Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Here's Tom's "last day at the office" snap. Day 1: Tom gets a text from someone at his office asking if he’s in the Cayman Islands. Tom replies that he’s at Acme buying Ketchup. “In the Cayman Islands?” Ha ha no. “What did you do this morning?” asks the former colleague. Well, says Tom. He says he went to the YMCA to swim, but the pool was closed. He headed up to the gym. It was empty. So he played basketball all by himself.  Day 2: Tom cannot figure out how to stop his car from trying to get him to drive to the office. If he tries to go anywhere in the morning, his car beeps at him and says, "21 minutes to the office." Day 3: Tom takes apart my bass guitar and fixes it. This takes 12 hours. He bought a large magnifying glass with a flashlight attached, a soldering gun and some fancy tweezers. But he did it! Now he's working on fixing a microphone dropped on its head one too many times. Day 4: Tom gets a cold. Da...

I asked the front desk person why the Morgan Library was so packed. It’s never packed.  She said it was because everyone waited until the last minute to check out the John Singer Sargent  drawings. Last day is tomorrow. Right. I rolled my eyes at the same time as her. Then I beelined to the John Singer Sargent exhibit. I saw this water color I really liked: John Singer Sargent Watercolor at the Morgan Library We all have a friend who used to be that guy when he was 26 and knew everything about existentialism and nihilism and John Coltrane. I looked at this painting for a while the first time I saw it, but then decided to go back and snap a picture. A small crowd had gathered in front of it, including a hawkish woman in a light blue sweater.  As we inched closer to the picture, I got the distinct impression that this woman’s goal was not to see the painting, but to position herself in front of me so I couldn't see it. I felt the combat vibes ...

I asked Tom what he would do in the morning when he retires in T minus 6 days. He said, "I think I'll do what your dad does after he wakes up every single day: I'll do some calisthenics while watching TED talks on the computer at top volume." I nodded, sounds reasonable. Meanwhile, my dad has been working into a new routine. I don't mean that he altered anything about the calisthenics or the TED talks. I mean he and my mother moved recently and therefore he can no longer do his thing in the den of his former house. Pop had prepared for the big move. He got himself a yoga mat, but I don't think he's using it. Last we spoke, he had stationed his ankle weights and his kettle balls in the new living room on my mother's oriental rug. I'm not sure how long this particular set up will last. I think this because Pop mentioned he had been strongly encouraged by my mother to go visit the gym down the street. My mother said he can get in free with Sil...

I never considered myself a knight in shining armor, but as far as Bumpy the Vacuum Robot is concerned, I'm obviously the real deal. I save him like 90 times a day. I save him so much I came down with some kind of Bumpy beep-triggered anxiety disorder. I told Tom to reset the little bastard's schedule. He shall not be released when I am home alone with him. Tom has to be present to share in the life guard duties.  To make my case rock-solid, I sent Tom photographic evidence documenting the many faces of my heroic derring-do.  Here's Bumpy beeping his little "rescue me" heart out behind the TV. I had to crawl back there in the middle of conference call: Wires are a problem. Major wedgie under the kitchen counter. I considered smearing Bumpy with olive oil: Bumpy is .0001 inches too tall. Seriously Bumpy?! This is a little alarmist. It's only a carpet: Bumpy really hates the chair from Ikea. He cannot go over it this direction: ....

My 12yo nephew Jackson started talking about fountain pens, which I took as a personal triumph. So it was with great pride that I marched down to the Fountain Pen Hospital the Saturday before Christmas. My mission : buy the kid a fountain pen he'd remember long after he lost it. I told the sales guy at the Fountain Pen Hospital that I wanted the shiniest, most golden fountain pen they had in stock. My nephew enjoys treasures that have the distinct look of treasure. (When I told Wanda about my shopping trip later, she complimented my prowess. "Way to know your audience," she said.) Don't get me wrong, I qualified my price point to the FPH sales guy. They have pens in that place that cost more than my car. The sales guy replied, "For that price point ... ummm .... you can't get real gold." Ha ha, yeah. I pretended to look crestfallen. Nah, I wish I had the presence of mind to look crestfallen. In reality I rolled my eyeballs like a champion e...

Tom, walking around the neighborhood commenting on everyone’s Christmas decorations: “There’s a lot of slack in that string of Christmas lights on that roof up ahead. Very droopy.” “I don’t like these LED lights that look like a tube of light. Not for Christmas." "It's definitely stylish to string the lights just around the front door." "Oh look, there's a guy with a little broom dusting off his lights. That's a well-maintained set-up right there." “Maybe I should go around with a clip board and write up my comments about everyone’s decorations. Give them a report.” “Look at that place - They have 4 big spotlights. Impressive.” “The lights wrapped around that person’s porch poles are a little bit asymmetrical. I don’t think I’d mention it in my report though. It’s trivial."

Two seconds after we got the invitation to Wanda and Derek's Retro Night, Tom starts talking about making Rainbow Jello. I'm not sure what brought this on. Rainbow Jello became his very own white whale: " Sometimes I think there's naught beyond  Rainbow Jello . But 'tis enough. I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it." -- Tom, talking about Rainbow "Moby Dick" Jello First there was the quest for a bunt pan. Then a recipe. Early in the morning, Tom arises and takes a rolley cart down to the Westside Market. He returns: A lot of Jello There was Jello and empty packets and multiple timers beeping and some colors simmering and other colors in the refrigeration stage by the time I got up. It's exacting labor, this Rainbow Jello creation. Jello cooling its heels in the fridge The effort pays off! Look at this work of art! The Artist with his Rainbow Jello Thank you to Wanda and Derek for the...

This is NaBloPoMo Year 4 in the bag. In this last post, I usually feel like I have to sum up the goings on with a neat ending that ties up all the loose ends. Unfortunately that is unlikely -- if you've read more than 1.5 posts in this blog, you already knew that. This place is not where you go for any kind of story arc. Most days of my life are very similar to the one I had today: In October, I bought a 10 pound bag of fava beans on Amazon. Before I clicked Buy, I did one of the Ask Amazon questions. I asked the shoppers of Amazon if the fava beans in question were already shelled. A fellow shopper replied they were shelled. The shoppers of Amazon cannot be trusted. I believed the shopper, ordered the beans and a week ago, I made a batch. They came out kinda crunchy. Because the fava beans? Not shelled. I made another batch today. I'll just eat the fuckers. The shells probably have lots of fiber and most Americans are woefully short of fiber. People are all worr...

I'm feeling unproductive today. This might be considered a total counterpoint to my childhood, which was a very high output endeavor. I know this because my mother keeps bringing over more boxes of crap I made. My god this pottery castle turret sculpture must have taken forever. It weighs 30 pounds. I so funny. Adorable lion cub killing a zebra in cold blood. Cycle of life and all that. D&D baby So please let my past zeal and verve excuse my lack of motivation today, the penultimate exemplar of yet another NaBloPoMo in the bag.

Earlier this morning before Thanksgiving dinner with the fambo, we'd been pitching cards like they did in the Bronx back in the day. Pitching cards with Grandpa No Tips, No Tops - Dad's rules. Pitching cards turned into all of us throwing cards at each other. How could it not, honestly? The battle royale ended when Ella hid behind a balance ball and pretty much scooped up all the ammo. Also someone flung a 7 of hearts dangerously close to an eyeball. And that is how there happened to be about 19 decks of cards scattered all over the carpet. After dinner, I collected enough cards from the carpet for a good-sized deck and dealt for a game of spoons. It was me, Tom, Grandma, Jack, Ella and my brother. At some point, Tom looks over and sees my brother blatantly cheating. Totally nonchalantly, he is picking through heaps of unused cards strewn around nearby.  My brother (also known as "dad" to two of the players in the group) was pulling out 4s of a k...

When I was out power walking down the east-side esplanade with Alex like an OG, he told me he was learning Irish. He called it Irish, not Gaelic. I forget why the term "Gaelic" is currently a no go. I asked Alex why he was learning Irish. He currently speaks German, English and Norwegian. Irish seemed like an unlikely candidate for a fourth language in all cases. But especially in this case since his girlfriend is Columbian from Columbia. Alex had his reasons. Which basically all amounted to he just wanted to learn Irish. Alex asked me if I was going to learn another language, which one would I choose. I had to think on that. Even without a Columbian girlfriend, Spanish seems to bubble up as the sensible option. But then again ... I have been reading these poems by a Sulfi poet named Hafez who lived in Iran in the 1300s. Many people I have encountered on the Interwebs complain early and often about the translation of these poems. They say that the translator of the...

How long has it been since I wore the coat in question? Long enough that I printed out directions from the webbernets that day. Here are the things I found in the pocket of said coat, which was actually super expensive. This is the reason I've kept it, but not worn it, since Ye Ole Days of MapQuest. It's hard to toss things that you saved up for. Items from my coat pocket Other finds include a pharma pen (another artifact), lip gloss and a pack of gum. In a testament to preservatives, the remaining sticks of gum and the lip gloss look genuinely perky overall. Nonetheless, I threw them all out.

Actually there's no coffee in the Acela Lounge A business associate was coming into the city from out of town. We'll call him Pete. Pete suggests we meet in midtown. "Sure," I say and pause to consider a good place. Pete jumps in, "We should just meet in the Acela Lounge at Penn Station." Photocredit:  https://mysocialmate.co/tag/nypennstation "Ok," I reply. Pete probably had a train in or out right before or after and I have nothing against using time wisely. Fast forward to the day of our meeting: The Acela Lounge is basically wall to wall chairs. It's like a playhouse in SoHo that's in the basement where they show one-acts by emerging artists. There's no coffee. There's also no tables. It's odd to have a meeting with someone sitting directly across from you with no table in between. "When did your train get in?" I ask Pete. "Yesterday," he says. "Oh. When do you leave then?" ...

Last Saturday, I decided to walk up to MoMA to renew my membership. Learned a valuable lesson. It's possible I've learned this same lesson before but now I'm going to document it for posterity and for my own future reference: Do not walk up 6th Avenue into the 40s. Seriously. I had the misperception that 6th Avenue would be ok. Not 7th and therefore not Times Square. Not 5th and therefore no fancy shops. What the hell is on 6th Avenue above 34th Street I ask you? Well now I know -- lots of tourists. They come at you from all directions, it's like a video game. A very slow moving video game. Mostly the game involves not tripping over three ladies from Duluth, grabbing onto the strap of someone's cross body bag to avoid breaking an ankle and then getting arrested for pickpocketing or something. I think about these things after Matt's incident in Magnolia Bakery . Anyway, finally, and in a hella bad mood, I made it up to MoMA. I was hopeful after the big...

The ad for https://loopstore.com/  says, "Shop your favorite brands now reimagined to be waste-free." I'm on board with this so I placed an order. Before I go further, I'd like to mention that Loop is only available, at least at this time, in I think NYC. So basically anyone who orders lives in a shoebox sized apartment. Here's Tom inspecting my purchase: Yes. The Loop box is gigantic. It apparently folds down flat, but the result? Also giant. It's not like matter disappears just because it is engineered with creases. Another issue is that I ordered 4 bottles of Febreeze to meet the free-shipping minimum. That was a poor choice. I rarely use Febreeze.

I just got back from: Happy Hour at a bar near Penn Station Really good tacos right across the street from the Harry Potter broadway show A bar with a bartender that Andy knew from when this bartender worked at a different bar which unfortunately burned down But I'm not going to discuss this agenda or mingling with tourists in midtown at all. I'm going to talk about Super Spirographs. Remember when we made cool drawings that looked like this: Super Spirograph like I used to make when I was a kid. Photocredit:  https://blog.solidsignal.com/news/fun-and-games/fun-friday-inspirograph/ Except my mom found a box of my early works of art in the basement. Including this: Obviously one of my finer super spirographs worthy of keeping for decades. Yeah. Ok. Maybe my memory is not a dead ringer. As another proof point on the memory situation, I was chatting with a woman at the first bar we went to tonight, and then later, another woman started talking to me who...

Two amazing seats in my shopping cart. Just one small problem... Seriously, what would you have done? All I can say is that I'm gonna be in the front seat. Tom is the tall guy you don't want to sit behind.

...you get spam in two languages.  My email is a veritable fiesta platter of irresistible offers pouring in from all across the globe. How heartwarming to be loved by parties near and far -- who are clearly exceptional at tracking my whereabouts online and/or offline. So kind of them to offer, but obviously I have no need for a home alarm with so many concerned citizens all over the world privy to my goings on.

Tom and I just finished watching Downton Abbey. All six seasons. We watched one show every single night. Except weekends and holidays. We needed to conclude our slow-mo binge before the movie went out of the theaters. Well, we missed the movie. The day we finished watching the final episode of the final season, the very last theater that was still showing the Downton Abbey movie stopped showing it. Their timing, or our timing, was almost poetic. Now we have to wait until god knows when to see the film. But that's not what I wanted to write this post about. I was going to tell you that sometimes, after we'd watched our one episode, we weren't ready to quit the couch and go through to the other room. This will make semi-sense if you watched Downton Abbey. The Crawleys did a lot of quitting of rooms and going through to other rooms. Anyway, I'd say to Tom, "what else is on?" And he'd flip through Amazon Prime. This is how we discovered Cat TV. It'...

This is a #latergram, but I'm sure you'll agree it totally holds up. Tom was alone in his office one evening in September. He steps out into the hallway and stops dead in his tracks. Before him, he sees a snake on the carpet. Looking very snakey: The snake's coloring is perfect for slithering undetected amongst industrial carpet fibers Tom does not know what to do. The last time he encountered a snake indoors, he was at home and we had welding gloves and a gigantic rubbermaid tub. I'm talking like two weeks before this. September was obviously the Month of the Snake. Tom nabs a chafing pan thing from the office kitchen and tosses it on top of the snake.  Good thinking, honey. The snake and an aluminum tray. At this point, Tom pauses because, now what. After pondering for at least two and half minutes, he goes over to the doorway and gets the doormat. He lays the doormat right next to the aluminum tray. He slides the tray slowly onto the doo...