Wanna see me pull a ____ out of my hat?

Well, nearly two weeks after my last post, it seems a little inadequate to explain that I have been consumed by work...but anyone who ever is consumed by work understands. I bet even you, the last stragglers, will give up on me soon.

Take heart, there is a story that is allll about that hat. On Sunday night I went to dinner with friends, good friends. (It's true, I could have blogged then instead of socializing but I hope you'll forgive me for taking on opportunity to be unchained from the computer.)

We laughed. One of the the diners was an actor in artistic erotic films (he stars in porn shorts) and his stories were riotous. He looked like a professor...and told me I had 1967 barbie hair and would "go down like an anchor." Er, pardon? The night was filled with vicarious flirting (them on my behalf while I watched with laughter and amazement), lewd jokes, and possibly literally - gallons of wine. It was a much needed retreat.

After dinner, we were saying goodnight on the sidewalk when one friend donned his hat...In 1999, the family for whom I worked as a nanny visited Vail and brought me the best hat I had ever had. It was cream colored fleece with a small tassel on top and the word "VAIL" in red letters on the side..."VAIL 99." I loved it but, after 7 years of loving it, I moved on to my Ski Dubai hat and donated the Vailie to an upscale thrift store whose proceeds goes to the GMHC in New York (Gay Men's Health Crisis...I think my dad just fell out of his chair). When the friend turned to me..."That's my hat." Out of everyone in this city, and the millions (true) who shop at the trendy Housing Works...my favorite hat had landed on the head of one of my favorite people. It was magic. And I was - yet again - reminded of how magic life is too. (Just in time!)

Cold as a...

you know what!

It's so cold that:

- your nose hairs instantly freeze into a clump when you step outside and take your first inhale

- all the dog pee and punk spit freezes to decorate the sidewalks with vile biological polka dots

- the girl on the train with the Guinness long nails had to tuck those scary hooks into convertible mittens. (Seriously, I had never seen the likes of these. They looked like sloth paws! When she got them in her mittens and they brushed/ clicked together, it sounded like a bunch of beetle exoskeletons in a burlap sack. Chills of many types ensued.)

- you can't feel your nose run

- everyone looks like a burglar

- we all daydream of spring in the park - all day

- I wear my Czech commie hat while working at home. Thank goodness my face didn't freeze like this!

Could you?

I pass this every day on the way to work. The bus comes LITERALLY within inches of it. I try to stop my mind from ducking right in the little cubby to see what's going on but I never succeed. So my morning commute, normally so pleasant and stress free (har) is violently interrupted while I watch some burly, freezing construction worker in his Carhart work clothes go poo. Thanks.

I marvel that someone consciously chose this as the spot for the porta-potty. Selected this over other possible locales. Obviously the privacy, isolation, aesthetic concern, and quietude were cleaaar factors. Call-A-Head? Oh how infinitely clever. What about just on the other side of the giant arrow? You know, the arrow that flashes and pretty much directs all passers by to LOOK AT the loo.

People have called me anal retentive in my life. I know what they mean. Compulsive. Neat. Maybe bossy. But park me on the middle of Broadway for my business and I am pretty sure I could live up to the real meaning. Good grief. I really couldn't do it. Could you?