Rotating the Pants

Christine thinks I may be a bit anal-retentive.

She thinks I may be somewhat less than spontaneous.

She says this because she caught me in my rotating the pants ritual, wherein I transfer the pants that I did not wear this week to a different hanger, to make room for the freshly clean pants, who must wait their turn.

I just want my pants to have equal wear.

Is that really so wrong?

Time to alphabetize the pantry.

Robyn

Sad Day, Not a Bad Day

I confess that I was a bit anxious as to how the anniversary of 9/11 was going to be commemorated. I was afraid it would be a very heavy-handed, depressing day.

Of course it was sad. I knew that the same thing was going through everyone's minds as I walked through SoHo, Greenwich Village, and Union Square. But people were going about their business just the same. And it was a lovely day. A gusty day, but a welcome change from the ickiness of the past week. Lots of people were outside, stopping by the parks on their lunch breaks. During my particular lunch break I went to Union Square, where there were stations at which you could create a drawing or a message and have it put up on a wall. I sat down and made a contribution, and then took my lunch next to a very nice Jack Russell terrier named Spot. I followed up lunch with a visit to Petco, because no matter how sad I get, watching small furry animals will always make me happy.

Tonight Christine and I went to a candlelight vigil in Washington Square Park. Although it was very nice to see the NYU community gather together for something (anything), I have to say that the event didn't go off as planned. For one thing, the wind, which was beyond anyone's control, made the science of candlelighting considerably difficult. For another, the orchestra (which was supposed to be the centerpiece) was barely audible, so no one really knew when to start being reverent and carried on talking and laughing and trying to keep the candles lit. I guess there was something redeeming in that, but it wasn't the solemn occasion I thought it would be. Real reflection occurred on the walk home south on LaGuardia Place, where there was nothing but pitch black where the towers once sparkled.

But all in all, New York didn't seem to be a depressed city today. Last year, it was a place drained of its energy and spirit. Today people were solemn, but not somber. It was a day to honor the people that died, and celebrate the city that went through a crushing blow, but somehow got its rhythm back nonetheless. It will never be the same, but it's still very much alive .

So September 11, 2002 was a reflective day, but reflective in a positive manner. Not a bad day at all, on the whole.

Robyn

A Big Honkin' Slice of Americana

Wanna know where I've been lately?

I've been riding halfway across the country in a big green Blazer full of Jeffrey's worldy possessions with a bag of pork rinds and several dozen CDs at my feet, keeping track of the miles and various exotic roadkill that rolled by.

Our trip took us through Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Virginia, Washington, DC; Maryland, Delaware, and my own little corner of Pennsylvania.

It's a very interesting drive, starting out flatter than all get-out and winding through the Smoky Mountains and then through the vehicular nightmare that is the Beltway before ending in the familiar chemical-plant-lined highways of Philadelphia.

I saw my fair share of smooshed armadillos on the side of the road and ate my fair share of greasy fried meat along the way.

Though it should be noted that the smooshed armadillos had nothing whatsoever to do with the greasy fried meat that I consumed.

At least I hope that's the case.

It was a very successful trip, ending in Jeffrey securing a place in lovely Forestville, MD and the obtainment of a fine green sofa and comfy mattresses.

Is obtainment a real word? Does it really matter?

So I'm back in NYC for the time being. Classes start tomorrow, which should result in a welcome return to routine.

Robyn

Another Routine Wildly Life-Changing Adventure

It is a very bad thing to waste a day in New York City. Under any circumstances. Especially when it is 80 degrees and sunny.

But alas, I feel I have done just that today.

I arrived back in NYC yesterday, and am delighted to be in an interesting neighborhood on the fringes of Little Italy, Chinatown, and SoHo. I believe the hipster slang for the area is NoLiTa (North of Little Italy), but since I am decidedly unhip, I really shouldn't throw that around in everyday use. Neither should you, if you know what's good for you.

So after spending all of yesterday unpacking and the early part of today stocking the pantry, I collapsed on my bed with a very old magazine and whiled away the afternoon.

There are better ways to piss away an afternoon. I could have read that old magazine in Battery Park. Or the very nice playground around the corner that says "Play!" on the wall.

But the bed just looked awfully appealing.

It won't happen again, but NYC is going to have to wait for me to atone for my sin. Tomorrow I set off for another wildy life-changing adventure when I fly to Dallas to drive halfway across the country to assist Jeffrey in finding a new home in Washington, which is destined to be another regular urban haunt.

The wildly life-changing adventures seem to be occurring rather frequently, don't they?

Maybe an afternoon reposing on the bed was the proper thing to do after all.

Robyn

Alas, Poor Isaac. I Knew Him Well.

Newtown, Pa. (and the surrounding bedroom communities) has suffered a devastating loss this morning. Local restaurant Isaac Newton's was gutted by fire.

Now, an obscure, quaint (if overpriced) eatery in the middle of an obscure, quaint (if over-gentrified) little town might not mean much to you. But it meant a lot to lovers of fine club sandwiches and "gourmet beer" and quiches of the day and good bread soaked in herbed olive oil.

Odd, how the beloved local eatery burns down the same week that Chik-Fil-A opens. There's an irony there that I think we all can appreciate.

Odd too, how I entered their parking lot two hours after the fire whilst I was turning around to get back to the bypass, and yet failed to notice the building. Faraway, so close. Or something.

There's an irony there that I think only I can appreciate.

I guess we'll be going to Applebee's from now on.

Viva Isaac's.

Robyn

Kickin it 'Burb Style (Y'all)

Today Bobby and I drove into Newtown in the Eminem-blaring, tire-rattling 1992 Buick LeSabre to visit the brand new Chik-Fil-A restaurant which was overrun with high school kids celebrating the next-to-last day of school and myriad others who were curious to see the latest addition to the area's ever-growing cache of corporate outlets. After which we watched MTV before heading off to our respective mall job or appointed hang-out date at a friend's house followed by a late night trip to the Wawa.

Yep. It's summertime in suburbia.

Now you know why the updates haven't been quite as often in coming. Unless you're curious about how different diners' mozzarella sticks stack up against each other. Or Wawa's new computerized ordering system. 'Cuz I can talk about these subjects at length.

But I won't.

Gotta go. Conan's on.

Robyn

The Brit Goes On

It hasn't taken too very long for nostalgia for London to set in. Between the Queen's Jubilee celebrations this weekend and the World Cup in full swing, it's hard not to wish I was back there to enjoy the inebriated, er, celebratory atmosphere in London. I'm content with donning my child's-size England jersey, watching the footie on ABC and broadcasts of the Jubilee celebrations on PBS.

Really I am.

Look, it's not like I'm not getting out or anything. Cuz I do. I have friends. And a job at the mall. And Virgin Radio on the computer. I'm fine. What's your deal?

I not lame.

Viva Britannia

Robyn

By the way, did you know that there are no English words to rhyme with "purple" and "month?" I learned that from Headline News. Because I'm an informed individual who is interested in intellectually stimulating, worldly subjects -- as well as the Party at the Palace and David Beckham's foot. So there.