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Our eyes are mirror images

February 11, 2013

AJ and I stopped at the bookstore on our way home from the gym yesterday morning, where he played a pickup basketball game while a local elementary school ran a fundraiser on the surrounding track. We were looking for valentines or the makings thereof. Instead we found an array of cards that in the interest of demonstrating coolness, forgot to be funny.  I perused the calendars, now on remainder, while in the back a preschooler story hour wound down.  There was a keyboard there for the children to play on, but instead, one of the hipster fathers was keeping the kids waiting while he performed his full rendition of The Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights.”  Apparently, the extended dance mix version.

. The parents of our neighborhood have a reputation in this city, and it is not unfounded. Even Andy rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t even very good.” No, he was not.

As you may have heard, the East Coast had a blizzard over the weekend. As usual, New York likes to take credit for the disaster while still getting off easy, which is, in fact, exactly what happened this time. We had about 7 inches of snow — enough to look wintry. Enough for Mr. Spy to go cross country skiing in the park. Enough that kids dragged sleds and lids of plastic tubs and cardboard boxes to the little hills around the park and went sledding. Not AJ, though. He is too cool for play at the moment, even though he looked jealous.It looks, to me, very hard to be 11. I think I enjoyed it a lot more than AJ is enjoying it. We did, however, have a good time throwing snowballs off our roof.

I spent last night tweeting about the Grammys (and commiserating with PQV about the unfortunate plural version of Grammy)

The snow was mysteriously absent in Manhattan, as if they’d vacuumed it up in the night. Which, in fact, they may have done, for all I know.

Work continues to be interesting, although frustrating too, as I struggle to fit more things into my day. The last two weeks have involved many, many meetings, so it felt like a luxury to be able to sit down at my desk, plug in my headphones, and spend the day reading and writing. It is also a little frustrating to not be able to write here about the details of something that takes up so much of my headspace these days. It’s the main reason why I’m not writing here as much as I used to. I need to figure out how to write about other things.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. February 12, 2013 4:12 pm

    When I was about 7, I figured that 12 would be the perfect age. You’d still be a kid, which seemed much better than being an adult, but you’d be old enough to be in charge of lots of things and to do lots of things by yourself. By the time I got to 12, though, I realized that i was wrong because you’re not really a kid anymore at 12. Probably 7 is about the best.

  2. February 13, 2013 9:06 am

    One of the things I enjoyed when much of my social circle consisted of people with security clearances was that they didn’t talk about work. They had to cultivate other interests if they wanted to socialize.

  3. February 13, 2013 1:54 pm

    That’s the difference between snow in a place that’s equipped to deal with it and snow in a place where they aren’t. It falls and never goes anywhere and thaws, freezes, thaws, freezes and just compounds the misery. We could use one of those three-handled credenza machines (or whatever the Cat in the Hat drove) that Manhattan has.

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