...& People think New Yorkers are rude.

As I walked down 34th Street

Looking for a certain building with a long # as an address

I realized that I'd forgotten to ask for a cross street

As part of my directions.

How hard could it be?

Most buildings had their addresses clearly marked on their doors

But not on this day, on this block, not so much...

I'd left myself exactly 3 extra minutes to find the building.

Crap. Still no numbers to be seen anywhere.

I asked the man at the newsstand...no luck.

No English spoken there on this day.

Crap. Just as I was losing hope.

The man behind me in line at the newsstand offers me help.

Not only that...he says he'll walk me to my destination.

How do you like them apples?

He got me squarely there with .032 seconds to spare.

& even offered me some gum.

As I was pulling into a parking lot the other day

I spotted a nicely dressed older woman getting out of her car.

(If I had an Aunt Betty...this is what she'd look like...I thought.)

She was headed to the dry cleaners & was meticulously

taking clothes out of her back seat

& folding them over her arm in a neat, almost graceful way.

(Unlike me...who usually throws a bundle of clothes
at the lady behind the counter & leaves.)

I'd like to be like this lady someday...

older (beats the alternative) & sort of refined.

I sat there thinking...this bitch has got her shit together.

(OK...I have some work to do on the refined part...come to think of it...I have to work on the whole...having my shit together thing too...but I have to have goals, right?)

I watched as she elegantly walked to the door of the dry cleaners & pulled the door open.

Only the door didn't open...for some reason they turned out to be closed.

What did this refined, elegant woman of a certain age do?

She dropped her clothes on the ground while violently shaking the doors & cursing.

I laughed so hard thinking that I'd set my sights too high...

I was sort of like her already.

As I was reading the paper on Sunday...this story stayed with me:

***********

Giving a Surfer his Final Send-off

On Friday evening, I was getting ready to go to bed so I could get up early to participate in the big paddle-out ceremony in honor of recently deceased surfer Jack Meyer... around noon the beach began to fill up with people in wetsuits. There were attractive young girls. There were old guys with pot bellies. There were a couple hundred in all. Judging by the numbers, you'd think Meyer had been the world surfing champion or something. Actually, he was just a genuinely friendly guy.

That's a rare thing in the modern world and even rarer in the world of surfing. There's only room for one surfer on each wave. This can create a Hobbesian atmosphere in the lineup, a war of all against all. I for one still maintain resentment against guys who cut me off during the Watergate crisis.

Meyer seems to have been above all that. One of my old grammar-school classmates, Greg Me sanko, told me of how he ran into Meyer in Santa Barbara, Calif., about 20 years ago and was so caught up by his enthusiasm that he immediately asked him to move back to the East Coast and manage his surf shop.

"He brought this incredible aloha spirit into the store," Me sanko said.

A while later Meyer got a chance to work for Local Motion, one of the big Hawaiian surfboard brands.

"Four days later he was calling me up from Tahiti," Mesanko said.

Such was the life of a "rep" in the surf industry. "Rep" is shorthand for manufacturer's representative. Only a handful of surfers ever make money surfing, but many make a living selling the clothing and equipment that are connected to surfing.

Unlike most reps, Meyer had a talent other than surfing. He was an accomplished graphic artist who could airbrush intricate designs of waves and dolphins onto a board before it was fiberglassed. Some of the boards were on display at the beach yesterday.

It was impressive work, but it only paid about $25 a pop. People who work in the surf industry tend to take their pay more in waves than in money. Meyer traveled frequently to places like California and Florida. A week ago he was out for a jog in Melbourne Beach when he had a heart attack and died.

In addition to being a fanatic surfer, the 53-year-old Meyer was also a triathlete. But heart disease ran in his family. His father, also named Jack, died of a heart attack at age 34 in 1967. Just a few years before he had been a pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies and young Jack inherited much of his athletic talent. Unfortunately he had also inherited his heart problems.

The paddle-out was preceded by a memorial ceremony that nicely combined elements of traditional Christianity with nature worship. "Dear Lord, heavenly father, Mother Ocean ...," said surfer/minister Regan Quail in one oration that concluded with "aloha and mahalo," Hawaiian terms for "goodbye" and "thanks."

The assembled surfers were then handed carnations and instructed on how to carry out the ceremony, which involves elements of both Hawaiian and Fijian tradition. Hawaii and Fiji are, of course, warm all year.

For some reason, perhaps out of a perverse sense of humor, East Coast surfers tend to die in winter. The last such paddle-out I attended was on a January day two years ago that was even colder than yesterday.

There's something about the winter ocean, though, that puts you in touch with nature in a way that nothing else can quite equal. Warm climes like California and Florida tend to attract a lot of dilettantes, surfers who are more interested in looking good than surfing good. Jersey attracts the hard core, guys who want that cold slap in the face that tells you to wake up and pay attention to what's going on around you.

There isn't much of a beach scene in winter, though. You can't hang out and chat while you're working on your tan. So these paddle-outs are one of the few opportunities to socialize and catch up on the news.

The paddle-out itself was a relatively quick affair. Back on the beach I asked Mesanko about another legendary local surfer who I hadn't seen in years, a guy named Fran. I'd heard a story about one of the last things Fran had done be fore he dropped out of sight. It seems that some younger surfer -- a "grommet" in surf parlance -- was failing to show Fran the respect he was due as one of the original crew at the pier in Seaside. Fran finally got fed up. He grabbed the grommet's board.

I asked Greg to confirm, for journalistic purposes, what happened next.

"He took a big bite out of it," Greg said. "He bit the nose off the board."

Fran died a couple of years ago, Greg said. He keeled over while playing saxophone in a bar in Tijuana. That seemed like a fitting end for a colorful character. Unfortunately Fran never got a paddle- out.

As for Meyer, his paddle-out will go down in the books as a classic. In baseball perhaps the nice guys finish last, but in surfing they get quite a send-off.



***********

...I know...that was A LONG READ...I know...but I thought it was an thought-provoking story about an interesting character. I didn't know what a paddle-out was before reading this...so, there's that...also I like his whole 'Mother Earth-Aloha-free-spirited-life' vibe he had flowing there.

Hey, sometimes I don't read you...because your posts are too freaking long too...it's all cool...peace.

Johnny Rat asked for a tie dyed tear...well...here's the best I could do.

As I was walking into a store yesterday...a woman was walking out. This woman threw me for a big loop. I'm still thinking about her a day later. Why?...you ask. Because she was the biggest woman I have ever seen in my life, that's why. No, she wasn't fat...not that kind of big...she was tall...& when I say tall...I mean tall for a man. She ducked (I'm not kidding)...she ducked coming through the doorway. I actually gasped. The woman scraped the sky at about 6' 5". She threw my perspective off totally & completely.

The stars here last night took my breath away. It was a perfect Winter sky. I haven't seen that many stars in a very long time & yeah...I made a wish.

The thing about wearing tights is...

if you buy them a size too big...

they fall down & create pools of wrinkles at your ankles.

Buy them too small &...

they keep drooping in the crotch area...

creating a webbed effect.

Getting them just right is key.

What? Sometimes you need a little bit of help getting them just right.

I'm not embarrassed to admit that.

Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.
~Steel Magnolias

What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul.
~Jewish Proverb

The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.
~Isak Dinesen

OK, so I cried yesterday...boo hoo. I'm better now. It was long overdue & needed. I kept thinking I was done...then I wasn't...what the hell? Crap...I was being such a GIRL. I'm not sure if the ability to cry is the best...or worst part of being female.

I don't mind crying...that is...if I don't have to do it in public...ick...I turn into an idiot...all, "don't look at me...you're making it worse!"...& while I'm laughing at myself inside for being such a dweeb...sometimes the tears come anyway.

I'm embarrassed to say...
...it's laundry related.
I got over the embarrassed part...so I'll tell you what it is.

I've become a Downy fabric softener
(clean breeze...oh yeah...love this scent) fiend.
I put way too much in my loads of laundry.
(we're talking OBSCENE amounts)
I pour it in with abandon.

My house reeks of it while the washer is buzzing.
As I descend the stairs to the laundry room...
I’m embraced by the clean, magical scent of it.
Hubby claims it gives him a rash...
But my mania knows no bounds.

Have you ever seen a movie that stays with you? Sure, right? I watched 'Little Miss Sunshine' the other night. I liked it's slow, subtle (figure it out for yourself) pace right from the start. I watched it & thought that it was a good movie. Sitting here...days later...I now think it's a great movie. It got somehow better while being remembered & turned around this way & that way in my head. that doesn't happen to me often. I appreciate it more now on looking back at it.

First of all...I love Steve Carell. Anyone who does not watch The Office is simply missing out. He would have stolen this movie...had it not been for the impressive performances by all of the other actors. His face conveyed such defeated sadness without milking it for all it was worth...he acted the way I wish Will Farrell would (& could...I'm sure of it...I love him...but has he ever been in anything that wasn't a piece of crap? OK, Elf was watchable...scene by scene, the part where he's sitting in James Caan's office on a tiny chair drinking coffee was worth watching the whole movie for alone)...but Will usually beats a joke to death & that ruins it for me (has anyone seen him in 'Stranger Than Fiction? I have high hopes for him in that).

Secondly, Paul Dano as the silently troubled brother who hates EVERYONE is perfect. Again, no overplaying it here. I guess I'll stop mentioning all the actors in this movie...because really...this review is too long as it is...but wait...if I don't mention Abigail Breslin...who plays the little girl...Olive, so well. One reviewer said that she plays the role as well as Dakota Fanning...only Dakota Fanning usually plays an eery adult in a child's body & Olive was played here as a child who's got just the right mix of optimism & wonder...it's like you could see the wheels turning in her head (just like...at the best moments...you can see the exact same things going on in real life with the kids in your life).

I didn't instantly get drawn into this movie...it takes a little while to sink into it...as you're watching it. It's a little movie...but the character development kept me watching. It's also pretty to look at. Each scene is thoughtfully shot. While on the road you see big glimpses of cloads & sky against the family's yellow VW bus...there was some care put into this...I know...I'm sounding like a geek here...but so what.

I won't even get into the plot here...(I hate reviews where they give away too much...just see it for yourself, if you haven't already & tell me what you think).

This is a feel good movie but in the strangest sense.

Some randomness for the sake of nothing:

A muscle in my left arm keeps twitching & it's bugging the ever living crap out of me.

I have a dull headache that feels like the pain is dripping slowly down the insides of my skull like an egg had been cracked on my head.

OK...no more complaining from me...today still has been better than yesterday...so there's that.

Got a movie quote for you: "Oh my God, I'm getting pulled over. Everyone, just... pretend to be normal." Do you know what it's from?

Hope it's been all that you thought it would be...so far.

I spent the weekend enjoying the global warming around here...it's been in the 50's with no snow in sight. I could get used to weather like this. I went for a 3 hour hike in the woods with my nephews on Sunday. Tired me right the hell out...but cleared my head.

So far this year I've...cut myself pretty well while putting away a set of kitchen knives that I got as a gift for Christmas (damn...those straight cuts always bleed so much)...then while cooking later in the day...I went to grab a spoon that I foolishly left in the pot of boiling hot spaghetti sauce...crap...why does it always take the brain a full second to catch up with the body sometimes? I held onto that spoon with pain shooting up my scorched fingers for what seemed like forever...ouch...you can still see a faint spoon handle outline on 2 of my fingers. Later, I treated myself to a blistering hot bath which turned out to be not the best idea I've ever had...when I put my burned hand under such hot water I thought I would die...you know...the kind of intense pain that is so sudden & sharp but only lasts for .000003 of a second...but you know without a doubt that you'd die if it lasted a faction of a second longer.

Happy New Year...I wish you all the best.