Category Archives: Life stories

My NYC To Do List – Progress Report

As you may recall, I started My NYC To Do List not long after moving back here after ten years in DC. My attention to The List has been, well, haphazard at best.

But I’m focused now. Ready to tackle stuff and add new To Dos.

1. Check out Sleep No More - accomplished!

2. Eat at Traif - achieved, more than once.

traif

3. See the Radical Camera exhibit - missed. That will teach me to pick things with realistic deadlines. Maybe.

4. Attend a Saturday Night Live taping (Click)

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How was your weekend?

I had the lovely low-key weekend that I set out to. Already I was trying to be more frugal than usual because of the Kenya trip.

But guess what? I went and booked a cheap Caribbean trip for Memorial Day Weekend with one of my good friends. Maybe we’ll see a shark like I did in Grand Cayman.

The shark

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The All-Important Mental Health Day

I have worked for my present employer for, like, one million years. As a result, I get a nice big block of vacation time.

It makes trips like Kenya possible. But also random Fridays off, a practice I heartily endorse. I used a vacation day Friday and it was a lovely Mental Health Day in Manhattan.

Plastic Flower Shop

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No class (Part 2)

First read Part 1 if you haven’t already.

What has two thumbs and took her first gym class in years?

OK so it’s me, not Liz Lemon.

After a false start in which I signed up for something called Cardio Video Dance only to realize NOPE), I talked myself into a Vinyasa yoga class. And by “yoga” please know that I don’t mean serious yoga like that taught at Greenhouse. I mean the kind that comes free at my somewhat down-at-heels gym. Continue reading

The calls keep coming

When I switched from Time Warner Cable to Verizon FioS, I was offered a landline with the package, essentially for free. I thought “ok, cool” given that I sometimes work from home and a landline could be useful for conference calls and such.

I was given a few choices for my new home number and chose the one with a pattern easily remembered. Since the line was set up, I have given out the number to three people, maybe. I have not set up the voice mail.

And yet I get at least five calls per day. At least.

My number used to belong to a woman named Melody. She is college educated, but apparently bad at follow-through based on the calls I get about her overdue student loans.

The number also belonged to a car service, as well a Hasidic family with many, many friends, all of whom call morning noon and night.

I don’t even look at the caller ID when the phone rings anymore. Heck, I don’t even stop what I’m doing. The calls are never for me.

I called Verizon to dump my landline and learned that doing so would increase, not decrease, my monthly bill. The Verizon rep offered to change my number. I declined.

Next, she suggested, without irony, that I simply unplug the phone.

The phone keeps ringing. For now.

The other grandmother

It makes me sad not to know if I would have called her Grandmother or Granny or some other name.

It would not be Nana. That name was reserved for my mother’s mother. I never got a chance to call my father‘s mother anything; she died when I was less than a year old. 

I have to use my imagination to fill in the gaps of my real life knowledge.

scanI can only guess that she might have liked to be called Babcia. Continue reading

My volunteer trip to Kenya

As some of you may know, I am taking a volunteer trip to Kenya this coming July.

It’s funny to think about how I met some lovely Maasai women on a New York City bus last year, and now I’m heading to their country.

Masai

During this trip, I will be working with Maasai school children who live on a reservation in Southern Kenya. Continue reading

Mexican weekend

In advance of a work trip to Mexico (again), I went for dinner with my friends Amanda and Adrienne. I figured I’d be home by 11 pm or so.

Spoiler: that didn’t happen.

Amanda arrived first and snagged a seat at the bar, texting me to say Mercadito is a “shoebox.” And she was right. To get to the bathroom, you will squeeze past the bar. But you’ll manage. You may even make a new friend.

What Mercadito lacks in size, it makes up for in flavor. And alcohol. And personality.

A sign

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