A long time ago, James Thurber wrote a humor column for the New Yorker. Lots of times they were accompanied by little drawings he did and lots of them are part of anthologies that are still available.
One of his columns was about the amount of submissions he received and he told about how many women find their day-to-day tasks hilarious even though they weren’t and he advised them not to write about them.
I question whether I do that. Candidly, I try to keep some perspective about our home’s destruction and it sort of mystifies me that I’m so caught up in this. I’m caught up in a way that I didn’t expect to be. First of all, I’m amazed about the amount of money I spend and the things that I should have bought but didn’t because I forget that I don’t own them anymore.
I’m not talking about construction stuff. I’m talking about other stuff. You know a drawer full of pens. Me, I’m not so good with pens and I find that whenever I need to write something down, I can’t find one. I don’t know whether this is new or not. Okay, it’s not brand new, as I used to be able to rummage around for one but now there’s no rummaging. It comes down to the fact that I bought a pen and I lost it and I don’t have another one and it’s iffy if I’ll remember to buy a couple next time I’m out or at least very soon. This leads me to borrow my husband’s pen which, I’ll have to tell, he didn’t forget to buy. After I borrow his, I put it someplace where neither of us would look for it so we spend some time pen-less. This does not endear me to my spouse and we’ve been married for such a long time that there’s no question about who lost the pen, the scissors, the tweezers, the dental floss, etc. Lots of times I deny responsibility for things like this but I really don’t have any credibility, even with myself. I deny anyway.
This happens to be a recent issue. The reason for this is the aforementioned piles of stuff and also because when we lived at our neighbor’s house they nicely had piles of pens in places where you would look for them. I’m only recently living with single items and that’s going about as well as I should have known it would but I didn’t think about stuff like that but now I do.
A really big part of me thinks it’s an excellent idea to live smaller, be more organized, and not buy into that consumerism thing. Also, at the moment, I like our home empty. We have a couple of lamps, a pretty good collection of wine, a desk that we brought from a neighbor, 2 camp umbrella chairs, 2 folding chairs a card table and a bed. We have sheer curtains on our bedroom window and all of the other windows are unadorned.
We have a stove, a microwave and a refrigerator. By the end of the week we’ll have counters and a sink and next week we can hook up the water. I fouled this up because we were supposed to get the counters (whose glue takes a couple of days to dry) this week but when the granite people called to confirm the Wednesday delivery I told them that it had to be Thursday because Monday thru Wednesday was Passover and that our building didn’t allow large deliveries during that holiday and they can’t come until Friday so it has to be then. I didn’t double check and it turns out that Passover ends on Tuesday so a Wednesday delivery would have been fine.
I don’t mind this as much as I should and this is partly because we’ve a bunch of kitchen stuff in storage that has to be cleaned and I am a little bit lazy about getting the stuff (which is a couple of blocks away), which has to be toted and unpacked, washed and put away. So, it seems perfectly reasonable to me to plan to devote next week to that. My better half is not going to understand this. I will be chagrined, he will be annoyed but will exhibit resolve and I will promise to do all the things.
I’m pretty sure that the majority of the kitchen things will be fine. With the exception of the silverware, which fused in a pile because our home was so hot, most stuff, I think, will be okay.
I have oodles of stuff and will be glad to see it. I can winnow stuff down and function with many less things than are stored and this will help me with my anti-consumer campaign; also, when I find out what I have, I can buy some pens and also a pineapple corer/slicer that I didn’t buy when I was at Williams Sonoma because that just seemed silly and I didn’t have a place to put it and also the anti-consumer thing.
I am preparing to clean everything in a green sort of way. I tested a ceramic dish in a dishwasher and the soot didn't come off. Then I tried a bunch of different kinds of soap and only Dawn worked and I only tried that because I remembered an advertisement that used it to clean gulf pelicans after the oil spill so that would seem to cover the green requirement.
So, this isn’t about hilarity and if James T. was alive and he read this he probably wouldn’t object on the non-hilarious grounds. Because he’s passed, he can’t object on any grounds at all and that’s good. What I write probably wouldn’t annoy a lot of dead people, so there’s that. Also, when I get a pen, I might start including little drawings as I already confessed that I can’t do the photo thing.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Kindly Supervision
I have come to the conclusion that I am the type of person who needs supervision. I am regularly supervised and because I am old enough to know that occasionally I have very bad ideas and also know that I am sloppy, I don’t usually mind. A lot of the time I’m not huffy at all when people give me advice. This is with the exception of my husband who happens to be past advising me and mostly issues edicts so he isn’t included in the “kindly supervision” category. Although, I am not as likely to consider his ideas suggestions like I mostly do with other people.
Sometimes I follow advice people give me, sometimes I mean to and sometimes I just ignore it even if I say I’m going to follow it. Since our fire I am more attentive to what people tell me than I usually am. I think this is about the supervision thing and also because people want to supervise me in a way that I haven’t been supervised before. This is probably a combination of the fact that a fire is such a dramatic thing that friends want to see how you’re coping. There also might be a possibility that you’re not acting quite right and even though you hope that’s not true, it may be a little bit.
I have this unbelievably good friend who writes the best e-mails. He always responds to something that you said or implied that is not the main thing but something you should probably think about and he writes in a funny clever way. I rant at him somewhat regularly and he says he doesn’t mind so I keep doing it.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote him an e-mail about how I was tired of wearing clothes from Rite Aide and about how I didn’t want to give my friend Carol back her shoes because they were so comfortable and because I really owe her a new pair. So he wrote back about how I had to get to a mall, how I really shouldn’t be dressing from RA (although he didn’t put it that way) and about how he had a friend who I know who was a personal shopper and how he would ask her to help me and all kinds of nice things.
My note to him told about how I got dressed up to go to City Center with my daughter and about how when they turned up the heat (it was a very cold night, but not so cold that the orchestra section needed to be 110-degrees) my outfit stunk. My outfit smelled like the fire. That smell permeated the whole section and was so pervasive that everyone was wondering where the smell was coming from. I would have left but I was sitting next to my daughter who kept telling me that the odor wasn’t me and I believed her until we went outside and she said that she knew it was me all of the time but that she didn’t want to make me self-conscious but I really did smell terrible. I guess it was good that she did that even though I really didn’t get into the performance because I was pretty sure that I was stinking up the place. And, it took me a while to find this funny.
I guess I’m glad this happened because right after that I got on the 14A bus, which was over-heated. I was wearing a coat that I had just pulled from a dry cleaning bag and the same thing happened. That time I got off the bus which wasn’t that good an idea because it was really cold out and a really long walk home. Plus, since I got off the bus because of the stinky thing, it didn’t seem like a good idea to get on a subway or take a cab so I made a plan.
My plan was to throw away my coat as soon as the next bus came along. The plan would work if I could toss the coat in a garbage can but there wasn’t one nearby and I think you’re not allowed to move them and I’ll bet they’re really heavy anyway. Also, I once got a ticket for disposing of household trash in a trash can even though it was car debris. So I decided that split second timing wasn’t going to work because obviously I had to be on the lookout for a policeman when I tossed the coat, and also tossing a winter coat on a freezing cold day would make it seem like you were planting a bomb. This is the kind of situation that New Yorkers who are inundated with the slogan: “if you see something, say something” should respond to.
I’m not saying that anyone pays attention to that direction anyway, but we should and someone who keeps looking west on 14th street then navigates snow drift obstacles to garbage cans then tosses a coat looks suspicious. There’s just no way around that.
That’s when I decided that I really had to go shopping. I don’t know if this would have occurred to me had my friend not told me that. Also, I realized that I didn’t have to wait for a personal shopper or anything. I could buy a coat right on 14th Street, which by the way, you can’t, but it seems like you could if you needed to but maybe those stores are west and I was pretty far east.
Because I got old, I tend to think things through. If I were younger I wouldn’t have ended up walking all the way home in the snow and the wet. That entire walk, I kept telling myself that it was good to be old because if I were young, I might, at that very moment, be being questioned by some terrorism task force. But, I think that that probably wouldn’t have happened and that I should have paid attention to the advice in my friend’s e-mail when I got it and it still wasn’t too late.
I’m acting more sensible now and I hope I don’t need too much more supervision, but I might, and I’ve decided not to be huffy at all about it if it comes my way.
Sometimes I follow advice people give me, sometimes I mean to and sometimes I just ignore it even if I say I’m going to follow it. Since our fire I am more attentive to what people tell me than I usually am. I think this is about the supervision thing and also because people want to supervise me in a way that I haven’t been supervised before. This is probably a combination of the fact that a fire is such a dramatic thing that friends want to see how you’re coping. There also might be a possibility that you’re not acting quite right and even though you hope that’s not true, it may be a little bit.
I have this unbelievably good friend who writes the best e-mails. He always responds to something that you said or implied that is not the main thing but something you should probably think about and he writes in a funny clever way. I rant at him somewhat regularly and he says he doesn’t mind so I keep doing it.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote him an e-mail about how I was tired of wearing clothes from Rite Aide and about how I didn’t want to give my friend Carol back her shoes because they were so comfortable and because I really owe her a new pair. So he wrote back about how I had to get to a mall, how I really shouldn’t be dressing from RA (although he didn’t put it that way) and about how he had a friend who I know who was a personal shopper and how he would ask her to help me and all kinds of nice things.
My note to him told about how I got dressed up to go to City Center with my daughter and about how when they turned up the heat (it was a very cold night, but not so cold that the orchestra section needed to be 110-degrees) my outfit stunk. My outfit smelled like the fire. That smell permeated the whole section and was so pervasive that everyone was wondering where the smell was coming from. I would have left but I was sitting next to my daughter who kept telling me that the odor wasn’t me and I believed her until we went outside and she said that she knew it was me all of the time but that she didn’t want to make me self-conscious but I really did smell terrible. I guess it was good that she did that even though I really didn’t get into the performance because I was pretty sure that I was stinking up the place. And, it took me a while to find this funny.
I guess I’m glad this happened because right after that I got on the 14A bus, which was over-heated. I was wearing a coat that I had just pulled from a dry cleaning bag and the same thing happened. That time I got off the bus which wasn’t that good an idea because it was really cold out and a really long walk home. Plus, since I got off the bus because of the stinky thing, it didn’t seem like a good idea to get on a subway or take a cab so I made a plan.
My plan was to throw away my coat as soon as the next bus came along. The plan would work if I could toss the coat in a garbage can but there wasn’t one nearby and I think you’re not allowed to move them and I’ll bet they’re really heavy anyway. Also, I once got a ticket for disposing of household trash in a trash can even though it was car debris. So I decided that split second timing wasn’t going to work because obviously I had to be on the lookout for a policeman when I tossed the coat, and also tossing a winter coat on a freezing cold day would make it seem like you were planting a bomb. This is the kind of situation that New Yorkers who are inundated with the slogan: “if you see something, say something” should respond to.
I’m not saying that anyone pays attention to that direction anyway, but we should and someone who keeps looking west on 14th street then navigates snow drift obstacles to garbage cans then tosses a coat looks suspicious. There’s just no way around that.
That’s when I decided that I really had to go shopping. I don’t know if this would have occurred to me had my friend not told me that. Also, I realized that I didn’t have to wait for a personal shopper or anything. I could buy a coat right on 14th Street, which by the way, you can’t, but it seems like you could if you needed to but maybe those stores are west and I was pretty far east.
Because I got old, I tend to think things through. If I were younger I wouldn’t have ended up walking all the way home in the snow and the wet. That entire walk, I kept telling myself that it was good to be old because if I were young, I might, at that very moment, be being questioned by some terrorism task force. But, I think that that probably wouldn’t have happened and that I should have paid attention to the advice in my friend’s e-mail when I got it and it still wasn’t too late.
I’m acting more sensible now and I hope I don’t need too much more supervision, but I might, and I’ve decided not to be huffy at all about it if it comes my way.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Little bottles and little tubes of things.
I have to replenish my rather copious former supply of little bottles and little tubes. That isn’t as easy as it would seem and this is because I’m not mailed samples. I don’t even know if manufacturers mail little packets of things anymore. When I moved to the Lower East Side which is apparently, not a chic zip code, all of the little things that I got while residing in a chic zip stopped. I didn’t miss that right away, but now I do.
What I miss is the possibility. I miss the possibility of re-hydrating something that needs to be re-hydrated. ( I think it's skin they're talking about, but who knows?)
For the last ten years no one has sent me a little tubey packet thing of rehydrating cream. Since I don’t actually know what to do with the product anyway it's not much of a loss. I also have not received that stuff comes with quenching possibilities, which greatly appeals to me as I’ve the idea that if I didn’t drink so much water, I wouldn’t have to get up at night. But I’m pretty sure cream doesn’t address that.
I'm relegated to taking hotel samples of stuff which is less satisfying than free mail samples. That's because there's no advertising and no promise. When you're in a hotel, the promise is that you'll help save the earth if you don't use the towels and there's an implication that you're a slob if you put them on the floor. Their little soaps and conditioner and lotion say only lotion, shampoo, conditioner. Where's the appeal in that?
Since I live in the Jewish section of Chinatown, there’s a dearth of things that I know what to do with. The Jewish stores sell dry goods and the Chinese stores sell herbal cures for whatever ails you. That, of course, is happy-making but you’re pretty much relegated to drug store chains with cosmetic bin displays if you're looking for that sort of thing.
Bunches of spas want to sell you things for $39.95 and they tell you that you need lots of these things but they don’t actually tell you what they’re for. They’re only good for chastising you about your over-grown eyebrows which you really should be plucking every single week and hot waxing minimally twice a month and this is something you already knew. I personally think spas on the les are a bit harsh about that but then you remember where you are so you have to expect to be tsk tsked. Also, a tsk or two makes me an excellent tipper so maybe that's why they do that.
I am confused about the benefits of rehydration, moisturizers, curative creams and also replenishing things. I get anti-cavity toothpaste, as I am opposed to cavities, who isn’t?
When we got all burned up, my friend Leah gave me a little suitcase chock full of little tubes of things. Everything is a brand that you and I have heard of. She gave me a pretty little jar of Absolue Premium Fix that is a “Crème Reconstituante Profonde” and a bigger jar of the same stuff and also High Resolution Refill, which is a triple action cream. I also have tubes of Collaser 5X which is soin anti-redes. I have things that regenerate, including a tube of regenerating body lotion that is, and I’m not making this up, “specially designed for the body.” I have a tube of something called “undectable” and it’s sort of a darkish skin color so I think it’s makeup, and bunches of other kinds of lotions that are differently spf rated including a sport face one that has an spf of 70. I love all these things. But since I didn’t accumulate them
myself, I don’t actually know where they should be put on my body.
Not knowing where these things go has not dissuaded me from using them. I think that I would actually be lovely if they were going on the right place and maybe they are and that I am well past the lovely possibility. I hope not.
I’m doubling down here and augmenting these things. So far I bought a bunch of Chinese Herbs that I have to boil then I think drink or maybe I’m supposed to rub them somewhere, I’ll figure it out. I also bought Vino de Carne & Hierro from a Hispanic drug store which the clerk told me about. She told me that this was a very good thing and I got that but not the rest of the pantomime. The label has a cow on it and I like cows so, of course, that has possibilities too.
I had expected living here that I would know Spanish and a little bit of Chinese. I expected to learn by osmosis but that didn't turn out. I am stuck with my verbless French and can only say thank you and happy New Year in languages that are prominent here.
Maybe someone will mail me something. Almost anything would be good. Going downstairs now to see if there's a Spanish language or Chinese language learning CD or a moisturizing thing. It’s all about possibilities, right?
What I miss is the possibility. I miss the possibility of re-hydrating something that needs to be re-hydrated. ( I think it's skin they're talking about, but who knows?)
For the last ten years no one has sent me a little tubey packet thing of rehydrating cream. Since I don’t actually know what to do with the product anyway it's not much of a loss. I also have not received that stuff comes with quenching possibilities, which greatly appeals to me as I’ve the idea that if I didn’t drink so much water, I wouldn’t have to get up at night. But I’m pretty sure cream doesn’t address that.
I'm relegated to taking hotel samples of stuff which is less satisfying than free mail samples. That's because there's no advertising and no promise. When you're in a hotel, the promise is that you'll help save the earth if you don't use the towels and there's an implication that you're a slob if you put them on the floor. Their little soaps and conditioner and lotion say only lotion, shampoo, conditioner. Where's the appeal in that?
Since I live in the Jewish section of Chinatown, there’s a dearth of things that I know what to do with. The Jewish stores sell dry goods and the Chinese stores sell herbal cures for whatever ails you. That, of course, is happy-making but you’re pretty much relegated to drug store chains with cosmetic bin displays if you're looking for that sort of thing.
Bunches of spas want to sell you things for $39.95 and they tell you that you need lots of these things but they don’t actually tell you what they’re for. They’re only good for chastising you about your over-grown eyebrows which you really should be plucking every single week and hot waxing minimally twice a month and this is something you already knew. I personally think spas on the les are a bit harsh about that but then you remember where you are so you have to expect to be tsk tsked. Also, a tsk or two makes me an excellent tipper so maybe that's why they do that.
I am confused about the benefits of rehydration, moisturizers, curative creams and also replenishing things. I get anti-cavity toothpaste, as I am opposed to cavities, who isn’t?
When we got all burned up, my friend Leah gave me a little suitcase chock full of little tubes of things. Everything is a brand that you and I have heard of. She gave me a pretty little jar of Absolue Premium Fix that is a “Crème Reconstituante Profonde” and a bigger jar of the same stuff and also High Resolution Refill, which is a triple action cream. I also have tubes of Collaser 5X which is soin anti-redes. I have things that regenerate, including a tube of regenerating body lotion that is, and I’m not making this up, “specially designed for the body.” I have a tube of something called “undectable” and it’s sort of a darkish skin color so I think it’s makeup, and bunches of other kinds of lotions that are differently spf rated including a sport face one that has an spf of 70. I love all these things. But since I didn’t accumulate them
myself, I don’t actually know where they should be put on my body.
Not knowing where these things go has not dissuaded me from using them. I think that I would actually be lovely if they were going on the right place and maybe they are and that I am well past the lovely possibility. I hope not.
I’m doubling down here and augmenting these things. So far I bought a bunch of Chinese Herbs that I have to boil then I think drink or maybe I’m supposed to rub them somewhere, I’ll figure it out. I also bought Vino de Carne & Hierro from a Hispanic drug store which the clerk told me about. She told me that this was a very good thing and I got that but not the rest of the pantomime. The label has a cow on it and I like cows so, of course, that has possibilities too.
I had expected living here that I would know Spanish and a little bit of Chinese. I expected to learn by osmosis but that didn't turn out. I am stuck with my verbless French and can only say thank you and happy New Year in languages that are prominent here.
Maybe someone will mail me something. Almost anything would be good. Going downstairs now to see if there's a Spanish language or Chinese language learning CD or a moisturizing thing. It’s all about possibilities, right?
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Buying and returning things.
I don’t usually have buyer’s remorse and I almost never return anything and that includes things that aren’t quite right. Because I’m a big sale rounder purchaser it never surprises me when the thing isn’t quite right because usually it is or someone can use it or I’ll decide that it’s just fine.
When I need something, I’m generally good at measuring if that’s needed or eyeballing if it doesn’t have to be exact. So it is sort of amazing to me that currently I’m involved in returning things I bought on line that don’t fit the places that I bought them for.
This pretty much has to do with replacing light fixtures. After our fire, we needed bunches and I was told that we needed them right away so I went to Canal Street and that didn’t work. When I would tell a clerk what I wanted and how much stuff I needed I got really hard sells. When I said that I was just browsing, I was ignored, so I shopped on-line.
Thing is, I didn’t measure anything. I didn’t click that thing that tells you all about the thing you’re buying which I don’t generally read except when there are before and after photos of someone who lost a gazillion pounds by rubbing on a cream or eating a berry with some super-duper brand of fish oil. Tops, for those kinds of things, I’ll pay $19.95 and it has to include shipping and handling and have a good return policy. This is just in case I really believed it was going to work, saved the tube, didn’t lose the tube’s top, found a box to mail it back in and was willing to accept a coupon for something else, that until this very moment was a secret, in lieu of cash. But, since I really didn’t expect it to work, didn’t faithfully follow the directions anyway, and lost the cap, I get to tell myself that it might have worked and accept that I’m an idiot. That’s okay.
Returning lighting fixtures is a whole other story because first you have to click a box that tells why you don’t want it, then you have to wait for an authorized return label that comes with very specific instructions about how to ship the thing back and then you have to wait for credit.
The instructions tell you that the fixture can’t be shipped in its original box and that the company’s authorized return number must be marked on the outside of the package. So, you have to go somewhere, buy a box, $7.99, thank you very much, and then argue with the FedEx guy about whether you can sharpie a number on the box’s outside, which they advise you not to do but let you do it anyway.
I think that FedEx doesn’t like extra numbers on their packages because they have all these codes and your numbers might match theirs and your package might go to some place that is wrong. I don’t know this for sure, and when they lost my package I didn’t tell them that I had insisted on writing numbers on the box, but I would have if they asked me.
Normally, in a situation like this, I’m pretty ready to fess up. But since I was already apologizing for losing the airway bill, didn’t remember the date that I sent it, had no idea if it was sent air or ground, it seemed like I was giving them enough trouble. I sorta liked that they weren’t accusing me of anything and being incredibly helpful. They couldn’t find my package right away, but said that they would call me back the next day with information and they did. They found it; I wrote down a bunch of numbers, e-mailed the company who just confirmed that they received the package and were waiting for authorization to credit me. Sounds like progress, no?
At the moment, I have three more things to return and I plan for it to go smoother. I bought a roll of contractor paper, lots of tape and some twine. I have a return label. I just have to decide if these fixtures would make awesome presents. It’s that thing. Maybe somebody can use these.
When I need something, I’m generally good at measuring if that’s needed or eyeballing if it doesn’t have to be exact. So it is sort of amazing to me that currently I’m involved in returning things I bought on line that don’t fit the places that I bought them for.
This pretty much has to do with replacing light fixtures. After our fire, we needed bunches and I was told that we needed them right away so I went to Canal Street and that didn’t work. When I would tell a clerk what I wanted and how much stuff I needed I got really hard sells. When I said that I was just browsing, I was ignored, so I shopped on-line.
Thing is, I didn’t measure anything. I didn’t click that thing that tells you all about the thing you’re buying which I don’t generally read except when there are before and after photos of someone who lost a gazillion pounds by rubbing on a cream or eating a berry with some super-duper brand of fish oil. Tops, for those kinds of things, I’ll pay $19.95 and it has to include shipping and handling and have a good return policy. This is just in case I really believed it was going to work, saved the tube, didn’t lose the tube’s top, found a box to mail it back in and was willing to accept a coupon for something else, that until this very moment was a secret, in lieu of cash. But, since I really didn’t expect it to work, didn’t faithfully follow the directions anyway, and lost the cap, I get to tell myself that it might have worked and accept that I’m an idiot. That’s okay.
Returning lighting fixtures is a whole other story because first you have to click a box that tells why you don’t want it, then you have to wait for an authorized return label that comes with very specific instructions about how to ship the thing back and then you have to wait for credit.
The instructions tell you that the fixture can’t be shipped in its original box and that the company’s authorized return number must be marked on the outside of the package. So, you have to go somewhere, buy a box, $7.99, thank you very much, and then argue with the FedEx guy about whether you can sharpie a number on the box’s outside, which they advise you not to do but let you do it anyway.
I think that FedEx doesn’t like extra numbers on their packages because they have all these codes and your numbers might match theirs and your package might go to some place that is wrong. I don’t know this for sure, and when they lost my package I didn’t tell them that I had insisted on writing numbers on the box, but I would have if they asked me.
Normally, in a situation like this, I’m pretty ready to fess up. But since I was already apologizing for losing the airway bill, didn’t remember the date that I sent it, had no idea if it was sent air or ground, it seemed like I was giving them enough trouble. I sorta liked that they weren’t accusing me of anything and being incredibly helpful. They couldn’t find my package right away, but said that they would call me back the next day with information and they did. They found it; I wrote down a bunch of numbers, e-mailed the company who just confirmed that they received the package and were waiting for authorization to credit me. Sounds like progress, no?
At the moment, I have three more things to return and I plan for it to go smoother. I bought a roll of contractor paper, lots of tape and some twine. I have a return label. I just have to decide if these fixtures would make awesome presents. It’s that thing. Maybe somebody can use these.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
When you owe
If you’re very lucky you will owe gratitude. I’m that person. I have been the beneficiary of things I can never repay and I don’t even want to repay those things, I want to owe.
Such a funny way to look at it. Here it is April, spring, rebirth, and I’m beginning the season with a deficit and I like that a lot. Our fire is done and we’re home.
We’re digesting all of the things that people told us and unless you’ve been pregnant in NY where complete strangers tell you the most astonishing things (particularly if you frequent deli counters) you’ll have to have your own fire to get this. Since I don’t want that to happen to you and because you might be interested, I’ll tell you what to expect.
First, you’re going to deal with the wonderful people. The fire guys who came to save you, the ambulance guy whose job it is to stick things into you so that you’re ready for the next step if the doctor guys want to do more things to you. Also, the doctor guys answer questions and tell you astounding things. Also neighbor people who give you cell phones, call your family and give you shoes and clothes and very good brands of personal toiletries which you realize are above what you buy and you get resolve about that. You resolve to buy better brands so that if you need to give them to someone they’re nice.
The fire guys are real professional. While the young guys run up the stairs, the older guys make you focus so that you can tell where the fire is, if there’s an open window, if you closed a door and things like that. The ambulance guys are good too although they’re busy with you and I have the idea that they’re trained not to answer any questions unless it’s about where you’re going. I think they’re not allowed to give you any water and if you ask for some they will tell you that and if you persist they’ll tell you they don’t have any.
When you meet the doctors and ask for water they will tell you that you can’t have any because your throat might swell up and then you’ll cough the water into your lungs and then you’ll drown. That’s what I mean about astounding things. You have to question a statement like this. You have to say, “how about I just swish it around in my mouth and promise to spit it out, then can I have some water?” And they tell you no. They say you might just swallow some.
Even when you say you wouldn’t swallow even a tiny bit and explain how you have gargling down and what they say really is astounding, especially the part about drowning, they have to think it over.
You have to let them know that you know that they’re really smart and it’s good that they’re in charge and you believe in them and everything and you don’t want to be a pain. Also, you happen to know that they’re not going to let you drown and then I think they realize that that’s true. After all of that, they’ll give you some water and you’re grateful.
I heard some other astounding things. One of the most amazing began with, “psssssst…your apartment burned up, right?” And when you nod agreement the next sentence is: “I got a Faberge Egg and a mink coat; it’s all documented. If you want to put in for it, something for you, something for me.” That cracked me up. I like to think that she is the lost princess Anastasia who wasn’t slaughtered in the Russian revolution.
I can’t recall all of the astounding things I’ve been told, but I’m going to start a list. I’ll need a list too about all the things I’m grateful for. Mostly it boils down to being alive, in a great place with good people and hopefully an ex-Princess. That would be best.
Such a funny way to look at it. Here it is April, spring, rebirth, and I’m beginning the season with a deficit and I like that a lot. Our fire is done and we’re home.
We’re digesting all of the things that people told us and unless you’ve been pregnant in NY where complete strangers tell you the most astonishing things (particularly if you frequent deli counters) you’ll have to have your own fire to get this. Since I don’t want that to happen to you and because you might be interested, I’ll tell you what to expect.
First, you’re going to deal with the wonderful people. The fire guys who came to save you, the ambulance guy whose job it is to stick things into you so that you’re ready for the next step if the doctor guys want to do more things to you. Also, the doctor guys answer questions and tell you astounding things. Also neighbor people who give you cell phones, call your family and give you shoes and clothes and very good brands of personal toiletries which you realize are above what you buy and you get resolve about that. You resolve to buy better brands so that if you need to give them to someone they’re nice.
The fire guys are real professional. While the young guys run up the stairs, the older guys make you focus so that you can tell where the fire is, if there’s an open window, if you closed a door and things like that. The ambulance guys are good too although they’re busy with you and I have the idea that they’re trained not to answer any questions unless it’s about where you’re going. I think they’re not allowed to give you any water and if you ask for some they will tell you that and if you persist they’ll tell you they don’t have any.
When you meet the doctors and ask for water they will tell you that you can’t have any because your throat might swell up and then you’ll cough the water into your lungs and then you’ll drown. That’s what I mean about astounding things. You have to question a statement like this. You have to say, “how about I just swish it around in my mouth and promise to spit it out, then can I have some water?” And they tell you no. They say you might just swallow some.
Even when you say you wouldn’t swallow even a tiny bit and explain how you have gargling down and what they say really is astounding, especially the part about drowning, they have to think it over.
You have to let them know that you know that they’re really smart and it’s good that they’re in charge and you believe in them and everything and you don’t want to be a pain. Also, you happen to know that they’re not going to let you drown and then I think they realize that that’s true. After all of that, they’ll give you some water and you’re grateful.
I heard some other astounding things. One of the most amazing began with, “psssssst…your apartment burned up, right?” And when you nod agreement the next sentence is: “I got a Faberge Egg and a mink coat; it’s all documented. If you want to put in for it, something for you, something for me.” That cracked me up. I like to think that she is the lost princess Anastasia who wasn’t slaughtered in the Russian revolution.
I can’t recall all of the astounding things I’ve been told, but I’m going to start a list. I’ll need a list too about all the things I’m grateful for. Mostly it boils down to being alive, in a great place with good people and hopefully an ex-Princess. That would be best.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Terrible Towels and Wonderful People
I’ve never been on any kind of sports team so the things I think and the kinds of emotions that players and real fans have are things I imagine. I’ve never been the “thrill of victory the agony of defeat” kind of person and am not any team’s avid fan although I like championship contests. I always choose a side to root for. Generally, I root for New York teams and if they’re not in some playoff thing that you can’t avoid knowing about, I root for what appeals to me which are different things at different times. Also, I’m not a loyal fan and can change loyalties in the middle of any match.
I rooted for Pittsburgh during the Superbowl because I read a story about a nurse who was such an avid Steelers fan she was” tying terrible towels” on IV poles in the hospital she worked in to make everyone feel good. Before that I had never heard about heard about a “terrible towel”. When I heard about terrible towels I really liked the idea. Then, I found out that the opposing team’s thing was to wear a hat shaped like a wedge of cheese and be known as a cheesehead and since I could see myself waving a towel and could never ever see me wearing a wedge on my head, my choice was made for me.
My daughter is surprised about this because she knows that I frequent stores that sell over the top stupid things which I tend to buy for each season and holiday. A frequent purchase is some kind of hat and the ones that need batteries and light up and play a tune tend to appeal to me. But I don’t wear them. I have lots of things that make me happy that I don’t wear and at some point I will replenish them. But, I digress.
Since we got all burned up, I’ve sorta started thinking about my neighbors as “terrible towel” people. This isn’t supposed to be derogatory or anything it’s just a way to categorize people and everything I once believed about this being an awful thing to do isn’t so much and this has come in very handy on the Lower East Side.
This sounds awful but it’s kind of nice. Here, there’s an edge, The “Terrible Towel” people are strong and kind and funny and generous.
My next door neighbors gave me their apartment while they vacation. This is unbelievable. They are “terrible towel” people. I think they are fierce in their goodness. I’ve lived next door to them for almost nine years. I always liked them but now I love them.
One of the best things about living in their home is to meet them in a way that’s different than it used to be. They have pictures of all of the people they love all over the place and they’re a nice looking brood. I can figure out who lots of them are because I’ve heard of visits, have a couple of times seen them here to visit or seen my neighbors laden down with things and they tell me where they’re going.
They say, “we’re bringing this to my daughter’s for Pesche” and they talk about what a great baker she is and how she baked a gazillion things for the holiday. They say, “We’re going to a birthday party,” and sometimes tell things that are worrisome, like, “we’re going to visit our grandson in the hospital” then you hope everything’s really okay .You have an idea of who everyone is in all of the pictures, but there are old ones from a long time ago. Living here, in a community with a significant Jewish presence makes you hope there’s not some sad story to go with their photo even though you know there is.
There’s bunches of stuff like that. I knew my friend was crafty. She’s always knitting beautiful infant hats that she donates somewhere. But in her home, anywhere you go, anywhere you look, there’s something that she did. Lots of stained glass pieces (and I have come to really like the one with yellow lilies in the living room window) and some very good oil paintings that she did. I did not know my neighbor was a talented artist.
My friend’s husband is a really nice guy. If you live in his home you see hundreds of sterling silver thank yous. They’re from every philanthropic organization there is and I feel great reading the inscriptions on these trophies because they should be read even though it’s probably nosey.
There’s a framed picture here of, I think, my neighbor’s father, in front of an ambulance parked in a desert and the cab’s door it says: “Presented to the People of Israel in memory of the Victims of Neustadt.”
I’m telling these things because I want people to know about wonderful people. It’s wonderful to live in the shadow of greatness.
I don’t know how to be great. I don’t know how to be generous in a way that puts little cardboard cylinders designated for housing, clothing and shelter everywhere you’d empty your pockets of change.
I’m learning. I’m telling. I hope that the three months I’ve lived here make me a better person and barring that, a more thoughtful, generous one.
Every day, when I wake up I say hello to my neighbor's kin. I hope they’re all Steelers fans and if they aren’t I will change sides.
I live in a place where there’s a quiet goodness. That’s the thrill of victory.
I rooted for Pittsburgh during the Superbowl because I read a story about a nurse who was such an avid Steelers fan she was” tying terrible towels” on IV poles in the hospital she worked in to make everyone feel good. Before that I had never heard about heard about a “terrible towel”. When I heard about terrible towels I really liked the idea. Then, I found out that the opposing team’s thing was to wear a hat shaped like a wedge of cheese and be known as a cheesehead and since I could see myself waving a towel and could never ever see me wearing a wedge on my head, my choice was made for me.
My daughter is surprised about this because she knows that I frequent stores that sell over the top stupid things which I tend to buy for each season and holiday. A frequent purchase is some kind of hat and the ones that need batteries and light up and play a tune tend to appeal to me. But I don’t wear them. I have lots of things that make me happy that I don’t wear and at some point I will replenish them. But, I digress.
Since we got all burned up, I’ve sorta started thinking about my neighbors as “terrible towel” people. This isn’t supposed to be derogatory or anything it’s just a way to categorize people and everything I once believed about this being an awful thing to do isn’t so much and this has come in very handy on the Lower East Side.
This sounds awful but it’s kind of nice. Here, there’s an edge, The “Terrible Towel” people are strong and kind and funny and generous.
My next door neighbors gave me their apartment while they vacation. This is unbelievable. They are “terrible towel” people. I think they are fierce in their goodness. I’ve lived next door to them for almost nine years. I always liked them but now I love them.
One of the best things about living in their home is to meet them in a way that’s different than it used to be. They have pictures of all of the people they love all over the place and they’re a nice looking brood. I can figure out who lots of them are because I’ve heard of visits, have a couple of times seen them here to visit or seen my neighbors laden down with things and they tell me where they’re going.
They say, “we’re bringing this to my daughter’s for Pesche” and they talk about what a great baker she is and how she baked a gazillion things for the holiday. They say, “We’re going to a birthday party,” and sometimes tell things that are worrisome, like, “we’re going to visit our grandson in the hospital” then you hope everything’s really okay .You have an idea of who everyone is in all of the pictures, but there are old ones from a long time ago. Living here, in a community with a significant Jewish presence makes you hope there’s not some sad story to go with their photo even though you know there is.
There’s bunches of stuff like that. I knew my friend was crafty. She’s always knitting beautiful infant hats that she donates somewhere. But in her home, anywhere you go, anywhere you look, there’s something that she did. Lots of stained glass pieces (and I have come to really like the one with yellow lilies in the living room window) and some very good oil paintings that she did. I did not know my neighbor was a talented artist.
My friend’s husband is a really nice guy. If you live in his home you see hundreds of sterling silver thank yous. They’re from every philanthropic organization there is and I feel great reading the inscriptions on these trophies because they should be read even though it’s probably nosey.
There’s a framed picture here of, I think, my neighbor’s father, in front of an ambulance parked in a desert and the cab’s door it says: “Presented to the People of Israel in memory of the Victims of Neustadt.”
I’m telling these things because I want people to know about wonderful people. It’s wonderful to live in the shadow of greatness.
I don’t know how to be great. I don’t know how to be generous in a way that puts little cardboard cylinders designated for housing, clothing and shelter everywhere you’d empty your pockets of change.
I’m learning. I’m telling. I hope that the three months I’ve lived here make me a better person and barring that, a more thoughtful, generous one.
Every day, when I wake up I say hello to my neighbor's kin. I hope they’re all Steelers fans and if they aren’t I will change sides.
I live in a place where there’s a quiet goodness. That’s the thrill of victory.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Here's a video of our fire
It took me a long time to figure out how to do this and it's not even a hard thing to do. But, here it is. I have photos of what our home looked liked after this happened and if I can figure out how to show them, I'll post them too. Soon.
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