margaritas with margarita…
fun fun…then union square park where i felt under siege, so glad i’m out of town next week.


rumination – n. ru•mi•na•tion 1. The act of pondering; mediation. 2. The act or process of chewing cud. (or in my case, some adolescent rantings, sometimes talking in first, second, and third person, and narcissitic rambling.)

labor pains

It was positively sublime outside today. Waking up at 2pm, with an overdue payment toward my sleep defecit, I rushed to get outside and pick up lunch on the way the waterfront, where I was hoping to do some reading up on some research I’ve gathered for my "personal project" (total life change type stuff).
High on vitamin D, I decided to stop by the restuarant where I picked up shifts before my knee surgery to see if they needed me back anytime soon since it was on the way. Not only did they schedule me for two next week, they begged for me to pick up a hostessing shift an hour and a half later. I didn’t want to be a jerk, since they are so flexible with my schedule, and I’ve been missing the extra cash…so I agreed. I rushed back home, changed clothes, ate my Cosi lunch, and headed back toward the water. I had about ten minutes to kill, so I took a quick sit down on the marble benches by the office building across the street.

A typical site in Manhatten, a police officer with a very large gun walked by…
He was quite chatty, bored, and young and struck up conversation. He told me that he felt like a monster scaring children and their parents, since he realized his presence was only cosmetic. He pointed to his gun and told me he could never shoot it off in the street. It was quite odd, but having nothing but a familial respect for da cops, I smiled and told him though he’s a common site on the other side of the river, it’s the first time I’ve seen someone on the streets of Jersey City suited up for war.

I really don’t know what to feel about the "state of the world", "the state of the city", and all of that; it’s taken so many different significations in the past three years…my only real issue with the large guns came to me when I was shoved on the stairs of the PATH about a year and a half ago when the war in Iraq started. The stairwell has a lot of corners, and I didn’t see the National Guard guy until I bumped into him hard. It freaked me out to feel his gun against me and I wondered what his orders are for using it…granted he shouldn’t have been behing that blind corner, but I don’t think any of these guys really know what to do with themselves.
I’m beginning to take this "prescence" for granted, which is probably a good thing, but it always makes one think…in fact I’d almost forgotten about today’s run in until I checked my phone after my shift tonight, and recalled that I’d taken a photo right before we’d started chatting.

psychic friends network

I wonder if I’ve been intentionally shirking the grocery store in favor of my frequent late night walks to the deli. I really do love Jersey City, and of course since I can once again walk with little effort or pain, I’ve reclaimed my sometimes obsessive need to be outside and wandering around. But, the many walks to the deli for necessities should have brought me to at least consider a real shopping trip by now, especially since I have the rare convenience of a huge suburban-like Shop-Rite nearly across the street from my apartment.

So, again…my cell phone rings and even though I’m in my pj’s considering an early night…it was the perfect excuse to run down to the store with some company on the other line. Unfortunately, the cell phone which rang mine had a dead battery only a few blocks from my house. So, I was enjoying the "Sunday-night-ness" of the hood and the drug-like calm these brisk walks bring me.
The deli is the deli…damned bright, the guy outside who always says "maybe some change on the way out?", and like all the delis on the block, the guy who always mans the cash register is missing his hand. No joke…out of the three separate delis I’ve been to on that stretch, not one of the guys who’s rung me up has both his hands. But, this is not the strange thing, I’ve actually come to expect it. The girl in front of me on line was short 15 cents. I handed her the change since I had it, and they weren’t going to give her the sandwich she ordered without it. No big thing. She waited for me and thanked me, which was nice…and then she asked if I’ve ever had a psychic reading and offered to have me come back with her to "do a reading." I turned her down. Ya see, I’ve actually gone to a psychic twice, for the fun of it, and both times it was comical how off the mark, and textbook they were. However, this is now the third time I’ve turned down a psychic. There have been two times that women, in front of their psychic establishments, followed me down the street telling me they had to tell me something…and offered to read my cards or my palm for free because it was "important." The second time, it really freaked me out. Granted, this was an offer of a return favor, but it made me consider my freak-magnet ability. Not that I think psychics are necessarily freaky, or that I entirely discount their craft…but it’s safe to say, I’m a magnet for the bizarre.

It just occurred to me…I’m only really updating this site with stories about random people and events…I’m not sure I’ll ever want to discuss things that are more personal, or about people who are close to me.
Wow, now this has me thinking…why on earth did I start this, and what is its purpose? At first, I started a site for my large and unruly family. Then, enjoying a task to do at work, other than what I should be doing, I started this site. I never intended to share it, in fact, it was a way for me to manage all my miscellaneous word documents I created when I was to lazy to put pen to paper in my journal (I type way faster than I hand-write). Then, having put effort into it, I shared the link and removed nearly all the original content. Hmmm, maybe I missed out on being told what it ALL means.


I have this quirky way of eating bananas and since I’m hyper today, I feel the need to celebrate my realization that nature made the banana skin it’s own little paper plate. Ya see, I’m not a peeler and eater, I don’t do the monkey, or maybe it’s that I can’t handle the sexual implication of eating a banana "old school"; rather I unpeel the whole thing, snap off the unsavory ends, and break off each bite before popping it in my mouth. Since the whole peel is broken, I have a nice flat clean surface to dissect it, and when I’m done, it’s easily rolled up and discarded. Viva La Banane!

feeling hardcore

I was entirely too amused by myself for jacking a personal stop off the Chinatown bus from Philly to NY tonight. After an exhausting day, the thought of passing my street by the Holland Tunnel, only to tack at least 45 minutes on the return trip was too much. So, at the first sign for Jersey City, I packed up my laptop and my bag, and walked up the driver. When he got a red light I asked him to let me out. First he told me "No" and "This is Crazy, I can’t let you out!" I calmly said "You have the light, open the door." And…he did…shouting "GO GO GO GO GO" as I ran across three lanes of traffic right onto Manila, 6 blocks from my house. It surely beat walking from Chinatown to the WTC Path stop, and crossing the river again with my backback. I was totally adrenalized for the walk back!

silver labs

I saw the cutest puppy walking in Soho at lunch, at first I thought it was a weimaraner because of the silver color, but then I realized it looked more like a lab! …baby blue eyes, gorgeous silver lab puppy, over-sized feet and all. I’m in love. And, there’s quite a controversy as to whether the ugly Wegman dogs are indeed involved genetically.

sibling rivalry

Every time I hear or read about "Hurricane Charley" threatening Florida, I can’t help but think of my brother.