Watch out for the mugger!

I love my husband (more on that later).

So apparently there is a mugger on the loose in the area where I’m staying – Inwood (remember, something always happens in Inwood). For now he’s confined himself to the subway, but you never can guess what these darn muggers will do – they’re so evasive and all. And the press, not wanting to be accused of being racist, won’t tell us what he looks like. All we know is that he wears a Red Sox baseball cap. Well, gee, thanks. That narrows it down.

So, I’ve just been a little extra careful on the subway. Make sure I sit in a care with a ton of other people, don’t be alone, be aware of my surroundings, yada yada yada. There are a lot of people here. I’m not worried. Not to mention the fact that he’d be sorely disappointed if he mugged me. “What you want my stuff? Fine. Here’s a debit card with not much money in the account. Oh, here’s $20. And, uh, here’s my 2 year old pink cell phone with an ear piece that doesn’t work and a speaker phone that is sketchy at best. You know, you’d actually do me a favor by ridding me of this thing.”

Back to loving my husband. So tonight I was headed home late from a friend’s place only about 15 blocks from where I’m staying. I decided to be careful and was going to take a cab, but fortunately for me a bus showed up so no cab was needed. (This really is pointless information, but alas, you get to hear it anyway). So I get home and recount all this information to Tim.

Me: “Yeah, so there’s a mugger running around the subway in Inwood attacking young women.”
Tim: Chirp chirp chirp
Me: “And, uh, I came home really late.”
Tim: Chirp chirp chirp
Me: “So, I decided to take a cab, but luckily the bus showed up and I took that for free.”
Tim: “Good for you, baby!”
Me: “Um, so there’s a mugger on the loose?”
Tim: “Huh.”

I love how much my husband worries about me when I am in the big city, protecting myself of potential attack. I’m going to chalk up his disinterest to his cold and the medicine he’s on. 🙂

Note: I now await his righteously indignant comment defending himself and frivolous claims that I embellished (or changed) our conversation to serve the purposes of my blog.

Too darn hot

OK, people. I’m from Texas. I can handle heat. I mean, 105 degrees is nothing- a mere bit of toastiness.

Well, this Texan has met her match. There is NOTHING like maneuvering New York City in the middle of the muggy Northeast Summer. I think all the thermometers that the weathermen use to gauge the heat are wrong.

For example, yesterday the weather said it was 76 degrees at around 10 am. Now I know that New York is a different world, but are they using a different degree system to measure? Bull$#!% – oh excuse me. The sun made me sneeze. The thermometers must be hanging out 20,000 feet above the city. Between the cars, the buses, the pavement and the sun beating down, the temperature on the ground has to be around 100 degrees.

But you think that’s rough? Try the subway. I’ve heard that the platforms can reach 115 degrees. And that I believe. You know it’s bad when you come out of the subway into 95 degree (according to the weatherman) and you feel like it’s air conditioned? Whew.

And then to top it all off, central air conditioning is a luxury afforded only by a few. The rest of city either lives without or has strategically placed a couple of window units to keep the temperature decent.

I mean, it’s so hot that New York now smells like Europe. A little tip for my New York readers, put on twice as much deodorant, and take some for the road. You are ripe!

Oh Rats!

A New York First.

It’s Sunday morning. 7:30 am. I shouldn’t even be up, but alas I was getting off the subway. As I approached the turnstiles bleary eyed I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked down just in time to see a rat come running out of a hole in the wall. Petrified (people, these things are like dogs up here), I froze and used all the rest of my energy to keep from screaming like a little girl (I may or may not have raised my arms in the air and/or begun jumping up and down hoping that my jumping would keep the varmint away). Fortunately for me, it worked. It ran about a foot in front of me and a guy to the right of me who chose not to use my mode of deterrence caught a leg full of rat. It ran up his leg a little before realizing it was going the wrong way. Falling backwards, rolling back onto its feet it tried again, headed over the guy’s foot before the guy gained his wits and kicked it out of the way.

After the shock wore of of me and all the others around, we all proceeded with our day as if nothing had occurred.

This place is weird.

2 years

Today is 2 years since I lost my brother. I debated whether or not to blog about today. I’m not one to fish for pity, so please understand that I do not write this to make people feel sorry for me. I write it because in this age of the internet, who knows who might come across this blog and who knows how it might possibly help them.

Tim and I went to Austin to spend the weekend with my parents. It was kind of odd. I didn’t quite know what to feel. They same that time heals, and to a certain extent, that is true. The pain isn’t so fresh. It’s more a deep sense of loss and sadness that my dearest friend is no longer here. I honestly did not feel sad most of the day, and I wondered, “Is everything OK with me? Shouldn’t I be a mess?” but I just wasn’t. I figured that was just fine and let myself be – I did not resort to beating myself up about it and feeling guilty. That in itself is a big step for me.

We did end up visiting his grave. It was the first time I’d been there since the funeral. I sat down on the bench at the foot of his grave and just stared at his name. It just didn’t seem real. I just stared at this plaque that stated his name, rank, birth date and date of death. It was like I was staring into some parallel universe. I mean, he’s not there. It’s just a body in a grave. His soul is gone. It just seemed very weird – and it also made me sad. Tim sat next to me quietly. My eyes began to tear up, and he held my hand.

I have yet to cry a river today. I don’t feel I have the need today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. But not today. And that’s OK. The grieving process is unpredictable and untamed. I’ve learned I just have to go with the flow and not try to control it.

I miss him dreadfully. That sadness will never be completely healed in this life, but oh how I await the glory of what is to come in the next. For the first time since losing him, that thought genuinely brings me solace.