19 Feb 07

Time:

Two hours, from leaving my apartment to the time my little sister cleared security, negotiated the shuttle (!), and found a seat near her gate at JFK. It probably would have been closer to the hour-and-forty-two-minutes I've recorded here for myself before, but holiday subways are ridiculous.

Money:

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More interesting things:

Sat, during one train ride or another today, next to three French ladies and across from a guy whose dotted pigmentation might have made him look a little spooky except that he seemed so easy-going. The ladies were clearly enjoying themselves, but, equally clearly, were trying to figure something out, and as they left at Grand Central, the guy wished them a cheery - and highly amused; he was trying not to laugh - "good luck."

Took my little sister into the Strand to look for A Streetcar Named Desire. I was quite surprised to learn that they didn't have it, but what they did have was: a dog. I thought I saw something vaguely furry and low to the ground disappear around the back of one of the shelves in the middle, so I followed it around the corner and got a look at a curly blond pup on a leash. First wine tasting, now book browsing... the dogs around here are impressive enough in person (in dog?) to match their equally varied and imposing pedigrees.

Rode the ever-so-long escalator up at the Lexington Avenue/53rd Street stop, and apparently just at the right time: it ground fairly quickly to a halt just as we were about three steps away from the top. Someone's hat had been lodged VERY firmly between the escalator stair and the landing, and I was glad that even the intrepid police cadet who walked back to inspect things didn't try to yank it out.

Exchanged, with a large lady wearing a big gray bomber hat from American Eagle, first a faintly exasperated look in response to some conductor commentary on why we kept stopping and second a smile and a giggle when her facial expression indicated that she couldn't immediately determine what was making all the thumping and squealing noises near my feet. (It was a little boy, joking around with his dad [I guess.])

Went, somewhere in between all that, to Rebecca's house for the purposes of returning her quilt (thanks, lady!), to the peanut butter restaurant, to Greene Street (home of my desk and my salad store, both - needless to say - very important landmarks), to Magnolia (obviously!), to one of those ridiculous yet cooler-than-it-should-be souvenir stores near Times Square, and to Papaya King (that was for my dad's benefit.)

Sat, on the way home from a sushi (!) place in the Village, across from a nice-looking man who was clearly very involved in what he was reading. From the font I thought I could tell that it was probably a kids' or young adults' novel, but when he lifted it just enough for me to confirm by the spine that it was, in fact, one of the Harry Potters, I couldn't help but smile (in what I'm sure was quite a goofy way.)