I spotted my first fallen leaves in the grass of the baseball diamond near my post office last Thursday.
The bag over my shoulder was bursting with little brown packages. Each containing a silver or bronze new leaf necklace destined for one of you. I make this walk to the post office, with Murphy in tow and sometimes Mr. Benjamin, at least a few times a week. And still, two months after quitting the day job, these post office trips are my favorite part about my new job.
The walk itself is the last step before the necklaces will be around your necks. I’ve sent packages all over the world now. One even went to Saskatchewan. Another to Argentina and yet another to Great Britian. On these walks it all comes full circle. I feel like a bearer of hope, sending little packages of it one by one to each of you who so generously chose to support my little blogging career by buying one.
When I saw the leaves I stopped for a second to digest the sight of them. August, I thought, it’s still August but I guess Fall is almost here now. I gave Murphy a little whistle and we kept walking. Now about thirty feet from the busy street I had to cross to reach the post office and with the building before me, I started thinking about her.
The first time she processed a pile of my packages, stamping them all and tucking them away under her counter she asked me what was inside.
“Necklaces,” I answered.
“Well, you’re not allowed to send jewelry to Canada,” her words were cold as her hands rested on one of my brown envelopes destined for a single mom in Ontario. [click to continue…]
John Bear jumped out of bed at 7:00 am to feed Fiesta Dave’s meter.
We’d parked in a haze of exhaustion. After spending the entire day in New York City we hit a monstrous traffic jam on the way into Philadelphia. Between reading our iPhone maps and asking cab drivers which turn to take next we couldn’t help but notice the city surrounding us. Smartly dressed couples walked slowly down the sidewalks but it was the magnificent buildings, many of which bore witness to the birth of our nation, that commanded our attention. Our heads zig zagged from the left and to the right, taking it all in and feeling immediately humbled.
“Now this is my kind of city,” I had said as we pulled into our fortunate meter directly in front of the hotel. Minutes later we were fast asleep, barely able to roll over and kiss each other good night. In the morning I felt like someone had hit me square in the head with a sledge hammer. I knew this kind of headache. A smoker’s headache. It must have been the New York City smog or something. Or maybe the stale air in the hotel room. I wasn’t sure but I did know one thing – I needed caffeine, immediately.
“Can you grab me some coffee while you’re out there?” I mumbled to John Bear as he ran out the door.
“Yeah, no problem.”
That’s the thing about John – he’ll do just about anything for me at any time of day or night without complaint. Because of this fact, I reserve the asking only for special occasions. This was definitely one of them.
“We should get going,” he said when he came back in, the door slapping loudly behind him and the hot coffee in his hands.
“Why the rush?”
“You should see it out there. It’s awesome.”
And in less than 20 minutes later I was able to completely agree with him.
We found Philadelphia much slower paced, more our style and could have stayed all day but we had to get back on the road. My ex had called earlier to tell me Benjamin was really “missing Mommy.”
Just minutes after leaving the city I called my little brother, Eliot, to check in on his wedding. Just a few days away now, he was telling me about something pretty important when I hit a gargantuan pothole on the Pennsylvania Turnpike’s Toll Plaza. It wasn’t even a pothole, more like a chasm or a crater. I screamed and my brother heard it all go down. [click to continue…]
As we drove in to New York City and out of the gorgeous Poconos mountains, John Bear and I started wondering if we should have stayed in our peaceful cabin. But we knew his little brother, Patrick, was overdue for a visit. Easily one of the nicest guys on the planet, Patrick gave up his room for the couch so John and I would have a place to sleep. His room, about the size of a walk-in closet only had a few inches surrounding each side of his futon mattress.
We dropped our bags on the mattress and headed out for a drink in the Bronx and on the way home spotted a mysterious trunk waiting to be picked up with someone’s trash. Patrick and his wing man, Thomas, decided the odds of the trunk containing a body were slim to none and picked it up.
At home, with the help of Patrick’s roommate they busted the thing open.
There were so many young dudes around I felt like I was in a college dorm again, only this time I felt entirely too old to be there so I acted the part and told them to tilt the trunk-wardrobe-suitcase thing upright to make a neat hallway dresser.
“And look, you would each have your own little drawer,” I said. So old. Such a mom. Can’t turn that part off, no matter how hard I try. And when I think about it, I’d rather not.
The next morning Patrick let John and I shadow him on his commute into the city for work. [click to continue…]
Twice in the dark and once in the daylight when we were running on empty and desperately trying to find a gas station within 10 country miles. We finally did thanks to the kindness of our cabin host who happened to be on the road just as we were passing.
After we found gas we spotted signs for a fair.
He won me a prize and I gushed like a school girl and I realized this was a first.
“No one has ever won you a prize at a fair before?” He asked while taking in the sight of his girlfriend giddy as hell and even jumping up and down a bit. ”Geez… who you been dating?” [click to continue…]
