Hot Weather Injuries

Walking my bicycle (the most frustrating sensation on the planet) to the bike shop proved to be quite painful yesterday. I was feeling fresh and bonny and blithe in my summer frock and comfortable, albeit strappy, sandals. Within minutes the bottoms of my feet burned and the horrendous affliction known as "chub rub" was crippling me. I slowed my gait, but it only made things worse.

Bring on crisp cool autumn.

Final Countdown

Tomorrow is D-day--I start Bikram yoga. I have mixed feelings about starting hot sweaty athletics during hot sweaty times. My (twisted) logic leads me to believe that it will be soothing to do this now as when I leave class it will seem cool outside. Much like the notion of drinking hot coffee in the desert. Then again, I loathe the idea of walking outside and instantly feeling like I need to shower again. My sweat fu manchu appears instantly, and if I am wearing a skirt or dress, the chub rub begins. It's the unsexiest time of the year. So why not pile into a steamy room with scantily clad strangers and feel the burn. Why not, I ask?

Friday Funtimes

I woke up and new it was gonna be a scorcher.  I also had it in my mind to see a midday film at the Film Forum as a) I hadn't been in a long time and b) it was gonna be hot.  I think b) was a bit more of an excuse, a means of justifying midday movie watching.  There is little more satisfying than sitting in a cool dark room with a bunch of strangers watching a film, if it is black and white, all the better.  If it stars Humphrey Bogart, I consider it a slice of heaven.

The train was slow, so I wound up having to dash to the counter just a minute before the movie time.  It was at that moment that I realized what my first spoken sentence of the day was going to be.  When I got to the ticket window I gulped, tried to put on a brave face, and said in a clear, hopefully toneless voice "One for "In a Lonely Place", please."  

Gunjumpin' Saturday

Today was the sort of day that I had to force myself outside, and when I did, I knew it was not going to be fruitful or productive.

I packed up my things, ready to hit Prospect Park and decided for a number of strange reasons, the primary one being laziness, to take the train.  I waited for about 20 minutes (could have walked to the park by then) and when the train finally arrived, it was virtually full.  I sat down in the last remaining seat and immediately worried why it was still available.  It didn't smell bad, no vomit on the bench, so I sat and started reading my book.  It was one stop later when I realized the object moving in the corner of my eye was much closer than I had initially thought.  I slowly turned my head to the right, and found myself staring into the eyes of an iguana who was perched on my neighbor's shoulder.  It's tail was threatening to touch my shoulder.   It was just a few seconds later that the doors between the cars opened and a man with one leg propelled himself into our car and started rattling his change cup.  The noise distracted me only slightly from the pain--the guy had rolled over my right foot.  I looked up suddenly and surely gasped a bit when it happened.  The man just looked at me in disgust, told me to watch my feet, shook his cup full of coins, and rolled on.  If anything I should have gotten a bit of cash, but no, he's in the wheelchair. fine.

I walked around a bit, overheard weird conversations about the farmer's market "Yeah, of course they have food...it's a market" and realized I needed to get to the sanctuary of home. STAT.

Let's Name Him "Four Legged Joke"

Sometimes I hate it when people go on and on about the expression in their dogs eyes.  To me, a typical dog's emotional range is "happy to have food" to "happy to eat you as if you were food".  They always seem kinda dumb and overeager to me, which is why I like cats because even though they are dumb sometimes, they don't show it.  

This myth was dispelled the other day when I found this "canine model".  Look at his face.  That look is humiliation.  I sincerely hope it turned to "I hate you" and he took care of his stylist.

--More:  I just stared at this again for a little while and realized that not only are the front legs all messed up in this photo, but that display window looks like a yellow ball.  The result is that this poor beast looks like a seal with a big tongue.  Even the tongue looks superimposed.  OF COURSE he is panting!  You just wrapped a furry creature in rubber.  It's hot in there.  

Culinary Anthropology

My good friend Stacey was an exhibitor at the 55th Annual Fancy Food show this year, and being the little doll she is, she got me a pass for the final day.  I have never been to the fancy food show, but it sounded fun and why not?  I would get to see Stacey and there is the added bonus that I would get to hang out with her live in boyfriend for a bit - he happens to be my little brother.  Yesterday was one was of those urban summer days that starts off hot and humid and you can't help but to think that even the concrete is inconvenienced by the heat.  Worst yet, I had to do that dreaded walk to the Javits Center which is like walking through another city--a crappy one, at that.  They shouldn't even call that corner New York City.  It should just sort of be something else.  For now I shall call it "Javitstown".  Sorry Jacob, your town kinda sucks a little.

Alas, once I got there I was happy I made the effort.  Nice cool open spaces full of delicacies from around the world. Nice nice nice...now how to find the Promise Me Chocolate booth?  Whilst consulting the vendor tome trying to make sense of it all, a plate of truffled triple cream brie and mini toasts with an onion marmalade was thrust under my nose.  A perky cheese monger with a grey bob I immediately coveted was plying her wares.  What the hell? I was hungry and a bit hungover, and it isn't as though I sought her out, she came to me.  Thank you wonderful breakfast delivery lady!   Happily licking my fingers free of crumbs and cheese, I headed towards booth 5400 with resolve and determination.  

After a few moments of greetings and congratulations, I took some time to walk through the enormous space and check out what people were trying to pass off onto the rest of the world.  I was in the New York State section, where everything was very colorful and the exhibitors were quite eager to give samples and talk about their products.  I tried blueberry pesto, pomegranate Greek style yogurt, pineapple coconut water, and whole wheat pasta shaped like a dinosaur in the first 20 minutes.   At the next row things got a bit weirder with crunchy corn snacks whose packaging boasted of "fire" flavor (Asia), apple gummy candies and a spicy paneer masala that came in a tiny box.  Finally, I decided to head upstairs the Mediterranean section.  The stark contrast was incredible.  Clean white modern booths with rows and rows of oil and brined goods stood on shelves with a small tray of bread cubes and tiny bowls of their goods.   Most booths had tiny cafe tables and well dressed men (and a very few women) sat with leather binders and Mont Blancs and talked to one another.  It looked like everyone was having a business meeting, and they were, but the difference was that the rest of us could just walk on by without a glance.  At first it was nice to be able to amble along at my own pace and pick and choose what I wanted to taste or inspect.  But after about an hour I sort of missed the chatting and being persuaded to try new things.  I felt intimidated by my lack of knowledge in the canned sardine realm.  I wanted to go back to where I was wanted.  I wanted to go back to where I belonged - in the New York aisle.  Mostly, I wanted more Greek style pomegranate yogurt, from New York.