About the French I Took

The seagull played with waves, foam and seaweed, then flew off to be someone else’s metaphor. I took this picture.

The edge of a cranberry bog surrounding the bike path. The colors were luscious. Pete took this picture.

Advertisements

For Men the Sea Has Found

Pete and I took the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, where we walked, ate appetizers, walked, ate more appetizers and sailed in dense fog. It was crazy cool. Why did we never beer-stumble and oyster-slurp around Vineyard Haven before?

No Walls Only the Bridge

On a clear day, you can see goddamn Coney Island.

The tourists are gone, which means tourists like us arrived at Sandy Hook this weekend. I’ve been waiting for this weekend since it turned cold last winter. Pete and I drove down to the park, rode like Jehu to this snack bar/rest stop/unprotected beach and sat on the roof for small snacks and lots of fluids. I was actually as happy as I have ever been in my entire life. If someone calls you on the phone and says, “For $10,000, Jed, do cream cheese, dried cherries and fresh basil make a good sandwich?” Well then. You say yes.

The Street Pass Under Your Feet

For Pete’s birthday, we got a family membership in the American Museum of Natural History. It was kind of a lot of money for us, but we talked for years about how we’d like to go, but never did. Today, we went, just to scope out the building since neither of us had been there since the seventies and good thing! It is humongous.

DUCK! THE GIANT FAKE PLANETS MIGHT SEE YOU!


We discovered that if we take the train from New Brunswick to NY Penn Station, we can take the Subway directly to the museum. The museum has its own stop at 81st Street. The new membership allowed us to proceed directly to the lady searching bags. I don’t know what she was looking for, but she didn’t seem surprised when she found empanadas in my Angry Little Girl book bag. We sat down in the basement food court and studied the floor map, which didn’t help much. Neither of us ever got our bearings, which allowed us to stumble onto many delightful discoveries.

It must take almost superhuman restraint to make museum signs without punch lines.


The trip was very physically demanding. I nodded off on the train near Newark Airport. We cannot wait to go back.

Start Now I’m Ready To

Beautiful Topaz.

I haven’t felt much like talking lately, which is a new sensation for me. I don’t know what to say about feeling like I’d rather not, but here we are. So x marks the spot: a few weeks ago, I lost track of my expenses for a week and detonated my checking account. It happens, I guess, but putting it back together brought everything I was doing to a screeching halt. A bag of cat blankets is ready to go to Georg’s, but it’s gathered dust while I waited for enough pennies to pile up in my checking account into shipping dollars. We had our taxes done but couldn’t file them until we paid the accountant. These are not really problems. They’re delays in the normal course of events. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m just about ready for some normal, though I do mean my normal, which usually involves crazy people doing odd things, and cheese.

No one is happier that spring brings open windows and fragrant breezes.

I like cheese.

Turning Round And Round They Go Back

Monday night, I was working on some photos for a project and not paying attention to the TV when I started to get a creepy vibe. Okay, so Andrew Zimmern is on Bizarre Food. He’s usually so diplomatic that I looked around for another source for the vibe, but no. It was Zimmern. He was in the Fez, Morocco – which is to say a Moslem country. He’s been to Moslem countries many times, so what happened next was fucking inexplicable.

He was in a kitchen filled with women. He was talking to the women about how men do not come into the kitchen. It was specifically a discussion of gender roles when I felt a twinge somewhere and looked up. The tone of his voice was all wrong. His hands rested gently on the shoulders of the woman who ran the kitchen. I sat up straight and started coaching, “Andrew, don’t touch her! You can’t touch a married woman!”

Somehow, he didn’t hear me. Then he was around on the other side of the table and I saw his hand gently touch another woman. I was now out and out shouting, “Andrew! Stop it! Don’t touch her!” He leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek! She took a step back, horrified. The voiceover, done by Zimmern, explained why what he had just done was wildly inappropriate – AS IF THAT COULD BE A SURPRISE TO HIM. I can’t say this enough: Andrew Zimmern has traveled all over the world.

Believe it or not, the rest of the episode was filled with appalling little moments and indelicate outbursts. I spent more time than I want to admit with my hands covering my eyes and not working on my project.

Oh. My. God. He was like a one man International Incident.

It’s not embedded because I have no attention span, but you must watch this video. It’s about four minutes.

How could this fucking happen? How could the Travel Channel broadcast this?