The Good, The Bad and the Most Joyful Dream

Before we went to sleep last night we turned off the alarm and decided to “sleep late” the following morning. I woke at 5:45 am and heard a little commotion outside the bedroom door. I got up to feed Bella and Meca . I got back into bed and laid there listening to the pink noise of the sound machine, a car going by outside our window blasting (for the first time) classical music and our new humidifier. Then I started to remember two dreams I had had.

The first was the bad one. I could not get into work and I knew I had to get there but I just couldn’t make it in because one thing after the other popped up and stood in my way. I knew I should let my boss and co-worker know but I just couldn’t do it. I knew there were things I had to do that day but it wasn’t going to happen. It was a dream full of anxiety.

The other involved me taking some of the most amazing photographs, some in color, some in black and white. I think I was in Paris and so much was going on around me. I was using this little black Sony camera that my friend Sarah just bought. I was with her at B&H when she picked it out. I was squatting on the ground and little girls in party dresses and hats were walking around and the sun was hitting one of them from behind. There were acrobats making a human pyramid, then fireman lined up in their best uniforms and dogs being walked by their owners and balloons in the sky and bikers going by. I was in a park. I was experiencing such pure delight and when I opened my eyes I was smiling and so excited.

I Get My News from Other People

Yesterday I had my 6-month dental cleaning. My dentist is a interesting guy and his staff if so nice, it overshadows the nova cane and the sound of the drill when I have to get a crown put in.

He was different this time. He seemed sad and preoccupied. Still talkative but the talk was about the economy. (By the way, I get my news from other people). He started off by saying that Citbank was looking to sell some of itself off. He said he was concerned about his retirement. I asked him if his business had slowed down and he said no. Then he talked about the rough times in 92 and how people would come in and say, ‘Do what needs to be done. I am loosing my job and my benefits.” I reminded him that Cobble Hill has changed drastically since 92 and he agreed that it had been severely gentrified.

He said, “I wouldn’t want to be Obama right now. I don’t know why he would want to be president. We need a president like FDR. We need someone who is going to say ‘Everything will be ok.’

I brought up something that puzzles me. The economy is in bad shape but Whole Foods at Union Square is always packed. Today I was in Union Square with my aunt visiting from Israel and we went into Filene’s Basement and DSW and the amounts of people there was mind blowing. Merchandise was scattered everywhere and people were frenzied making their way through the items. He told me that New York has not been hit like the rest of the country. It still boggles my mind.

My job is currently uncertain. I made a budget of how I could live if I had to go on unemployment. I told my mother about it. However I still continue to come home with two vegetarian burritos and a bag of chips from Chipotle, often. I still get a Starbucks Soy Chai Latte from time to time. My husband and I love to drink wine. And I think what about the budget?

A Subway Serenade

I just finished washing the morning dishes and getting our potatoes into the oven for dinner.

I have been humming that song, “Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly, with his songggggg” by Roberta Flack.

I was sitting on the 5 train, almost at Flatbush Ave. The train was moderately full. A woman gets on and says “Hello everyone, I am going to sing you a song. Or if you can spare some change, I don’t have to sing. It’s up to you. What’s it going to be?”

Nobody said a word.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to sing.”

Out came a very soulful and slightly scratchy rendition of Killing Me Softly with His Song. I closed my eyes and started to smile. There was beauty in her voice and desperation. I wanted to start singing along with her but I didn’t. After a good 3 minutes of song a guy says, “Here, Miss, Please…”. And everyone started laughing and for one split second it was funny. But after he gave her some bills it felt very wrong to laugh. She too laughed along with everyone else.

I sang this all the way home and as I type this I googled the song and found a link to Flack’s video on YouTube.

Crying last Friday Night

Last Friday night we made sure to be home by 8pm to watch my favorite show, The Ghost Whisperer. People laugh when I say this but I love this show. When the show first came out the media made fun of Jennifer Love Hewitt, however the show is still here and gets better. Last week Love-Hewitt’s character Melinda, lost her husband Jim.

My husband and I could not believe it, we were stunned. I cried during the show’s first 30 minutes. (So did my husband). They were my favorite TV couple. She owns an antique store and could speak to the dead before they crossed over into the light. He is a paramedic and handy man and fixed up their Victorian house. They both seemed nice.

I told my husband he must have gotten another acting job.

I admit that I have cried through a lot of other GW episodes, but none like last Friday. When I woke up the next morning my eyes were swollen.

This brings me to many years back when another show use to air called Touched by an Angel. Another favorite show for my husband and I. It was on Sunday nights, I think. I would always cry and at 9:05 my grandparents would call to see if I was all stuffed up from crying. They would laugh. My grandfather is no longer here and I have to say I miss those 9:05 calls after a sad program.

Confessions of a Subway Rider

I am embarrassed by what I am about to write.

Last night on the B train home I got a seat. I know where to stand, which door will open and 9 times out of 10 I get a seat. I was lucky again. At Grand Street a crowd got on and a small Chinese woman stood by the door once the train started moving. I saw this out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t make eye contact with her, I didn’t want to look her in the eye and see her true age, because I wanted to stay seated. I closed my eyes and tried to meditate, to focus on my breath and to be present. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about the lady standing. I was tormented. I knew I didn’t “need” to sit because I had been sitting all day, but my knapsack was heavy, I was tired having been awake since 3:30 am. I continued to make the mental excuses. I was more miserable sitting than if I had offered her my seat.

Two stops later at Atlantic Avenue, the woman near to me got off and another Chinese woman, already sitting, motioned quickly to the little woman standing. She rushed over with her bags and sat down. Still I didn’t want to look. But her hands were close to my direct line of sight. They were small and wrinkled and weathered. I felt horrible. I looked at her face and she was an older woman. I should have just gotten up. I tried to make eye contact with her, to smile, but she kept her eyes closed.

Junkie Gets Mitzi Fixed

My husband and I were riding the B68 bus home this past Saturday morning. We had taken our cat Meca to the vet for her second booster shot. A woman, a junkie, got on the bus and sat in the seat across form me. Her eyes were half open and she said “You got a cat?” I answered, “Yes a kitten, but she is hiding under a blanket.” She continued on, “I have a cat too, her name is Mitzi . She had kittens twice, I let her live a little, know what I mean (ha ha ha)? But I got her fixed, I just couldn’t take it anymore. She would come home pregnant and I just couldn’t take it.” I said, “Well you did a responsible thing by getting her fixed.” “I just couldn’t take it, I used to live in a house on AveC but I had to move and now I am in an apartment and she can’t get out and I took the kittens to the ASPCA, I hope they got ado—” She fell asleep before she could finish her sentence.

A French Burrito?

Friday night, after making the adoption of our kitten Meca final, I stopped by Chipotle to pick up a burrito. I was tired, hungry and short-tempered. The line at Chipotle was long but it is always worth the wait. There was a couple behind me, both tall and thin and very much into kissing and getting very close. So close I saw the girl put her hand down her boyfriend’s pants. I got so annoyed, I whipped out my camera, turned towards them and took a picture. I felt that if they were so open to displaying such open affections then it was worthy of a picture. They moved away from each other, he read the menu, she looked through her purse. I smiled to myself and felt much better. I placed my order and then the guy did and I heard his French accent and I thought, “Aha, French, it must be love.”

The 5 Train Has it’s Own Personality

The 5 train has it’s own personality. Different from the B, the Q, and the F, the trains I ride often. At 7:08am, a family of six got on at Beverly Road. A mother and father, a son about 15 years old, a daughter about 14 and two younger kids, a girl about 8 and a boy about 7. The father had a blue granny cart. I saw them try to board the next train but it was too crowded so they ran to the car I was in. They took their places and the mother said, “Where is Bubba?”. Bubba appeared and said, “Here I am.” He looked a little nervous and the father mouthed and motioned to the mother, “He was over there.” The father looked pissed.

Both parents were on something. Their pupils were dilated and their eyes were glassy. The mother was hyper and kept dabbing sweat from her forehead with a white crumpled up napkin . The oldest son played with a button on his mother’s coat. The little girl was talking non-stop to her older sister but the older sister was studying her face in the window. The little boy was bent over the cart, his head resting on his arm and the father had his hand on his shoulder.

At Atlantic Ave they straightened up and the mother said to the little one “Go Papi, go”. The father pushed the cart that helped push the boy off the train. The mother yelled to the oldest girl, “Get your little sister.” Already holding on to the little girl’s hood, she yelled back with an annoyed look on her face, “I have her.”

Diana Ross Rides the 5 Train

During the past 4-years I see this one woman on the 5 train most mornings. She is a middle-aged, light-skinned black woman, slender and always well dressed. I love to look at her. She always carries a tote bag with a large thermos sticking out of it and some newspapers. Wrapped around her body is a LouisVuitton purse. I have to believe the purse is real and not a Canal Street knock-off. Her hair is long and poufy and always teased out. Each time I see her I think Diana Ross. She likes to sit in the seat for two people and she usually gets that seat but today the platform was packed so she sat across from me reading AM New York. She always has big glamorous sunglasses on.

The thing is I always thought she was mean.

Until one day last winter, I sat next to her, on purpose, because I wanted to make some kind of contact with her. I said, “I sat next to you because I knew you wouldn’t be playing loud music on headphones.” (I hate sitting next to someone that blasts music from theiri-pod). She turned and looked at me like I was crazy. But it broke the ice.

And now every time I see her, I look at her and wait to make eye contact, from behind those big glasses, and a big warm smile breaks out across her face and she mouths. “Good Morning”.

Steamed Dumplings & A Blueberry Bagel

Yesterday was a very big day in our country.

I decided on steamed vegetarian dumplings for lunch. While I was waiting for my food I watched the other people waiting for their food as well. Nobody looked worried or upset, just hungry. Then it dawned on me that I needed to start another blog to lay down all the observations that go on in my head.

I decided on dumplingsrock.wordpress, that domain was taken, so was dumplingsahoy, greendumplings & dumplingsyum. I got discouraged and decided to try again today.

My stomach being a little upset directed me to a toasted blueberry bagel from Dunkin Donuts for lunch.

With my toasted bagel in hand I waited for the elevator back up to work. A young black lady almost pushed by me to get in and I could feel myself get annoyed. I stood against the back of the elevator and thought that I had a choice to be annoyed or not be annoyed. So I said, “It really feels like Spring.” She agreed, “Yes, it does.”. I continued, “It sure makes me want to wear my sandals.” She said, “Oh I put them away already.” I said, “Mine are by the front door and I wear them on the weekends. I always say as long as it is 60 degrees or above I’ll wear them but I don’t like it when people stare at my feet, because I am the only one wearing sandals in the city with a Winter coat.” She exited the train on 10 and we were both laughing it up. I saw how easy it was to make conversation and to be nice instead of being angry and waging a war against her in my head.