Past Pun Pondering: January 7, 2015

A year later and I still can't figure out a few things from this display 

in a suburban Maryland discount shop: 

WHY doesn't this typewriter have paper in it?

 Random messages from shoppers could be marketing gold. 

Just image the riff on this trio:

Big Fish turns to Buddha and asks: What do you  think of Squirrel over there?

Buddha: He's a tough nut to crack.

Big Fish: Buddha, your jokes flounder.

Why wouldn't you bronze up a big fish, a Buddha, and a squirrel?

~ photos by iTouch

Rain Insurance / Spotted on the train

Murphy's law:

If you HAVE your umbrella with you, and it looks like this ...

it won't rain.

I did. It didn't.

But ...

What is Murphy's law about stashed drinks on train?

If they are there, you won't be thirsty?

These were separate legs of separate commutes. 

I'm going to start a photo series if this keep up.

People! Follow the national park rules. Pack in. Pack out. 

There are enough annoying things on trains than dealing with your trash.

The company can't even afford to fix the seats with anything better than duct tape, 

forget hiring people to clean up after you.

~photos by iTouch; general distaste for litterers, all of us

You Should be Writing

There's a whole series of memes online, usually perpetuated by authors, academics, or freelance writers, that distills down to:

You Should Be Writing.

That could be the theme of the blog the last few years.

It's not that I don't have material. It's not that it's not germinating in my brain. It's not that I don't have letters to write, or emails to answer. I just haven't had a chance to put it all down on screen or paper.


One snowy Saturday, I was blessed with some free time between appointments, so I snuggled in at a Cosi's, with free wi-fi, all the bread I could eat, Diet Coke I could drink, some letters, a fresh fountain pen and a journal - and started writing what would turn into an epic 10+ page Jane Austen-esque epistle.

Baring time for epistles, I dash off notes, or I often use Twitter and/or my phone to jot down the kernel of the observation or inspiration. Things that might end up in other forms, later in my life. [In fact, there's one coming up this week that started out as a jotted down note.]

Here are some of my musings lately:*

Crew @ my @7eleven knows me a little too well: "Wait, you're back. What'd you forget this morning. Oh, you must be baking again. No refill?"

Overheard at train station: "Having your therapy dog stolen is a double whammy." #futurefirstlineofmymemoir #therapydog #random #whyIwrite

It must be spring in the country. I can hear the red-tail hawk crying out for its mate again. #nestingseason #springsoundtrack #countrylife

Overheard near the local donut shop. Said by father with 2 small kids. To son: "No, you can't call shotgun. It's her birthday." #birthdaytraditions

Things I ponder during my commute: Why is there a dried up, decapitated corpse of a #pineapple in the middle of the train tracks? #random

Who needs that BökFace thing when Google images helps you look up an ex just fine. Especially when you can make judgements on aging better.

Me: I really resent having to go to work tomorrow. Her: That's a problem. Where can you get a sugar daddy? Us: *laughter* #friendsarethebest

My favorite thing today was hearing how my 5yo #nephew very precisely articulates all the syllables in: ACT-U-A-LY (Very toothily) #actually

I don't normally watch the 10/11pm local news, but when I do, I miss YO-LAAANDA Vega telling me which numbers I didn't pick to win. #nylotto

3pm: Must mean it's time for an impromptu solo rave dance party in a colleague's office. I mean...3pm and SOMEBODY ELSE was, I swear. #notme

Talking to the 10yo #nephew. Accidentally broke into rhyming pattern. Was told in no uncertain terms, "Stop rapping. You can't be a rapper."

And lo, it came to pass, in the 4th decade of the life of Nettie, did she find that the balance of her coffer ledger was accidentally nil.

Mighty was the flop sweat of she upon finding it thus. Much foul words were spoke, repenting undertook, & relief upon remembering overdraft.

Forsooth, and verily, I must confess...I was not paying attention to the balance o'the coffers whilst using the card o'debit.

Yon spendthrift was trying to curb her ways of the other cards o'credit, by freezing them, but still must learn economy.

Alas, I think I've been enjoying tweets by @LeVostreGC a mite bit too much. I'm starting to tweet/writ in homage. That and scriptural style.

Excuse me? Have you seen my motivation? I seem to have misplaced it.

When you are already feeling guilty about NOT responding to a letter from a former intern c. 2/14, & she calls you today from SPAIN to talk.

I know there is all kinds of symbolism to seeing 3 crows/ravens, but what about when you spot 3 large turkey vultures "lingering" nearby?

OH at office: "Please note. That was my nose. I didn't actually lick you. You probably shouldn't lick your colleagues." We're a close bunch.

Working in the country and commuting means if you miss your train by 35 seconds you have to wait 35 minutes for the next one. #sigh

Walked by the site of my former job today. Security guards came out of the building to give me a hug. So sweet. Guys were big teddy bears.

Why was there a bowl of milk at the foot of the stairs outside my apartment door this morning?

[This was a photo reminder to myself. In the almost decade that the Attic has been located in this building, this has NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE!]

Stay tuned...

Maybe I'll actually start really writing again.... Can't you already envision the tale of the stolen therapy dog?

In the meantime, enjoy these random observations.

The next time you feel bad about your inbox, remember that tonight I answered some e-mail that was 15 months old. #BadPerson

— Jen Yates (@cakewrecks) April 28, 2015

Too lazy at the moment 😂 pic.twitter.com/sOzDd0zmjM

— ☆ Nica ☆ (@Nhycca) April 27, 2015

*Or to be precise, in the future. I'm back-dating this from May 2015.
TIME TRAVEL. It's not just science-fiction. It's called "retro-blogging!"

Love and Longing In The Lift

for Gdawg, where/whenever he may be

It happened again the other day

Taking the lift, as I normally do.

I swear I felt your presence there,

Beside me,

Almost like you were really there ...

Like we could just smile, and reach out take each other's hand.

Then, in the exact moment that feeling resonated,

Realization followed,

Sorrow was swallowed,

and I arrived at my floor.

I took a deep (steadying) breath,

Opened the lift door,

and stepped out (determinedly)

Out to my reality.

As alone as when I was before that tantalizingly tangible tic of time.

Where are you?

Has our "lift" door closed?

Randomness

Dear Readers (mostly Parental Units),

Yes, I'm fine.
Really.
I just couldn't get my act together to write a series of real post(s).

So you don't a) call my boss b) call my other bosses c) call the neighbors d) contact my friends or e) call the NYPD (as you have threatened to do before), here are some random entries dating back a ways to prove that I'm fine, my weird observational humor is still intact, and that I am traveling/functioning/documenting on other forums other than this one.

In no particular order,

Drew might appreciate this concert poster. Killer Stegadons playing the trombone? The brass players at the Big J are a bit crazy. I think they blew too hard and ruptured some brain cells. This was just 1 of a series of concert posters for this particular musician.

In a fit of spring cleaning/blog writing procrastination, I've been going through the buckets and buckets of stuff in my Attic. Look who I found! My hand-made, vintage, childhood dollies. *Sniff* Proving once again, even though you thought you didn't need your childhood friends, your mother knew better and saved them for you.

I've been thinking about the CT house lately. (STILL ON THE MARKET, almost 2 years later. *Sigh* Send a prayer up for the market to swing upwards soon.) Some of the gang are cleaning up/out their houses and showing off the "decor" of their kitchens. I think I have the oddness beat -- Nothing tops 1950s vintage plastic turquoise tiles that only come up half the walls, topped by rockin' stripped mustard/orange/puce floral wallpaper. Good times. I enjoyed the latest incarnation, the reno Grumpa assisted with sometime in the last 10 years, but my formative year? Were spent looking at this -- on a much larger scale. [What? YOU don't have a tile and wallpaper sample from your childhood home framed for posterity? What's wrong with YOU!?]

I did manage to go exploring and enjoying time with friends. On Easter Eve, I had a delicious series of appetizers in the Bronx's "little Italy" Arthur Avenue with Christine. We did notice, however, that apparently you can only celebrate one religious holiday at a time on Arthur Avenue.

Christine and I also have spent time stress-eating/venting at other restaurants over the last month or so. In March, after, oh, 20 years or so of being a New Yorker, and over 5-7 of those years, heading in and out of Grand Central twice a day, I finally ate at the Oyster Bar. Here's the thing: The restaurant at the Oyster Bar is super $$$, but I had the best sea bass I've ever had. If I go again? We're eating at the bar/counter, where things are more in my price range. If I divide the cost of dinner by 20 years? Pennies on the dollar, but still.

What else?

Oh yes. My Internet/cable/wifi were down for a whole 30 hours - driving me crazy and forcing me out of the house. Sometimes when your technology doesn't work/keep you locked to a screen, you have go out and smell the flowers/blossoms. So I escaped to the New York Botanical Garden.

I've been working late a lot lately, so sometimes I get a ride home from my pal Cynthia. On our walk to the parking garage/street, we pass a bunch of day care centers that have their own version of social media "walls." Here are some humorous updates. (I want to be a kid again!)

Music AND art classes. AND playground time? Am I too old to enroll in this school? I wonder if there is nap time?

Another option: maybe if there was "juice time," my "self portrait" wouldn't be the title of their Book of the Day.

One particular morning, NOTHING went right with the subway portion of my travels, and I had to hoof it from stops that were nowhere near my normal. I was rushing, but I did happen to catch this shadow out of the corner of my eye. Cast by the eastern sunlight across one of the many new sculptural installations by the artist Woytuk on Broadway, it is supposed to be a normal sized bird perched on some apple -- with the shadow, it looked like a raven to me.

Spotted once upon a commute so ghastly.

Shadows of a sculpture Woytuk-ly.

Quoth the Raven Nevermore and nothing more

Let's see. What else has been happening? The semester is rushing by. Check it out: Apparently, even our work-study student is a little punchy - a wreck, you might say. I came back from some errand or another and discovered thatthe fund-raising ship had sailed. She adorned my computer, and

my desk was adorned with origami. Instead of shredding or filing the papers, she left these for me.

Maybe she was trying to tell me something? I usually am thinking this about MY boss.

Even though the winter wasn't cold, didn't have too snow, and generally wasn't much to complain about, the unrelenting greyness -- grey skies, concrete, asphalt, subway grime, travertine -- started to get to me. One day, though, a burst of color gleamed through the dim of Grand Central. Japan Week celebrations in Vanderbilt Hall brought cherry blossoms, kimono silks, and red lanterns to break up with the winter gloom.

You see all kinds of things on the commute.

You probably can't tell from this grainy, much zoomed, edited, and cropped iTouch photo, but this type of randomness happens a lot on the trains. You get absorbed in your book, 'nook, i-thingy, you look up, glance to yourself and go "huh": That Sudoko player is totally not paying attention to the stressed out bride-to-be next to him who just picked up her bridal bouquet of calla lilies and is clenching them for dear life. Maybe he's afraid to look at her, for fear she'll freak out. That, or this is the worst commute to a funeral EVER. The lilies were pretty, but I like lilies of the valley. Callas just make me miss Katherine Hepburn.

Check this little one out. Traveling to NYC via the train is fascinating at any age, especially if you have your best friend to snuggle.

Just ask my fellow Big J commuter friend Jess. Commuting is hard. Stuffed animals help. Hey. Whatever gets you through the daily grind.

Finally. I'm popping multivitamins, aspirin, and Vitamin D like candy these days -- just to stave off the stress. I'm also popping Vitamin C. I prefer to get my vitamins from actual fruit (stop laughing people). However, I'm not sure I want to take any of these floozies home.

How's that for a random set of updates?

More soon. When I don't have writers block.

If the snow doesn't kill you ...

It was an epic struggle to get to work today. We’re in the midst of a three day snow event, which someone called a snow-hurricane. First there was rain, then there was sleet, then there was wet heavy snow … combined with the howling winds, blowing everything this way and that. And it's not going to be over for another 12-24 hours. It’s beautiful – when viewed from the warm, dry side of the window, secure in the knowledge that you don’t have to shovel or go trudging through slush piles that are up to your knees. Sadly, that wasn’t me today. I had to go to work.

The Big J is a college conservatory. There are auditions scheduled every day for the next ten days. Audition week here is like the Olympics of music, dance, and drama. These kids work for years for their chance to try out, and then pass through layers of qualifiers, just to get admitted. Some people travel in from around the world just to audition. It’s a big deal for the students and their families, and the school will not deny them the chance. Thus, we are open – regardless if we are working auditions – which, luckily, I do not! (Sorry readers, you can’t bribe me for help getting in.) Repeated checking of the cell phone and the main number to the office crushed my hopes for another blessed snow day this month. Plus, I had an application that had to be filed by today. Phooey.

The newscasters warned me of 20-90 minute delays on my trains. I knew it was going to be bad. I thought I was prepared for it. The 35 minute wait on the platform wouldn’t have been so awful, if my feet weren’t soaking wet from the puddles I had to splash through to get to the station. Then the commute was a 45 minute standing room only experience, ala the Tokyo Subway. It would have been bearable if I wasn’t smooshed into a human pretzel. I want to learn yoga, but even trained yogis would have been hard-pressed to find the zen in the mass of bodies that was the train this morning. At one point, one of my shoulders was in some guy’s armpit, and my other shoulder was in between some lady’s shoulder blades. (I hope they were her shoulder blades.) I had an elbow in my kidney for a while, plus my knees and hips were canted in different directions. A chiropractor would have a field day with me right now. Oh, and that’s not all. I was in the vestibule on a local train as people were jostling to get on and OFF. It was a LONG, miserable, achy, ride. Needless to say, I got to work very cold and cranky.

As the day progressed, and the snows fell, those of us in the office got a little punchy. It could have been the exchanging of the “war stories” (my commute was sooooooo bad), or the very casual nature of the various clothing ensembles, but our conversational topics began to get decidedly odd. Somehow it turned to current events (like this and that) and this gem was uttered:

Me: Well, they are called killer whales for a reason.
Boss: I bet cows kill more people per year than killer whales do!

Me: (*beat*) hysterical laughter*

Then my Boss LOOKED UP THE STATISTICS, proving once again that you can find anything on the Internet.

Moral of the story?

Really? You want one?

This entry is about snow, trains, killer whales, and cows, for cripes sake!

Is it spring yet?


*** I do extend my deepest sympathies to the family and friends of the SeaWorld trainer, of course. I'm not trying to be disrespectful to her memory at all.

Signs of the Times

Who: Auntie Nettie and Jenn spotted this...
What:

Congratulations Juan Carlos!

The baby's not yours!

When: Sunday, October 11, 2009, mid-afternoon
Where: In a Walmart parking lot in a town in eastern Connecticut
How: About that!? No child support payments after all.

Someone is very happy for Juan Carlos, or is passive agressively relaying the results of a paternity suit. I can't decide.

Either way, thanks to Jenn for doing a slow drive-by so I could document this "joyous" news.

Random Thoughts

1. You just know it's going to be a good week when ...

you get “accidentally” punched in the boob while trying to exit the bowels of Grand Central Station.

To be fair, the guy was trying to push down the stairs while a train full of people was trying to go up the stairs and I don’t think he realized he did it as he tried to jam past me.

(Sadly, it’s the most action I’ve gotten since I was last wanded by the TSA people. TMI?)

2. Also, I don't think they pay the Big J's cleaning ladies enough to fold up the socks that I had forgotten under my desk. Sorry ladies. Thanks for straightening up my many pairs of shoes and other assorted stuff.

3. Check out Krippy's twins modelling their newest pressies from Auntie Nettie, purses full of heart.

4. Don't forget to try and figure out who are the Liberated Ladies of Literature and win an ARC of Blindspot.

5. Is it Friday yet? Newport is calling my name! (not to mention my taping of the last Battlestar!)

Random Chirpings

Don't be a chicken. Be a STAR!

(thanks for the idea Cheryl)

Random Comments - Whiteboard Witticisms

~ courtesy of anonymous orchestra kids in CT

Battlestar Babblings

After watching last Friday's episode of Battlestar Galactica I had a couple of thoughts.

Was it me, or was the program a rampant frakin' homage to symbolism? Can we talk about the oedipal overtones of Ellen and John, not to mention Saul and the pregnant 6? OY, the metaphors.

Frankly, I kept waiting for a hail of falling anvils, especially in the final producers' credits.



More importantly, while I can usually buy all kinds of actors in various parts on the show (i.e. "Xena" as the Boxed Deannas), when John Hodgman showed up as the "neuro guy" I yelled at the screen.

I KNEW IT.

It's an advertising conspiracy of the highest order and Eick and Moore are laughing all the way to the bank.

The Cylons are Macs. The real reason why Anders is in a coma is because the PC guy finally got to sabotage the machines.

(It's a good thing this show is almost over. It is seriously messing with my mind.)

Random Overheard Conversation

Overheard Friday evening while travelling through Grand Central Terminal.

Usually you only half listen to the announcements, as they are generally track assignments or the “canned” safety messages. This one caught my attention.

“Attention please, attention please!

Damian, please report to the upper level information booth. Your dog is free.

Attention please, attention please.

Damian, please retrieve your dog at the upper level information booth.”

No one else seemed to notice that a hellhound might be running around Grand Central?

Random Overheard Comments of the Day

"There's only one answer -- get rid of all the birds."

(Conversation was about the crash and how to make flying completely safe.)

I would think that the birdwatchers would call a "fowl" on this one.

Delurking Day '09

Apparently Delurking Day* is happening here in the great Blogosphere, with dates ranging from last Saturday to Monday. Regardless, the idea behind the day is that readers of blogs are to stop lurking in the cyberworld and start leaving comments on the various blogs that they read. Feedback and new friends are supposed to be a good thing.

I have questions though:

Who comes up with these things and publicizes them to the blogging community? 'Cause, I missed the memos and e-mails.

Also, who designed the logo, because, I SERIOUSLY think I've seen that guy on the subway before!

And finally, do I have time to moderate the comments if and when you all start commenting again? That's really a rhetorical question at this point, since you, my readers are mostly lurkers.

I know people ARE reading this, as the counter tells me so (unless it's me segueing the results). If you do decide to delurk and comment, please say hi! politely, of course, keeping in mind my guidelines for comments (see my caveats below). Let me know what topics you'd like me to address in future posts, if you'd like to continue our lapsed Teaching Moments or Items of the Week, what goes on your Grateful List, etc.

Go ahead. Delurk, you lurkers, you.

*Thanks for the heads up Krippy!

Random Comments aka Literary Nerd Humor

I was reading through more than 40 backlogged e-mail digests from the PUBLIB (a discussion list concerned with all aspects of public libraries) this weekend, and this line just amused me to no end. I wish I could remember which witty librarian wrote it.

For my initiation, I had to capitalize and punctuate
the works of e e cummings.

Shouldn't it really be this?

for my initiation i had to capitalize and punctuate
the works of e e cummings

Random Overheard Comment of the Day

Scene: Packed elevator of students at renowned conservatory on the second full day of classes
Who: Undergraduate musicians reuniting after break and catching up on summer news
What happened: General elevator chitchat, whereupon a young 20 something female teasingly punched her male cohort in the arm, which brought her impressive engagement ring to his attention

Guy: Hey. What's that? Did you get engaged?
Girl: Yes, this summer.
Guy: Congratulations. Is he rich? He'd better be.

Doors to elevator open. Students depart.

Ah. The cynicism of young musicians. So sad. But so true.

Random Overheard Comment of the Day

"You are the Mozart of paper writing."

~ as said by my boss to someone on the phone.

I wonder what Wolfie would have thought of that.

Random comments and such

Unfortunately the Blogosphere/InterWeb are proving to be too much of a distraction for Auntie Nettie right now, as she's got a lot of deadlines and such. While I'm not pausing on blog entries, I am going to be weaning myself off the other aspects of the BloggiNet for a while. To that end, I have archived the comments and turned them off the foreseeable future. This function is fun, but has caused some dysfunctionality in various relationships, which is highly regrettable. So, to try and fix the situations, I'm stepping back and, as advised, keeping my mouth shut for a while.

Starting ....

Now!

I'm IT.

This post is in response to Krippy’s Tagging over on her blog. I don’t think this is exactly what she had in mind, however.

The rules?

1.Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

My response

This all seems very familiar. Is it "deja vu all over again?" OH! I know what this is. It’s the blogosphere’s version of a chain letter, which I manage to successfully avoid when they come through the snail mail or my e-mail in-box. (I promptly chuck them in the trash or hit DELETE.) Sadly, it’s harder to ignore being “tagged” on the blogosphere, since it’s easier to see who tagged you AND they can check back to see if you have tagged someone else. What’s worse, you have a couple of dilemmas.

A) How to respond, since in effect you already have posted ten random facts about yourself earlier on the blog?

B) Do you have to come up with seven more facts? Oh, here’s one: I’m not that interesting!

C) Here’s another – I don’t know that many people who would participate. The seven who might “play” are related to me and started this whole tagging mess OR are the some of same seven people already tagged. Is this a Boolean paradox?

D) How to respond and not annoy the person who tagged you?

E) What are the consequences for not following the rules? Will the Great and Omnipotent Tagger put you in “time out?”

F) Are there enough readers of this blog who will care if you don’t list more strange things about yourself? (*ahem, shameless request for comments, ahem*)

G) What will you talk about if they DO care?

So here’s who I’m tagging:

Grumpy
Bashful
Happy
Dopey
Sleepy
Sneezy
Doc

I’m sure they’ll have fun things to say.

Rainy Day Meditations on a Natal Event

Strange signs that you are getting older:

~ You are no longer a “young” single adult, as per your Church;

~ You are no longer a member of the key demographic of 18-34;

~ You are one of the last generations that learned how to type on actual typewriters;

~ You are one of the last generations that learned to play music on turntables;

~ You are one of the last generations that tuned into television with antennas;

~ Your generation played on playgrounds with asphalt and metal jungle gyms;

~ You're part of the X generation, but pre-date the Y generation;

~ Prince’s song about “1999” was about a year that was AGES away;

~ You still can’t believe that Y2K was years ago;

~ You find yourself having short-term memory loss for no apparent reason;*

~ You’ve stopped dying your hair;

~ You find grey hairs in other strange places;

~ Bits and parts of you creak when you try to use them;

~ Your parents are retired and on Social Security;

~ Your “baby” brother is going to be 30 this year;

~ Your younger siblings have been married for more than five and ten years;

~ You worked at one job the same amount of time that you spent in regular schooling;

~ You realize that your first boyfriend’s oldest kid is the age that his dad was when you and he first met;

~ Your high school and class reunions are coming up on the 15 and 20 year mark;

~ The next major milestone birthdays are the ones with 0's on the end of them;

~ You start rounding up on your age six months in advance so you get used to the number by the time your actual birthday rolls around; and

~ You decide to start adding the numbers of your age together and have your inner child start acting that age instead of your real one.

So, happy freaking b-day to me. Today, I am 9!

*I’m sure there are more items for this list, but these are just the ones I can remember.