Tsampa, Solas, Carne and Otto's Shrunken Head

Those are just a few of the places I've been spending time. It's been so long since I posted! It's partly been because I've been busy, and partly because of a faulty internet connection. Anyway, two Saturdays ago was Tom's birthday party. It was in Brooklyn, and hard to get to due to train repairs. It's a continual problem for citizens of Brooklyn. That's when I realized: Tom and I have a long distance relationship! It took me more than an hour to get to his place. More than an hour is a long distance relationship.

I was hanging out with all of his friends, and they were a lot of fun. I got to see Lex, too, which was nice. Tom liked his present: The Encyclopedia of Heavy Metal. On the inside cover, I inscribed it, "If we had an inside joke, this is where it would go." That made him laugh.

Then there was a week of work --the less said about that, the better-- and then it was the weekend again. Yay! (The most interesting thing about that week is I read a new book, Bee Season, which started out charming with an intoxicating take on language. It ended up all weird and sad and disorienting. Anyway, back to the story...)

Friday night the girls and I went to dinner as usual, but Tom ended up joining us. You see, Laura made it seem like all the guys were coming. Laura was wrong.Tom didn't mind, though. We had delectable Tibetan food at Tsampa. I devoured every scrap of my food, then scavenged leftovers from Laura and Riza. "Wow, Erin," Laura exclaimed. "I've never seen you eat like this."

Then we had drinks at Solas before going to Otto's Shrunken Head. Who By Fire (Laura's boyfriend Ryan's band) had a gig there. Yes, that's the name of the band, and they stand by it. The band's pretty good. The lead singer sounds like he's channeling Jim Morrison, though, and Tom correctly surmised that it would help if they played some of their songs in different keys to make them more distinctive.

The next day, Tom and I got together for brunch. Actually, instead of going for brunch, we decided to make it. The bacon frying set off the fire alarm. Oops! Also, I'd never made pancakes and he hadn't made them in years. They were rubbery, not fluffy. Any suggestions? After that we went for a walk in Morningside park. It's a decent little neighborhood park, the most distinctive attribute of which is a gorgeous waterfall. We walked by the cathedral of St. John the Divine and its nearby trippy Peace Fountain, which includes a giant crab, giraffes and the Archangel Michael fighting satan. Nestled in the base of thefountain was a live albino peacock just wandering around. (Seriously. No, seriously.) For supper we went to a restaurant named Carne (Meat? Who names their restaurant Meat?) where we got some scrumptious hamburgers.

Then we tried to go see Stranger Than Fiction at Lincoln Center. It was sold out, though, so we just sat on the edge of that pretty, lit fountain in front of the Metropolitan Opera and talked (see photo at left I downloaded from a talented photographer's blog, Livinginny. I didn't take the photo, nor am I in it, but it's a perfect shot).

Sunday I went to church and sang my heart out. Monday it was back to work and today was Parent Teacher Conferences. Now it's just tomorrow, Thursday (with the second half of Parent Teacher Conferences making my work day last from before 8 a.m. to after 7 p.m.) and Friday until it's the weekend again. It's probably not a good sign when you're counting down to the weekend on a Tuesday night, but oh, well.

Happy Halloween!

Last night, Tom and I went to see the Village Halloween Parade. It was a crazy crush of people, and a mad show of color and light. I had my digital camera, which is challenging to adjust in the dark. Also, many of the pictured were taken one-handed with the camera held over my head. The result is a bunch of blurs, but it really captures the craziness of the event, so...cool.

This was a freaky ghost-baby-butterfly puppet that swooped over us.




This is Kiss.









These are crazy lit-up pumpkin-man-puppets. There were guys wearing crazy suits that controlled the pumpkin man puppets around and above them.




I have no idea what this float is, but the swirling color is exemplary of the parade, which included a few floats, some marching bands, people on stilts, and random costumed individuals. You see, anyone who wants to be in the parade can be! They just have to show up at the staging site.

We eventually managed to squeeze our way out of the crowd and went for a peaceful dinner before making our way home to catch a bit of sleep before work in the morning. So much fun!

I'm so popular this week!

Yes, I've been SO popular this week! In my last post, I mentioned my Saturday date with Tom to Laura's party. Well, soon more and more things were piling up. Chris, husband of Madrid, called me to invite me to his birthday party on Friday. Jay and Dea, my aunt and uncle, called to see if I wanted to sight-see. Tom called, mid-week to see if I wanted to go to dinner and a movie on Thursday. Yes, everone, yes! I want to do all those things and go to church on Sunday. Then on Friday Tom texted me to ask if I wanted to go to a costume party after Chris's birthday party. Yes, again, some more!

Wednesday I couldn't sleep, and on Thursday I was exhausted but I didn't care because I was excited about my date. Tom and I went to L'Annam for yummy Vietnamese food. Then we went to see The Prestige, a movie about magic which was way trippy and surprising. That's all I can really say without giving things away.

Friday I rushed home from work, showered, did my makeup and figured out an outfit that could use the skirt from my costume. I printed and framed a cute photo I took of Madrid and Chris and ran out the door. I was late to meet everyone at Red Bamboo, but they were all forgiving and Chris liked his present.

Then I hopped on the train to Brooklyn to meet up with Tom. His apartment is amazing! So spacious it tempts me to move to an outer borough...well, tempts me for about 90 seconds. He had jazz on the stereo when I came in, which was a relief. You see, he is a heavy metal afficionado, and its nice to know he listens to other things, too. The party was great. I was an evil Girl Scout from Troop 666 (I sewed demerit badges onto a sash-- see photo above) and Tom was Rowdy Roddy Piper (a pro wrestler when we were kids).

Tom's friends are hilarious. Following the wrestling theme, someone else was The Ultimate Warrior. They had a half-hearted match in which Tom hit him over the head with a chair. One group of ladies were dressed as the Golden Girls, which they played with great commitment. Hee!

The next day, I slept in and had just enough time to shower and throw on clothes before going to meet Jay and Dea.

We had lunch at their hotel, The Marriott Marquis Time Square. Then Dea and I chatted while Jay had a meeting. After that, they wanted to go to Serendipity III for frozen hot chocolate. I suspected they would need a reservation, but didn't think to mention it. When we got there, there was an hour-long wait and they weren't in the mood so I took them down the block for a frozen hot chocolate at Dylan's Candy Bar. Then we proceeded to Central Park where we walked around admiring the scenery and snapping photos. Jay seemed to be having a great time. I then took them to the subway station, dropped them off at the right platform and rushed home.

Due to a train delay, it took forever to get home, but I did, threw my costume (for Madrid to borrow) and Laura's present into my bag, changed my clothes and hit the road. I called Tom to warn him I'd be late. It was his first time meeting my friends, so I apologized profusely and told him to look for Laura, "the girl with the shiny, shiny black hair." He did, and according to Laura he was great.

After I arrived, it came time to order. Tom was aghast that I didn't know what gnocci was. He explained, and my friend told me not to order it, Madrid or Laura (I don't remember which) saying, "You'd eat three bites and be full." Hee. I love that my friends know me so well. Laura and her man Ryan, Madrid and Chris, Riza and Pete, and Carolina had all beat me there. I felt bad that Carolina was on her own. Laura had sworn she wouldn't be a singleton, but all the other singles baled. D'oh!

Laura loved her present, which included a pair of earrings and an oil pastel portrait I drew of Laura as a fairy. She loves fairies.

After dinner, we went to No Malice Palace, aka GothHop Bar (known for its Hip-Hop music and goth decor, as well as its lack of a sign out front). There was a sad girl sitting by herself on one of the couches. We all discussed her loneliness. Carolina, in particular, expressed concern.

I told her she would be the perfect one to go talk to the depressed fairy. She could use excuse of being the only singleton. But no. She and Tom decided that I, as the nice one, should be the one. So I went over and chatted with Emily, whose friends were late. I kept her laughing until they arrived. Meanwhile, Tom got to know my friends.

Laura, who is usually more sensible about such things, had a bit too much to drink and began saying silly things, like, "Erin, I felt your drawing. I felt because I didn't know for sure if you did it because I didn't know you could draw. I didn't know you could draw. You didn't tell me you could draw like that and all this time you could draw, but I didn't know you could draw." Hee! I replied that she should be careful feeling the drawing because oil pastels can smear. "I know!" she replied, very seriously, holding up a discolored fingertip. Heeeee!

When I left it was impossible to get a train home, and the cabs were playing hard to get, too. The wind was so strong, I was almost blown off my feel. Literally. Eventually I made it home, and thanks in part to the changing of the clocks, I actually made it out of bed and off to church in time to sing in the choir. It was so much fun. After that Then I had to run errands (almost blowing away again on the way home) and prepare my food for the week. I was invited to a party where Ryan's band was playing, but I managed to turn it down so I could fall into bed where I basically passed out. Sleep, precious sleep, for more than six consecutive hours. Hooray!

Marathon Date

Last week, Tom and I scheduled a date for Saturday afternoon just in case. You see, Tom is a Mets fan, and was hoping they would win the pennant and continue on their attempt to conquer the world. Or something.

Anyway, that didn't happen. They lost on Thursday. Friday night I went out with my best pals and he with his. Then, as planned, I called him to iron out the details. I was hoping we'd switch to a Saturday night date, thinking that would be a better sign.

"No, why don't we go ahead and get together for brunch?" he asked.

I was a bit disappointed, but agreed, suggesting we meet up at Itzocan Bistro, which I adore. The next day, there we were, enjoying a scrumptious breakfast. I had the three chile Eggs Benedict. He had crepes with walnuts and caramel sauce, the only non-egg food on the menu. He doesn't like eggs. I know! He says he's tried to like them, but it's never worked, though he likes just about every other food. I kind of like the anti-eggs thing. It makes him more understanding about the foods I don't like. Wow. With obsessive minutiae like this, it's no wonder I have such a large, riveted readership.

Anyway, after brunch we planned to go to the museum-- perhaps Museo del Bario or Museum of the City of New York. But it was such a gorgeous day we walked around the park for the next three hours, zig-zagging all over. We explored the Conservatory Gardens, circled Harlem Meer, hiked through some rocks, found a few waterfalls and chatted. We somehow ended up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That's where we spent the next few hours. I'd never seen the moon viewing room which was beautiful. Then, we were hungry because it was supper time.

We went to Vol de Nuit, a Belgian Beer Bar where we had mussels and pommes frites and I had a lovely framboise (raspberry flavored) beer. The Bishop girls introduced me to it years ago, and it's the only beer I've ever liked. We talked about a lot of things, including the fact that I had to get home so I could get up early for choir practice and church. He was a bit surprised by it: "It's just...no one I know goes to church, so it's a bit out of left field." He was pretty cool with the idea (and not all guys I've met here have been, believe me).

Anyway, the marathon date was great. Next weekend I'm taking Tom to Laura's birthday party, which coincidentally falls on his birthday. He's having his own birthday party the following Saturday, to which I am invited. Now I've got to pick out a birthday present for a guy I've only had two dates with! If you have to have a problem, that's a pretty good problem to have.



P.S. My job is terrible, but I've decided to just try my best and not dwell.

First Date with Tom 2.0

After Lex's birthday party, I told you all about the smart, funny guy who asked for my number. Unfortunately, he happened to be a math teacher named Tom. I decided not to let that strange coincidence get in the way and gave him my digits.

Then, on Tuesday, Tom 2.0 (the newer, better Tom) called to ask me out for dinner and a haunted house. I said yes. I was excited and nervous. It had been so long since I'd been on a first date...almost a year, in fact.

Friday night, I rushed around to be ready for our date. He's said he would aim to pick me up at 6:30, but with traffic might not make it until 7. At 7:10, I hadn't even heard from him. I was pacing around my aparment, steaming mad. I thought he'd stood me up. Then the phone rang. He apologized for being late and told me he was stuck in traffic. At 8, he finally picked me up. I was a bit crabby until I saw how upset he looked. He'd been on the road since 4:30. It turns out, a major route from Brooklyn was recently closed (and will remain closed for the rest of the year). Now all the other bridges between Manhattan and Brooklyn are packed.

Anyway, we went straight to the Haunted House. The actors were amazing. They managed to play every scene straight, tears and all. After the show ended, we went to a quirky French restaurant. The food was great and we talked and laughed. Then we lingered at the table. Tom 2.0 said, "I don't want to go home yet... I've got an idea. There's someplace I want you to see. Let's go."

He took me to the Brooklyn Promenade (see photo above, which I downloaded from Petite Pomme). The view was gorgeous. "See, this is why I love New York," I said, and sighed. It's also kind of surreal because it looks so serene, a path with pretty plants and benches and that view, but the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway is humming away under your feet. After a while, Tom drove me home and called the next day to talk. So far, so good!

Nesting

It's Columbus Day (a.k.a. Our People Conquered Your People Day), and no school, so YAY! I had daydreamed about having a fun NYC day. I thought about sight-seeing or hanging out in the park. The thing is, I've started feeling sick again...or still? I don't know. So I spent the first half of the day lying in bed in my room and the other half at the doctor. I had to wait for hours, but I've got medicine now, so hopefully I'll get better.

Speaking of my room, yesterday I did a little bit of nesting, decorating my room (see photos above). I love my quilt. My bed doesn't have a headboard, so I decided to put up curtains. The red curtains aren't that shiny in real life. Another cool thing is, now that I've got the curtain rods in place, it would be easy to change and put up whatever curtains I want. I need to pick some art for the wall on the right. I might use a portrait Val created. Anyway, I'm loving my new room!

Happy Birthday, Lex!

Last night I stayed out until after three and had a great time. I didn't feel tired even though I'd only had four hours sleep the night before. What magical gathering kept me going into the madrugada? Lex's 25th birthday party!

I went to dinner with Carolina and Laura and Mills Korean (which is not just a few blocks from my apartment--Yay!) and had gorgeous fried dumplings and a beef dish fried up in a hot stone pot. After that culinary exstacy, Carolina drove us downtown to the party. On the way we stopped at Bearded Papa's, a reknowned cream puff store. I didn't have one, but I got one to give Lex, along with her pop-up surfing birthday card and a few drinks. Then we looked for a parking space FOREVER. Okay, it wasn't forever, but with the stop-and-go traffic steadily increasing my nausea, it felt like it. Then, when we got out of the car and started walking the many blocks to our destination, Mama's, I began to miss the car.

You see, I was wearing a beautiful dress, thinking, "This will be the last time it will be warm enough to wear this dress this year." Turn out, I was wrong. Last time I wore it was the last time it was warm enough. Brr. We got there early and waited at a bar across the street which had no name, but looked gothic and played hip-hop music. I nicknamed it "The Goth-Hop Bar." I snapped a lovely picture of Laura and a silly one of Carolina.

When we went to Mama's, I saw a group of people that I instantly assumed were Lex's crew. Lex laughed that I could look at a bar full of people and instantly know which ones were her friends (later they were easier to spot, as a friend gave us all "What Would Lex Drink?" shirts). Suddenly, we realized we'd left the cream puff behind. "A pastry?" Lex asked. "You better run and get it, woman!" We did, and rescued it before anyone at Goth-Hop even realized it was there.

Lex flipped for the card (see downloaded picture at left) and enjoyed the cream puff (although her girlfriend, Jen, loved it even more and demanded to know where it had come from. It looks like Bearded Papa's has a new devotee to join its fanatical customer base).

I was surprised to see Drew there, because Lex and I thought he'd bail when he found out I was coming. It was a little awkward at first, but he made it a point to come and talk to me. I congratulated him on his career (Dark Horse is in talks to make an ArchEnemies movie). He told me about his new rooomie. I told him about my move. He made me laugh until my stomach hurt, just like old times.

I had such an amazing time hanging out with Lex and her friends. I’ve been missing Lex a lot, and we keep giving each other the whole “Let’s get together soon. No, seriously” treatment. Her friends were entertaining. I also met a smart, funny guy who asked for my number.

There's just one problem: he's a math teacher named Tom. What are the odds? Lex told me, "I think he likes you." I replied, “Well, he’s great. He’s adorable. But he’s A MATH TEACHER NAMED TOM! I just got out of a relationship with a math teacher named Tom.”

“Okay, that is a little weird, but if you’re going to make an exception, make it for Tom. I never advocate for my friends in romantic situations, but in this case, I will. You should give Tom a chance." We'll see.

Happy birthday, Lex! Congratulations on 25 years of life. Thank you for welcoming me to the city, for giving me love and support (even when you were put in the uncomfortable position of being the go-between) and for all the good times. Knowing you is an adventure, and I love it.

This week I've learned:

Being lonely can be tough.

So can having someone. An independent friend of mine is having relationship problem because she’s become too dependent on her mate. She doesn’t know how to be independent with someone. And from experience I can tell you, if you’re too independent in a relationship, the result is just as bad. On one side of the spectrum, your partner feels smothered. On the other side, your partner feels unnecessary. It’s a tough problem to solve, and I don’t envy her that.

My phone is not meant to be a music player. My MP3 player is gone. It was either stolen at school, lost in the move, or lost or stolen somewhere/sometime else that same week. One way or the other, it was very sad. It was a present from Mom and Dad, and I loved it.

Instead of paying a lot of money on a new Shuffle that might get lost or stolen, I decided to just spend a little cash to use my phone’s music capabilities. My Verizon store sold me the wrong kit. I went back and got the right one, then went home, used it and found there was room for exactly three songs on my phone. I made several calls and discovered I needed an external memory card. Nice of them to tell me after the fact. The guy at Circuit City sold me the wrong one (“You’re sure this is the right one?” “Yes, I am sure.” “Really?” “Of course! It’s my job.” Ha.). I went back and got the right one, but for some reason it’s still not working. AAAaaaargh!!!!!!!! Sometimes I hate technology. [I have since gotten it to work, and it was cheaper than buying a new MP3 player, but it was such a hassle!]

The people at my church are cool! Apple picking and the church picnic at lovely Rockland State Park were so much fun. I was afraid it was going to be me and a bunch of married people and their small children, but I was wrong. There were tons of young adults around, many of whom are members of a group that has brunch every Sunday after church. Pastor Bill calls it “The Brunch Bunch.” I rode up in a van with them, and two girls and I sat in the very back discussing linguistic stuff. At one point we realized the people in the front were listening and discussing our conversation. “We were just marveling at your conversation, that’s all,” said Pastor Sara. Then Mike piped in, “I thought the cool kids sat in the back of the bus. “Well,” I replied, “that’s the sad part: we are the coolest kids on the bus.” “Oooh!” everyone exclaimed, before complimenting my quick thinking and advanced skills in mocking.

We picked a few apples, but mostly just enjoyed the fall air and the scenery at the orchard. Everyone engaged in an almost constant stream of witty banter, which made me feel very at home. The more a conversation sounds like dialogue from an old screwball comedy, the happier I am.

Then we went to Rockland State Park for the picnic. For quite some time we watched ducks and swans, as well as one enormous caterpillar. Then we played with a Frisbee for quite a while.

At one point, the minister dropped trou, which shocked us until we realized he was merely stripping down to tennis shorts in the hopes of getting someone to pick up a racket and play. Then we all ate and ate and ate. We went home tired and full just before it started to rain.

Singing with the choir on Sunday was great, and some of my old singing skills are coming back. Afterward, I joined The Brunch Bunch. They’re supportive, dedicated to community service and Christ-centered, yet surprisingly and pleasingly sarcastic. I hope to spend more time with them in the future.

Apartment good. Health bad.

I'm enjoying my new apartment. I'm getting into the swing of things. There's a better range of grocery stores than my old neighborhood: there's one bourgeois grocery store, one organic grocery store, one ghetto grocery store (aka a bodega), and one grocery store that's in-between the others. I haven't found a good laundromat (the one I used was really expensive and I ended up hand-washing a bunch of it because it didn't even come clean. Grr.) but I'm on the lookout for a better one.

I love being so near the parks, and I've found a bus that magically has a bendy route that starts a block from my apartment and drops me a block from my church. This weekend in the church choir we sang some glorious Handel. Love, love, love. Work is going fine.

On the negative side, I'm sick! I didn't quite feel right last week. Wednesday night I was dizzy and short of breath, but I thought it was just an asthma/allergies thing. Friday night, my ear hurt so much I kept grabbing it. Saturday night the hearing in my left ear kept getting all muffled. Monday on the way to work I had an asthma attack and my hearing was cutting out again. I also had a headache, though I hadn't really noticed it until the doctor asked during my appointment on Monday. But it turns out, the headache was the crucial point in the diagnosis.

Apparently, I have an upper respiratory infection which spread to the middle ear. The doctor says if I'm not really careful about recovering, I could have hearing loss. Great. So now I'm being a good girl, lying in bed and drinking lots of fluids while waiting for my fever to break. Must go nap now. Love you all!

Here are some photos from my summer vacation!

When I was home, the whole family was spending time together at the farm: Mom, Dad, Sandy, J.B., Erika, the girls and me. I got my camera out and snapped a few pictures. While visiting J.B. and Erika in Waverly, I snapped a few more. Here they are for your viewing pleasure. (I'm sorry they're arranged so strangely, but Blogger is being a pain.)

Belated blogging

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. The internet at the new apartment is on the fritz. (I'm currently using a computer at my hated alma mater, Fordham, the university that doesn't seem to care about anything but getting the most cash possible out of my pockets, and to heck with customer service--see Fordham photo at left.)

I'm not sure how much time I would have had to blog, anyway, as I simultaneously moved and started the new school year. (The mover was unbelievable. He had this method of strapping six medium sized boxes onto his back, and them walking them down the five flights of stairs. It was unreal. I'm still in shock.) I'm really enjoying the apartment. Well, I have a few complaints (He said we had cable, but we really only get 8 channels total. I don't have a key to the mail box, and he's always out of town so it takes several days to get my mail. The e-mail is on the fritz. Where is the neighborhood grocery store? There has to be one, right?) But on the whole, I really like the place, and Rick is kind of fun. He loves to sing along to Beyonce. Hee. Gotta love a guy who's not afraid of singing falsetto.

School is great so far (knock on wood!) I finally got a top-ranked class, and they're such good little students. I don't have a homeroom, so no more gathering them up at the end of the day or at lunch to take them downstairs (my least favorite thing about teaching). Also, my classes are smaller, which rocks! Well, it's also kind of scary, because sometimes the district will see a school with small classes and another school with a few big classes and shift some kids. The other school sends the kids they want to get rid of, so not only are they coming in late, unaware of the existing rules and procedures, but they often have behavioral or learning difficulties. So nobody tell about my small classes, okay? It's sort of a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

All in all this year, teaching is more fun. It's not perfect. I still have one class full of pains-in-the-neck because they failed the seventh grade, yet magically got to test into eighth grade. As such, they believe they don't have to do my work to go to high school. We'll see about that. But by and large, I'm just having more fun with the kids. Here's hoping it continues!

I won't be homeless!

To all of you who have been supportive during this challenging time, thank you! After hours and hours and hours online (searching Craig's List and e-mailing potential roomies), about a dozen apartment viewings, a lot of stress and some tears, I have finally found an apartment.

I'll be moving to the other side of Central Park. My new apartment is at 112 and 8th (Also know as Central Park West...also known as Frederick Douglas Boulevard.Yeah, New York can be a confusing place).

Now I had been hoping to move in with someone young and cool...someone I would have a lot in common with. That's not what's happened. My new roomie is a Dominican flight attendant named Rick. He's tidy. He's always away working, visiting the Dominican Republic or hanging out with his mom. In other words, he's the male version of my current roomie, Clara. He even has similar taste in decorating. It's not ideal, but I can definitely deal with it.

The Negatives:

Location- I would have preferred the East Side, as I know it better. I know where all the restaurants and stores are. It's closer to my church, bank, doctor and dentist. Also, Morningside/Harlem seems to be more single adults and fewer families than Spanish Harlem (or as Lex calls it, "SpaHa"). I like the warmth of Spanish Harlem, and I think I'll miss it. I'll also miss the murals in the neighborhood and the garden behind my building.

The apartment- I think the room I'm moving into is smaller than the one I have now, but I don't think it will feel like it because of the closet space and lack of giant, ugly armoire. I'm also going to get bed risers so I can store things under my bed. The worst thing is that my room only has one small window and it looks out on an airshaft. It provides no view and very little light. Also, Rick is only a moderately better decorator than Clara.

The Positives:

Location- I'm one block from Morning Side Park and two blocks from Central Park (both of which I love!) I'm about 4 blocks from one of my favorite restaurants in the city, Mills Korean. I'm two blocks from a cross-town bus, making it simple for me to get to the East Side whenever I need to. I had feared I would have to move out of Manhattan. I'm so glad I don't have to now. I'm close to the 2 subway train, which shortens my commute to work! Also the Morning Side area of Harlem is really hot, and improving all the time.

The apartment- It's on the second floor, as opposed to the fifth floor. I won't have to climb as much (though I won't burn as many calories). My room comes with a big closet (which is rare in Manhattan), an air conditioning unit and a huge chest of drawers. It also comes with a full bed (luxurous after the twin I've been using for two years). It's so pretty and fresh-looking. It'll be really nice once I decorate it.

The bathroom is big for a NYC bathroom. All utilities are included in the rent, even wireless internet and cable. There's no divider between the kitchen and the living room, so I can cook while I watch TV. Rick says I can use his treadmill. I'll often have the place to myself.

In Conclusion:

It's not perfect, but I'm sure it'll be fine. To be honest, I wasn't sure about this place when I moved in, and now I'm sad to leave it. I'm sure it will be the same with this new apartment.

How searching for an NYC apartment is like online dating

In NYC, if you don't have a ton of extra cash to get a broker, you probably have to use Craig's List. Craig's List is a free website. People post ads for their apartments. Then you e-mail them with information about yourself. If they like your e-mail, they contact you about an interview or open house. Then if you meet them and they still like you they will give you a call to come talk some more or to offer you the apartment. My friend Jenny has been dating using Match.com, and I've started seeing similarities between our experiences.

How looking for an apartment online is like internet dating:
1- You read listings in which people post flattering pictures. People write descriptions that make them (or their apartment) sound good, but not so good that you'll be disappointed when you meet them (or the apartment).

2- You write back using a catchy subject line (my current favorite is "Making me your roomie would be great! Leaving me homeless would be sad.") Your e-mail should make you sound good, but reveal enough of yourself to hopefully make a good match. For example, if you couldn't clean to save your life, you'd be pretty miserable if you misrepresented yourself and ended up living with a neat freak. The same is true of if you hated sports, pretended to love them and ended up with a sports nut.

3- When you have an open house, you have to pick out an outfit and do your hair and makeup so that you look nice, but not like you're trying too hard.

4- You need to tell stories and be interesting so you'll stand out amongst the 50 other people they're seeing, but you can't seem desperate.

5- Everyone wants someone "laid back" with "no drama." (Half of the people who want a "laid back" roomie are the same people who write "MUST BE CLEAN. Seriously. NO MESSES. NO DOGS. NO CATS. NO COUPLES." Heh. Yep. You're laid back. I can tell.)

6- Sometimes people say they'll call but they don't. They're just not that into you.

The Differences
1- If you take a little time to think about an apartment, someone else will probably snap it up and sign the lease. If you take a few days to think about dating a guy and call him up, he probably won't have gotten married in the mean time. (Although Jenny warns he might have secretly been married to start with.)

2- You don't have to find a man. It's nice to find a good one, but it's not a matter of survival. There is no deadline (unless you count the biological clock). You do have to find an apartment.

I have sent out more e-mails applying for and apartment than I have sent out college applications and job applications in my entire life. Yep. So far, I've found one I liked but they were supposed to call me today and didn't, one I liked but she doesn't like the idea of me having friends over, and one that is PERFECT, but they're not going to decide until the end of the week. It would be a gamble to wait on them, because in the end they might pick someone else! Oh, well.

Clara's agreed to let me stay as long as I need to to find a good place. That's removed a little of the stress. Today also helped because I went to see three apartments, and each time I walked through the park. After a week mostly stuck in my apartment packing, reading Craig's List and sending out apartment-seeking e-mails, it was so great to be out in the fresh air and green.

Blog stuff

1- I have been busted by Val. You see, there is a setting on the blog that lets me post-date entries. For example, when I was in Iowa you may have noticed no new postings. Then, all of a sudden there were 5, and according to the dates, I wrote them every few days. Yeah, I cheated.

2- Why do I fib about the dates? Because if I put five entries worth of stuff into one mega entry, no one would want to read the whole thing. It would be too long. It also helps establish a timeline. It makes it easier to find entries in the archives, too.

3- Blogger (the site that hosts my blog) is all cranky. It has some bug and thus won't let me post pictures. Grr.

4- My internet connection is cranky, too. It quit when I was trying to post comments. Grr again.

Fashion Atrocities (a rant)

Okay, I was gone from New York for 30 days, and in that time there was a fashion revolution. Oh, I'm sure it's actually a constant thing that you barely notice if you live here, but this...it was like when you see a young relative only once or twice a year. They look so different every time you see them.

When I left, some people were rocking the ugly, baggy boho look. A few sad souls were emulating Madonna's most recent look with '70s disco-exercise attire. Sundresses and peasant skirts with long tops abounded. The hot new fashion accessory for that outfit was to cinch your waist with a wide, '50s-style belt. Culottes were improbably popular (ugh). Most girls, myself included, were wearing A-line skirts with fitted t-shirts.

Then I came back, and now tons of girls are wearing sundresses over jeans, miniskirts over leggings and the skinny jean. Now I'm not a fashion expert, by any means, but I suddenly find myself very opinionated on the subject, so I'm going to get it out of my system.

I am willing to support leggings under a skirt or dress. I used to rock the leggings look back in the mid-90s, and it can be cute as a button. What's more, this will allow women to rock minis they'd previously been unable to wear due to shyness, being too lazy to shave, veins, pallor or cellulite. All I ask is that no one go back to wearing them under baggy shirts, sweatshirts and sweaters. It made everyone look like they were shaped like a fudgesicle-- a chubby oval on top and a skinny little stick on the bottom.

The sundresses over jeans look...well, it's just strange. It only looks good on...no, I can't think of anyone it looks good on. The jeans make the skirt of the dress bunch up. I think the outfit is intended to look free and artsy. Instead it just looks like the girl got distracted while changing her clothes, or ran out of clean shirts.

The skinny jean. Oh, the skinny jean. Here's the deal. Clinton and Stacy on TLC's "What Not to Wear" have valiantly spent several years trying to convince the public that tapered pants are evil. They also did a tremendous public service by educating the fashion-challenged on the horror of pleat-front pants. On a recent episode, they warned a woman they were helping (I'm paraphrasing because I'm too lazy to look up a transcript), "For some reason, tapered pants are going to be really 'in' this year, but you should ignore that. Tapered pants only look good on the skinniest models...and they don't really look that good on them."

The skinny jean makes you look like a ham hock if you have a butt or thighs. If you're petite and very skinny, they will make you look like you have short little toothpick legs. If you're tall and skinny (like a model)...well, chances are you have big feet. Tall usually means big feet...it's a physics thing. Big feet are okay. I have big feet, and I don't mind them... but it's not a feature I try to highlight. Well, the skinny jean is like a giant neon arrow pointing at your feet. You might as well strap on clown shoes.

You know, sometimes I wish Iowans were more stylish. I sigh when I look at a room full of Iowans all dressed the same, reguardless of age-- all of them wearing jeans or jeans shorts with a baggy t-shirt...it's depressing. But, at least Iowans have the good sense to resist most idiotic fashion trends. I think the worlds of New York and Midwestern fashion have a lot to learn from each other. New York teaches us that fashion can be fun, and we can all find a specific look that expresses who we are. Iowa teaches us that we don't have to jump on the fashion bandwagon. Stay strong, people. Resist the skinny jean tyranny.

Back in New York

Monday, it was really tough to leave Iowa and my parents. It was so great to spend time with them, and they thanked me for wanting to. Also, I as stressed about coming back to the stressful things waiting here, especially my job and my apartment hunt. I spend pretty much all day every day looking at apartment listings.

Tuesday, I met up with Jenny. I had butterflies in my stomach, like when you have a date with a person you like. I realized, suddenly, that I was excited to see New York. New York is my boyfriend. He's high maintenance, but he's worth it...I think. Wednesday, I met up with New York Jenny, Laura and Riza (which is how I should have been spelling Reesa all this time) for Pub Night. It was so good to see them again.

I'm starting to get really frustrated with my apartment search. It's making me all emotional. I called Jenny, Madrid, Laura and Paul to vent about it. They're being very sweet and patient about it. Wish me luck...because cardboard boxes are drafty.

Family and the Iowa State Fair

Monday I spent the night at Unkie and Helen's. It was Karen and Lynn's anniversary, and I told their kids stories about the wedding and what they were like when they were little. Then Hannah, Connor and I went swimming in their pool. We had rootbeer floats, then I read to Hannah before bed. It was great to spend time with all of them. They're so close to my heart.

Friday I drove up to JB and Erika's in Waverly to visit them and my adorable, carrot-topped nieces. They were so cute. Courtney is getting less fussy, so she'll let me hold her and smile at me. Brooke is hilarious, talking and having conversations with her dolls (Amy, Baby and Other Baby). She loves to run, pumping her arms. Her former-track-star father is already working on her technique. J.B. and Erika talked to me about life and their jobs, which was nice.

I got to read to Brooke, sing to her, change her diaper and play with her. She is so adorable, it's not even funny. She loves to call me "April" (her other Aunt), but I don't take offense, because she loves calling J.B. "Mommy." She also loves to be tickled and tipped upside-down. "Again," she exclaims, "again!" The next morning J.B. made us great pancakes and French toast. He's such a good cook! It was hard to leave with Brooke waving out the window.

I drove straight to the Iowa State Fairgrounds where I met up with Mom and Dad. We wandered the barns and the flea market. We went to the Agriculture building where we saw the Butter Cow and Butter Superman. Yes, life-sized sculptures made entirely of butter. Now this is not tactful, but everyone was commenting on it. You see, Butter Superman was on a pedestal, which put his...tights at eye level. Man of steel, indeed. Mom made a funny comment, but I don't think she'd want me to print it here.

Then Dad spent quite a while bartering with implement dealers. We ate lots of good food (hand-made lemonade, great lamb and amazing beef dishes) and went home tired and happy.

The next day, I went to the fair again, this time with my college friends: Jennifer, Jessica and Kelly. We've done so for the last three or four years, with free tickets from their company. We toured the Avenue of Breeds, which has everything from bunnies to sheep to emus to elk. Jessy bought the deep-fat fried Oreos, which tasted like Oreos that had been swallowed by fresh doughnuts. Positively decadent.

Then we went to a concert. Train was performing (Meet Virginia, Drops of Jupiter, etc.), and we were in the third row. The concert was fun, and the lead singer was hilarious. He doesn't seem to take himself seriously, which is great. He's also very skinny, and I think he was wearing womens' jeans (see photo below). They looked fabulous.

As the concert ended, it started to rain. Everyone poured into the Varied Industries building, which was packed. Then we dashed for the agriculture building so the girls could get their first glimpse of the Butter Cow and Superman.

Then Kelly was off to the pork tent, and the twins went for lamb. We climbed up to the Arts and Cultural Center to see the doll houses, wood carving, photographs, sculpture and paintings. Then it was time to go. I grabbed a corn dog, then bought some salt water taffy and a last-minute lemonade. I adore the fair!

Then I went home for some last-minute bonding with my parents, knowing how hard it would be to leave them the next day.

The first loss

Sunday we went to Wayne Skardtvedt's birthday party. He has sheep and is a good friends of Dad's. I grew up showing sheep with his kids. We had a good time and great food, but met a rude awakening at home. You see, while watching the news we discovered that a friend, Tiffany Becher had died in a car crash. Her SUV rolled at 4 a.m., and she was ejected into the road. "Oh, Tiffany," Dad said to himself, "what were you doing out at that hour?"

"It happens, Dad. I've been out tons at that hour."

"Tons?"

"Well, not tons. But enough to know...it happens." Although, when I think about it, I don't think I've ever been driving at that hour. In a cab or on a subway, yes, but not driving. Maybe she shouldn't have been driving. Maybe she was just too tired, which is dangerous. But as my dad said, "It doesn't really matter." What matters is that a kind, beautiful girl is gone. Girl. I keep thinking girl, but she was 30...a woman by any standards. I think she is the first person I've ever lost who was about my age...someone I grew up with. Her smile used to light up rooms.

The day before the service, I went to Nadine's house in Storm Lake(see photo below of the intersection where I had to wait for a flock of geese to waddle by). Nadine was one of my professors in college. She helped my with my poetry, and we discussed my educational and career options. It was helpful. She also cooked me amazing food (she's a gourmet). I spent the night at Nadine's, and the next day we visited Nadine's 97-year-old mother, Miss Sarah. Miss Sarah tells the best stories about growing up as a moonshiner's daughter in the South.

Then I left for the viewing in Fort Dodge. There was a knot in my stomach as I stood in the long line waiting to get in. I didn't know if my parents were inside. I didn't want to break down sobbing...I didn't feel I had the right.

It's sort of a theater thing. I was once in a scene where several people had to cry. One rehearsal, I started crying too hard, and my director reminded me that the person most directly effected by the tragedy should be the focus and react most strongly. I know emotions can't always follow logical rules like that, but I didn't want people stricken by tragedy to feel like they had to take care of me.

I managed to hold it together, though I got teary while talking to Tiff's dad. He held my hand, talking and smiling. He's usually the strong, silent type. He said more words to me then than he had in all the years I'd known him. And when Tiffany's brother, Travis, saw me, he was so surprised that he started laughing and gave me a big hug. I was glad I could make him happy, if only for a moment. That's about the most one can hope for at a time like that. Then my parents arrived and walked through the line. I was so glad they were there. Now whenever I get in the car, Mom tells me to drive carefully. There's a new nervous inflection, and I don't brush it off like I used to. I tell her, as sincerely as I can, that I will be careful.

Farm Life

It's nice to be home after so many nights in other people's houses. I'm glad I came to stay with my parents for so long, because it's letting me get used to the new house. I began thinking, "I'm so glad to be home, sleeping in my own bed in my own room!"

I've been playing with the big, gorgeous new Nikon N50 camera my parents gave me. It was a present out of the blue, not for Christmas or my birthday or anything! Well, maybe it was kind of a graduation present, but either way, it was a nice surprise. I've never had a manual camera before. I love photography, and I'm really looking forward to trying new things.

I've been wandering the farm taking pictures. I love how the farm pretty much looks the same as it used to when you look toward the highway from the front step. Mom and dad put a chair and a swing on the step, which makes me feel more at home. Sitting on the front step in the morning and the evening used to be a habit of mine.

The pets would all gather around me to be pet while I watched the sun rise or set, looked at the stars and lightning bugs at night or the mist rising from the crops in the morning. Now I can do that again, though only Hooligan can make it onto the step, as it's too high off the ground for the dogs.

Lately the pets follow me as I walked around taking pictures of them, crops, even pretty weeds, like chicory and morning glories.

Yesterday, the barn swallows gathered: hundreds sitting side-by-side on the telephone lines and swooping open-mouthed through the air, swallowing blue sky and the insects therein. There's something beautiful about the way they fly that is different than the starlings and the sparrows.

The swallows flutter, then glide, and it's so graceful that I can't look away. The golden hawk glides more grandly. The killdeer run swiftly on their long legs before taking flight. The vultures circle ominously with their vast wing-spans. But it is the swallows who hold my gaze the longest.

I don't remember seeing them on the farm before the tornado, but now a few nest in the barn. I hope they've come to stay.

Travelling in Iowa

So for the past week, I’ve basically done nothing. I helped my parents move out of the apartment and with stuff on the farm. I read several books, watched TV and got my parents hooked on DVDs of season 1 of Everwood. Unfortunately, I’ve just done some online research, and they’re not planning on releasing the subsequent seasons on DVD. On the one hand, I’m mad because I WANT THEM, and on the other hand, I feel bad for hooking my parents on a show they will be unable to watch more of. Oh, well.

I was getting a little restless on the farm, but it was going alright. Then my dad started bossing me around. He even used words “You’ll do what I say because I’m putting a roof over your head.” AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! I replied that when JB visits, all he’s expected to do is bring cute children. I told him maybe I should have a baby so I can do the same. I don’t mind volunteering to help my parents, or having them request help and agreeing to help them. I was planning to help! But being told I have to help because I’m staying under their roof? So I decided it was time to get out of there pretty soon.

Where did I go? First I went to Iowa City to visit some high school friends, Harmony and Gwen. We went to dinner, and all the RAGBRAI riders were there. In the Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa, thousands of people travel more than 400 miles in 11 days (I think). It’s hot and hilly. Each night they camp and party. This year Lance Armstrong joined in for a while. Anyhoo, a bunch of riders were in the restaurant we picked, wearing riding gear and crazy wigs, sunburned and sweaty. We went back to their place (Harm and Gwen's house, not the wig-wearing bike riders') and watched Hitch, which is a cute movie.

Harmony is doing excellently in her pre-med training, and Gwen just got a promotion. They have two cats, a rabbit and a cute, hyper dog now. I wonder how they’ll divvy them up if Harmony has to go away to med school.

Monday, July 31 I drove up to Grandma and Grandpa Kiley’s. I’d never seen their house before. I especially liked a little garden they have out back. I interviewed Grandpa Russ, and he told me a lot about his childhood, being in the military in Germany after the war, and marrying Grandma Carol. Grandma Norrie told me about she and Russ got together and how they got to the point where the whole family could get along.

The next day I drove to Grandma and Grandpa Gilbaugh’s. We went to the Senior Center where they volunteer. We served food and played cards. Some of the people I played with turned out to be in their 90s, which I never would have guessed. I hope, if I get that old, I can be that healthy and with-it. Then we went home for Jeopardy and pizza. I interviewed Grandma Carol (Grandpa Kenny wasn’t too talkative) and she told me about her childhood, her marriage to Grandpa Nissen, her marriage to Grandpa Kiley and her marriage to Grandpa Gilbaugh. She told me her goal in life is to be remembered as a person who lives joyfully. That’s a great goal…one of the best.

Now I'm back on the farm and things are fine. I think my dad and I have a two-week limit. If we're together any longer than that without a break, we start fighting (or, as he would call it, "getting loud.") But now all is peachy!

In Iowa!

So I've been in Iowa for a week now. Unkie and Helen's party went beautifully. You can tell we have German ancestry, because the food included brats and saurkraut. The entertainment included (I kid you not) a polka band. Everyone really enjoyed it, but there wasn't any dancing, in part because it was more than 90 degrees out, and in part because we were on the lawn. ("It's not a smooth enough surface," one partygoer explained, "Someone could twist an ankle.") But my family had a great time, telling stories and laughing. I handed out hundreds of pieces of cake, and Unkie told people I was his oldest granddaughter. He and Helen looked so happy and in love after 50 years of marriage. We should all be so lucky.

Since the party I've been mostly taking it easy and have read four good books. I've also helped a bit with farm chores, sorting sheep and house chores. I walk our minipoodle and throw things for our border collie to fetch, which Mac will do ad nauseum, even if it is 100 degrees out. After a few throws, I'd make him stop to drink water, and he'd look at me like I was so mean.

I've been a bit stranded, as the work at the farm has lead to many nails from the old house and barn making many holes in many tires. But now I have a car and can go to the restaurants and shops I've been wanting to visit. I can also start arranging for visits with family members and friends. I'll be here until August 14, but I know how quickly time can get eaten up. In fact, being stranded has been kind of nice. I don't remember the last time I had a week with no responsibilities, work or social. It's also a rare treat to be in a space with no other people for a mile around. Well, it's rare for me. In New York, there's always someone above you, below you, and every which way.

So I'm enjoying Iowa, my family and my pets...even the scorching heat wave that just broke. Here's hoping you're enjoying your summer, too. Miss you, NYC friends!

Homeless and sick...again...some more.

So I think I'm still sick. Sick again? Whatever. Now I need to go back to the doctor. Sigh.

But the big news is, I have to find a new apartment. Here is how the story unfolded:

Last week, Clara's cousins were visiting, which was kind of annoying. She constantly has family visiting. That week I gave Clara the checks for July's and August's rent (since I won't be here at the start of the month). At that time, she gave no warning of what was coming. Then, yesterday she says to me, "Erin, when are you moving out?"

"Oh," I replied, "I'm not."
"But Erin," she said, "I told you I needed you to move out."

Eerm...what? Do I have amnesia? Did I block it out?

"When did you say that?"
"Back in April." I looked at her blankly. "I said, 'My family's coming. I need the apartment."
"Clara, that's pretty much what you've said any time your family has come to visit."
"I know, but...well, I thought you understood."
"But you didn't say anything about needing me to move out."
"I didn't want you to feel I was making you leave." (Though that is exactly what she's doing.)
"When did you want me out by?"
"Well...the end of July."

At that point, I sort of wigged out, calling everyone I know in the city. Then Clara told me that I didn't need to worry, because her family could wait a little longer. But I've started looking for a new place and packing, because it'll be stressfull to try to throw it all together at once when I get back in August. Wish me luck.

A Wedding and a Homecoming

On Friday, I arrive in Iowa at 8 p.m. The next day, I cut the cake at Unkie and Helen's party and I get to see my family! It's been quite a week. Last Wednesday was my last day of school. Then I had to finish a paper and prepare a presentation for my last grad school class on Thursday. I then had one week to finish my portfolio, and I spent some of it with my friends and on Fourth of July celebration...and way too much time on the Saga of Chris. Nonetheless, that's all done now, and so is my portfolio! All that I need for my master's degree is to clear up some clerical stuff. Ugh.

Last Friday was my friend Madrid's bachelorette party. It wasn't the traditional debauchery. Instead we went to dinner at a restaurant called Mexican Radio, then when to a vodka bar with a cool, underground decor. During the party, we discovered that Madrid's fiance, ChrisP, wasn't having a bachelor party. [He's a grad student, and after his friends recently graduated they moved away. Since they weren't inviting anyone to the wedding (immediate family only), he didn't feel right asking anyone to come back.]

I suggested that we throw him a bachelor party. Madrid didn't think he'd want one, but he was happy about it. We all wore ties and went to a vegetarian restaurant with a Moroccan decor, Caravan of Dreams. ChrisP said it was perfect: "I get the attention of six lovely ladies and my fiance doesn't get jealous!" He also said it was nice to be in a relationship where the friends all approved.

"Not that I wouldn't have married her anyway, it's just...sometimes you get out of a relationships, and all your friends say, 'Oh, thank goodness you got out of that one!' But when the friends all approve, it's like they see that you're a good match."

And they are. Yesterday they got married, and after the wedding they met up with us for dinner. We all toasted the couple, laughing and getting teary-eyed I ended this week with a celebration of a marriage beginning. Next week will end with a celebration of a marriage that has lasted for 50 years. That's a beautiful and inspiring thing.

Happy Birthday, America!

I had a nice July 4th celebration. I got together with some friends for dinner at a Mexican restaurant, Blockhead's Burritos. The food was delicious, but the decor was bizarre, with a sock monkey theme. Yeah...

Then we walked over to the shore to stake out a spot to watch the fireworks. The display was gorgeous. We were having an amazing time.

There was one annoying thing: some parents came at the last second. Now, they might have said, "May our daughter squeeze in next to you so she can see?" It would have a bit self-centered of them (as we waited an hour to get our primo spot), but at least there would have been a modicum of politeness. Instead, they just told her, "Get up there!" and shoved her up between Jenny and me. Her head was literally in my armpit. Yep. What is that brushing against my armpit? A CHILD'S HEAD! Who does that? Who shoves their child in a stranger's armpit? I almost went off, but held back because it isn't the child's fault she's being raised badly. I ignored them and eventually they went away, the child and her brother whining they were bored. I would like to thank my family members for their excellent parenting skills. Our extended family gatherings are remarkably brat-free. Have you seen any of those nanny shows? It's appalling how many Americans are raising their children...that they need to be told to give their children unconditional love, consistent structure and praise when it's earned.

Anyway, despite the run-in with the brat family, the 4th of July fireworks display really got me thinking about America and how much I love it. When I was traveling in Europe, there were all these amazing countries, buildings, museums, cuisines, styles of music and dance. And at first I thought America was missing that, that culture and identity forged over a thousand years or more.

But America is still young. It is a rowdy teen looking for its identity and future and expression and freedom. Because there is no set style for America, there is no limit to what this country can be, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

The Saga of Chris

It turns out, Chris and I aren’t going to be friends after all. He turned out to be more crazy than not, and more trouble than he was worth, but to his credit, at least he added one more great New York moment to my list.

Saturday we got together on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He said he wanted to get a drink first, and we went to a bar where he proceeded to have two Bloody Marys…at four in the afternoon. I didn’t think that was a good sign, but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. At the bar, Chris got a call from his sister, Lindsey, saying she needed to meet us to get her keys from him. They thought it might take 40 minutes, and we decided to wait in front of the Met.

Chris and I sat on the thick stone ledge of the fountain, which was inexplicably empty of water. The stone was warm, and when I had to make some phone calls, he stretched out. He said it felt great, so when I finished my calls, I stretched out, too. Head-to-head, his legs going one way, mine the other, we lay there in the sun with cars zooming by in the street and tourists ambling by on the sidewalk. We even dozed a bit, with the wind mixing my hair with his. It was a great moment, so peaceful and still, and I’m rarely peaceful and still.

After an hour Lindsey, his mom and his mom’s boyfriend showed up for the keys. We handed them off, then went in the museum and looked at paintings. He likes Kara Walker, Degas’ ballerinas and gloomy paintings in a certain shade of blue. I like luminous women against richly- colored backgrounds.

We left the museum and went for hot dogs at Papaya King. He was amazed I’d eat one because, apparently, all the women in his life fit somewhere in a continuum between vegetarianism and anorexia. “Yeah, women who eat,” I said, facetiously, “It’s the hot new thing. It’s sweeping the nation!”

Then he went to put a down payment on his new apartment and I went home. He said he might call me later, and he did. I met up with him and his friend Royal, and we talked and laughed for hours. Then Royal went home, and Chris decided we should go play pool. I warned him that I didn’t know a thing about it, but he didn’t care. We won game after game, but lost the last one due to spectacular incompetence on my part. He had the nerve to get crabby about it. “I’m sorry,” I replied, “I deceived you when I said I was a world-class pool player. Oh, wait, no, I think my exact words were, ‘I could only beat someone at pool if my bad playing made them laugh so hard they dropped their cue!’” He laughed and cheered up, then walked me to the subway where he shook my hand and told me to call him.

Yesterday I called Chris. He informed me that the love of his life, the semi-suicidal and violent Carrie who dumped him while in anorexia rehab, e-mailed him to say she loved him and missed him. He said getting the e-mail made him want to throw up, and he was still shaking. Hmm.

That night, I met up with Chris, Lindsey and Lindsey’s roommate, Victoria. We all had a lot of fun talking. Then they went home, and Crazy Chris appeared. Well, not at first. At first he was playing pool, and activity which (he had told me before) let him forget Carrie for stretches of time. But then it was someone else’s turn at the table. He started saying really rude things to me.

He went on to tell me that he still loved Carrie, and that he would die for her in the end, not tonight, but someday. I tried to talk to him about options for getting help. He said if his sister couldn’t help him, I sure as [word deleted--Sorry kids. I should have noticed that bad word before I posted] couldn’t, and what was I going to do, call the cops? He said I should leave him there, and I did. I felt a little worried about it, but I offered him help and he refused.

Goodbye, Chris, and good luck. I hope you get the help you need.