Month: February 2013

Little Things

kristy, , 2 Comments

Last weekend Devin and I went to visit some of his family in Philadelphia. Have I mentioned that Devin’s family happens to be made up of the most thoughtful people in the contiguous 48?  Every time I move into a new house or apartment, the first thing I get in the mail is a housewarming gift from Devin’s mom! (When I moved into my first New York apartment, I was scared about having too much stuff, so she sent me a care package specifically designed for living in small spaces–three cookies and a pair of scissors). In Philadelphia, Devin’s aunt and uncle always go out of their way to shuttle us around their fair city and cook five-star vegetarian meals, which we all eat together in their candlelit dining room. They are the best, best hosts.

Like in my family, it seems that everyone learned all they know from their matriarch, Grandma Pat. When Devin and I arrived last Friday, she had old photos waiting for me because she knows I love vintage dresses and hats. And she had a birthday gift wrapped and ready for me to open, a full two weeks before my actual birthday! With the present, she included three beautiful vintage handkerchiefs and a poem that is now one of my favorites. She copied it down years ago and isn’t sure who the original author was. I tried to find out and think it might be a womyn named Grace Haines, but I’m not positive. If I learn more about its source and history, I’ll update the post; but for now, here it is. Thanks again, Grandma Pat.

Little Things

Little Things

Oh, it’s just the little homely things,
The unobstrusive, friendly things,
The “won’t-you-let-me-help-you” things,
That make our pathway light.

And it’s just the jolly, joking things,
The “never-mind-the-trouble” things,
The “laugh-with-me-it’s-funny” things,
That make the world seem bright.

For all the countless famous things,
The wondrous record-breaking things,
Those “never-can-be-equalled” things,
That all the papers cite

Are not the little human things,
The “every-day-encountered” things,
The “just-because-I-love-you” things,
That make us happy quite.

So here’s to all the little things,
The “done-and-then-forgotten” things,
Those “oh-it’s-simply-nothing” things,
That make life worth the fight.

Little Things

Snow Daze

kristy, , 4 Comments

Hi, how are you? What did you do this weekend? Me? Oh, I just survived my first blizzard.

(It wasn’t actually very dramatic.) Devin and I went out for a walk on Friday night in the middle of it. Because my neighborhood has many, many street lamps, we could see the snowflakes falling very clearly. It felt like being in a snow globe or a cartoon or a child’s painting of a snowy night. We walked around for a while and attempted to have a snowball fight, but my lack of experience turned it into a lesson instead. I made considerable progress, though, so next time it snows, watch out.

Walking back to my apartment, we encountered a TV crew on my block! I asked the cameraperson if they were filming the snow (‘Isn’t everyone?’, he replied) and why they had chosen my little corner of Brooklyn. It turns out the guy who drives the TV truck is a regular at a bar near my street, and it’s a good idea to film near a place that will let the crew use the bathroom. Kind of like I sometimes plan my commute to pass a Starbucks for the free bathrooms.

TV People: They’re Just Like Us.

The next day I asked Devin to take some commemorative pictures.

Pretending I'm too cool for the camera.
Pretending I’m too cool for the camera.
Much snow!
Much snow!
A concrete court transformed!
Subtract the chain-link and buildings, and this could be a remote tundra.

Shoutout to all the hardworking people who kept the sidewalks and subway entrances near me safe, and thereby helped make my first snowstorm experience a success. I’m very grateful.

 

 

 

Snow Daze

Trader Harry*

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Tonight I went to Trader Joe’s (boy, do I wish this were a sponsored post. It’s not).

First, I made an enemy of the girl with fuchsia lipstick because I stopped in my tracks to compliment her. She gave me such a LOOK that I didn’t even get to tell her that the reason I stopped is that her lipstick looked awesome, and that outfit was on-point, and it takes a very special person to pull off fuchsia. Fuchsia Girl, if you are reading, please know I didn’t mean to block your access to the hummus! I would never do that!

I was disappointed because the sample food was deep-dish pepperoni pizza. I remembered that at my Trader Joe’s in Portland, the employees would always have vegan/vegetarian snacks on-hand whenever they served meat samples. But this is New York, and in New York, you can give out any kind of sample and people will eat it. So probably these Traders don’t even know how many people they alienated with that pepperoni. Also, they almost certainly don’t care. But it’s okay because we’re all too busy becoming what dreams are made of to get hung up on these things, right?

At this Trader Joe’s you have to get in a line that loops around the store, next to a Trader holding an “END OF LINE” flag. Then, you wait to get sorted into three lanes to be further directed to one of the thirty cash registers. The three lanes each have a flag above them: one is a bunch of grapes, one is a wedge of cheese, and one is a steak. I don’t really like waiting in line, especially because you always get jostled by people who are still shopping, and I get worried that they are going to try to cut after they grab that tub of yogurt (so far nobody has cut in front of me, so let’s all have faith in humanity). But when I get to the front I get excited about being sorted, and I pretend the classification has some deeper meaning.

If I get grapes, I try—but fail—to remember when they are in season and send happy vibes to the United Farm Workers, Dolores Huerta, and César Chavez.

If I get cheese, I smile because it reminds me of how much I love Devin and cheesehead hats.

If I get steak, I remember how medium-rare steak was my favorite food when I was ten and how cool it is that my mom didn’t make me order from the kids’ menu if I didn’t feel like it.

Tonight I got steak and was sent to register 26.

At register 26 I impressed Trader Harry* with my most prized possession:

This NPR tote bag.
This NPR tote bag.

Harry loves NPR, like me, but his favorite show is ‘The Takeaway’, which is one of the few shows I have never heard. He scoffs at ‘Morning Edition’ and ‘All Things Considered’ because ‘they just don’t compare’.

Harry has a girlfriend who tap-dances, and when he talks about her, his face lights up.

Harry makes sure you get entered in the raffle for free groceries if you bring your own bag.

Harry guesses I always buy more groceries than I can comfortably carry because of a number of things: ‘the quality of the food, the prices––you know you’re getting a good deal, so it’s worth the sacrifice’.

Harry knows that the official closing time of his store is 10 PM. But he let me in on a little secret, and if you read all of this, you deserve to know it, too:

If you get there at 9:55, you can take your time and shop in peace!

Reporting live from a city where you need a strategy to buy groceries,
kristy

*Not his real name.

Trader Harry*

Mi Sobrina Cosmopolita

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Victoria, diciembre 2012.
Victoria, diciembre 2012.

Hoy les presento un vídeo de mi sobrina Victoria. Dura quince segundos, pero como a mi siempre me da flojera ver vídeos, se los explico para que ustedes decidan si lo quieren ver o no. Tomé el vídeo en diciembre cuando estábamos juntas muchas de las mujeres de la familia. En el vídeo, Victoria trae un llavero de la Torre Eiffel, y Carol le pregunta,’ ¿Dónde está Paris?’ esperando que la niña apunte al llavero. Pero en vez de enseñarnos la Torre Eiffel, mi sobrina lista nos enseña a hablar francés! Pronuncia ‘Paris’ con un acento perfecto (‘Paguí’). Llevo más de un mes viendo este vídeo todos los días. Me encanta darme cuenta que aun siendo tan pequeña, Victoria entiende tanto. No cabe duda que lo que tiene de petite, lo tiene de culta e inteligente.

Here’s a cute video of my niece Victoria. It’s only fifteen seconds long, but since I hate watching videos, I’ll re-cap it for you. I filmed it in December when a bunch of the wimyn in the family were together, fawning over Veev. In the video, Victoria is holding a  keychain in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. Carol asks, ‘Where’s Paris?’ in hopes that the baby will point at the keychain. But instead of showing us the Eiffel Tower, my smart niece gives us a lesson in pronunciation. She says ‘Paris’ in perfect French! I’ve been watching this video every day for over a month. I am perpetually astounded to see that even though Victoria’s a baby, she understands so much. I can’t wait to see what else she’ll teach us.

Mi Sobrina Cosmopolita