How do you beat the heat? Here are some ideas that have been working for me...
1. Movies. We've seen Minority Report and Lilo and Stitch. I would recommend Lilo and Stitch, but at a paltry 85 minutes, you're really better off with Tom Cruise (144 min). Some have claimed that the lengthy Minority Report is "muted" or "diluted". But at nearly twice the length, I call it air-conditioned goodness. You may even wish to consider bringing a sweater.
2. Gym. It's over 90° here again today. There is something called an ozone alert, which as far as I can tell means go inside and turn on your air conditioner, and don't come out until September. It doesn't mean you're more likely to get a sunburn (although I am), it means you'll be breathing ozone and then dying sooner. So my real bike stays shoved up against the wall downstairs with the front wheel removed, and I trek up to the gym in Scarsdale to ride the recumbant. An added bonus is showering in the air-conditioned locker room.
3. Showers. I'm averaging 7 or 8 per day. In fact I've gotten up twice to shower while typing this. While I lived at Knot Square (my 180-year old house with no A/C), I patented the ultra-refreshing Nox-shower, wherein the entire body is left cooled by the tingling power of Noxema. If you're really serious, you'll dust yourself with Gold Bond medicated powder when you're finished. Lately I'm in the shower so much, that I frequently don't, er, have the shower all to myself. Use extreme caution in this situation. Showering with a guest will diminish the shower's cooling effect.
The Husband and I headed downtown tonight, so that it would be possible for me to converse and coalesce with some actual urban hipsters of my own approximate age and background, as opposed to the, er, slightly... grittier folk that I deal with on a daily basis. It was delightful to traipse through what I like to call the Age of Eddie, as well as to down a margarita and some potato pancakes, and just kick back and remember how fun and witty I can be. (The Husband points out that I was bound to get more laughs in a group than I do here alone, because, well, there aren't many numbers less than one.)
When we got off the Hutch, the East Tremont Diner shone like a beacon above the war-torn avenue, and Marc suggested a nightcap. I was up (as I usually am) for cheese fries and chicken... and we watched the (newly registered!!) car through the window, as we were double-parked in by no less than 4 drivers. The first just parked. The second parked and climbed out with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of window cleaner, and proceeded to glass-up. Soon, his significant other climbed out to help, bringing her own bottle and towel roll into the mix. The third parked and came inside for a joe to go, and the last did the same. While a new pot brewed, number four announced he was heading outside to smoke a cigarette. At this point we were leaving, somewhat hesitant to announce our departure while we were clearly blocked, but when we arrived at the car we noticed that the spot in front of our car was vacant, allowing us to sneak out.
Upon our arrival at the homestead, I noted that the neighbor from the corner is standing guard out front, fondling a walkman while his grandmother does the gardening. At 12:45 AM. I can't say I blame him... it's the start of the first full day of summer, and the natives are restless. I can hear them screaming from the 7-11 parking lot as I type. The Bronx is hopping tonight.
I've stopped answering the door. The bell's rung 8 times since 8:30 this morning. I grew weary of the disappointment.
It's either busted, or we've a particularly cruel (though skilled) ring-and-runner.
In a situation like this, which you are sure to see again, the best solution is to just take the second half of the pint away from her. Trust me on this.
Does Yahoo Mail ask you to re-login if you immediately close the pop-up ad after your initial login? It does me, all of a sudden. Mysterious.
I wonder if there's a way to cure assymetrical freckling. Thanks to the convertible and ample sun, my left arm is freckled to a density about three times that of my right. Cure this, and next we'll move on to that seatbelt tan line.
and speaking of skin... I've started working out at a totally posh gym (which would normally be way out of my price range, but thanks to Marc's uncle is totally FREE) and I just wish the divorcees didn't feel obliged to be quite so naked or chatty in the locker room. Sister! I'll be happy to look at your I heart NY keychain once you put on that towel. I knew the gym was yupped up beyond my wildest expectations when the guy on the treadmill next to me was taking business calls on his cel. There is also valet parking.
Hey, are you between New York and St. Louis? Is it raining where you live? I mean, apocalyptically downpouring, like end of all droughts and flashes of blinding lightning kinda rain? Because it better be, since that's why American Airlines cancelled our flight, the first leg of the trip to Albuquerque.
Allow me to clarify. Our flight was cancelled after we sat on the plane from 5:45 until 9:15. Going nowhere. With no air conditioning. And if you're not in New York right now, you'll just have to trust me when I say that it is hotter than prom night here. I feel like I was born and died three times on a La Guardia Airport runway today. If you've never seen the sun set over a control tower glowing electric blue, I do not recommend it. It is depressing in ways I cannot describe. Also, the FAA rules on cel phones on airplanes are defiantly relaxed by 200 sweaty stranded New Yorkers.
In other news, I am the grand champion of the dot game.
We have been rebooked for tomorrow morning. That is all.
It's Mister Kevin Brown!!!
Of course, everyone knows that Kevin's notoriety was established during the highly acclaimed and critically renowned Operation Gaylord, a 4-day, high speed Cannonball Run of a road trip to Urbana (Urbana Japanna I wanna you nana). The trip culminated, at least theoretically, with a wedding and Kevin in a tuxedo. There's not much better to a group of repressed geeks than 4 days on the open road, filled with Physics, Rolling Stones, severe brake degeneration, several bottles of wine, genital piercing, bell ringing, and KB in a tux. Oh, and a video camera. And, naturally, several asses. Welcome to the mayhem, Kev.
Tomorrow Marc and I leave on our own Operation Gaylord of sorts, to a wedding (another wedding. I know. Seriously, now, this is getting absurd.) in New Mexico. This time round we play the grown-ups and take an airplane. I've never been to the desert, and I'm sure I'll come back as the pinkest girl in the Bronx, though I'm not sure if that's really better than my current title -- whitest girl in the Bronx. Check out the forecast... the UV index is 10+ EXTREME, with highs predicted in the 90s (that's the 30s for my metric friends).
And although there isn't much better than KB in a tux, my own husband in a tux is among the few things that are. We'll try to keep our pants on, but I'm not making any guarantees.
On Friday night Marc and I went to see his god-daughter. She's rapidly approaching 2 and is just amazing. Chasing her around, teaching her new words, even just having her cuddle up in my lap while she falls asleep is enough to make me want to start a family. We're in no rush, though. We've been starting to think about moving out of the Bronx, and I'd hate to leave her (and her parents, and Marc's family) behind. Not to mention the fact that I'd really like to raise kids who are city-savvy. But living here brings up impracticalities that are just too prohibitive. And I'd also like to be closer to my own parents. So we're looking upstate. We were thinking of Rockland County, since then either one of us could easily commute for work, but the houses are absurdly overpriced. Maybe I'm being too fussy, but I think for the prices being asked, the siding on the front should all be the same color.
On Saturday we went to the zoo to see the baby animals. Are you sensing a theme for the weekend? It was not intentional. The hordes of screaming kids were enough to mute my motherly instincts. The strollers, the whining, the sheer expense of it all, and the requisite visit to the World of Darkness was enough to make me happy to be there as half of a party of TWO.
Saturday night we headed downtown for a night out with Marc's high school friends. His ex-girlfriend was there. We are going to her wedding in a few weeks and I spent most of the time there trying to figure out if I'd been duped into attending her quasi-bachelorette party. I still don't know. We were exhausted and left before there was a chance to find out.
Yesterday we drove around Rockland, effectively eliminating it as a destination, and then stopped off at Orchard Beach for a little bit of relaxation. Two things you will never hear at Orchard Beach: 1. I should really turn my radio down, and 2. No, I've never been to Puerto Rico. Excellent sample of Bronx culture.
Oh, and last night we went to Marc's friend Artie's place to watch his new show. He's a puppet wrangler, and a sometimes-puppeteer. It was pretty cool to watch with him. His interest in puppeteering stems from puppet shows he and Marc put on when they were young. His apartment is like a Sesame Street shrine. I wish I had pictures. It was unbelievable.
I don't know why I haven't been updating this page more frequently. I guess things are just slow without working, and I'm doubting whether I have anything worth saying these days. I've also been getting out and enjoying this neighborhood so much. I had my hair cut last week at a place called Hair Design 2000!. I've been meaning to go take pictures of the thousands (really!) of roses tripping my allergies and adding so much color to this already colorful landscape. Marc's working on a design for a domain we'll share. So, there is activity, and I've not degenerated into a boring lazy housewife, yet. I'll keep you updated.
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