Love, Labour Day, Lost
I will not let go of summer. I will not will not will not absorb your silly back-to-school anxiety. Just because it's Labor Day Weekend I will not wear a coat. I will not straighten out my priorities or stop wearing sundresses or turn my clock back. Today I went to Prospect Park.
Shira's Birthday Banquet, an annual gala, a gorgeous day. Earlier, I went to Home Depot and purchased Baby's First Power Drill. It was amazing. It was amazing to bike home with a power drill. I was all lopsided and wobbly but I had in my clutches my new drill. With which I will alternately drill and drive. Don't say "drill" when you mean "drive."
I made cucumber juice for the birthday banquet. It was so lovely, and listening to the This American Life podcast about break-ups on the iPod was so compelling, I didn't mind getting lost, first in Park Slope, then in the park. I have never gone to any event in any park anywhere and not gotten lost. Central Park. I've gotten lost every time I've tried to find the carousel. Prospect Park is no easier. There was literally a sign with arrows pointing in two opposite directions and they both said "PICNIC HOUSE." I was going to the Picnic House.
I rode back to the city with Amichai and we went to the Sunshine and saw a weird and quirky movie I knew not much about, Dedication. It was a spontaneous moviegoing, I'd not have seen the movie otherwise, but I'm glad I did. The film included a writer who gets anxious and a house in Sag Harbor, and they guy who played Tim on the British version of The Office (whose skin is looking a little craggy, not that mine isn't, but I couldn't help but wish they'd used a little spackle on him), and a completely gratuitous stunt-casting of Peter Bogdanovich. I'm not opposed to any of those things.
Yesterday I went to the Greenmarket and bought about 20 heirloom tomatoes. They're not like regular tomatoes. I learned this when I got two in my CSA haul last week. I am now ruined for the Jersey tomato. I cannot beat the thought of not having the earth move every time. I am determined to subsist wholly on corn and heirloom tomatoes until the first frost. And beyond. Because I refuse to reckon with the possibility of frost.