OOOH FRIDAY

Increasingly, there are days where I feel like Howard the Duck, stuck in a world I never made. I guess Mark Zukerberg is making the world now. Did  y'all read the article about Facebook wanting to be tastemakers? Creeps me out.

Kind of dovetails, albeit circuitously ... (wait can you have a circuitous dovetail? Is that oxymoronic? ...) with some of the comments that Fran Lebowitz made at last week's Brooklyn Book Fair. Got lost of that hairpin turn of thought and now it is impossible to articulate. I'll leave this in the blog as a placeholder.

The next day. 1:11 a.m.

As long as we are not wired to continuity or actual writing, I can finish this post. I was not anticipating watching the last 2.5 episodes of Boardwalk Empire along with the consumption of an entire bottle of white wine ... Yet, that is what ensued.

Before that, however, I ventured into the city for coffee and then wine with Ms. C. Why I even have some photographic evidence.

Yes. This is a pretzel croissant. Yes. It is that good.

A FIGHT AGAINST TOOTH DECAY

Some new level of something has been reached or breeched. My appointment at the NYU Dental Clinic this morning was set at 8:30. This necessitated being on the train to Manhattan by 7:30 as I had a couple of transfers to make.

Readers, I tell you that, although the tooth pain had dissipated, and although I did not get much sleep the night before, I got out of bed, showered, caffeinated, and was at my appointment 15 minutes early.

Shocking I know. I mean, all in a day's work for most of you stalwart souls, but this made twice this week that I broke my pattern. And I think that's a significant thing.

Going to a dental school is sure enough different than going to an experienced dentist, but I was treated, I survived, and I could pay for it. It is still too early to tell if it is all good now, and I do think there is a root canal in my not-too-distant future, but I think I feel better. Given my slow metabolism, I don't take to novacaine too quickly. I had three shots to get properly numb. I haven't felt great the rest of the day, but, hey, as I understand it, tomorrow is another one.

The rest of the day was devoted to recovering, napping, reading (I finished my 49th book of the year, Dorothy Wickenden's Nothing Daunted), watching DVDs (Modern Family, Season 2 and The Good Wife, Season 2), ironing, and playing with Emmylou.

She isn't Miep and I do miss Miep. But Emmylou is an excellent kitty.

I don't know why but I always love this gate being askance... or is it askew.

No idea what the meaning of this could be.

Self-explanatory.

A public school, no less. Love the windows.

TOMORROW NOW

So, after blog and before bed, I emptied the dishwasher, cleaned litter box, re-organized a bit of storage space, gathered paper recycling, and listened to music. Some of this energy must be due to the long-ish nap I had today. Time for benadryl and more reading.

Emmylou has learned that I most often go sit at my desk chair. She runs ahead of me to get to the chair before I can sit down. At this moment, I am perched on the edge while she rests quite comfortably over most of the chair. Cats.

Wednesday. Yes. My tooth still hurts. Tomorrow morning, the dentist. Not that I think my situation is going to get much better. Hopefully, they can come up with a triage approach that will get me out of pain until I can take better action.

Meanwhile, M commented on my last post about "why not today" that perhaps I should

take it a step further--why not now

The reason for that is simple. As a recovering ADHD person, if I start doing everything now, then nothing will ever get completed. I promise. Now. That over there. These are the things that an ADHD person sees. So keeping on even moderate tasks is a good thing.

I just walked over to the post office, thinking I should make sure to get some exercise. I got over there only to discover that I had not remembered to bring the items needing to be mailed. Oh well. I did take a bunch of photos of the neighborhood.

You don't see many cats wandering about the streets here. This tom had a big head. Ratty looking but friendly enough.

I did not know these black leafed plants existed outside of art.

It did smell like dogshit. I checked my shoes.

STILL TUESDAY EVENING

Still Tuesday evening.

And another thing. I have fallen back into the alcohol consumption habit. On a general scale, this does not mean that I am drinking the volume I once did. But after the waning months of summer, when things are lax, I find that I think about it on an evening.

I had quite stopped the habit, well, at least it seemed so to me. I was not drinking or having alcohol in the house. I had even stopped thinking about it. But it's back, that impulse or desire to have a glass of something.

Some of it is boredom. Some of it is, maybe being alone, more than being lonely. A time-filler. A buffer. A duller. And an enhancer.

Tonight I had the reason to go out even, and that could have included buying some beer at the least. I am almost out of half-and-half. I even have extra reason, given that I have a toothache and that whiskey is recommended as an analgesic.

I resisted. I am trying to rechannel that energy. I am thinking that, at this point, I need to be as fiscally conservative as I can.

So, I will eat a popsicle (not the ones I really love), play with Emmylou, take some benadryl, and maybe get another chore or two done before I retire. My new, anti-procrastination mantra is: Why not today?

FODDER

Emmylou helps make the bed.

Waking up post-nightmare to grey, an idling truck, ...

There was another paragraph this morning but apparently I neglected to save at the appropriate time. Oh well, I suppose we will all live.

I made it out to the post office and grocery store today. I decided to drive as I wasn't sure how many groceries I was going to pick up. Driving to the post office can be harrowing as there is often a lot of jockeying for position and/or parking spaces along that strip of 9th Street. I must have picked the sweet spot, timewise, as there were parking spots aplenty. Interestingly, on the block before the post office, there were at least three meter maids walking up and down giving tickets.

New York City is replacing all of its parking meters with parking reciepts. The theory is that you put your money into one of these machines and get a reciept that you then display in your car window. There are a couple of annoying things about this. Often enough, the machine doesn't work. The whole process takes longer what with walking to a machine, sometimes more than one to find a working one, back to the car, lock the car, and then walk in the direction you wanted to go in the first place. Forget about your change, as this device uses credit cards, dollar coins (and we all carry them) or quarters. That's all.

I spent about 10 or 15 minutes trying to get a receipt out of a machine. I ended up moving the car and trying another machine and was ultimately successful. Was I frustrated? Damn right. Were others frustrated? Ditto on that.

But what really depressed me was the flotilla of eager meter maids (in this case all women) doggedly scurrying up and down the street, writing tickets left and right. They were the very soul of enterprise. I had a terrible feeling that the government/the authorities were feeding off of populace. It seems twisted to me that wrong-doing is a viable revenue generator. And there seemed to have been some (gleeful? pernicious?) planning to make the most of folks trying to adjust to a new system. The parking lot behind the grocery store and pharmacy was closed as if to force as many people as possible to park on the street.


I just feel like fodder or a farmed animal.

This mushroom is growing in the roots of a tree.

I thought it was a rind of a grapefruit or something.

 Some beautiful colors starting to happen out there.

ALL IN A DAY'S ETCETERA

Today's title was stolen from Jonathan Lethem's Fortress of Solitude. I am making slow progress through it. My friend B liked it enough to suggest it for the Smart Women's Book Group. I am so curious to know what intrigued her so much.

It's only 9:53 but I am quite sleepy. There was no time for napping today as I jumped back into relative productivity. As a result, I hope of over-zealous and perhaps a little too long delayed flossing on Sunday night, either my gums are sore or I have a toothache. Pain makes a body grouchy, not to mention worry about what could be wrong. And, the constant concern of not having employment, insurance, or anything of that nature.





But L and I worked on the MW script for a good two hours today. It's in good shape, although not entirely finished. The dishes are all done, including the cast iron skillets and espresso pot. Some fabric pieces put away after sitting around for a month or more (and even after Emmy threw the whole box on the floor for fun). Did some work in html learnin'. Talked to Debee about the trip out here with mi madre next week.

Fall is in the air. Can you believe daylight savings time doesn't end until November 6? Seems like it should be about now.

Cooder is happier these days and hangs out in the front rooms again. She and Emmylou settled down for a mid-morning nap even before I could get the bed made. They aren't playing together, but they will play at the same time with a reasonable proximity.

SUNDAY WITH BOOKS

Today was the Brooklyn Book Festival, which is, as we heard today, the second largest book festival in the country. Honestly, there were just too many things going on. Shockingly, at least in my case, Mart and I were up and out the door, and at the venue by 9:45. We got tickets to hear Russell Banks speak about his new book, The Lost Memory of Skin. (I got a signed first edition.)

It was a long day to be sure.

The last talk we went to featured Deborah Eisenberg, Wallace Shawn, and Fran Lebowitz. Fran was amazing. She was full of her smart, informed, and mouthy statements. The crowd first went wild when she was talking about the Republicans currently in office (I do not think this is true of everyone in the Republican party, mind you): They're morons, they're illiterate, and they're wrong.

I'm hopeful that parts of the day will be excerpted in places like youtube.

But Emmylou has been without parental supervision for hours and wants some attention. Now.

CLOSED EYES

Night comes in, like some cool river ...

Feels like that tonight. It is fall. And wasn't it just last week that I was complaining about sticky night fingers while typing ...

Tomorrow is the Brooklyn Book Fair, dontcha know ... Martha is here from Brewster and we plan to get up early and try to make more of the show than we did last year.

So today was reading the MW script which is neeaarly done ... L did a terrific job of re-arranging much of what J had come up with into a newly coherent narrative. And taking a great nap.

And having a capital D-delicious dinner at Northeast Kingdom with Martha and son Brett. I had my first butternut squash bisque of the season, plus black mushroom crostini, and a crab cake. Mart and I both had spicy margaritas which we highly  recommend.

And Hal, this is about the best I could do to get Emmylou with her eyes closed.

CALL ME IRRESPONSIBLE

Allergy season is here again! What! Ho! Days of feeling miserable, without quite knowing why. Yesterday was like that. I do believe that the floor refinishing chemicals wafting from the apartment below could not be of much help.

I am not getting much accomplished. I am even avoiding this writing task. Yeah, today I am suffering the effects of revelry. Brenna was in town and we headed up to hang out with John and Melinda. And while we all had a lot of fun, today was a wash for all of us I think. I really don't like it when I waste days. And I am feeling as if I wasted a lot of this week. I didn't go to Anya's reading nor did I make it to David and Michael's Lehman College art opening at Westbeth.

The consequences of irresponsibility? That's what it feels like. Irresponsible to myself. And maybe irresponsible to my friends who might have liked to see my smiling face at their events. And the main thing is missing out on some life.

I think that's what I've been doing some. I've been sitting things out a bit and not pushing myself to get out there in any number of ways. I'm not being too hard on myself, but it's time to get ready for a bit more discomfort. Time to be stepping out of my comfort zone.

Even tonight, I wasn't going to post what I wrote last night, nor was I going to write tonight. I was going to give myself a pass on account of hangover. No one would really care nor notice. I don't owe anything to anyone.

It must be a good thing that in the long run, I felt I owed it to myself. I said I was going to do this blog and in some ways I haven't been showing up for it. I've been letting things slide, thinking or feeling or acting as if little mattered. Zoning out a bit too much.

I'm going to sit with the irresponsible to myself thought.

Here's Emmylou taking a nap.

THE DARK END?

Why oh why do song snippets drift into the brain? Is there anyone working diligently on that question? Today, Ry Cooder's version of Dark End of The Street is the featured play, layering with the idling trucks servicing the restaurants (Twelvth Street Bar and Grill and the much-detested Johnny MacK's), two bodegas, a bakery, and a Chinese Mexican take-out place (Yummy Taco, which is really neither Yummy nor do they make real tacos).

That Cooder song was a nice interlude. And speaking of Cooder, I managed to coax her out of the dining room rocking chair where she has hung out since Emmy arrived and on to the pillows on the bed, where both she and Miep used to spend a lot of time. Emmy has passed out somewhere, I guess, as I don't see her anywhere. (Oh, of course, she is nearly under my feet/chair. And now that I have made eye contact, she is on the desk.)

IRRESISTABLE

 Another nice day followed by sticky typing fingers tonight. And also, a kitteh who is interested in tearing  up furniture. Who could have taught her that?  And Emmylou has taken over the chair behind my desk chair where Cooder used to hang out quite a bit. These young'uns are short on boundaries and respect for their elders.

Started a program to learn xhtml, so someday this site might be looking spiffier. We can only hope. I suppose you should see some results here sooner than later in the form of better layout ... who knows.

Meanwhile, Emmylou is a terror. Another fun junkie. I have to lock her away from me and Cooder if I want to have any special time with C. As I write, 'mylou is sitting at my feet, looking up at me, ready to play. I'm ready for more sleeping. I wonder if another kitten would help. Even two cats is a lot of work, if you are giving them proper attention.

There is almost no way this face is resistable, unless you are an elderly feline.

"You and you alone,
Bring out the gypsy in me ..."

CONSIDERATION OR COINCIDENCE?

It's ever-so-slightly muggy, but mostly it feels like the end of summer, as one would imagine it feels at the end of August. But we had hurricanes and worse instead. The weather predictors say that fall weather is coming soon. When I wore jeans yesterday, I felt quite confined and did not much like that. Soon it will be sweaters and boots again. But perhaps Emmylou will be more cuddly.

Some days it feels as if just staying positive is the accomplishment. I have hopes that beneath my every day demeanor and general geniality, there are forces at work that will translate into inspiration and fire for some new endeavor. That my charming, articulate, visionary self will appear as I am writing my resume or making a new contact or two. Tomorrow, right?

Maybe I should sing "Don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire" with steely eyes. Or I could stomp around in the Christian Louboutin spiked heels I found on the streets of Brooklyn and pretend I am a power bitch. Spittin' nails and takin'  no
prisoners.

Meanwhile, here's a shot of the first pizza of the season, a Mexican variation. Pretty good. It was too hot in the kitchen though. That's Melinda cutting the pie. We had to do something to celebrate the season finale of True Blood.

I also managed to go to the Brooklyn Public Library today and ONLY check out the book that was on hold for me (Dorothy Wickenden's family memoir, the name of which escapes me now.) That may well have been a first. I am trying to better align my expectations of what I can really read. And the Smart Women's Book Group is reading Lethem's Fortress of Solitude, which is quite long.

I am afraid Cooder has taught Emmylou how to get my attention by clawing on things while I am typing. This is not a good trend. One of the two caught a mouse today. Considerately, they left it near the wastebasket. Or they missed a shot.

AUGUST 6 - FARMHOUSE, NIGHT

FARMHOUSE, NIGHT

B and I managed to make it out of the city, only 45 minutes later than our target time. And that feels like a victory of the kind-of-on-time kind. We stopped in Brewster at the Red Rooster drive-in. B observed that it only looked like a fast food restaurant, being neither in time nor price. But it was fun anyway as Martha lives nearby. Mart, Jay, Emily, and Anna all rushed over to sit outside with us while I ate a grilled chicken breast sandwich (not bad, but too much mayo), fries (not as good as the last ones I had eaten up at Mr. P’s Mountain Smokehouse. B, Mart, Em, and I shared a chocolate malted shake while Jay told stories of the history of the area. Anna wisely abstained from all.

It sure is quiet up here.

B and I unpacked the groceries, made my bed, and shared a bottle of rose. So relaxing to chat about the insidious pervasion of the “branding” concept, literature, and the current political/economic situation. Time for bed now.

It sure is quiet up here.

ENOUGH?

Up a road at Schroon Lake.

It has been many, many a moon since I went upstairs for dinner and drinks with John and Melinda. The dinner was turkey tacos with avocado and heirloom tomatoes. The wine it was white. I drank too much, hence the strange posting last night.

What could I have been thinking about? We watched another episode of Boardwalk Empire, but I will have to rewatch as I scarcely remember it. But why was I thinking about worthiness?

On another note, is it meditation when you sit with your kitty and do nothing but pet the kitty and muse?

The lake is quite high.

I kept pretty quiet today. Although I don't feel terrible, I do feel quite stupid and listless. Summer's over and so should summer's drinking. I need to muster meself for job hunting and the like.

Lots of company this month, so I need to push on the housekeeping front, although I don't need to devote my life to it. I have kept things relatively under control. I do need to clean off my dining room table so that Brenna and Martha and Mom and Debee can have a place to sit and eat. (Not all at the same time, mind you.)

I was discussing my lack of motivation with K yesterday. I don't ever jump out of bed with energy to burn, excited to get started on the day, and get things crossed off my list. Crap. Sometimes, I can't even focus enough to make a list.

I can't recall the exact conversation, but her ending comment was "It's just a room."

For some reason that has reverberated. There are those mental blocks that make things seem so much bigger than they are. I have made cleaning off my dining room table into a bugaboo. The table is covered with mostly my tools, screws, and other odds and ends I don't know how to deal with. So I avoid them. Why is sorting screws a profound and moral issue? Who cares if I don't sort them? My socks and underwear and t-shirts and scarves and jewelry all organized. Is that enough?

WORTHINESS

Worthiness.

That is a reasonable topic for discussion and contemplation, no?

LET IT BE LUCKY

This leaf was stuck to the side of my car. I saw it as I was packing to leave Schroon Lake on Tuesday. Okay, kids! Fall is on the way. I've always liked blue and yellow.

The green in the trees had a yellow undertone. Here and there were plants already burst into red.

I've heard rain has an effect on the fall color, but I cannot remember what it all means.

I'm still enjoying lime popsicles, feeling sticky as the day goes on. The air this afternoon was caressingly soft, as was the light. Not crisp, as the air was on the morning of 9/11/01. Perhaps that crispness will arrive next week. Assuming that NYC isn't hit with a dirty bomb or something.

I guess the crisp weather doesn't really depend on political events one way or another.

This decaying beauty was on the steps behind the theater, leading up to the boarding house. I had to go up and down them several times to load the car.

There were other nifty sights to behold along the way. I didn't take a picture of it, but there was a small wasp colony on the outside of my bedroom window, mere inches from where I lay my weary head. (And it was weary from time to time during the weekend.)

The spider web near the back door caught some quite beautiful raindrops. Did not see any spiders although I seem to have sustained some spider bites.

There was some kind of bug on the backdoor frame I saw as I came and went. Larry told me what it was but I don't remember the name. I didn't look sting-y or angry or anything so I just let it be. I should be so lucky.

Emmylou is doing just fine. Cooder is hanging in there. She and I took a cheek-to-cheek nap today in the afternoon sun coming in the front window. Emmylou (currently aka "Clownfeet") slept at the foot of the bed, keeping a respectful distance. She's a handful.

GO SOMEWHERE ELSE

Well, at least there was some respite from the rain. I even went out to therapy and Trader Joe's whereupon, 'twixt the two, I soaked up some rays. I certainly do not want to do anything but sleep though. Cooder soaked up some rays in the kitchen window. Emmylou wandered about but is not at all in the chill mode.

Things are going reasonably well in the cat zone. When I came home from having a couple of glasses of wine with Betts, they both greeted me and nearly sniffed noses without hissing, growling, or spatting. Emmylou has taken to sleeping on the end of the bed. Cooder takes the pillows. For night three, I'd say we are in good shape.



I wish I could leave town this weekend, but there is nowhere I can go and take the kitties. There've been 9/11 anniversary terrorist threats, just as I imagined there would be. So much hoopla. I am glad it is raining, if only for this reason: keeps the brohahah down.

I find myself starting to read the memoirs in the New Yorker and New York Magazine and The New York Times and then remind myself I do not want to partake of all of this. I live here. It ain't a momument. And we don't need the damn attention. I think the festivities should take place in Roswell or Los Alamos. If "terrorists" want to get at Obama, Bushes, Cheney, et al., let it be in an uninhabited place.

And why New York again? Aren't there any other goddamned American cities?

RAIN AND FLIGHTS OF ANGELS

I've written but not posted. I was gone gone gone. Not in a bad way, but in a vacated way, which is maybe what I needed. And I am not wholly ready to be back yet.

I miss my Miep. But having a new kitty in the house helps. We knew that it would.

I drove back with the kitteh in terrible rain. I am soooo tired of this. You know, "Saigon. Shit! I'm still only in Saigon." I still feel that way. I was not very useful today. Hopefully, I will have some energy and focus back tomorrow.

Cooder kept me up all night, wanting pets and reassurance given the presence of a new critter. I could not but oblige. Then there was some event just a few doors down at 7:30 am. I think there was a fire, but I was too spacey to really check it out. I did see at least four firetrucks and many firepersons scrambling around, much resembling bees.



Here are a few photos of the new kitteh. She doesn't hold still much.
Her current name is Emmylou Irene Patsy Cline. 'Mylou for short. This is just day one and a half. (Pronounced like Tintin's friend in French, Milou. Lots of you know him as Snowy.)

Cooder is being very good. They can now be within a foot or two of one another with no dire consequences, which is quite fast in cat land.

'mylou is part Maine coon with a huge tail and feet, fuzzy paws, ginormous whiskers, and adorably hairy ears. She has already taken Miep's place in following me into the bathroom

Miep, flights of angels sang thee to thy rest. I think of you often.

Damn if it isn't pouring again.