My parents' dining room furniture.
Pink food.
My high-school boyfriend comes to dinner with a big perm.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Moonlighting
So my eye doctor has structured his practice to resemble an ancient Greek amphitheater, and we sit on stone benches and watch him treat other patients as we wait. The patient before me is a young blind woman, and as the doctor looks at her eyes, I get a call from Wayne that one of my English Department colleagues is missing. Apparenlty, we're not just mild-mannered composition instructors. We're also detectives!
I bring the blind woman with me to our colleague's apartment. Her sense of smell is such that she can tell if a room has seen violence, and this one has, she assures us, although there is no trace of it, no blood, not a thing out of place. It's a wonderful apartment, a whole floor of a former factory, and Wayne and I wander through room after room of art studios and galleries and finally end up looking at a back-to-school issue of Seventeen magazine circa 1983.
I bring the blind woman with me to our colleague's apartment. Her sense of smell is such that she can tell if a room has seen violence, and this one has, she assures us, although there is no trace of it, no blood, not a thing out of place. It's a wonderful apartment, a whole floor of a former factory, and Wayne and I wander through room after room of art studios and galleries and finally end up looking at a back-to-school issue of Seventeen magazine circa 1983.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Orange Isn't My Color, Anyway
So I'm in a park to go birding, and I go into this old shed and run into the guy who writes the bird blog I read every day. Also in the shed is a closet full of my clothes, including a favorite tank top I'd forgotten all about: tangerine orange with gold metal straps. Turns out, you can't wash such a garment--although I give it a good try--and (alas!) my bird-blogging friend tells me that the store where I purchased it is no more.
[Intermission to rearrange George, who is stuck to my head like a giant squid.]
So I go to another favorite birding spot, which has been turned into a tearoom full of Victorian kitsch. What used to be the pond is now a pool full of old ladies in bathing caps and surrounded by lounging cats, including one that looks exactly like my (deceased) Emily. She swipes at me, I push her into the pool, the old ladies are stern, and I flee to the top of a wardrobe. But there are plenty of birds to be watched--red and black ones drinking tea with hummingbirds, yellow-rumped warblers who use their tails to fly, yellow birds with bright blue faces . . .
[Intermission to rearrange George, who is stuck to my head like a giant squid.]
So I go to another favorite birding spot, which has been turned into a tearoom full of Victorian kitsch. What used to be the pond is now a pool full of old ladies in bathing caps and surrounded by lounging cats, including one that looks exactly like my (deceased) Emily. She swipes at me, I push her into the pool, the old ladies are stern, and I flee to the top of a wardrobe. But there are plenty of birds to be watched--red and black ones drinking tea with hummingbirds, yellow-rumped warblers who use their tails to fly, yellow birds with bright blue faces . . .
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