Brooklyn, New York on January 2, 2021

Sun shines through windswept clouds, 

my favorite kind of fireworks.

The silent pulses of light 

no one notices to look up or gasp at.

These don't cause animals fear or pain.

These don't spew sulfur into the air.

These don't blow off the limbs of

human idiots or night birds. 

These just gently warm, like a smile from heaven

and warn that rain may be coming.

 

A summer in the park, long ago

Trader Joe's Ecdemiomania

The last word in the title means wandering (Mania).

I wanted to put megalomania, since there seems to be a profusion of self-important shoppers at Trader Joe's. Perhaps not as many as at Whole Foods, but Whole Foods is more expensive so it just catches the oblivious megalomaniacs without budgetary constraints. Or those (not necessarily megalomaniacs) that just want a tasty muffin. Whole Foods does have better baked goods.

Each time I venture into Trader Joe's it is an exercise of patience. There is only one in New York and it is in the East Village and caters to the NYU student, the die hard artists that have been in the area since the '70's, the senior citizen --- why am I wasting my time stereotyping? You name it any type goes there. The only set requirement is you have to be a little crazy to deal with the craziness. Most times the line is a 20 minute wait that spans a 3/4 perimeter of the store. There are 2 lines: an express for 12 items or less (and they will send you to the back of the other line if you go over -- not that I have seen this happen or that it has happened to me. I have heard the warnings.); and the 'Anything Goes' line. An experienced shopper will get what they can from the center of the store than get on line and shop along the edge while inching toward the cash registers. Both Lines used to parallel the whole way, but yesterday they rerouted the 12 item or less line to the next aisle westward, that which contains organic soaps and toiletries. paper goods, pet food, and syrup and canned goods. I was hoping to snatch some Greek strained 2% yogurt and a box of Trader Joe's Shredded Wheat Cereal, which wouldn't be a problem if the line snaked along its usual path. I debated whether to leave my basket for the 15-20 seconds my go and grab would take. I have seen this happen all the time. And it is common courtesy to let this go, even to take care and push the person in front's basket or cart in their absence. I hemmed and hawed. And then I decided to go. I thought I'd believe in the consideration and understanding of my fellow man. I returned with the cereal and yogurt in the aforementioned time frame only to see that a skinny, pale, dark haired coed with a pixie cut and an Indian man and his white wife in Muslim garb pushing a baby carriage had over stepped my basket. A wonderfully lively black woman in her 50's calmed me with her condemnation over the rudeness displayed. She was outraged on my behalf. I calmly said that it was okay, which it wasn't, that things that go around will come around and I have to feel sorry for their selfish sensibilities. I am not sure if I said that last part. I wish I did. My anger curveted my tongue and I knew I would only be able to safely speak in platitudes. I also wished I would have thanked the lady, my protector, more. I praised her good sense and kindness. As well as hinted at my own. In our discourse I would check to see if any of it was overheard by the rude ones. It didn't seem so. But if I was in their shoes, I would act like I wasn't hearing to avoid confrontation or the obligation of apology.

I know I left the store before the mixed race couple and child. I am not sure about the downtown Laura Flynn Boyle type. I don't care. I suppose it was good to find another considerate soul. But it is upsetting that there were at least three that weren't, and who knows how many behind Milady would have stepped over me? But there is also the unknown of how many chivalrous were behind. It is hard to have the benefit of doubt when the hard numbers show differently. But it was a small random sampling that yielded such numbers and those samplings have a lower accuracy.

The thing that bothers me the most is how does one change bad behavior in another? Even calling it as it is puts the offender on the defensive and so repels any advice or knowledge to mend his ways as arrows in an attack. Then there is the anger that the one affronted feels, and this anger wants blood and aggression. The beast inside must be tamed first and then usually there is no energy or time to tame that in the others.

Horizontal Blue

The literal translation of the Navajo word for sky. Horizontal blue. I look at my last post and wonder at my lapse in spell check. Alas, I am not perfect. I am my own worse critic. And I shall let it lay. There is no hot water in my apartment today. It happens. I am trying to be zen about it. So, the dishes can wait. List for tomorrows trek to the Farmer's Market: Eggs, butter, milk, maybe chicken. I feel the need for more coffee. I am sluggish in getting into gear and my getup for work. I want a slothful weekend. But no. I don't. That is fear talking. I have things to do. Important things. And I will do them, after I get the eggs, butter and milk.

3 Witches and the Bald Brute

Walking home from the Williamsburg Saturday Farmer's Market, through the park, I am almost out, and a Grey Great Dane lumbers toward a Collie Shepherd mix, the owner of the latter a woman in her 50's screams at the bald/sunglassed/wannabecool dude to get his dog on a leash--he is the owner of the former. He cooly ignores her and She gets hotter & louder, screaming at his dog 'Elsie' (she knew her name since Elsie had taken a bite out of her collie's ear before -- she has the Vet bill), Elsie is play pouncing on the other dog, but by virtue/vice of her size Elsie could do damage. Elsie lumbers off. Another woman with a smaller dog screams at Bald Man to put his dog on a leash. And first Lady, who was walking away, while speaking the same leash sentiment, and other venting, decides to turn around and go after this guy. The Bald Man yells, "Shut the F__k up!", he is also pushing a stroller occupied by a two year old, curly haired, girl with a mix of emotions passing across her face. I stand quietly at the apex of the this triangle of women, waiting to throw down my fresh veggies, eggs & butter, pears and peaches if the ladies need back up. Then a voice on a bull horn tells the man to Leash his dog. And then he does. I continue on my trek home thinking the leash is temporary, he will unleash, he will teach his daughter disrespect, he will not be the pack leader of his dog, and in this wimpy way he abuses both, as well as his fellow man.

I love to see dogs run free. In a yard, in a field, in the woods, if they have a good custodian. I hate that term master. My Dad and his family have bred dogs, hunting dogs, and trained them. I helped train, with a bunch of bound feathers on a fishing reel. I love animals, and I respect them, I think they have ways of interspecies/interkingdom communication human beings had once but forgot when we invented words. I don't blame an animal when they misbehave. I blame its human. Likewise, I don't blame a child, I blame the parent -- I am not talking about crying and whining children I know that a strong parent has to withstand that and stifle the urge to whack and are the stronger for withstanding a tantrum in public.

What a wonderful world it would be if everyone taught their children and dogs well.

Kat and Kaboodle

I am waiting for my cat to pee. The Vet needs a sample. She thinks I am being horrible in not letting her use her usual litter box. No. I had to fill the 'traveling' one with No Sorb which looks like little black plastic pellets, so they can sate the something to dig instinct/behavior cats have.

She is sweet 2 year old black tiger. She likes to reach out her paws to touch my face or grab my hand. She can be held for a very long time, unusual for a cat. She is a speaker. She fetches. She is now talking to her reflection in the door mirror. She knows it is just a reflection. She is trying to get to me.

I have to change my cats' diet. I had not realized feeding them dry food was inhumane. Cats and Carbs na-uh! Thank goodness I don't buy store bought Friskies and etc, or they would go through sugar withdrawal. I got eight pages of informative scary stuff. You don't want to know what the meat by-products are . . . I am not sure I am glad I know. Soylent Green. But I ain't going near it and neither are any animals of mine, if I can help it.

This Vet, and I have had many, has an abrupt manner. Not warm but not off-putting, she is honest with her thoughts and I respect that. I am that way. It isn't the popular way. Why is that? Why do people always prefer a fake smile to reality? I don't.

Two Tall Beams of Light

I saw them last night. Not tonight. Is it too soon? This afternoon, the Pres. and First Lady placed their two respectful wreaths of red, white, and purple carnations in the two temporary reflecting pools (symbolizing the Two Towers -- hello unintentional Tolkein reference). The two news anchors kept saying the same things over and over. "Gov. Pataki, Michael Bloomberg, the President and First Lady and Rudy Guilliani, ditto, ditto, reflecting pool, ditto, ditto, 911, 911, 911, 911, the President and First lady look somber, ditto, you can see they are moved, ditto, very saddened, ditto, Tomorrow breakfast at the Fire House, ditto, ditto, they will be there to observe the actual times of the planes hitting the Trade towers, ditto. Today, after they are done here, to a service at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, ditto, ditto, tomorrow they will also go to the Pennsylvania field, and then to the D.C. at the Pentagon. ditto, ditto, ditto, President Bush will not talk about the War in Iraq in respect for the 911 tragedy, ditto, ditto. . . I loved it when these news commentators decided to do color commentary? NOT! Couldn't they be silent? Do they perceive their audience is blind? There should be a news network that has very little sound, just pictures people can decipher on their own. "President Bush and the First Lady look very emotional"
"If they were stoics," was my thought.
I observe, and no new commentator dares to say, "As the President and fellow Politicians pile into the SUV Michael Bloomberg had to walk around the car and get in at the other side. Who wouldn't slide over?"