Brevity is the Soul of Wit, that is, if it's done well, and really is brief, and wit-ful, and not just short, because that doesn't necessarily mean...

Now that school is out and my hours at work are slightly less insane, I've found the energy to walk the promenade again. Good grief, I love that walk. I'm usually out in the evenings as the sun sets over the Hudson, sailboats breezing into the marina, the sky streaked with pink, the warm air wrapped around me. And also, there are the mosquitoes, which are obsessed with me and follow me around like they're lovesick crushes even though I've tried to break up with them a million times. Their kisses, I can do without.

My music of choice on my walks this week has been Ani DiFranco's Canon 1, and I'm rediscovering her songwriting genius. I think that although I love her mad guitar skillz, the tone of her voice, and the emotive aspect of her songs, it's her one-line zinger lyrics that cause me to keep going back to her music. She's funny and clever, tilting phrase and word 'til they have double or triple meaning. It takes a special kind of smart to write like that. Love it.

Thinking Blog Thoughts

I've noticed that blogging, while absolutely enjoyable for me, takes a little work. I'm not referring to the time it takes to write and post; I'm talking about the work of noticing things, recording them somewhere in my slippery brain, and chewing on them a bit more until they may or may not develop into something bloggable. In the city, there is plenty to notice, and that part is easy. For me, it's the holding on that is tough... not letting the brilliant quirky interactions and unusual people slip away and be forgotten, lost in the middle of my grocery list or latest work crisis.

This week, a friend and fellow blogger and I were talking about how helpful it would be to have a camera at the ready... something discreet and superspeed... something James Bond would have, so the pictures could help us recall all the thousands of wonderful things we see over the course of the week. (Our conversation wandered from there...we talked about how Matthew has glasses, so it would be much easier for him to hide the camera in the stem. I'd have to hide mine in some atrocious huge clip on earrings or the like, which would be a dead giveaway that something was amiss, because, sans hidden camera, I'd never be caught dead wearing huge clip on earrings... Next conversation topic for Matthew and me - world peace).

All that being said, I'm getting back into the groove of thinking blog thoughts, and it's a good thing.

Edumacation

Working at a school is a treat for me. I enjoy the environment-- the kids, the learning, the fun. But above those things, I really love the teachers.

And I love the last day of school, even if I do have to go back to work just like normal the next week.

Moxie

Today I followed a couple out the front door of the building. We stepped out to see that it had begun to rain just slightly, small drops breaking the surface of the puddles that lingered from yesterday's rain. The woman took one look and exclaimed, "Oh, it's raining!" The tone she used implied much more-- "Oh, it's raining, now I'm not sure I even want to go. Oh, it's raining, maybe we should turn around and grab an umbrella. Oh, it's raining, my hair is going to be a disaster!"
The guy... well, he heard his wife's implications, glanced up from his blackberry toward the sky, simply said, "No it's not," and kept on walking.

I couldn't help laughing out loud.

How it Rolls on the Way Home from School

Jonathan crashed into a blind man on the sidewalk today.

The man was making his way slowly, clearing a path through the crowd in front of him with his red tipped walking stick. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea, the way those people moved aside for him.

But Jonathan would not be parted, could not be roused from his meandering reverie by that red tipped magic wand that worked on everyone else. Jonathan crashed into him good and hard, coming at him from the side.

And when I asked Jonathan why he didn't notice that the man was blind, why he didn't watch out (!), he answered,

"I didn't know he was blind, Mom. I only thought he was old."

There's Hope, Then?

Don't tell me that watching America's Next Top Model is a waste of my time. I've learned a lot from that show. For instance, I've learned the definition of "Fierce" (Silly me. I used to think it meant something along the lines of ferocious. Or mean. Or aggressive with bared teeth and growling. Now I know it's clearly Tyra Banks' vague notion of an indefinable quality that hints at beauty combined with assertiveness. Or something approximate to that.)

I've also learned from ANTM that photogenicity... photogenickness... well, being photogenic, is not actually an inherited trait, per se. I used to believe that being photogenic was something a person was born with, like eye color or height. But (glory be!) Tyra tells me that being photogenic is a learned thing, an acquired talent, something a person can become by spending long hours in front of a mirror and becoming familiar with facial muscles, practicing smiles and perfecting the exact amount of toothiness.

Or whatever. I'm just glad there's hope for me.