I Wish I Was A Gossip Girl

Because if I was a Gossip Girl, I wouldn't have to deal with this:

"What's the meaning of this?" you ask. "A copy of THE COMPLETE WORKS OF OSCAR WILDE sitting in front of a toilet? Have you gone mad?"

You see, Dear Readers, in the real world, there is the Upper East Side you see on Gossip Girl--that's the part that stretches east of Central Park from Fifth Avenue to Park Avenue--sleek, fashionable, appropriate, moneyed.

And then there's the other Upper East Side--the one that stretches east from Lexington to York. Frumpy, dumpy, and cheap. The Upper East Side in which old ladies hold up the line at Walgreens because they insist on filling out rainchecks for toilet paper and Spam.

That, my dears, is the Upper East Side in which I live.

They don't make TV shows about us. True Gossip Girls don't venture this far east.

In the world of Gossip Girl, that copy of Oscar Wilde would be perched on a dark wooden bookcase in a grand library, probably nestled next to many rare, expensive first editions of books from all over the world.

But in my apartment, the only first edition we have is one of Michael Chabon's Wonder Boys that someone gave to spiceboy many years ago. And that copy of Oscar Wilde? It's on roach duty. That's right. I keep it within easy reach, as it's easily the thickest book we have, and it comes in quite handy when I need to kill a cockroach in a pinch.

Now. Take a Wilde guess what I found when I opened the bathroom door this morning.

Yep.

That's right.

A big ol' cockroach.

So I dropped the book on it.

And since I'm too chicken to lift up the book and confront the squashed roach carcass, and since, unlike the characters on Gossip Girl, I don't have a maid or a housekeeper, and since my husband--the lovely and talented spiceboy--is out of town, there's no one brave enough to clean up the roach carcass for me.

Which means I've been stepping over that copy of Oscar Wilde every blessed time I have to pee.

Or brush my teeth.

Or shower.

And I will continue to step over the book until Tuesday, when spiceboy returns home to Manhattan, sighs heavily at my hopelessness, and cleans up the carcass for me.

See how glamorous my life is?

More Burma Info

The junta is blocking the UN mission to meet with democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/global/article2556453.ece

A good overview, for folks unfamiliar with the situation:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/asia/article2554067.ece

Interesting comment from the founder of the Free Burma Coalition:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/guest_contributors/article2554123.ece

Current Events in Burma

This is an incredibly heartbreaking situation, and it isn't getting as much attention in the American news as it should.

For more information, please check out:

http://ko-htike.blogspot.com

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/28/world/asia/28cnd-myanmar.html?hp

Happy Friday

This is Betty:

This is Betty covered in mud:

Any questions?

Definitely the Best Moment of the Week

My dad called me tonight. He called just to say hello, something he never does, as my mother is in charge of most phone conversations.

So we chatted for awhile, and he told me all about his new car and the latest drama with the tenants in his rental property. And then he told me that he is feeling really good these days, and that he is just thrilled with life right now. He said he just felt like the luckiest guy in the world and that things were so good that he wished they would never change.

And it just thrilled me to hear him say that.

Then he asked how I was doing and I told him about work and about Betty and about my recent obsession with baking. And I told him that I'm feeling really good these days, and really happy. And I told him that even though spiceboy and I are crammed into this tiny apartment together (with seemingly no hope of ever affording New York City real estate), we've got quite an amazing little life here, and that things are so good I wish they would never change.

My dad understood.

And I wished I could jump through the phone and hug him and feel his scratchy cheek against mine and smell his dad smell--like after shave and coffee.

I get my love of tiny moments from my dad. And I know we were loving this tiny moment together.

And then he had to go, so I said, "Hey, Dad?"

And he said, "What?"

And I said, "I'm really glad we did this."

And I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Me, too."

I missed him so much in that moment that it made my stomach hurt.

And then we said goodbye, and both of our voices were thick with happy tears as we hung up the phone.

6 Days in Maui

The air is sweet, like flowers.

There are millions of stars. That's a nebula, you say. That's astral dust.

You let me have the cherries from your drinks.

We zoom through the sugar cane fields.

When I close my eyes against the sun, I can see hibiscus flowers.

We swim like clumsy fishes in the ocean and steal one last kiss before catching the wave that takes us to shore.