Wednesday, June 20, 2007

The following was lifted from the Overheard:New York site. Props go to my darling friend in LJ for the link. And for what it's worth, G train = Greenpoint.

I Meant Nowhere White People Would Want to Go:

Blond Tourist Bimbo: I've never even heard of the G Train.

Blond Local Bimbo: Yeah, it's a ghetto train.

Blond Tourist Bimbo: Where does it go?

Blond Local Bimbo: Nowhere.

Black eight-year-old boy: Except my home, bitch.

--G train Hoyt/Schermerhorn station

Me and that Eight-year-old kid are the best or friends now.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Fireflies (lightning bugs?)

If there's one thing that the children who grow up in California are deprived of, it's fireflies. Seriously, they are the coolest bugs. Ever. I saw my first firefly of the season this evening while we walked Jacky in the park, and I shrieked with the delight of a four-year old getting pie.

In other news...

On Saturday night we had a date to see Shakespeare in the Park, which is at the De La Court outdoor theatre in Central Park. My brilliant other half has always spoken highly of the experience, but I had never been. It was sort of hectic getting uptown to Central Park, as I was coming from work and he and I had agreed to meet at a particular train stop that was, this particular evening, not running. Each of us, on our own, devised identical plans to circumvent this train mishap and continued up town (now racing against the clock to get to the show on time.) As the A train that I was riding pulled into 59th Street, it announced that this was the last stop. But I had to get to 81st Street... crap. I hopped off the train with all the other irked and confused passengers and tried to decide how I was going to make it to the park in time. As I climbed the steps out of the subway, I saw my darling husband... he had been on the same train and, gleeful as we were to see each other, we needed to be at the ticket window by 7:30 or they were going to release our tickets. No choice but to grab a taxi. He asked if I had any cash, and I said no. Neither did he. We hailed a cab anyway. And giggled about not having any money to pay for it. (We ended up having the driver drop the husband off at the park and he drove me to an ATM. They I ran all the way back to the park, cause it was faster that having him drive me.) Rick got the tickets just in time and all was well.

As we took our seats, it was sunset and the stage was surrounded by trees and birds and all manner of lovely Central Park ambiance. We saw Romeo and Juliet (for the zillionth time - I never tire of it), and I have to tell you it was one of the best theatrical experiences of my life. It was absolutely gorgeous... the sets, the performances, hearing the birds sing and watching the play as the sky turned black and the stars came out... the breezes were blowing and all sorts of serendipitous little elemental things kept happening throughout out the performance. Romeo bursting upon Juliet's balcony scared away the cranes that were sleeping in the trees above the stage. There was, at one point, a raccoon that wandered onstage and came very close to stealing the show. And, best of all, when Juliet stabbed herself and collapsed onto Romeo's dead body, an owl came out of nowhere and let out a low who-who as he flew across the stage, past the dead couple. It was a lovely night.

In yet other news...

I had a brief (they're always too brief) sojourn to the Homeland (California) earlier this week. I didn't tell anybody I was coming because I needed some good-old-fashioned hangout time with my family. I always feel like they get the short end of the stick when I visit, so I made a special trip to just sit around and veg with the peeps who know me best. And, other than the horribly cramped seats and shitty service of American Airlines, I had a great time.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Bad Blogger.

Oh, I've been bad at blogging.

I have been a slave to the stationery work world (not to be confused with the stationary work world.) Things here have been fairly normal and quite warm, which is fantastic.

The clerk at the food store talked to me in Polish for about three minutes while she rang up my food. When I didn't answer she said "You don't speak Polish, do you?" No, I told her and shook my head. She laughed and said, "This whole time I thought you did... you look so Polish!"

Greenpoint, I have arrived.