September 29, 2000 +
Apple wedges dipped in honey make for a great late-morning treat.
--
September 27, 2000 +
The air outside was a brisk 48 degrees at 8 a.m. My apartment was just chilly enough for me to want to pull the blanket up around my neck but warm enough to keep me from being cold. The hot water in the shower confused my cool skin when I first got wet. My leather jacket got pulled out of the closet for the first time since the spring. Stepping out of my apartment building, the early fall air touched my cheeks, refreshing and invigorating my skin, soothing and filling my lungs. Looking up, the sky was a deep, rich blue, with not a cloud to be found.
Mornings like this make me feel good to be alive.
--
September 26, 2000 +
Overheard on the M86 bus this morning.
Cast: she, early 30s, sitting; he, slightly older than she, standing.
She, looking up: "Thank you."
He: "Oh, you're very welcome."
She, smiling sweetly: "I hope someone does something nice for you too."
He, with a smile: "Oh, it happens all the time."
Ten minutes earlier I was cut in line at the bagel store, but I stepped off the bus reminded once again of the good will of the average New Yorker.
--
In case you're wondering, no, I'm not writing about you for a while.
--
September 25, 2000 +
After a year of relative seclusion -- even though it's her home page -- my mother decided to delve into my web site the other day.
The good news: She loves it. And of course she showed Dad, who liked it too. Momma's boy that I am, the parental approval is important, and it's about time they poked around here a bit.
The bad news: I have no idea what they must think of me now. *wink*
Hi, Mom!
--
September 19, 2000 +
Instant message quote of the day: "I'm so bee's knees I'm ready to look for pollen."
--
I wonder how many slaps in the face it will take.
--
September 15, 2000 +
My dad is retiring at the end of the month. Pretty cool for him, at the age of 56, no less.
My dad is retiring at the end of the month. Pretty bad for me, the Devils fan, raised on attending games in the best seats in the house at the Meadowlands, provided by my father's company on quiet nights when clients couldn't go, or when my father just felt like taking his kids to the game.
I called my parents in Spain just now to tell Pop not to retire. I mean, come on here. These are center-ice tickets we're talking about.
--
September 13, 2000 +
Signs You've Been Away from Home Much Longer than You Thought
-
You don't remember the key sequence to unlock your doors
-
The ridiculously high answering-machine total doesn't pique your curiosity
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A store across the street from your home went out of business and you have no idea what the store was
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Bedtime is in the eighth inning of the baseball game, and your team isn't on a west-coast road trip
-
It's been three weeks and the apartment didn't get any messier
--
Time was, coming home from a trip was a bit of a thrill.
Last night bordered on routine: "Yep, let's see how long the line at Immigration is. ... Yep, there's tunnel traffic. ... Yep, there's 72nd Street. ... Yep, here I am. Ho hum."
Six months ago I'd never have expected this.
--
September 12, 2000 +
Part of me wishes I didn't have to go back. Not to New York, but to reality.
A business trip, outside of the business, is nearly responsibility-free. No bills, only receipts. No errands, just shopping. No cooking, just ordering. No cleaning, just cleanup.
My life has basically been work, eat, sleep for 22 days. Tomorrow, I'll have the pleasure of facing a messy apartment and three weeks of unopened mail.
I am glad I'm going home; I have a personal life to resume. But the element of escapism I've had will surely be missed.
--
September 11, 2000 +
It just occurred to me that as of today I have made four separate trips and spent fully six weeks of the last year in (or traveling to and from) the United Kingdom.
And to think that it was around this week last year that I first got my passport.
--
Over dinner last night, I got to chatting with my waitress about expense accounts, receipts, tipping and managing a restaurant. She was telling me about the patrons at the table next to mine, who accidentally walked out with both copies of their receipt, leaving the restaurant with no signature and, thus, no way to reconcile the bill with the credit-card company.
Moments later, I walked out with neither copy of my receipt, leaving me with no proof of my meal and, thus, no way to reconcile the bill on my expense sheet.
--
September 5, 2000 +
Confidential to Francois in the Orient: Whenever you're ready.
--
I'm starting to realize that the things I thought I lacked I actually possess more than I expected.
By the same token, I am discovering that my social tendencies -- what I thought was a natural inclination to associate with those who had what I thought I didn't -- are actually a direct reflection of my own traits, and an attempt to emphasize my strong points rather than compensate for my weaknesses.
I know, the thought is a little convoluted. But the concept fascinates me.
--
September 2, 2000 +
I still think about you, you know.
Not a lot, mind you; I have a new agenda now. But from time to time, sure, when a random image or experience toggles a memory in the recesses of my mind.
It's pleasant, actually, thinking of you. Sometimes it makes me smile inwardly at the happiness we shared. More often than not, it makes me wonder.
I wonder all sorts of things. I wonder how you're doing, obviously. I wonder what you did this week; I wonder what you're doing this weekend.
I wonder what you're wearing today. I wonder how you like your home. I wonder if your bed would still feel comfortable to me.
I wonder how he's treating you, if he's still the one for you, if he's still kicking around. I wonder if he still makes you swoon. I wonder whether you keep fond memories of me in your head or if you've tucked them far away, never to be resurrected.
I wonder if you think of me. I wonder what you think of me.
I wonder if you think I want you back, which I do not. I wonder if you recognize my curiosity as a nod to a dormant friendship, which it is. I wonder if you're happy, which I hope you are.
I wonder if you'll call me sometime and say hello, or if you wonder whether I'll ever call you again, which I probably won't. I know you still come here, and you will read this, and it will make you think, and that is enough.
I wonder if you think this is about you. I wonder if you assume it's about someone else. It may be both, you know. Don't let it go to your head, kid. But don't think I'm not thinking about you once in a while. And wishing you well. And wondering.
--
September 1, 2000 +
It feels like a rainy day today, even though it's not.
I think I understand what that means but I don't want to face it.
--
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