19 Jan 07

Time:

?

Money:

$9, lunch, Think.
$24, apples, pears, and Brie, whatever cool gourmet market that is on my way from the train to my apartment.
$10, half (well, one-third) of a cab from Brenan's section of the universe back to mine.

More interesting things:

Woke up and checked outside to determine whether the gray glowing through my blinds meant it was raining; in fact, it meant it had snowed! There wasn't anything really left on the ground, but cars were lightly covered and the trees were dusted. As Ben pointed out, even the garbage mountains looked pretty.

Listened, on the subway, to a high schooler studying her vocab list with a friend give voice to my only complaint of the morning: she described how she felt like her day was all out of whack if she overslept and messed up her routine, which is just what had happened to me that morning - if Roey hadn't texted me, I might have been REALLY late for the rest of the day.

Arrived on my floor to hear that I'd "missed the excitement": our mouse had made an appearance. A bit later, I was in the ladies' room and heard shrieking in the lobby, so I figured either someone was having a heart attack or he'd come back once again. Fortunately, it was the latter, and as I tromped over to see if I could spy any little tails under the refrigerator, the lady who sits closest to the kitchen area - and who really wishes we were entirely rodent-free - stood on top of her desk and commanded, "Go away, mouse!"

Darted into Pless to ask my bald guard friend to let me up the elevator but slowed down for just a second to heed his direction of "Mangia, mangia!" and grab half a muffin from one of the tables in the lobby. I'm trying to think what we would have done with leftover meeting chow, either at Florida or at my high school, and I'm thinking that the sentence "Put it out for the students" would not necessarily have entered anyone's mind.

Left the deli on the corner of Broadway and Waverly (guess that's another buck I spent, then) as I organized the contents of my various hands and pockets. Since I still had a quarter out by the time I made it to the guy who always tells me to smile for the downhill, I put it in his fingers - not an open palm, but a thumb and index aimed like you would if you were taking an item from someone you were cooperating closely with - and told him with a shrug that it was all the change I had; I got in return a "thanks" that had a very mildly surprised overtone to it, as though it were unusual that in all his efforts to collect change he'd actually managed to do it... but that's probably because from me it was!

Returned to the third floor of Pless in order to pay Annette back for the lunch money she had spotted me and set myself up for one of the most amusing series of exchanges I've had in a long time. It began when two classmates and I were really just sitting around shootin' the shit (as the 1SG likes to say) and, I think in an effort to explain my slight trepidation over introducing myself to the individual hereinafter known as Professor Number Six, whose office was right there, I mentioned Roey's declaration that if I had to lust after someone, it might as well be Number Six, who evidently is outstanding in every way. One friend was obviously confused by this comment, and wondered how he had come up with something from "so far out in left field," which, of course, did not serve to remind me that perhaps these particular Purple Friends weren't already aware of my tendencies until after I had replied, "Wellll, maybe short center field." Needless to say, my colleagues insisted that I explain, and in the process of doing so, Friend Number Two recognized where I was headed and told me that although she felt the same way, it was getting tricky, as her rule had always been to keep it younger than her father, who of course is getting older. At this point, for better or for worse, I had to stop agreeing, which I indicated with another, "Wellll...." After a long and red-faced back-and-forth involving the words "sixty," "seventy," and at least one more "welllll," my classmate at last concluded exactly what I meant, and this is where things got hilarious. She tried to hold it in - she was really working hard - but all her efforts served to do was make things that much louder and more dramatic when she couldn't manage it any longer, with the result that all of a sudden we heard Professor Number Six AND the lady he was talking with making comments and chair-scraping noises preparatory to coming outside to investigate, prompting Friend Number Two to shriek at me, "You better fucking make something up fast!" Once they had made it into the main room, she eked out the words, "Number Six, if it were about ME I would tell you but I can't because it's about HER personal life!", indicating spastically as she did so that I was the "her" in question. Scarlet-cheeked and still burbling, I apologized profusely to Number Six for causing disruption and added that this was not a particularly auspicious start to things, since the whole reason I'd still been sitting there was that I had wanted to introduce myself. We enjoyed a remarkably long conversation about his house in Boynton and my house in Boynton and the Delray dividing line and the Gator Chomp and all of this, until at long last he returned with his guest to his office. Professor Number Seven came to talk to Friend Number One, who works for her, Friend Number Two got up, I remained to chat for a minute about the Monday class, and then I too got ready to leave. I did want to apologize once again and say 'bye to Professor Number Six first, so I went to his door and found Friend Number Two standing there with him. I began by making some contrite noises and then added that since it was really pretty rude to laugh that conspicuously without explaining what it had been about, I would tell Number Six the big secret. Friend Number Two tried to book, telling us that she couldn't stay in there, but I said that as she had started the whole conversation, she would have to stand by; she agreed and announced, "Well, it will make me feel better... Number Six, you know how I have a thing for older men?" I was somewhat amazed that he already knew this particular information, which may have explained the relative ease with which I made my own announcement. Pleasant, un-shocked discussion followed - including invitations for the other involved party to visit - and ended when, upon learning that all the excitement had been over for awhile, Number Six said, "Well! Next time I'm in Florida, you come visit me at Such-and-Such Development - I'll introduce you around! You know... it's a 55-plus community." At which point I nearly fell over laughing - Friend Number Two may have been having a coronary behind me - but I did my falling in the direction of the door, gasping good-byes and staggering out on the certain knowledge that not only is he, at least, one professor not likely soon to forget me, but that based on his comments about my sense of humor and his characterization of me as "Good people! CRTL people!" we are off to a fine start.

Examined the Restaurant Week website and found, through my admittedly uninformed interest in visiting the 21 Club, that the place with the lawn jockeys across which I stumbled in my endeavor to make it to the tree back in November was not a) weird or b) something I'd never heard of.

Talked with the advisor on my floor about changing the title of one of my courses (just for the sake of overall transcript prettiness) and engaged in a pleasant conversation featuring the immeasurably flattering comment that "[I] seem to have a really good relationship with Alpha."

Pondered very contentedly that my quest for a nice Brie (or two, as it happened) did not take me away from my usual trip between subway stop and apartment. This is more than you can say for most cities.

Learned, from an overhead advertisement on the train to Brenan's, that Jerry Orbach donated his eyes (well, eye parts, anyway. Retinas? I forget which they can use.) It was nicely captured in the statement, "Jerry Orbach gave his heart and soul to acting, and his sight to two New Yorkers."

Got snowed on rather impressively on my trip from station to Brenan's. There were flakes stuck visibly to my black coat.

Enjoyed very thoroughly our wine tasting. We made it, increasingly happily, through 13 bottles, of which my favorites were the Francis Coppola claret - which tasted, as my menorah-lighting friend Marisa agreed, like Christmas - and the Clos du Bois Cabernet Sauvignon, which was (I can't believe I'm about to write this) big and fruity without being so big that it became spiky. All the cheeses involved were also very popular, including the first Brie, despite its nuclear encounter with Brenan's microwave, and we have already made some non-specific but very enthusiastic plans for another "tasting" of one variety of another; in his impatience with all the wine "breathing," Brenan suggested that perhaps the next go-round involve a margarita tasting.