Arrgh

If this busy period at work ever ends, I'll get back to writing some of my signature stuff. I'll do some "Inner Monologue," some interviews and a couple of quick stories.

As for now, my softball team won last night and the best part (other than the name, which as a reminder is "Barker's Beauties")? I got a hit! It was a little lame one, but I got to run the bases and everything. I only fell once too. It's a good thing I can laugh at myself. And get drunk after games.

Everyone have a great weekend!

About A Boy

What is it about a boy?

Is it that I can sit here, across from him, having only known him for 3 weeks and feel like I know exactly what he's going to say as the words are about to slip off of his lips? That the conversation flows as easily as it would have had I been there while he was growing up, when he graduated high school, when he fell in love for the first time, when he had his heart broken for the first time?

Is it that it doesn't matter that we're at a restaurant? That we could be on the couch, just laying there and not saying anything at all, just laying with each other on the couch in some old sweats or something and dozing off in each other's arm with the TV blabbing mindlessly and endlessly in the background? Even though that hasn't happened yet?

Is it that he's strong but not too strong, sensitive but not too sensitive, smart but not too smart, soft but not too soft? That's he's sweet and clumsy and cute and he can make me laugh out loud whenever he wants to?

Is it that I've been burned or disappointed or just plain let down time after time after time and I just don't get that sense sitting across this table righ tnow while we bullshit about time and jobs and music and movies and dogs and life and anything else that we can think of before the restaurant clears off the tables surrounding us and locks the door to send us the message that it's time we left even though it only feels like we've been sitting here for 30 minutes?

Is it that walking home with him doesn't seem like a chore or a task to be done so as not be rude? That it seems like the thing that feels most right, that I'm walking down the street on his arm and it feels like the sidewalks are empty and the air is clean and the streets are moving with grace and ease?

Or is it the way that he always ends the night by saying, "Good night, sweet girl" and I can't help but smile?

A Couple of Quick Notes

I owe apologies to all those who have tried to contact me over the last few weeks. I've tried to convey just how busy I am in this office, but I'm not sure I'm doing it justice. Anyway, a big amends to all of you, most notably Ari and a new addition to our right hand column of links, Mr. Initial Misconceptions himself, Doug. Please visit these two individuals at their fine Internet locations and retail outlets across the country. I would, of course, be remiss if I didn't mention the Yeti, who keeps me laughing out loud at his absurdity.

I beg, beseech and pray that you read the second to last paragraph of this, then read this and tell me that I'm a prophet.

Until tomorrow, my pets.

A Nice Weekend

It's been oppressively hot here in New York lately, as if there's someone guarding the city's thermostat with the fierce intensity that my father does with the one in our house, not allowing anyone to turn it down even one notch to let out a little bit of the heat.

I know this may sound sacreligious to some people but I kind of like summer weekends in New York City. Most people leave the city to go to the beach, especially on July 4th weekend. The people left in the city just wander around, almost shellshocked that a city of 11 million people can empty so quickly. The park is relatively empty, so a spot on the Great Lawn in the sun isn't out of the question. All you need is a book, a pair of headphones and a bottle of water and you are set. It's the beach without the sand getting everywhere.

I'm in the park. I'm laying back on my big beach towel with my big sunglasses on and I'm just taking in the whole scene and thinking about my week. There's people jogging around with their dogs. There are some boys over there throwing around a frisbee. There are some more boys over there throwing around a football. There's a couple over there, the girl with her head on the guy's stomach and they are just talking. Those people over there are in a big group, telling stories and laughing. That guy over there is strumming on his guitar. I can name that tune in 2 notes, sir. It's "Stairway To Heaven." And shame on you for playing that overplayed guitar song.

All of these people just quietly having fun and doing their thing. Not too get overly patriotic and stupid, but isn't that what the whole July 4th thing is about? Doing your own thing? I think it is. To be honest, being yourself and doing your own thing isn't always easy, at least not for me. And I'm grateful for any time that I can take a step back, breathe out and just enjoy me. Like Angela Chase from "My So-Called Life" would say, "People are always telling you to be yourself, like yourself is this definite thing, like a toaster. Like you can even know what it is. But every so often, I'll have, like, a moment where being myself in my life right where I am is, like, enough."

Amen, sister.