Tuesday, April 27, 2004
and, we're back.
it's been a week of mama. such a lovely thing, to be the mistress here. she's probably the only person around who'd take me for a new york expert. it looked for a while like she wasn't going to visit, and means the world to me that she showed up for a whole week, stayed at the cheap hotel i found in chelsea and let me have the other twin bed, and bought me a bunch of middling presents.
my mother is an interesting case. it's hard to anticipate what she'll like in a new place--or rather, not hard to anticipate, since what she likes here are larger versions of things she likes in places she knows. fabric stores. dollhouse supply places. buying face soap, shoes, rubber stamps. petting other people's dogs.
in fact, i left her alone on sunday morning so i could sleep in with the monkey, and when we reunited she mentioned she had spent the morning in the dog park near the hotel. she told an amusing story about a young white curly doggy, like a bichon or a maltese, with a purple bandage on her tail. "her person said her tail was docked, but they did it wrong and she had to have second procedure. didn't slow her down, though. she jumped and spun!"
on her last day, we had an hour or so to kill. she wanted to go back to the shoe store, and on our way we passed the dog run. i saw her longing look, and so we went into the dog park to sit for a spell. the little bichonlike pup with a tail bandage was there, jumping and spinning. she and a border terrier got into a friendly dogwrestling match under our bench. lots of chewing.
eventually, the little bandaged bichon's person came over to collect her from under our seat. from a distance, she looked familiar. from up close, she looked a lot like parker posey. the bichon dashed out from under our bench.
"do you know who that is?" i said quietly, conversationally.
my mom said, "it's that nice white dog's mama."
"yes," i said. "she's also known as parker posey."
"who is that?" my mother said.
the bichon ran back under our bench. ms. posey pulled her out. she smiled at me, and i asked her about the puppy's tail. "doesn't seem to bother her," she said.
it wasn't the time for me to confess my love, so i stayed mum. my mum waved goodbye to the bichon. she left.
what do we take from this? well, for one, a non-traditional work schedule is best. who do you meet at the dog park on saturday? business analysts. investment bankers. nine-to-fivers. who do you meet in the middle of a tuesday? my people. or those i'd like to join.
i miss my mom already, but i'm also glad to be home.
my mother is an interesting case. it's hard to anticipate what she'll like in a new place--or rather, not hard to anticipate, since what she likes here are larger versions of things she likes in places she knows. fabric stores. dollhouse supply places. buying face soap, shoes, rubber stamps. petting other people's dogs.
in fact, i left her alone on sunday morning so i could sleep in with the monkey, and when we reunited she mentioned she had spent the morning in the dog park near the hotel. she told an amusing story about a young white curly doggy, like a bichon or a maltese, with a purple bandage on her tail. "her person said her tail was docked, but they did it wrong and she had to have second procedure. didn't slow her down, though. she jumped and spun!"
on her last day, we had an hour or so to kill. she wanted to go back to the shoe store, and on our way we passed the dog run. i saw her longing look, and so we went into the dog park to sit for a spell. the little bichonlike pup with a tail bandage was there, jumping and spinning. she and a border terrier got into a friendly dogwrestling match under our bench. lots of chewing.
eventually, the little bandaged bichon's person came over to collect her from under our seat. from a distance, she looked familiar. from up close, she looked a lot like parker posey. the bichon dashed out from under our bench.
"do you know who that is?" i said quietly, conversationally.
my mom said, "it's that nice white dog's mama."
"yes," i said. "she's also known as parker posey."
"who is that?" my mother said.
the bichon ran back under our bench. ms. posey pulled her out. she smiled at me, and i asked her about the puppy's tail. "doesn't seem to bother her," she said.
it wasn't the time for me to confess my love, so i stayed mum. my mum waved goodbye to the bichon. she left.
what do we take from this? well, for one, a non-traditional work schedule is best. who do you meet at the dog park on saturday? business analysts. investment bankers. nine-to-fivers. who do you meet in the middle of a tuesday? my people. or those i'd like to join.
i miss my mom already, but i'm also glad to be home.
