short sharp bursts

BOOM!

06Dec09

3.5 articles successfully written, with photos. The publisher said they were awesome and wants me to write for their print mag. It doesn’t seem real that this is happening.

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the long walk home

03Dec09

This blog has become an outlet for me to discuss the Internet cafe.

My hard drive is back, and my computer is 90% tiptop. I noodled around on it all day, writing about food and distracting myself from writing about food. Yet when I tried to enter my virtual classroom for our scheduled 10pm chat session tonight, my computer denied me.

So I shuffled down the street to the Internet cafe, in the rain, wearing my doggie pajamas, for a terrible class session filled with well-intentioned but aggravating mommy bloggers. We are not amused.

I acted a little “New York” in the middle of class. I couldn’t take anymore of their annoying prattle so I said “sounds good, g’night all!” and logged off.

Speaking of logging off.

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University of Times Square

01Dec09

When I turned on my home computer tonight, it said my hard drive was missing. Awkward time to disappear, hard drive, as I have to write three articles for Edible Queens this week and I just started an intensive online class called “Food Writing Boot Camp.” (Yes, life has picked up the pace.)

Tonight is my first night of class so I walked down the street to the seedy Internet cafe. It is tricky to concentrate with:
1) Nearby man on Skype, alternately giggling and yelling in Pakistani
2) Stream of unsolicited dirty AIM messages streaming into this computer which I can neither block nor shut off
3) Guy next to me slobbering over bear411.com (NSFW!)

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umbrella upside down

30Nov09

SK and I were strolling down my quiet tree-lined street when a piece of wet macaroni fell straight down in front of us. Looking straight up, we saw nothing but a bare tree and a mischievous sparrow. If sparrows have mustaches, he was twirling his.

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over the river

25Nov09

I went to a party last night. I didn’t bring a present so the birthday boy gave me his cold. I’m bringing a neti pot to Thanksgiving.

Off to Middleboro (Massachusetts) in the morning for my own slice of functional dysfunction. No better or worse than yours, I’m sure. My aunt sent this thoughtful e-card to get me in the mood.

When I get back I’ll tell you about my new side job. Via con dios!

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hi sophia

23Nov09

She took the cake (three days later) and I didn’t even have to trip her on the stairs. This is for the best. I got a batch of fresh Greek cookies when she returned the plate. Also for the best.

Steve is not doing so well. He is undergoing chemo treatments every other week. He thinks his treatment is “blood therapy” because Sophia is keeping secrets. She told me it would make him too sad to know he has cancer so she just tells him he has blood problems. She even cut his hair really short so he wouldn’t notice it falling out. I haven’t studied enough psychology to know if this is a wildly wrong-headed tactic to take with a cancer patient.

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No Trojan Horse

22Nov09

We (mostly SK) made Greek orange cake Thursday night. I offered to bring some up to Sophia so she could give it the Greek seal of authenticity. She said her and Steve are off sweets but that maybe a “leetle piece okay.” She pinched her fingers together and squinted her eyes.

Last night at 11:30 I left two slices under Saran Wrap on their washing machine, not wanting to disturb them so late. I know they did a wash since then. Why is the cake still there now?

I just moved it to the stairs. Maybe I should set up a trip wire right above it. Yes, I should do that.

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early bloomer

18Nov09

It occurs to me that my sister’s Cabbage Patch Kid probably wouldn’t have been named “Jody Cherry” if it was released today.

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come together

14Nov09

On the way back from my favorite bourgie sandwich joint, truffle and speck egg salad in tow, I ran into a protest on 36 street. Concerned citizens had banded together to protest high-rise developments being built ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOUSE. The event included a sleazy-seeming city councilman with a bad hairpiece, a woman in curlers screaming in Greek, a handsome bald Irishman holding court with the local media, and me with my Blackberry camera:
protest1 protest2 protest3