Friday, October 04, 2002

Dreary drecky dreadful day today. Rainy, but not in a charming English countryside sort of way. Not cool enough to have the bite of fall. Not warm enough for spring. Not much of anything.

I, along with everyone else, am trudging along the sidewalk, head down, umbrella up. My bag and shoes are getting wet. I wore the short jacket, afraid that the long one would be too hot.

On my answering machine just a day or two ago I stumbled over the date, saying August 2 instead of October 2. Mother Nature is doing essentially the same thing. I can just hear her, sleepily waving her wand and incanting the climate conditions for the day, "Oh drat. That was last month’s formula. Damn. Well, they’ll just have to shear the sheep again."

Monday, September 30, 2002

Ah, the trip to the trim shop. The one on lower Broadway run by a fleet of old Yiddish gentlemen. They are alternately lovely and polite, or gnarled and curmudgeonly—depending on which salesman you get that day, and perhaps, on what he had for breakfast that morning. I imagine that matzoh brei mornings produce the politeness, while kasha days are grumble-inducing. The one I had today seemed to have breakfasted on leftover noodle kugel, for he was a charmer.

I went in to get one item: 4 yards of woven trim to use as curtain tie-backs. Instead I walked out with four different kinds of trim, in rainbow colors. Blue and green flowers on a red background, orange flowers on a black mesh background, black and white flowers on a red ribbon, and red and white abstract patterns on a navy background.

And I didn’t even bring home the purple and pink one I’d been eyeing.

For the record, I had cold cereal this morning.