Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Presto is one of those words that doesn't mean what we think it means. For some reason it has come to be something we associate with magicians, as in, "Presto! The bucket is now a duck!" but it actually means "soon," as in, Presto, vado in Italia. Actually, soon I'm going to Switzerland and then soon thereafter to Italy, but in any case, I'll be far away. Some of you (rightly enough) are thinking that it will hardly matter where I am in that I never write anything anyway, and to you I say: shhhhh. I don't see the blog bully so much these days; he's got his hands full. I miss him. And so do you. This just in: I do not enjoy Bryan Ferry. At least not the song playing right now. I actually thought it was Roy Orbison, which, if you're me, is not a good thing. I realize that most of America comes down on the other side of the Roy Orbison question. Ditto Neil Young. I don't want to hear about it.

I leave in a week. Before I go, I will see three plays and a circus, because that's the kind of girl I am. I will also do various more typical pre-trip things like wondering if I secretly hate all the clothes I'm planning to pack; making all kinds of lists of international phone numbers; trying to figure out how to use my so-called "mobile devices", which I never use at home; practicing lifting the Too Many Books I am taking with me, making a last-minute trip to the pharmacy. Things like that. Also, I think I may need to buy some more socks. I know they have socks in Switzerland, but I imagine they are about $250 a pair. Switzerland? It costs a lot there. Consider yourself forewarned.

Sunday, June 03, 2012

The importance of trifles

I made toast from two slices of the newly purchased loaf yesterday. I think I'm safe in saying that it is the worst bread I have ever eaten. Is it made of recycled paper? Possibly. And I'm not saying that that wouldn't mark an exciting advance environmentally, but I don't think it does a hell of a lot culinarily speaking. Only this morning did I notice that bread bag is proudly emblazoned with the words, "No Salt!"

I would not have previously thought that salt was a critical ingredient in bread, but I'm older and wiser now.

Friends, do not let this happen to you.

I cannot stress the importance of this enough. Constant vigilance is required. Be careful out there.

Saturday, June 02, 2012


Right now, there is a flatbed truck parked directly in front of my building. On it, are six huge, unmarked wooden crates, approximately the size of elevator cars. They come up to the middle of my bedroom windows, which makes for a startling beginning to the day. There are three squabbling guys with crowbars fussing around and I waited anxiously as they pried open the first crate. I was afraid it might contain one of several robot overlords, here to take over the human race starting with my block. But it appears to just be some guy's furniture. I don't know where he's moving from, but apparently normal moving trucks can't drive from there to here. Welcome, exotic neighbor. Thanks for not orchestrating the end of civilization.