
I begin climbing a gradual hill and am starting to feel warmed up and more confident when the runner who has been behind me passes. Jerk.
On my left, I see the Jackie O. Resevoir. I ran around it many times after work when I lived at 80th and 1st on the Upper East Side. The resevoir is beautiful in the evening. As the sun sets, you can see the light of New York flicker on _ and it is very flat.
I am almost at the museum and I notice flashing police lights to my right and cluthes of people have stopped to gaze down from the raised park at the avenue below. I have no choice but to run over and see what is happening.
I see about a dozen cops with their guns drawn crouching beside police cars and I start searching for my cell phone quickly remembering that i don't have it with me. A couple next to me was also running and stopped to watch the fracus. The cops being to head into the museum with their guns pointed. I realize that I'm standing on a hill and that somebody might begin shooting at any time so start crouching down.
When i notice that the couple next to me isn't following suit, I gesture them to back up. They laugh. Then I hear a man yelling "Cut! Cut!" over a loudspeaker. I crane to see through the trees and see the movie cameras and stage-hands. I look at the couple and laugh at myself. They smile kindly in return.
I continue running on and remember again what I love about this city: It's always suprising, never boring, sometimes mean but often beautiful.
Peace,
Tina
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
RIP Jasmine
I was with Jasmine tonight when she left us, but I still can't believe she's gone.
I met her when I was either 20 or 21. I can't remember for sure. I was having my Fiat fixed, for the hundreth time or so. There were a bunch of kittens in this guy's garage and one of them caught my eye. They were definitely too young to leave their mother, but I knew they didn't have a chance there. So I took her.
My parents weren't excited about the prospect of another pet. They didn't have a cat, but had a dog.
There were a couple years with me away, and they kept feeding her. I probably should have felt bad. But my dad actually took a liking to her. She would climb up onto his chest while they watched television and I think he sort of liked it when she kneaded his chest with her claws.
She would always come to me when I called out to her in the woods, when I came home from school after that. I was even there when she had her babies. Although my mother swears she helped birth them all.
After I met Mark and settled down some, I wanted to bring her to our home. I introduced Mark formally. We'll never forget the way she brought a mouse to him and ripped it apart to show him her resume. It was incredible.
We brought her to our home. It was a big farm home in Pa. at that time, and she seemed to like it. She hung out in the basement alot so I'm sure a lot of creatures died.
Then, we brought her back to Philly with us. When she became and indoor cat, we finally saw the best of her. She would play with us and wait for us like a dog. It was incredible for this outdoor cat.
When we bought our condo in Philly, she loved hanging out on the deck with us. She would stretch out and bask in the sun. Then, without warning, head back inside to the cool. She started to become more and more like a dog, waiting for dinner so she could jump up on a chair and join us at the table.
At night, she would snuggle into one of our nooks, begging us to pet her.
Finally, on Manhattan's Upper East Side, she would take her place on the leather bachelor chair, finally making use of an otherwise useless piece of furniture. I could pull myself close to her and pet her there. She liked that.
In our new place, in Harlem, she loved to lay on the hardwood or curl into the furry house we bought. But she was always out for a piece of shrimp or steak for dinner.
I held her tonight and pet her as the liquid went in. It only took a second and she was gone. Her eyes went black. I don't know how I shall live without her.
tina
I met her when I was either 20 or 21. I can't remember for sure. I was having my Fiat fixed, for the hundreth time or so. There were a bunch of kittens in this guy's garage and one of them caught my eye. They were definitely too young to leave their mother, but I knew they didn't have a chance there. So I took her.
My parents weren't excited about the prospect of another pet. They didn't have a cat, but had a dog.
There were a couple years with me away, and they kept feeding her. I probably should have felt bad. But my dad actually took a liking to her. She would climb up onto his chest while they watched television and I think he sort of liked it when she kneaded his chest with her claws.
She would always come to me when I called out to her in the woods, when I came home from school after that. I was even there when she had her babies. Although my mother swears she helped birth them all.
After I met Mark and settled down some, I wanted to bring her to our home. I introduced Mark formally. We'll never forget the way she brought a mouse to him and ripped it apart to show him her resume. It was incredible.
We brought her to our home. It was a big farm home in Pa. at that time, and she seemed to like it. She hung out in the basement alot so I'm sure a lot of creatures died.
Then, we brought her back to Philly with us. When she became and indoor cat, we finally saw the best of her. She would play with us and wait for us like a dog. It was incredible for this outdoor cat.
When we bought our condo in Philly, she loved hanging out on the deck with us. She would stretch out and bask in the sun. Then, without warning, head back inside to the cool. She started to become more and more like a dog, waiting for dinner so she could jump up on a chair and join us at the table.
At night, she would snuggle into one of our nooks, begging us to pet her.
Finally, on Manhattan's Upper East Side, she would take her place on the leather bachelor chair, finally making use of an otherwise useless piece of furniture. I could pull myself close to her and pet her there. She liked that.
In our new place, in Harlem, she loved to lay on the hardwood or curl into the furry house we bought. But she was always out for a piece of shrimp or steak for dinner.
I held her tonight and pet her as the liquid went in. It only took a second and she was gone. Her eyes went black. I don't know how I shall live without her.
tina
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Another Day in the Neighborhood
I'm back. Thanks to those of you who urged me to post during my dry spell. I started to think it was kind of stupid. I mean how narcissistic can you get? Right?
I changed my mind. I just don't get to talk to everybody as often as I'd like. So, I can write amusing things here and you all can check in. Heck, I've even gotten a few notes from strangers who happened upon my blog and wrote to tell me what they liked about it. That's pretty cool. My own little bit of fame.
So, one interesting thing about this neighborhood is the amount of life on the street. There are always people walking around and milling about.
Sundays are a great day to go hat spotting. This mornning, I saw a woman all natted up for church wearing a white, feather sombrero. Swear to God. It was pretty cool.
There's also a huge African community around us here. I wonder if they are from the same country, or the same tribe. Many of them seem to speak the same language. I hope I don't sound too much like a social scientist here. I don't want to come off like I'm some sort of anthropologist observing the locals. It's just hard not to notice these things.
Anyway, Jasmine is rolled up in a ball, stretching her paws forward under the window in the corner. A soft breeze is blowing through the apartment and it feels great. I worked a double shift yesterday, 15 hours, so am taking it easy today. Mark is at work. That's my number one complaint right now. We have opposite hours. Yuck.
Why couldn't I find a lawyer or engineer?
The tops of the trees outside my front windows make me forget that I'm living in the city sometimes. Then, a stereo blasting horn honking SUV passes and I remember.
I was out in the neighborhood today and I saw a young woman riding a pedi-cab asking passersby if they want to see nearby condos. In other words, she's pedaling a little cart around with a seat in the back for two. If you take the free ride, she brings you to some new highrise that's going up on 123rd St. and 5th Ave.
That's interesting on multiple levels. I mean, I'm pretty damn sure she's got a certain type of person in mind when she asks "Interested in seeing condos today?" It's sort of like one of those old time-share letters but there was no offer of a brand new car (or possibly a grill) if you went with her. All you would get is a look at something beautiful that you couldn't afford. (Adam, don't try to steal this sty idea!)
Peace all,
Tina
I changed my mind. I just don't get to talk to everybody as often as I'd like. So, I can write amusing things here and you all can check in. Heck, I've even gotten a few notes from strangers who happened upon my blog and wrote to tell me what they liked about it. That's pretty cool. My own little bit of fame.
So, one interesting thing about this neighborhood is the amount of life on the street. There are always people walking around and milling about.
Sundays are a great day to go hat spotting. This mornning, I saw a woman all natted up for church wearing a white, feather sombrero. Swear to God. It was pretty cool.
There's also a huge African community around us here. I wonder if they are from the same country, or the same tribe. Many of them seem to speak the same language. I hope I don't sound too much like a social scientist here. I don't want to come off like I'm some sort of anthropologist observing the locals. It's just hard not to notice these things.
Anyway, Jasmine is rolled up in a ball, stretching her paws forward under the window in the corner. A soft breeze is blowing through the apartment and it feels great. I worked a double shift yesterday, 15 hours, so am taking it easy today. Mark is at work. That's my number one complaint right now. We have opposite hours. Yuck.
Why couldn't I find a lawyer or engineer?
The tops of the trees outside my front windows make me forget that I'm living in the city sometimes. Then, a stereo blasting horn honking SUV passes and I remember.
I was out in the neighborhood today and I saw a young woman riding a pedi-cab asking passersby if they want to see nearby condos. In other words, she's pedaling a little cart around with a seat in the back for two. If you take the free ride, she brings you to some new highrise that's going up on 123rd St. and 5th Ave.
That's interesting on multiple levels. I mean, I'm pretty damn sure she's got a certain type of person in mind when she asks "Interested in seeing condos today?" It's sort of like one of those old time-share letters but there was no offer of a brand new car (or possibly a grill) if you went with her. All you would get is a look at something beautiful that you couldn't afford. (Adam, don't try to steal this sty idea!)
Peace all,
Tina
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