I've known this for years. In fact, I can't remember the last time I actually entered and bought something at a Wal-Mart. Well, in the aftermath of the shooting, I received a WM giftcard. I'd been trying to figure out what to do with it until last night when we landed in Ohio, and I realized we had no car seat for my mother's Quattro.
This morning I buzzed over to the local Superstore for a quick trip to pick up a booster seat, a couple of movies I'd promised Banana, and a few odds and ends. It was supposed to be a quick trip. Supposed to be.
More than an hour later, I'd finally tracked everything down. The silly part: I still have a $5.12 balance on the giftcard.
I will add this: I'd forgotten how surly WM employees can be--especially when they're bitching in front of customers.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
shitty news
Apparently someone claiming to be the suspect's cousin knocked on my neighbor's door yesterday. He asked about her. Then he asked about me. They told him I was in New York.
Suffice it to say that whatever peace of mind I'd found so far has been very, very shaken.
Suffice it to say that whatever peace of mind I'd found so far has been very, very shaken.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
VT, street crime, and gun control
The gun control debates are already beginning, as well they should. The "people kill people; guns don't kill people" doesn't hold water, hasn't for a long time. As for the second amendment, our need for a well-regulated citizens militia is long past in most parts of the country. There is also no reasonable argument for why any citizen needs automatic arms of any caliber or a gun as big as the one Tyrone Singleton used to shoot me. Ultimately, though, the problem isn't that we need more laws; the problem is that we need fewer guns. Otherwise, chaos will continue, always, to be at our collective doorstep.
Monday, April 16, 2007
pain
One week after I tried to go off the Ibuprofen, I need it more than ever. The vicodin even seems tempting at moments.
Brooklyn Museum revisited
On Thursday, our last day in the city, we hopped the train one stop from Grand Army to the Brooklyn Museum.
The BMA's newly renovated entry was unveiled exactly 3 years ago, almost exactly the time I was last solo in the city. The glass entry and newly cleaned facade are a stunning answer to the classic--and dowdy--McKim, Mead and White building. Even on a dreary, rainy day, the place feels more open and welcoming. The addition of the new admission/information desk as opposed to the old trek down the hallway to the hidden entrance desk by the elevators is also a brilliant addition.
The museum continues to evolve on its interior, as well. The third floor galleries have been reorganized to mix the extensive American art collection thematically. While I suspect this method bothers traditionalists, it makes for a much easier trip with a child. The color palettes chosen for the repainted walls also liven up the spaces, which are well punctuated by monitors with old films playing, and ultimately it seemed to be a more active experience for a child.
As much as the first floor and other spaces seemed to be evolving as well, it will be interesting to see how the place changes on future visits.
The BMA's newly renovated entry was unveiled exactly 3 years ago, almost exactly the time I was last solo in the city. The glass entry and newly cleaned facade are a stunning answer to the classic--and dowdy--McKim, Mead and White building. Even on a dreary, rainy day, the place feels more open and welcoming. The addition of the new admission/information desk as opposed to the old trek down the hallway to the hidden entrance desk by the elevators is also a brilliant addition.
The museum continues to evolve on its interior, as well. The third floor galleries have been reorganized to mix the extensive American art collection thematically. While I suspect this method bothers traditionalists, it makes for a much easier trip with a child. The color palettes chosen for the repainted walls also liven up the spaces, which are well punctuated by monitors with old films playing, and ultimately it seemed to be a more active experience for a child.
As much as the first floor and other spaces seemed to be evolving as well, it will be interesting to see how the place changes on future visits.
trauma symptoms
I've been juggling little symptoms of the trauma backlash lately.
1. During the climactic scenes in Beauty and the Beast, flash spots fire all over the set. This left me practically paralyzed for a few minutes, even after I shielded my eyes.
2. This morning, the wind storm blowing through the area blew the trees in back so hard they were banging on the roof of the back porch. Hellish.
3. This morning, the news from VA Tech... reading the initial accounts of the shootings. I'm shaking...
1. During the climactic scenes in Beauty and the Beast, flash spots fire all over the set. This left me practically paralyzed for a few minutes, even after I shielded my eyes.
2. This morning, the wind storm blowing through the area blew the trees in back so hard they were banging on the roof of the back porch. Hellish.
3. This morning, the news from VA Tech... reading the initial accounts of the shootings. I'm shaking...
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Piccolo Angolo, redux
I haven't been back to Piccolo in at least five years. More than that, I hadn't been there regularly since 1999, but it was--like so many other things on this visit--like coming home. Renato gave me that look that said I know you, but I don't remember your name. And even though they were supposed to be full for the night, he managed to swing a table for us. His daughter took care of Anna with a plate of penne after the goat cheese ravioli proved to be a miss. (I've begun to hate the weird shifts in taste that come with this age.) The house red, which he used to make, was just as basic and easy-drinking as always. They capped the meal off with a chocolate gelato bomb for Anna (and the rest of us).
In the end, I stopped back and said hello to Peter, Renato's son and a pool-playing buddy from years back. He took one look and said, "Holy shit. Now I remember you."
Good times.
In the end, I stopped back and said hello to Peter, Renato's son and a pool-playing buddy from years back. He took one look and said, "Holy shit. Now I remember you."
Good times.
Broadway, oy...
Yeah, so... Beauty and the Beast. Oy.
Certainly from a kid's perspective, the show is one hell of a good time. It's the exact story and scenes as the film--with real live actors performing all the good stuff. As theater? I could go into a critical dissertation of how bad it is. I could also go into a critical dissertation of how this is exactly how Shakespeare survived the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
There's nothing truly redeeming about the show itself. It does, however, give full meaning to the recently-classic MasterCard ads. The cost of the tickets was a hit to the budget, but nothing could beat Banana's giggles in the final minutes.
Certainly from a kid's perspective, the show is one hell of a good time. It's the exact story and scenes as the film--with real live actors performing all the good stuff. As theater? I could go into a critical dissertation of how bad it is. I could also go into a critical dissertation of how this is exactly how Shakespeare survived the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
There's nothing truly redeeming about the show itself. It does, however, give full meaning to the recently-classic MasterCard ads. The cost of the tickets was a hit to the budget, but nothing could beat Banana's giggles in the final minutes.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
NYC, more bullets
Further proof that I've never really left behind being a New Yorker: without even thinking about it, I'm aiming us for the right end of the train and the right exits.
*****************
Apparently, I'm healing ahead of schedule. This is good. I am gaining back my range of motion and strength quickly, and the wound is healing progressively. This is all good--though Amy correctly identified it as "an angry wound" earlier. Anyway, the healing also tricks me sometimes. I forget that I am limited still by the presence of this bullet and the cavity it carved into my shoulder. That's when I grip my shoulder in pain and protection.
*****************
Apparently, I'm healing ahead of schedule. This is good. I am gaining back my range of motion and strength quickly, and the wound is healing progressively. This is all good--though Amy correctly identified it as "an angry wound" earlier. Anyway, the healing also tricks me sometimes. I forget that I am limited still by the presence of this bullet and the cavity it carved into my shoulder. That's when I grip my shoulder in pain and protection.
Double Oops, and a recovery
Banana and I got out to Coney Island today for a trip to the Aquarium, and more importantly, a chance to get some pics of Coney before it completely falls in the face of the developers. What happens, however, but I turn on the digital point-and-shoot and the battery craps out on me. It doesn't fully die, but instead teases me by acting fine and refusing to take any pictures. (Yes, I need to invest in decent batteries, but still...) Sad, sad...
The second part of the brief downturn was trying to go to Totonno's pizza--according to Gothamist and others, the best pizza in the city--and discovering that they are closed on Monday and Tuesday. Long walk for naught with a four-and-a-half year old. Oy.
On the bright side was dinner with Amy and Banana at Franny's. Wood-roasted olives, an arugula salad with mouth-puckering lemon juice, pepper, and excellent olive oil drizzled over it, potato croquettes, a basic tomato and mozzarella pizza, and a clam, chili, and parsley pie. A couple glasses of a nice Barbera and cannoli to top it all off. It was a brilliant meal--a bit pricey at nearly $100, but we could have gotten out of there for less, and considering the quality of preparation and ingredients... sigh... Good stuff.
The second part of the brief downturn was trying to go to Totonno's pizza--according to Gothamist and others, the best pizza in the city--and discovering that they are closed on Monday and Tuesday. Long walk for naught with a four-and-a-half year old. Oy.
On the bright side was dinner with Amy and Banana at Franny's. Wood-roasted olives, an arugula salad with mouth-puckering lemon juice, pepper, and excellent olive oil drizzled over it, potato croquettes, a basic tomato and mozzarella pizza, and a clam, chili, and parsley pie. A couple glasses of a nice Barbera and cannoli to top it all off. It was a brilliant meal--a bit pricey at nearly $100, but we could have gotten out of there for less, and considering the quality of preparation and ingredients... sigh... Good stuff.
Random Quote – NYC signs ed. #2
Seen from the F train riding through Borough Park, Bklyn...
"Prepairing Cars for Passover"
"Prepairing Cars for Passover"
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Bullet?
It's there. It's bothering me. Thankfully, I've been able to pull myself off the Ibuprofen today. I'll take a little before bed, but it's nice to see my body begin to heal itself.
In the City
Finally got access in the city. It's been a grand visit so far, and Banana wants to know when we're going to move here.
Oy.
Tough question to answer, isn't it? I'd move back here in a second, if it wasn't for all the transitions we've been through--not to mention the difficulty finding a job that would pay for us to be back here, and the need to be near Banana's mom for the time-being. Still, it's an idea that keeps lurking in the back of my mind. And when we hop off the subway and I order a bagel and when I watch Anna get savvier about the city, it gets harder to deny...
.....................
Wait. The weirdest part of coming back to the city is feeling like I've never really left. Somehow, some part of me has been attached here for the last seven years.
Strange, these parts of growing up.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Random Quote
"He doesn't explode, because he's not a volcano."
Banana, answering me when I was telling her why we needed to take Reilly for a walk.
Banana, answering me when I was telling her why we needed to take Reilly for a walk.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
borat (or bore-at)
Why did this movie strike me as utterly un-funny?
As satire, it struck me as ham-handed--too obvious and not subtle enough. the segments that caused the most controversy were the best, of course. Asses making public asses of themselves are a sadly humorous commentary on our society. Nearly everything that relied on Borat himself fell entirely flat for me, however. The schtick is cute, but it's not enough to bear the weight of the movie.
As satire, it struck me as ham-handed--too obvious and not subtle enough. the segments that caused the most controversy were the best, of course. Asses making public asses of themselves are a sadly humorous commentary on our society. Nearly everything that relied on Borat himself fell entirely flat for me, however. The schtick is cute, but it's not enough to bear the weight of the movie.
day-to-day
"Not bad for a guy with a bullet in his shoulder." Yes, I've taken to answering questions that way. It catches people off-guard, but honestly I don't know what the hell else to say.
What happened is proving to be life-changing in subtle and surprising ways. For instance, even a trip to the dentist with Anna has a new significance. Sitting in a meeting today to discuss a project I had pushed two years ago now has more gravity--each timeline punctuated with the sense that something could change. The mundane matters of life matter more, and the "significant" concerns of bureaucracies matter less.
What happened is proving to be life-changing in subtle and surprising ways. For instance, even a trip to the dentist with Anna has a new significance. Sitting in a meeting today to discuss a project I had pushed two years ago now has more gravity--each timeline punctuated with the sense that something could change. The mundane matters of life matter more, and the "significant" concerns of bureaucracies matter less.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
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