Watching people read

Joseph and I spent the first half of today running all over lower Manhattan with our cameras, in search of the many different incarnations of The New York Times.

Unsurprisingly, Joe took much better pictures, but he was using a massive camera and lens, which made it difficult for him to be covert.



























This is an advertisement for a condominium, a photograph of a banner that Joseph shot.















At the end of our journey, we treated ourselves to pumpernickel bagels at our favorite institution, Ess-a-Bagel.



Complete exhaustion.


Back to hibernation for this homebody.

Constructing the past

In The NYT Book Review, Dani Shapiro speaks about writing. "Readers, she continued, 'often think that a memoir must be cathartic. But, if anything, I found that it embeds the story more deeply in the writer. The story becomes frozen, in a way, by the crafting of it. Memory is mutable, and the relationship between the writer and the story at the particular moment the story is written becomes the story.'"


(This is a picture taken this morning of our paper deliveryman, bringing us the Sunday Times with my article inside!)

Summer slips into fall

I stopped worrying long enough to spend some time relaxing with friends at Rockaway Beach. A little red wine, a sunset, and smart company took the edge off.


During a long, moonlit walk on the boardwalk, we appreciated these cooler, quiet nights where sweatshirts and jeans are enough to keep us warm.

Tomorrow is sneaking up on me. I wonder what it will be like.

Quick post

My essay is online here.

Thank you to those who have sent kind words.

Today I'm keeping busy with a friend's beach party and a trip to the cinema.

First a little baked chicken and kugel lunch to get me out the door.

I have a suspicion that it's going to be a beautiful day.

OSCDPEIO

Operation Stay-Calm-Don't-Panic-Everything-Is-Okay is well underway.

For now, I've disabled comments from my blog.

There must be an advanced NYT subscription option because somebody already read my article and sent me a generous note.

Hello.

Things I do in order to disassociate

(In no particular order)

1. Stalk my friends
2. Stalk my family
3. Watch television online, currently Top Chef D.C.
4. Read distracting books, currently Lolita
5. Listen to the same song on repeat, currently Neko Case’s cover of Thanks A Lot and Lone Justice’s brilliant, Working Late
6. Watch Nukah sleep
7. Watch Nukah eat woodchips at the dog run
8. Watch Nukah play at the dog run
9. Cook. You read that right. Cook a surprise Rosh Hashanah kugel for Joseph
10. Look for work
11. Dance around the apartment
12. Attempt to work on writing projects
13. Take photographs of the cat and dog
14. Check my email
15. Make lists of ways to disassociate

*A very warm embrace to my big sister on this Rosh Hashanah.

Approaching publication, status update

For as long as I can remember, I have anticipated my birthday with a mixture of anxiety, stress, and dread. On the one hand, it's a wonderful feeling to be recognized and appreciated. On the other, it comes with unnatural, forced attention, a glaring spotlight, and the kind of exposure that makes me want to hide until it’s over. Being published in The New York Times feels like all of my birthdays combined.

I am a fan of nude beaches, particularly clothing-optional gay beaches like Fire Island, where I can relax knowing all sorts of bodies are celebrated. My essay makes me feel like I’m going to a crowded beach full of swimsuit-wearing supermodels and I’ve decided to get naked.

Clearly, at this point, all I can do is resort to analogies. Let the disassociating-- familiar from birthday parties past-- begin.

Moons over my honey

Because we are creatures of romantical habit, Joseph and I spent our honeymoon at Fire Island.


Hurricane Earl delayed our beach time and for the first days on the shore, we were met with sand whipping our bodies.


The weather finally calmed down and we were able to vacation properly.


As usual, Nukah acted as though he owned Cherry Grove.


We stuffed ourselves all weekend. Along with this genius mini-pie that we discovered at our local grocery store, Joseph and I had a delicious, perfect dinner at Grey Horse Tavern.


Happy Labor Day.


We were sad to say goodbye to Fire Island, but we'll be back next summer.

Higgins

Last night, Joe and I finally got to meet our friends, Kerry and Jim's new puppy, Higgins. He's about fifteen pounds, which is about forty pounds less than Nukah.


He is truly a tiny Nukah, but Higgins can't meet Nukah until the little guy has all of his shots in another month.


Higgins is younger than Nukah was when we adopted him. Although we tried to give the new parents advice, there's no real way to train a basset at such a young age, let alone at an older age.


Finally after much running, chewing, and peeing, the puppy passed out. I can't wait until he's old enough to play with Nukah.