We celebrated Mother’s Day by taking a prolonged walk through Prospect Park; my Mom, my sister, Lehigh and myself. We followed it up with an early dinner at Whiskey Sundays. Which was so heavy that I left me nearly incapacitated for the rest of the day. Laundry did not happen.

The walk was quiet, thoughtful. It was not a hugely celebratory day, even though things seem to be going alright for my Mom. I had the chance to introduce her to a couple of the people in the neighborhood that, like her, are fans of the pooch. Lehigh was basking in attention. There’s no nearby dog run however, so while she met a few playful dogs, she did didn’t have the chance to race around like a maniac.


I spied:

The dapper retiree at the Atlantic Avenue bus stop carefully transferring the contents of a pint bottle of vodka into two bottles of blue Gatorade in anticipation of some kind of festive afternoon.

Long lines of Park Slope and Heights yuppies and their spawn at every boutique ice cream parlor I passed.

The lid of your laptop has become the pedestrian bumper, home to every sort of smash-the-state community-action-now sticker. This helps flashing messages of social engagement across the gulf of tables at cafes, even though the users of said laptops are only digitally engaged at the moment of use.

A guy with the logo to the Vin Diesel/Ice Cube “XXX” films tattooed across the back of his neck right below his shaved head. That will wear well.

After deciding to sit in back of the tumbledown yard of the cafe, my book reading was interrupted by rustling in the leaves next to me. I looked over and saw a grey, furred back churning beneath the foliage. It was definitely a rodent, but I decided that I didn’t want to stick around long enough to discern whether a rat or a squirrel. I gathered my book, my iced coffee and my groceries and beat a quick retreat.

All in all, about five miles covered.


For some reason my block was infiltrated this morning by a platoon of gulls. As I set out for work, I noticed that the pigeons and sparrows had been cowed into sullen clumps along the the north side of the street, while the sea birds wheeled above the overflowing gutters.

I don’t know what this incursion portends. For the most part the gulls have restricted themselves to occasionally haunting the parking lot of Western Beef, a couple of blocks over. This is the first time that I’ve ever seen them take an interest in my block. For what it’s worth I live pretty much fully inland in terms of Brooklyn, and I’m not thrilled at the prospect of them becoming full time residents. We no longer even have a full size phone booth to take refuge in, should things go awry.


..what about if you can’t get to the door to open it?

I’d let my Brooklyn library card lapse years ago, but recurring trips past the revived main branch kept reminding me that I should really get my ass in gear and sign up again. Public libraries are one of the best uses of my tax dollars, ’cause reading is, like, fundamental and junk.

Nowadays you can apply for your card online (I remember the rite of passage walk with my parents up to the local branch in Manhattan to solemnly fill out the card application in all too permanent ink). ANd then you go to the branch to “activate it”. This morning, having a bit of extra time before work, I jumped on the B41 bus and marched up to the doors surmounted by two gilded owls, only to find out that today is “staff development day for all the branches in the system” meaning once again, no admittance.

Curse you lallygagging librarians and your “development”! How will I cruise the stacks now?