Nemo the Blizzard
When the snow is falling parallel to the ground you know you're in trouble. I had forgotten about staring down at your feet as they crunch along the ice, moving one step forward at a time, not able to look straight ahead or you'll get sleetright in the eyeball. The blizzard wasn't supposed to get bad until last night but at five pm it was already nasty, windy, sleety, stormy, wet, cold. Barb's shoes leaked. My gloves kept my hands dry but not warm. We didn't move back to California only to be done with being dumped on in winter, but it counted in the equation.
No matter, I still love New York. I didn't grow up here but it has always felt more or less like home to me. My real home, Los Angeles, feels like someone-that-used-to-be-me's home town, and San Francisco, even after 18 years, just makes me chuckle most of the time. New York's default consumer-hostile attitude makes me laugh too, but I admire it. I love SF's recycling and politics, but I'm like my avocado tree in the backyard, waiting for the fruit that will never arrive without more sun.
Sadly, I'm afraid I may be going on hiatus with my cousin J's sandwich shop. The pastrami I had there today was better than Ed and Mary's in Casper, Wyo. but honestly unacceptable in The Apple. All my friends whom I sent to J's, wildly enthusiastic when I first found out MY cousin made sandwiches near Herald Square, won't eat there anymore. Only PP, BB and I are left, and after today's overcooked and greasy pastrami came out just about black from being forgotten while being incinerated on the burger grill, we may be down to two.
J. loves Belly though, and she and the rest of us love him. He's such a good guy. Hurricane Sandy didn't help. Maybe he lost his purveyors afterwards. But I think he may not be watching carefully these days -- he wasn't there today. And it was really, really...not good.
After lunch we trudged down Broadway to Union Square, then down into the subway and out again at De Kalb in Brooklyn, to cut upwind again into Fort Greene to pick up Isabella at school.
Snow, slush.
Mishmashmush.
Slip, slide.
Greasy and fried.
A doo wah doo wah doo wah ditty
For Nooyawk Nooyawk Nooyawk City.
posted by DAK @ 7:44 AM
5 Comments:
I love that The Weather Channel has decided it can name snow storms (and that the rest of the media that is not TWC has decided that's stupid or even dangerous). That's so sad about the sandwich - I can't imagine they could survive long like that.
Enjoy the winter. We are starting to warm up a bit here. The sun is sure bright this morning!
Yes, it's sunny & bright here in SF.
Those are some GREAT photos and I got the shivers looking at them. Be safe and ride this storm out. Sorry you missed the Blonde Bombshell's party last night, it was fun.
You two are just out of practice. Lapsed New Yorkers.
PS the best pastrami now is reportedly in Long Island City. Want to make a trip while you're here?
Snow, slush.
Mishmashmush.
Slip, slide.
Greasy and fried.
A doo wah doo wah doo wah ditty
For Nooyawk Nooyawk Nooyawk City.
msmasmush is what I call Mary Ann. For a moment I thought you had immoralized her in your poem.
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