Normalcy, or Something Like It

I fear that the longer I live here the more boring this blog will become, since everything I'm doing is just becoming...normal. Regardless, I had a really nice weekend, even while working both days, and here is why:

Firstly, my friend Anna called me earlier in the week and said she wanted to come to the city this weekend, and could she spend the night with us? (and yes, I clearly only hang out with people who have the same name as me. We've been friends since middle school. It confuses people no end.) So we met up after I got out of work on Saturday and she had done some museum hopping, and the weather was beautiful, and my (magnanimous!) cousin treated us to sushi at a very, very nice Japanese place a few blocks away which has a little outdoor patio, and then we walked around the park at dusk. I pulled my air mattress out to the living room (it's nice to have a mobile bed, eh?) and we had a sleep-over. One of the many reasons I like Anna is that when she called she informed me that all she was bringing was a toothbrush and an extra shirt (being a very inefficient packer, I'm always impressed by those who travel light). Since she is an artist, she always notices interesting doors or the tops of buildings, that I tend to just walk by without paying any attention to. She's also the one who gave me the ride to NYC when I moved out, and I spent the first night in New Paltz with her. So that was all lovely.

Secondly, the weather is glorious, and Sunday Night Football has started, and Fall is in the air, all of which I approve of. And we made pizza for dinner. And I am currently imbibing a Brooklyn Brown Ale. And the Bills won!! (I will enjoy it while it lasts.)

Thirdly, I had an interesting walk home. I left work this evening bit sad: that I had to rush Anna along this morning while we ate bagels so I could make it in on time, and abandoned her to figure out her way back to Manhattan, and the fact that it was so so nice out all day, and that I was inside. Where, incidentally, I watched a child throw a tantrum, which involved crying and blowing his nose on a wad of cash, which his mother then handed to me. Yeurgh. Anyway. I decided to forgo my usual purposeful walking and instead amble along/through Prospect Park on my way home. A lot of times, people will leave books and magazines that they don't want out on their stoops for people to take, and today I found a Dorothy Sayers compilation. Some mysteries I had read, and some I hadn't, but either way--Dorothy Sayers rocks my socks, so I was excited to get that (the irony is that I was just coming off a shift at a bookstore..but I will not pass up free books!). Today was not only the end of Ramadan, it was also the end ofRosh Hashanah, so there were tons of people around. On every street corner were at least two Orthodox Jewish men, playing curved horns. I got asked whether I was Jewish by them, as did most people walking by. I really wanted to say, "no, why?" instead of just "no," but I decided that might appear rude, so I will just have to live in curiosity about what, exactly, the horn call meant.

As I looped over by Grand Army Plaza and the Public Library, there was a a group of men African drumming and clapping. Inside the park were large groups of people playing soccer, lounging, and singing, and close to the entrance was a man playing "Eleanor Rigby" on a clarinet. In front of the library were two men who were break-dancing to hip-hop, while another man filmed them. A man with a shaved head walked by me, and on his head was a tattoo of the world. Like, as if his head were a globe. (I thought it was a gutsy move, style-wise.) There was a Henry Hudson 400th year party at the Brooklyn Museum, and there were the standard museum/trustee crowd milling about in evening gowns and tuxs. All of this, plus the normal street musicians, skateboarders, kids, dogs, and cars.

I kept thinking of the Dr Seuss book And to Think that I Saw it on Mulberry Street and all the stuff that the kid sees on his ride home. Perhaps this is not interesting to anyone who 1) grew up in a city, or 2) is not me, but these things are why living in a city can be so worth it.