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El Cajon no-smoking law flouted
You mean my incredibly witty knockout of a counterpart? I do not know; perhaps she is as busy studying as I am grading :)— September 13, 2009 8:13 p.m.
El Cajon no-smoking law flouted
"Thank you for ___." Let's hear it for the Don Bauderettes! :)— September 13, 2009 5:28 p.m.
El Cajon no-smoking law flouted
Geez, it's a long day. Meant #30 was the repeater. It would be great if someone would summarize the arguments but also come to some useful conclusions. I would do it but am wayyyy too busy today.— September 12, 2009 4:34 p.m.
El Cajon no-smoking law flouted
Oops, meant #29.— September 12, 2009 4:32 p.m.
El Cajon no-smoking law flouted
What's with all the repetition? These points have been made in abundance--by smokers and non- above. Take some time to read back over the thread, #29 and #30, and save your 'breath' :)— September 12, 2009 3:54 p.m.
9/11 Flashback with a Friend
You read my mind, AG. I was about to mention that Sikhs were terribly mistreated in the aftermath. You'd think in NYC and the boroughs, and especially in the area I promptly moved to-- Ditmas Park/Cortelyou--which has, btw, been named the most ethnically diverse community in the WORLD--that people would have understood that a turban and beard does not equate one with terrorism--or even with Middle Eastern heritage. People already challenged by geography and cultural awareness saw Aladdin with their kids, and forgot about the existence of such small bergs as say, South Asia. Not to say that anyone from the Mid East deserved anything they got, either. I had colleagues who considered taking a hiatus for self-protection, but who wanted to try and get on a plane? I felt like apologizing to every Sikh I saw in the city those days, and you could see the fear and apprehension on people's faces. Giant ads were taken out in local papers to announce and educate on the basic tenets of Sikhism... Refried, been tinkering with that time machine? How's it going? Future or past? :)— September 12, 2009 12:09 p.m.
9/11 Flashback with a Friend
All of NYC audibly shared your mantra, gringo. I don't mean to stir things up, but wanted to remember and write what I could without too much upset. Yes, AG. Today I saw a t-shirt reading "Katrina Relief Volunteer." I informed the wearer that he had the wrong disaster today. Humor feels ok. Another guy was wearing a shirt that read "Love Speaks Louder Than Words." I also thought "How appropriate," but with a generous splash of unwelcome irony. The friend who stayed with me married, and has now two beautiful boys, as well as a fantastic career as a French lit prof. I was lucky to have such a strong and comforting presence that day.— September 11, 2009 10:27 p.m.
Banker's Hill/Mercy Outpatient
Update: Lawrence was hanging out at the downtown Concourse today. I waved and called his name, and for a moment, it seemed that he was trying to determine whether or not his name just emanated from a voice in his head. I turned the corner, and he looked up with those always-startling, yet vague marble-blue eyes: "Are you here to help me?" We appraised each other's leg injuries (I’m still in my CAM walker, after breaking a foot). He is still out of a cast, but his ankle is now swollen to the size of a football, and it appears to be disappearing into his calf. A shiny new cane rests against the bench, in severe contrast to Lawrence’s dirty coat of street. “The doctor says “Your ankle is just falling, cracking apart.” In illustration, his finger sliced imaginary lines across his foot, then he looked at the thick dirt moons of his fingernails for a moment. “I try to listen to what the doctor says, when he says…” I offered that it looked like he might need some physical therapy. It’s all about endurance,” he said with meaning, savoring this word. “I know, from twenty years ago, when I was shot. Special forces.” I reminded him that he told me last we spoke that he had been shot in the face. “No. Not in the face, in the head!” He jabbed a thumb up near his temple. “I was shot twenty-eight times, all over.” He now indicated his legs, his trunk. “This was over twenty years ago, before you, before you were there, before things happen.” “Well, take care of yourself, sir.” I made a mental note to slip him a few dollars the next time I could. You take care walking,” he said.— September 11, 2009 3:27 p.m.
Burrito Money
Hmm. Where was a certain knifewielding blogtroll around 11:55 p.m. on Tuesday, September 8?— September 11, 2009 12:02 a.m.
Friendly Research Squad
Great--glad you enjoyed! Yes, a table wine, but one to feel no shame in bringing over to someone's house for a casual get together, either. Too bad the price is up, though; that seems to always happen with Whole Paycheck. Same thing happened with the big Jailhouse (?) pinks and whites, which used to be $7.99 at Trader Joe's, which ceased to carry them, and Whole Foods bumped them up to $9.99. Que sera.— September 10, 2009 1:27 p.m.