The Implications of Talking on the Phone to my 4 year old Cousin While at Work

Him:..... but everyday she poops in the pool..
Me: WHAT!? WHO?
Him: And then.....she pooped in the pool AGAIN!
Me: Wait, who are you talking about?
Him: It wasn't much but she does it ALL THE TIME and we don't know what to do because she wants to go in...
Me: But who? Is this a friend of yours?
Him: I like her but she has to stop pooping in the pool!
Me: Robby, what's her name? Not your sister?
Him: We should call her "I can't stop pooping in the pool" HAH!
Me: Haha! Well that would be sort of mean, maybe she can't help it, ya know? But you should tell your mom.
Him: She KNOWS, she cleans it up, she can't stop her from pooping in the pool!
Me: Why does Mommy let her in the pool? Who is this? How old is she?

After literally a full five minute conversation about no other subject, mostly of him telling me stories about specific, detailed, 'poop in the pool' incidents (while I'm still sitting at my desk, at work, where I'm trying to not let on that I'm having a conversation about such a topic), I repeat for approximately the 20th time:

Me: But Robby, who are you talking about?
Him: The bunny.
Me: Ohhhhhhhhhh.... (my bosses phone rings)
Him: She's pooping all the time, and it's mostly in her cage but SOMETIMES it's IN THE POOL! Me: Robby?
Him: Sometimes she runs in the playroom and sometimes she poops in there.
Me: Robby, hold on a sec?
Him: OK!

(I answer the phone and about 20 seconds later come back.)

Me: Robby?
Him: Yeah?
Me: Sorry about that.
Him: Yeah Right.
Me: Haha! Yes I am!
Him: No your not.

Lay Off the Caffeine, You're Getting Over Zealous There, Mr. Starbuck

Monday I went to Starbucks in Trump Tower. Everything was normal. Except for one thing. I got my Grande Skim Chai hot. Because it was cold out. I tried not to think about it and focused on the company.

Tuesday I went to Starbucks in Trump Tower. It's the last week of August and I was wearing a turtleneck and about to order a hot cappuccino. Something was clearly off. (And also, what's up? I never get cappuccinos at Starbucks. The abnormality of the other circumstance must have messed with my taste buds.) This was not good, but I tried to focus on the company anyway.

UNTIL, I reached the cashier at the kiosk. Above her head was something that I could swear was not there the day before and should not be there until, let's say the beginning of October- a PUMPKIN LATTE SIGN!

It is NOT Pumpkin Latte Season!

It is month after my birthday, smelling like college, "I want to wear my new sweater but it's way too hot, but I'll do it anyway, because I want to look like someone from a college catalog," perfect eating outside weather, 'I can't wait till see what the new fall season brings those Gilmore girls', let me wear a very light cover up, but over a sundress, 'I wish I was getting ready to go back to college still' depression, warm nights with possible air conditioning desire, wear sandals with jeans instead of shorts or skirts, pomegranate eating, ICED CHAI LATTE SEASON!

Wearing a cashmere sweater like I did today over my button down, spending Saturday walking around, perhaps Union Square farmers market with hot cider, perusing Strand, smelling books, making Squash Soup and Pork Chops with sauerkraut, deciding which fall or winter coat JCrew will provide you with for the season, enjoying the perfect temperature nights that wake you up chilly and hoping you're next to someone else to provide body warmth, nutmeg room spray smelling, knitting, seeing Christmas Movie trailers, considering and avoiding Halloween plans, William Sonoma visiting, PUMPKIN LATTE SEASON is not here yet!

I love this stuff but I can't love it till September 19th at the earliest. These are two different points of time. Two different experiences! Believe me!

So chill out and take down that damn sign.

I Reject YOU, "Ignore" button

If you've ever been with me when I've gotten a call from someone who has pissed me off and/or whom I don't wish to talk to, you've seen me joyously and overexaggeratingly pound on a button on my phone and announce "REJECT!" outloud, just like the button says. This display is not just for your benefit- I do it when I'm alone and/ or half asleep too!

I've recently run into a bit of a problem. Cingular has so politely changed "REJECT" to "Ignore." WEAK! Thanks a lot for taking away my harmless passive aggressive gesture that gave me a little bit of joy!

Hell's Kitchen: Where the Catcalls are Fresh and Fruitful

Sometimes during the day, since it is summer, I indulge in my lunch break. Sometimes I'll grab a whole wheat sandwich with pepper turkey and avocado and sit in the courtyard of The Plaza across from Central Park. Sometimes my friend and office neighbor, Sarah and I will grab coffee or take a walk over to Whole Foods. Sometimes I grab a slice of pizza and take it, and my ipod to the middle of Columbus Circle and people watch.

All, I consider lovely ways to spend my time out of the office. But the loveliest of all is when I head west, to the old country, Hell's Kitchen, the place where I used to lay my head and fill my mouth. Back in those days I was waitressing, getting out at 3 in the afternoon. My time was plentiful, my wallet full of singles and my coffee table piled with my mother's old Cooking Light magazines and a subscription to Gourmet my friends sent to my apartment for Christmas. Most importantly, the Frutti Vendolo (what I dubbed HK's local green grocer before realizing the term green grocer existed) was just 4 blocks away.

I would scout the freshest items by day, scour the mags while that evening's meal was baking, boiling, marinating or grilling, only to assess and enjoy it that evening with company, or not company, and the cycle would begin again at 3 the next day if I didn't have an audition or rehearsal.

Many things changed in my life when I moved uptown. Now I go to Fairway, mostly after 10pm and much less frequently, for my mangos, watermelon and arugula in the summer, butternut squash and apples in the fall and (cross your fingers) ramps and cardoons in the spring (BTW- I didn't forget it- fuck winter, I'm ordering in!).

Nothing compares though. And so last night I predicted an errand run in the old neighb. during my break that would make a Frutti V. run possible. I grabbed my recipes and typed them into my Palm (Oh wait, Fairway and Palm? Maybe I have gotten fancier!?)

I walked in- I sifted through the jalepenos, found three perfect cucumbers, squeezed some mangos and ... wait... lifted up the cilantro with a face of obvious discontent.-Wilted. IMMEDIATELY from the back room:

"Hey hey miss," a young Spanish boy called out to me, "you want my fresh cilantro?"

"Oooo yeah!!!" I snuck into the room, all immature jumps to sexual innuendoes escaping me, replaced by the excitement fresh herbs give me. He looked for the perfect bunch and handed it over, "thanks!"

He went back to his watermelon cutting duties, but not before, "How 'bout a piece of watermelon? Fresh?"

"How could I say no!?"

And so, $6.83 later I had done a weeks worth of fruit, veggie and (especially fresh) herb shopping and indulged in my favorite summer treat!

Mario Batali always says to make friends with your fish monger to ensure the freshest fish. I say flirt with the young Spanish boys at the Frutti Vendolo to ensure a pleasant and fruitful shopping experience.

Let's Appreciate: Food and Tragedy and Stuff*!

Let's talk about my weekend!

*Tonight starts with a real appreciation of tragedy. (I start on Thursday, because Thursday starts the college girl's weekend, and I will always be an undergrad at heart.) So, tonight I am going to join (what I suspect will be) a bunch of Republicans to watch the World Trade Center movie in Battery Park. (I am planning on fitting in because I'm wearing a collared navy shirt dress and I am, as we speak, scouring my desk for a sweater to drape around my neck, politician wife style.)
(Interesting piece of info: I also saw the Michael Moore World Trade Center Movie, purposely, at Battery Park. So, you see, I really know how to appreciate tragedy.)

* Friday concludes (although I suspect there will be a brief standing ovation next week) "Appreciate Tribeca Week." What was that? You didn't know it was 'Appreciate Tribeca Week'? OH! It is! And it's already Thursday! Get to it! Tribeca's the best!

* At some point I'm going to appreciate cherry season by baking a cherry tart while simultaneously baking myself (my skin! not my mind!) on the roof.

* Sunday afternoon I am going to appreciate getting wasted on (bad) wine with (good) friends while eating (menza menza) Chinese Food.

And THEN. The thing I cannot get my mind off of. The thing I cannot imagine being anything but pure genius( I mean how could it not be, it has a website dedicated to it!?) : The Pretzel Croissant! And while, I cannot wait to dedicate a moment of my weekend to this, the two people who would appreciate this the most are unable to join me for this pursuit. So, the tragedy lies in being unable to find someone who will appreciate the sweet and salty together as my two vacationing friends and I would.

I don' t know if there are such people.

(Sort of a) Tragedy.

(*Stuff includes parenthesis, I obviously appreciate parenthesis.)

You don't even see this coming...

Last Year at approximately this time:
-I was heartbroken
-I was sad
-There was a heatwave

I only wanted to eat:
-Watermelon
-And sometimes Ice Cream and Cold beer

This year:
-I am no longer heartbroken
-or sad
-but there is a heatwave

And once again I find myself only wanting to eat:
-Watermelon
-And sometimes Ice Cream and Cold Beer

I think we found our culprit!!!!

Poor Heartbreak! It's been getting a bad rap! I have been unabashedly, no doubt in my mind, placing my blame in the wrong place! I thought heartbreak and sadness were the reasons for my strange appetite! I had evidence! It all seemed so obvious!

THIS IS WHY I'M AGAINST THE DEATH PENALTY!!!!

A Poem

when I am out of the office
and I call a temp to sit at my desk
I want that temp

to answer the friggin' phone by the second ring
to not touch my shit,
or read my personal email
to not do work,
that i will inevitably
have to redo.

i want that temp,
to do as little as possible
except to answer the friggin' phone by the second ring

that's what I was like as a temp.
which, like the tide on a full moon,
raises
the oft asked question:

Why can't everyone be more like me?