Dog Charms Neighborhood - Lifts Girl's Spirits

Upon walking 'lil A. in the neighborhood I can't help but notice her charms. First, we rounded the block to find L., a neighbor with full sleeves. We'd run into him the other day while he buffed his Harley. L. adores A. and gave her a full massage replete with crooning and rhyming of her name: Raggy, Shaggy and Waggy. I was in heaven. Farther down the block an older gentleman in a mini-van playing Frank Sinatra, backed out of his driveway. A. immediately made eye contact with him through the car window. She has also, in the past, made eye contact while in the car on the highway, spying little kids in backseats. So this shouldn't be a surprise, but it was precious, especially when mini-van guy stopped the car, rolled down his window, and A. ran over, put her front paws on his car and he pet her head - exposing a decadent onyx pinky ring. It was insta-love.

The love continued when we saw a grandma type in her bathrobe observing the work on her driveway and lawn. A. stopped in front of her house and followed her while she lugged a trash can from the curb to her house. At first she didn't acknowledge our presence, but soon enough she was melting and discussing her niece's yorkie terrier. Nobody, and I mean nobody can resist A.'s charms.

I could go on but I fear this may verge on too cute. Verge? Suffice it to say A. is the cutest dog in the whole world and I'm lucky to have her.

Later this afternoon I'll be back in the JFK Jet Blue terminal, on my way to PDX yet again. But for now? I will rake some leaves on this perfect fall day.

Look Less Ugly

What is better than rubbing my dog's belly while all her paws flop open and out and one stretches straight in the air in her signature disco move?

And what is better than spending a plane ticket's worth of money on my hair?

Why not focus on fun and superficial things when the real, tangible stuff is too heavy?

And what is better than a 4 day trip to PDX this weekend?

(FYI: Look Less Ugly is the M.O. of the salon in the East Village where I have my appointment. When I leave today I'll either be in tears of joy or sadness. Then I see B. - who will say how beautiful I am - and we will discuss everything from her business to art to our pets to death and we'll walk around downtown NYC. )

What is better than friends, hair, and coffee? Cheap Indian? Chinese food in Chinatown? A hot pretzel? No, they usually smell better than they taste, fyi.

Who needs boys? Really?

Invisible Airplanes, Wonder Woman, Pep Talk

Sometimes you need this You need to hear this. Thank you, friend, for your reminder below...

You do have a life! You do! You have plans and a job and smarts and friends and a cute dog and you have . . . bangs! and an apartment--a real place that will feel like home again. It's transitional time. It's the worst. Really. I hated it when I moved back to NY from London and had to live in Westchester with that crazy girl who ate the bottom of my food and put it back in the fridge. Like I would want it after that? She'd eat half my yogurt, too, or like 1/8. I dated fake-name-here and smoked too much and daydreamed about the nice life I would have one day living in my private library on the UWS high above the city like an angel up in the clouds with no cares. Like Wonder Woman in my invisible airplane! OK so that never happened. Still!

Me? A Hater?

I know, don't be a hater. And how can I be on a day like today with the wind, the tree leaves, the clear sky, the crisp air, the sun? I get to experience a true Fall with the sun and everything, and a small miracle has occured: my folks have gone on a field trip? I should be loving every second of this. And I am, in a way. And yet I'm not.

Took A. to Metuchen, enjoyed ancient trees and A. sniffed for over an hour. I eavesdropped on two teenage boys engaging in a serious tete a tete about girls. Had to resist the urge to shove my two cents at them, but decided to hold back.

So where's the hate? What's the problem?

The problem is complex. I have no job. No real job, just a little something, a pittance. I have some friends, actually more than I realized, but they are in The City. I have no boyfriend. God, this getting depressing. I thought I might miss LA Man, because he has his own share of life stressors right now with his family and is not as present. And I do, I really do. And I thought I might miss Portland. And I do. And I thought I might miss have a purpose, and doing work that is meaningful. And I do. But what do I really miss?

I miss me. ME! Me in Portland, with my writing workshop and my job and my walking/dog morning group and everything. I miss me! Plus, I miss quiet: time to have thoughts. No TV, no talking, no pesky relationship interactions. I miss me as an independent person. An independent person not making a ton of money with a Vitamin D deficiency and industrial carpet and a lawn I hated to push-mow, but me nonetheless.

And though I've been invited to several events lately that I'm sincerely looking forward to in The City - a birthday party in Brooklyn (with dancing, DANCING!), an IHOP in Harlem w/ E., a knitting trunk show in Park Slope...I have to admit it:

I need a life. Pronto.

Helpful Advice

Driving Mom home from the hospital after a procedure requiring sedation. Opens her eyes a touch as we drive into the development I grew up in, which has about 10 different turns that bring you to the same place. Closes her eyes again after sharing:

Mom: You're going the wrong way.


xxx

Dad, while petting A.'s white fur, styling her bangs away from her eyes. A.'s long white eyelashes slowly lower and she's asleep. There is a lot of sleeping around this place.

Dad: If you don't write a book about this dog, I'll tell you. Something is wrong with you.

BINGO: A Game of Skill

Recent dinner conversation with my parents.

Mom: I liked that place in Santa Barbara!
Dad: The one for old people?
Mom: You're 77.
Dad: Nobody was there. Two people and they were sleeping.
Me: You'd fit in then. You took three naps today.
Dad: I like activities.
Mom: Like BINGO.
Me: A game of skill.
Mom: And for people who don't like to cook. (Two hands raised violently in the air.)
Me: They're having a cupping.
Mom: (dumbfounded)
Me: You know? With coffee? I saw the postcard?
Dad: You don't cook! (shoveling green beans with almonds into pie hole)
Mom: I don't want a roommate.
Me: A stranger farting?
Mom: At that age? To have a roommate?
Dad: Furthermore, it's expensive.
Me: Don't worry. We'll just throw you in the yard. Put up a nice tent.
Mom: Toss me some apples occasionally.
Me: Are these the chocolates with turbinado salt? Trader Joe's?
Dad: What's for dessert?
Mom: Almond crescent?

Strawberry

Some things never change in NYC. If there were a nuclear war, what would remain? Besides Jersey Shore episodes and landfills? Strawberry and David Z.

B. (an excellent friend for a decade or so now) and I had a very fun time eating at Bubby's in Tribeca (minus the $5 soda) and wandering through that area, Soho then over near Angelika Film Center. I had planned to visit the MOMA, but it never happened. We almost saw a movie but opted for Whole Foods sushi instead. I highly recommend the Philadelphia roll. How I love B.! We literally talked for eight hours. We got to talk about boys, life, boys, boys, and eat several meals, drink lots of coffee and bond. She is married and one of my favorite moments of the evening was when she asked me if i remembered when she and her husband were dating and broke up, which I did not. She said, "It was horrible. It was for 15 minutes." Then she sighed a very long sigh.

Of course we ended the night getting shitfaced and dancing topless on bars. Well, not exactly. Instead, we hit Petco (her cat, my dog) and Barnes N' Noble.

However! We did get into trouble giggling at David Z., where the salesman asked us if we were laughing at the shoes. Sometimes I do laugh at shoes, sure, but this wasn't one of those times.

Alright already. I know what you people want to know...how was LA? I won't leave you in anymore suspense. LA was marvelous, MLAM was lovely and sweet and rugged and handsome and brilliant and funny and reading this. I also met some of his family members, which I really enjoyed as well - very much so. LA? LA! LA, is a big city. And MLAM is gently coercing me to move there. Could I drive there? It's no Portland. It is a real city. What did we do that is PG-13? We walked on a beach at night. We....held hands. We....went out to dinner. We saw a friend's photos. We did a couple of other things too.

So all in all lovely. Since I've returned I've only had a short period of existential angst, wondering if I should cancel my crush. I did not hear from MLAM for a couple of days, which in a normal person's world is not a big deal. But in mine? Huge, especially since it is a change of behavior. So, I did what I often do. I discussed it, ad nausem, with B. then asked myself: what would a confident person do? Let's use our imaginations. Conjure a confident person. A confident person would assume/presume that everything is just fine and MLAM wants to hear from me. And that appears to be the case. Whew.

The question from friends and family now seems to be: what is your plan? What are you two doing? Ah the peer pressure! Inquiring minds want to know.