March 2010
17 posts
Taxi dance
Originally posted 03.24.2006
About two months ago, in anticipation of being able to run longer than 20 minutes again some day, I bought an MP3 player. Not an iPod, which has become the label for all of these things irrespective of brand (like Kleenex or Walkman), but a more PC-compatible (so I was told) version. It’s lipstick red and about the size of a cigarette lighter and about as satisfying...
Morning routine
Originally posted 03.13.2006
Salt water, hot, is the first
defense, saline swill
in a cobalt class,
a sleek little cylinder that sits sinkside
amid the clutter of
our personal things: brushes, razors,
soaps and creams.
The cabinet painted thick,
barely latches,
hardly holds and seldom catches
the morning fumble from fingers aching with caffeine and
last night’s lack of restraint—
...
Tribeca Walk
Originally posted 03.13.2006
Heels clack on pavement wet with runoff,
flowing fresh under a
chain-link fence.
How can there be melt-water where there
wasn’t any snow?
All the histories of April
hang by a thread, the weight
in my chest a pendulum
barely swinging.
Gentle rocks, the traffic flows
without malice,
a lullaby of city sound.
Stress fracture
Originally posted 03.01.2006
Six weeks after I stopped running, five weeks after a bone scan inconclusively revealed a stress fracture in my right tibia, nothing seems to have changed. The physiatrist who diagnosed the break told me to get physical therapy and come back in another six weeks. That I’m not ready to run yet. That if I run the way I used to, I’ll just break myself again.
I have...
The ring and I: a roomful of cheating hearts
Originally posted 02.23.2006
I was pretty uncomfortable by myself at the Happy Endings reading series last night. Best I can tell, I was the only person in the room who didn’t know at least three other people there, as the bulk of them seemed to have graduated college together. The readings were from a couple of new books: The Encyclopedia of Exes and Homewrecker: An Adultery Reader. In a fit of...
Nice?
Originally posted 01.26.2006
So, I went to the gym last night to redirect my monthly payments to a different account. This was taken care of by a staff member I’ve seen there in the past—pleasant, friendly, maybe a little too friendly. I’ve always been a little on my guard around him because I feel like he’s either trying to flirt with me or sell me something. But last...
As the flood waters recede
Originally posted 01.20.2006
Sitting on the 4 train on this mid-January day, I feel I could reach through the pages of this magazine into a New Orleans day, end of April, beginning of May. What year, which one of the last four?
The first was a sweet suspension of responsibility after a solitary road trip the length of a river, minus miles on either end, the Boundary Waters, the Gulf of Mexico....
Strike!
Originally posted 12.20.2005
So, here I am, sitting at my desk at the DOH feeling slightly grimy in layers of running clothes and raggedy sweaters that I stuffed into a backpack early this morning before heading out for my first ever run-to-work. It was kind of neat, actually. Anticipating heavy congestion on the Brooklyn Bridge, I started out around 6:30 a.m. Most mornings, I shoehorn myself...
Things are good
Originally posted 11.29.2005
We are gliding fast to the end of my darling month, my favorite, and I’m neither fully satisfied nor ready for December. No, my chilly, quiet gray month was happy and light, warm and relatively sober, well-nourished, friendly, and loving. And sort of loud.
So, there’s a little cognitive dissonance going on here.
I’m pretty happy, I guess, and I have been for a...
Wall? What wall? NYC Marathon 2005
Originally posted 11.10.2005
I’d like to apologize right off the bat—this year’s marathon write-up will not be as amusing as last year’s because there’s just no room in it for self-deprecation. Simply put, I trained really hard, the elements worked in my favor, and I had an awesome race, exceeding my highest expectations.
I arrived at Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island, early. Really early....
Coil and recoil
Originally posted 11.01.2005
Here we have the first day of my favorite month, my very dear grey, my lovely drear, which I begin by loving first for what it isn’t. It isn’t summer, lush and overblown and bright. And it isn’t for summer people, who are probably the majority—all those who like walking on the beach and getting caught in the rain. (I too like getting caught in the rain, but in the...
A Com-for-ta-ble place
Originally posted 10.26.2005
Last night, sorely in need of a trim, I put my head once again in the hands of my capable hair lady, Holly, who consistently pulls off a feat no other New York hairdresser has managed to accomplish: cut my hair without making me cry.
Once upon a time, I put great faith in the transformative promise of a good cut. As a child, I loved having my hair cut, the raggedy...
Tempered bliss
Originally posted 10.19.2005
Last night I found such incredible bliss, an ecstatic mix of simple delights that form a happiness so deeply satisfying I can barely imagine anything better. Perhaps people who delight in their children experience something even brighter, but I’ll have to leave that open for guessing.
All together in one spot: people I adore, live music to listen to and to play, a...
Waveland Mississippi
Originally posted 10.08.2005
Excerpt from an interview with an orthopedic trauma surgeon who worked on a mobile hospital unit treating victims of the hurricanes.
“This is my read on things: if you’re a law abiding citizen and you need to work within the confines of established rules, you shouldn’t be there the first two weeks, because there are no rules. There’s no electricity, there’s no...
Sleeping in
Originally posted 09.30.2005
I blew off my run this morning. It would have been eight miles, probably incorporating two-thirds of the clockwise park loop and a swing around the cemetery, dawn only beginning to break in the last few miles. But I stayed in bed, in the comfort of soft cotton sweatpants and a fuzzy sweater, smooth sheets, down pillows.
Crazy, crazy girl.
It felt like taking care...
Stella!
Originally posted 09.29.2005
Stella is a name that used to conjure up certain images: the tragic-romantic Stella Kowalski; Stella by Starlight. Short for Estelle, who has a bit of a mustache problem and is somebody’s great-aunt, Stella I always pictured as solid, but definitely girlish, the object of someone’s long-time affection.
But three years ago I moved to Brooklyn and Stella...
Life goes on
Originally posted 09.27.2005
After my last post, I haven't known what to write. Nothing seems that important in light of the devastation of the Gulf; this former resident of a northern Mississippi state is suffering some sort of survivor’s guilt. I sent money. Discussed taking a paid leave to volunteer down there, though I don’t know what I could do.
But we get on with it,...
February 2010
14 posts
The flood
Originally posted 09.05.2005
The first time I rode a bike through Treme, a light spray of pebbles struck my backside. I looked over my shoulder and saw a group of children standing in the street, empty handed, watching me. They weren’t menacing, but they weren’t laughing either; the message was clear: I wasn’t just a tourist, but a trespasser, and I wasn’t welcome.
The New Orleans Jazz and...
McCoy Tyner at Castle Clinton
Originally posted 08.07.2005
Todd and I met up Thursday night to hear a free concert at Castle Clinton: McCoy Tyner and his trio. I was afraid this might be like every other attempt we’ve made to see each other this summer, the last minute call, lack of direction, and ultimate failure in meeting. The, I was there, where were you? outcome. Especially since I couldn’t remember exactly where Castle...
Where's my compass?
Originally posted 01.17.2005
The first night back, I sleep a solid eight hours tucked between the cool, silky cotton sheets on my childhood bed, the low-throttled window fan kicking in a sweet-smelling midsummer breeze. No Flatbush sirens, no whine from the Blockbuster air conditioner, no ambient city light, no wonder I sleep so well.
I make arrangements with my dad over breakfast to walk him...
Daughter distraction
Originally posted 06.27.2005
It’s been a hard summer for my parents, or spring at least, as summer’s only started. The last of the cats, Truffle, has been laid to rest in the backyard cemetery, along with some kibble, a catnip toy, and a slipper of my dad’s. “He liked to sleep on your dad’s shoes,” Mom said. “He’d just carry them off, and we’d have to go tracking them down.” Truffle, who...
Insomnia respite
Originally posted 06.16.2005
Perhaps it’s the calm before the storm. I’ll start a job soon, and will have a regular schedule for the first time in years, and I’m a little worried about how I’ll adjust. The last couple of nights I’ve spent eight hours under, solid, waking in sheets so undisturbed I barely need to make my bed up. What’s more, mid-morning, the bed draws me back for a nap and all the...
Men are such fools
Originally posted 06.11.2005
Friday night the young man my roommate’s been seeing for, oh, on six months now, informed her that he was in love with his roommate. “She’s young, beautiful, very thin. Socially involved. A Marxist vegan. Pretty much the opposite of me,” she said. “So if that’s what he wants, then it’s best we’re not together.” Friday night she was angry, healthy mad, defiant. “I...
Tuscany does things to you
Originally posted 06.10.2005
It is with great joy that I announce the engagement of my brother, Ethan, to his wonderful girlfriend of three-plus years, Annie. We worried about him a bit. About him missing the boat here, dragging his feet too long. The fear of commitment, blah, blah, blah. Though with some of his girlfriends, that was probably a good thing. But with Annie, well, geez. They just...
I can see clearly now
Originally posted 06.08.2005
Pre-op Four hours from now, a half-hour after I’ve swallowed a Zanax, the corneas of both my eyes will be sliced and peeled back, reshaped, then laid into place where they will heal into permanent contact lenses. Those of you who don’t know me very well may never have even seen me in glasses, cause I’m vain as hell. But I’ve needed visual correction since I was 10....
Who's little dog are you?
Originally posted 06.07.2005
As much as I adore her and her people, the dachshund is too much for me to handle. The more people, the more food; the more food, the more excited she gets, and my reflexes are no match for her supersonic jaws. “I could never have a hound,” I confess to my friends. Though I love beagle faces and basset voices and the droopy countenance of bloodhounds, that particular...
Caledonia dreaming
Originally posted 05.02.2005
Saturday afternoon we swung out for Caledonia, Minnesota, to look at the Steinway Liz’s husband Joel had restored. I was a little sleepy, dozy in the back seat of the car—my weekend 10-miler had turned into 12, looping up around the base of the bluff, through the marsh, over the river and through the woods (well, really, it’s more of a park). In my lap I held the...
Come home, come home; it's suppertime (midwestern...
Originally posted 04.02.2005
There are no direct flights from New York to my Wisconsin hometown. I’ve gotten used to the dogleg from Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Chicago, the 52-minute flight on a puddle jumper that barely crests before it begins to descend. People with even the slightest flying anxiety sit rigidly on these planes, their arms crossed tightly in front of them. But I have no such...
Homecoming (midwestern letters 2)
I know that the sweetness of homecoming will wear off in a day or two. The design of my parents’ house—an oval path through kitchen, dining room, living room, hallway—makes privacy difficult to achieve. That, and my father’s disregard of boundaries: sitting in the living room, he’ll interrupt anyone else’s conversation, chore, reading, with whatever’s on his mind at any given moment. The anyone...
Cats (midwestern letters 3)
Originally posted 04.20.2005
My father, rumpled from sleep, swaddled in a plaid wool robe, follows the cats to the basement stairs. Truffle squawks, inching slowly forward and turning his head to check on the progress of the man shuffling after him, and Willow steps daintily, bringing up the rear. Cats are terrible leaders. A dog, having secured your attention, will bound away, then turn and...
Snow and octopus
Originally posted 02/25/2005
Snow flew last night for the second time in a week. But this time it was like cartoon snow, fake snow, Christmas-special-on-the-set snow. And it was cold. We complained bitterly the last half-block of our block-and-a-half journey to the Italian restaurant across Union from the Tea Lounge. He’s sensitive to spice, grossed out by tomatoes, and finds white rice...
January 2010
17 posts
Fix my truck
Originally posted 01.26.2005
Kevin warned me that it might be difficult to keep Dr. M on track. He’s from the hands-on school of everything and has little time for the esoterica of academics and a penchant for illustrated examples. The focus of the interview was, “what do you think of the recent acceptance of the adoption of maintenance of certification practices as set forth in...
New Year's flu; patience, dear patient
Originally posted 01.08.2005
Never one to set resolutions for the New Year, I nonetheless set goals every year: realistic, short-term goals that will help me realize longer-term ones. Basically, I’m pretty happy with the way I’ve managed those few things I have control over, but there’s always room for improvement, mainly in the area of consistency. So I decided I’d shoot for a certain number of...
Thanksgiving
Originally posted 11.29.2004
It’s appropriate here to take a moment or two and reflect on the year. For me, Thanksgiving has always been more of a New Year than January 1st; though not so much a beginning as an end. This perception is shaped, of course, by my geographical spot on the map. If I’d grown up in the tropics, I don’t know how I’d measure the passage of time. Late autumn is a natural...
Marathon 2004, part 1 (the good part)
Originally posted 11.09.2004
I’ve heard it said many times that a marathon is two races: a 20-mile race and a 10K. Mine was two half marathons. The first run by a seasoned, well-conditioned athlete; the second run by someone who likes to play backgammon and poke around in the garden a bit on weekends. It started out well enough. Through my involvement with the Road Runners I got preferential...
Marathon 2004, part 2
As we approached the overpass signage that read, “Run the next 5.2 as if the Wall is just a street downtown,” I started to wonder if I’d make it. Every half-mile, for about 50 yards, I would feel better, and I’d use those mini surges to straighten my posture and think about buoyancy. A person isn’t supposed to feel good after running 21 miles. Feeling bad is natural. Life is about endurance. Maybe...
Election blues
Originally posted 11.04.2004
Wednesday morning, heading into the subway, I ducked my head to avoid seeing any strong headlines. Eyes read words, however, and the brain registers them. Funny the way language works. Absorbing that the election was as yet undecided didn’t make me feel any better. Intuitively, I knew how it would end. A few hours later intuition was confirmed, and I sobbed at the...
Tomatoes and tuners: a prelude to a lesson
Jenny and her boyfriend have a garden plot behind their apartment, in which they’ve grown tomatoes all summer. Tomatoes dominate the top-floor flat: stacked in jars along the kitchen wall; spread out, single-thickness, on area rugs scattered about; lashed to the ceiling molding that demarcates the kitchen from the living room, the living room from the bedroom. The hanging fruits are grape-sized,...
October musings
Originally posted 10.22.2004
There are only 10 days left in October, which sort of breaks my heart. It’s hard to feel the seasons in New York, as they all seem to butt up impatiently against each other. You can feel the air change around you, the temperatures, the changes in humidity. But you don’t smell the earth thawing in spring, or the sweet decay of leaves in the fall, or winter’s melt...
Balloons
Originally posted 08.27.2004
Children with balloon creatures, a hat, a dog, a giraffe, yellow Latex skins stretched shiny with the collected breaths of a street clown. My neighbor gave refuge once, years ago, to such an artisan, who practiced his craft for hours a day, squeaking and twisting, honing his timing. “It looks,” said my neighbor, holding his weary face in his...
Beautiful day
Originally posted 07.11.2004
What to do? I have words, so many, that they want to spill. I’m lonely. Alone again. My roommate is out of town. My boyfriend and I broke up. It’s a beautiful July day—not too hot, low humidity, clear blue sky.
I had some work to do. I had a gig, playing violin for the cocktail hour of an immense wedding party at the St. Regis Hotel in midtown Manhattn. I was...
Harlequin in the hood
Originally posted 05.17.2004
Three long-sleeved, stretchy cotton shirts, purple, black and teal, have been hung out for the plucking off of wrought iron fence tips, an unmonitored stoop sale where everything is free, a Goodwill donation without the haul. Alongside them hang the stretchy velvet black pants and a whimsical tam in deep jewel tones.
The neighborhood juggler, it seems, is casting off...
Powdered redhead
Originally posted 03.29.2004
As my teens and early 20s were given to coaxing out as much blond as possible, my late 20s were a play for red. Again, I attempted to keep it as natural as possible, to somehow convince myself and the rest of the world that my hair was truly auburn. I admire women who play with color, who unabashedly streak their hair burgundy, who bronze their skin with self-tanners...
Mice
Originally posted 03.09.2004
I used to work in a warehouse sewing futon covers. The warehouse was part of a collection of small business and light industrial spaces in a converted bus depot (which contained the woodshop where I'd apprenticed, the newspaper where I'd reported, and the coffee roaster where my brother stirred beans).
Apparently, we had a mouse problem, and the exterminator...
Reservoir jogs
Originally posted 03.08.2004
Corinna pulls away from me, arms scissoring behind her at an angle, elbows bent, the waffle soles of her shoes flashing, short blond hair flopping side to side. Her feet barely touch, a staccato toe, the heel snaps back. She is second to last in our group, and I bring up the rear wondering if there are rubber bands connecting my ankles, compromising my stride. How can...
Bottled blond
Originally posted 03.02.2004
I grew up in a Midwestern town populated mostly by people of Scandinavian descent. Blond was the rule, from dishwater to platinum, and my dark tresses were just another source of discomfort to me when I looked in the mirror—a pale, freckled, short brunette in a jungle of bronzed, blond Amazons. I tried, at first, to accept and embrace this difference, to love my brown...
Room for milk
Room for Milk
She ordered a latte latte and a mate latte and I waited with a patience cultivated and hardly natural as she added to her order a scrambled egg sandwich like the one her boyfriend got with hand signals— pointing with the hand that didn’t hold his cell phone.
Two mouths, two drinks, two snacks, two workers, too long for me to wait in line for a simple “coffee,...
Turn your radio on
This essay originally posted 02.22.2004
This quiet life, with the radio on, the room fills up with old friends.
My 8-year-old self sprawls on the living room rug watching my parents and their friends grow flushed with dinner and wine, spoofing the accents, laughing mirthfully through their noses. We live here, but we’re not from here; the scripts of derision and longing are tailor made for us,...