Summer Song, Verse One

It had been hot for days, and then it rained.
Fat drops that seemed to pull the tension out of the air and wash it down the gutters.
The air cooled down just enough - to within a few degrees of too cold.
And we went outside.
We walked in the downpour, and became drenched within minutes.
We stomped in puddles and let the temporary streams wash over our sandaled feet.
My skirt dragging, clothes clinging to my skin, glasses pushed up onto my head because they had become too blurred to see through -
Reveling in the romance of a rainstorm.

A Leafy Fantasy

As I drive between piles of leaves that line either side of the residential streets around me, I imagine veering my car into the deepest pile. I imagine leaves flying in every direction, arcing up, twice the height of my car, in a spectacular, leafy imitation of the parting of the Red Sea.

But I remain safely in the center of the road, maneuvering between the tempting towers of leaves. I practice self-restraint, because I know that the leaves will just squish unsatisfyingly under the wheels of my car, ruining my fantasy. It's more fun in my imagination.

Fall Frustration

In a couple of weeks, the county will send trucks to pick up piles of fallen leaves. Every street around me has been reduced to a single lane by vast snowbanks of leaves. And I grumble and complain, because I have to back up to let another car pass, or park two blocks from home by a rare leafless patch of curb.

I bitterly question why people can't just wait until leaf day to rake their leaves to the curb. Why the big hurry to encumber my life?

Then it rained. And I understood.

(But I still hate it.)

Snapshots from New York City

We were walking through a street market, and my friends were a few steps behind me. I stopped to let them catch up, pausing just long enough for a middle-aged Chinese man to pop out of the Shiatsu tent and grab my shoulders. "Free sample, free sample!" he kept chanting, as he boldly kneaded my shoulders through the straps of my backpack with frightening strength. I wriggled and writhed from his grasp, telling him, "No," again and again. I never thought I would refuse a free massage, but I never expected to receive one from a perfect stranger, either.

Snapshots from New York City

While walking through Central Park, we passed a movie being filmed. So we gawked.

The producer told us that we were welcome to watch, but since we were right in the shot, would we mind sitting on the bench and pretending to have a conversation?

We sat, and chatted, and managed to figure which actor was supposed to be famous. (The producer told us it was Sam Rockwell, who for some reason I thought was Dean Stockwell.)

As we were leaving, we heard the director finally call, "Rolling!" So I guess we won't be in a movie after all.

Snapshots from New York City

Soup dumplings. They sound like something a drunken frat boy would invent, "Dude, what if you put the soup inside the noodles?" But they taste delicious.

You carefully bite a small hole in the corner of your dumpling to drink the soup through, then you eat the rest. Unless you're me, in which case you bite a small hole, out of which a geyser of boiling liquid spurts and burns your tongue so badly that it doesn't heal for five days.

But they're so tasty and sweet and unique. I'd do it again in a second.

Swimwear

Of course your bathing suits look good on supermodels. But I hesitate before ordering online...

Maybe if there was a button where I could choose a model with a body more like mine? And see where I would bulge unpleasantly between the tankini top and sexy scoop bottom?

But I guess that would defeat the purpose of the ad, wouldn't it? I'm supposed to dream big, or rather, dream small, and think unrealistic thoughts about summer clothing.

Is it really so much to ask for a bathing suit that keeps everything where it belongs?

I guess it is.

False alarm?

Because of the nice weather, we have all of the windows open. This drives the dog crazy, because he can hear people and cars and other dogs walking by WITHIN HIS EARSHOT!

So, he barks. He barks to inform those people and cars and other dogs that they are invading his territory, which naturally consists of everything within his earshot.

And I tell him, "Shhh! It's okay!"

But how can I be so sure? Maybe, just this once, there really is a robber or a monster walking by. I feel guilty for responding so hastily.

Until he barks again.

Spring

With the blossoms, it was an explosion.
One morning, I woke up, and the world had gone from drab to brilliant. Decorated in yellows and every imaginable shade of pink.

But the green snuck up on me. Every day, a little bit more of it.
The tree branches blushing with pale buds, gradually darkening and opening up into leaves.

Each blossom that falls is replaced by a cluster of green. Gradually, the stark contrast of the bare grey branches against the clear blue sky softens, and soon, the sky is barely visible through the canopy of leaves.

It's Spring.

Congestion

I would rather be asleep right now, but my nose is conspiring against it. Every time I lay my head down on my pillow, congestion settles in, and frustration keeps me awake.

I rummaged around in the cupboard and managed to find a half-dose of pseudoephedrine. The decongestant that, ironically, seems to induce sleeplessness, which is precisely the congestion symptom that I am trying to combat. I wonder if a half-dose will help me breathe without making me jittery? Unlikely. It will probably make me jittery without helping me breathe.

Good thing I have a book to read.