Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About My Day

I just started packing for Chicago and I'm actually surprised that I didn't wait until tomorrow morning. Alarm's all set (7:00, but a picnic compared to 5:00) and since I am a think-aheader, all I have to do is drag my weary body to the M60 a half block away and sit in a dazed torpor for an hour. Then comes the airport security farce, and, ooh exciting times, my co-presenter Kelly is taking a flight at the same time (and may well be the same flight) so we'll meet up there and bask in general anxiety.

Today was Big Fun Surgery Day, which involved a lot of mooning about and text messaging. The MTA did me wrong by the M96 crosstown but but then immediately redeemed itself with a speedy downtown 6 train. Then I got to sit in a glorified waiting room without magazines and with extra loud cell phones. And no wireless internet. I don't know why, but I am continually surprised in life when I go places that I would expect to have internet and all that ends up on my wireless radar is a locked account with one bar of strength. Is this standard for hospitals? And by the way, if I am ever horribly mangled the first thing I'm going to whisper is "Lenox Hill". It was a beautiful, friendly place.

Anyway, I ambled outside for awhile and ended up at a Starbucks and the original plan was just to get a muffin or cookie or something and suck up the internet, but as I looked at the pastries I realized that absolutely nothing appealed to me. The 'bucks let me down. As I am not one to pay for a sub-par snack, I continued wandering around like some sort of human wifi divining rod until I ended up at Crumbs, a cupcake shop over at 79th and 3rd. I asked if they had wireless and the lady said no, but that I could probably hack onto some unlocked ones. Sweet! Ha! Pun!

I got a Reese's cupcake which was good but not the best ever and a cup of milk and 'milked' them (I CAN'T STOP) for about an hour of pure, uninterrupted mail checking and tomfoolery. I was mesmerized for way longer than I care to admit by this particular optical illusion as well as this one which took me too long and kept me staring for minutes on end.

I had visions of being late going back to the waiting room and a nurse being like, "oh good god where have you been? Meredith got sick of waiting and is now somewhere in Manhattan clad only in a robe and the cloudy aftereffects of general anesethesia!" PS: my fears were entirely unfounded.

Due to Daniel's repeated insistance that I read East of Eden I brought it along with me and luckily I did because a: it's really long and b: it's really good. I got about 3/4 of the way done and am debating whether or not to bring it on the plane with me tomorrow. Pros: I will finish the book. It's nice to have good, dependable reading material on the plane. If I don't finish it soon I may forget about it and not knowing the ending will drive me mad. Cons: It's kind of a big book. I can't just leave it in Chicago since it isn't mine. I'll not take long to finish it and then I have to find new material.

We'll see.

Oh, oh! So when Mark and I were in Brooklyn for the Texas BBQ last week, he noted as we walked to the subway that he'd seen a lot of dwarves running around that day. I said, "hmm, haven't noticed" and then we parted ways and he took off home on his bike. At that very instant, an entire troupe came out of the subway - like, at least ten. Ten dwarves! I got very excited.

Anyway, I was reading the NY Metro today and came across this article: "National Convention Gets Little People Together". Eeek! There was a whole convention! And it seems like a fun time:

“It’s a place where a lot of relationships start,” said Trombino, an Arizona author and motivational speaker who met his wife, Carol, at an LPA convention. “Many end in marriage.”

I would think that the term 'little people' would be a bit pejorative but clearly that is the preferred term. And the article indicates that the plural is "dwarfs", not "dwarves" as I imagined. Different from 'scarf'.

So I got through a lot of my book and wrote up all of my assignments for the first week of my second summer class. I got very wordy about the issues of MySpace and teen behavior. I brought some light magazines with me but didn't read them. Checked out the cafeteria and nothing looked good. Experienced malaise.

This is a cell phone picture of this big tattooed guy sitting across from me. He was an exciting dude.






But I was home by 4:00 and in time to catch the exceptionally good Pourhouse lunch deal: large burger with toppings, bunch of fries, and a beer for $6.95. Any additional beers are $1. Best deal in town.

Mark and I hung out for a little while after that and then I took a nap and now here I am, 1:50 AM and writing the lengthiest post in the world to avoid more packing. Oh, and Mark's roommate Will will (heh) coincidentally be in Chicago tomorrow too. They both lived in Chicago before so I'm counting on Will to squire me around.

Suzy and I went to Central Park yesterday just to hang out and we saw this woman climb over the fence (it's there for a reason! Respect nature!) and throw some food around. I thought she was just a crazy lady at first but then got closer. It was a raccoon den! There were all of these little stuffed animal-looking cubs tumbling over themselves to get this nasty garbage that was being set out for them.


They didn't look too nocturnal to me.

Mom! What are you doing up here? Did you drive all the way up to surprise me? Why, you shouldn't have! So what did... oh, wait. It's not... hm. Never mind.






Dad! What are you doing on large billboards and posters all over New York City? I didn't know you were an actor! You could have told me! What was Denzel... oh. Never mind.






In case anyone missed seeing my grotesquely swollen and itchy leg, here it is. It's better now; this was from about a month and a half ago. I suspect a spider bite.






I was applying for health insurance yesterday and the sourpuss of a case manager told me that I would have to include a hand-written letter with my application because the feds don't like to believe that anyone can live if their rent is more than half of their net income (in my case, more like 80%). So she gives me some computer paper and I take out my pen and begin my letter:

07/09/09

To Whom it May Concern;

I am able to get by even though my rent is over half of my earned income per month by making sacrifices and cutting down on frivolities. The $540.00 that I pay in rent each month includes utility payments, so I am not responsible for water, gas, electric, waste removal, et cetera. I plan my grocery trips around supermarket sales and buy in bulk. My cooking is done at the beginning of the week and I am creative with leftovers. I walk 40 blocks to work and back to avoid--

That was the point where Grumpy McShouldntworkwiththepublic returned and immediately squawked, "Ah! That letter is way too long! The government doesn't want to hear about all that! What did you write?" (reads my letter out loud) "They don't care about this! Here, I'll tell you what to write!". And she did. I think she's mistaken about the feds not wanting to hear about my money-saving tips. I could have included some sage advice to stretch a dollar.

I've put off this dull business long enough. Time to fill the old suitcase.