bird by bird

'Tootie' Smith: Nobody's going to have them, not if we can't take them to New York! I'd rather kill them if we can't take them with us! Esther Smith: Oh, Tootie, don't cry. Don't cry, it's all right. You can build other snow people in New York. 'Tootie' Smith: No, you can't! You can't do any of the things that I can do in St. Louis! Esther Smith: No, no, Tootie, you're wrong. New York is a wonderful town. Everybody dreams about going there, but we're luckier than lots of families because we're really going. Wait till you see the nice new home we're going to have, and the loads and loads of new friends we're going to make. But the main thing is, Tootie, that we're all going to be together, just like we've always been. That's what really counts. We could be happy anywhere as long as we're together.

I've been listening to this song nonstop for months, and now I get it.

My goal this week or so has been to be productive, to keep my mind occupied. I've online shopped, Christmas shopped, and window shopped. I forced myself to go to a party in far away neighborhood in the pouring rain. I even forced myself to meet visiting friends in Times Square. I wrote Christmas cards and made soup from scratch, and my email inbox has never been cleaner. I've organized my refrigerator, and I've gone to spin class. I've meet up for a happy hour with new friends. I've met up for a happy hour with old friends. You wouldn't believe how organized my sock drawer is. And now, though my life looks tidy and organized, and my to-do lists are being tackled with seriously impressive vigor, there are still cracks in my day when I get sad. I still have moments in between errands and events when I think about everything I'm trying not to think about, feel everything I'm trying not to feel. I think I need to realize that this is going to happen, no matt

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand, and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep, and there are no words for that.” ― Brian Andreas, Story People: Selected Stories & Drawings of Brian Andreas

Sometimes I faint . This usually happens about once a year, and I'm just standing somewhere doing my thang, and all of a sudden something comes over me and I think, "Not this again.." And the next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on the floor of a bathroom or a music venue or in the case of last Monday, the uptown 4 train. Monday started out as a really great morning for several reasons. I made it to my bus stop just in time, and in general, I felt energized and ready to start my week. I got on the subway and was feeling fine, until all of a sudden, I felt that familiar "I'm-going-down" feeling, so I tapped on the shoulder of a man sitting to see if I could have his seat. The last thing I remember is seeing him take out his headphones to better hear me. Then there were thirty people staring down at me as I laid on the floor. Someone gave me a bottle of water and told me to take my time getting up. Ladies on the train started throwing their scarves across

"Life [is] full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly." --Woody Allen

While drinking coffee. and wearing wool socks, I stood in the kitchen, on Thanksgiving morning, and spotted this  thankful deer.

The other week my iPhone 5 slipped out of my hand, and my poor screen shattered into a hundred little pieces. I grudgingly swiped my Visa and upgraded to an iPhone 6 and then began transferring my life from one Apple product to another. While sitting on the F train on my way to a babysitting job, I started editing my phone contacts, combining contacts, and deleting old numbers. It turns out that I've acquired quite the array of digits. My contacts include: Lucas (Mark's dad) and Sarit (Itamar's mom), which I assume have to be potential play date contacts from my days as a nanny; three nuns, two doctors, and a lot of girlfriends with both married and maiden names; men named Keith, Eric, and Dan, who have lived in my phone without corresponding memories or last names; "Corey from Saturday night" and "Joe the REAL American;" the Hall & Oats Hotline, whatever that is, and a Chinese restaurant in Harlem saved as "Panda;" finally one number omi