Deadline

There is nothing in the world that makes me want to lounge around the house, and watch stupid television shows, than a writing deadline. 26 pages of 85 done. Aka not even halfway. Aka no reason to look for expensive sunglasses online. Yet.

Overheard at the Moses retirement home Part 2

Mr. Simon, when asked how he was feeling: I'm glad it's nice out so we can go outside, and that the food has gotten so much better since you all have been here. (It is doubtful the food was any different. Maybe he was just distracted.)

A lady whose name I do not remember: I was once in a school play. I played the grandma of two children, but the grandma was dead, so I actually played a photograph of the grandmother. The entire time I had a frame around my upper body. In another play I was a music box. I sat in a box and when someone opened it I sang a song. (After this story she sang a song. It was in Romanian, so I'm not sure what it was about.)
There were also two men in the group that always did everything together. When there was a photography assignment they did it in a duo. They sat next to each other when we made drawings. They were roommates, so presumably they also slept next to each other. They barely spoke, as if they had become one and the same person.

Overheard at the Moses Rosen retirement home, Bucharest

Mr. Pompiliu, 90: A man knows he's old when he loved all the girls, and none of them love him.
(Which was not entirely true. My roommate, a Romanian girl from Cluj, found him incredibly sexy.)
On our last day he said: Although saying goodbye is salty from the tears, may the coffee be sweet.

Mrs. Eva, age unknown: What is this? I don't know who I drink. (She was drinking watered down coffee. She did not believe this.)
Mrs. Adelanou, 80 something about a drawing in the hallway: It says mr. Simon's name on this, but he did not do this drawing. Everybody lies around here. I shall ask someone to erase his name from the drawing. It's just not right.

Mrs. Alenanou about Mrs. Eva's drawing picturing two dogs sniffing each other's behind with the title 'irresistable attraction' : You are obsessed with sex. Everything is always about sex with you.
Mr. Marius about his drawing with the assignment 'your name': I drew a house, because domesticity is very important to me. It is a house in the middle of the forrest, the wilderness. There is a path between this house and the forrest, that leads to the front door.

Mrs. Adelanou: I think people should reconsider communism.
When she gave me an orange: Please, put the orange in your bag. Otherwise they'll wonder where you got it from.
Mrs. Silvianu, 80s, to Mara, 19: You should never wear blue, it's bad luck. And you should take some blonde highlights. They'll make you look years younger.

Mrs. Medi, 104 years old, and a painter: I never really thought so much about what I would do with my life. I never made any decisions. I just waited to see what would happen. I still don't see myself as a real painter. I don't think I am.
Mrs. Odil, 80s, who changes her pink and purple outfits four times a day: My daughter lives in Vienna with her engineer husband. One day he bought her a red mercedes sports car. When I came to visit she drove me around in it.
Mrs. Eva: I translated avant garde Hungarian poetry. I can't stand the idiots here. Most of them are idiots.

Sonja

If skin could talk we would never hear the end of it.
Lived in, damaged, healed, soft, flexible with a smile, stark with an eyebrow.
Eyes lit up thinking of a little lamb fed by hand until it was fully grown.
Feet up on a balcony under a red roof.
Something about an old school friend who had found you from across the globe.
Painful, confident steps to a stove, and some small flowers in a vase.
French television stewing in the background.
Combs carefully holding a life together.
An ordinary day, except for a familiar voice on my voicemail.
What do you call squirrels again in Dutch?
Where do I drop these things off? I have some socks they could use.
We could order something from the Vietnamese place.
A click. The voice is gone.
There are visitors coming.

Nemo

A snow storm hit New York and surrounding areas yesterday. Today kids were sledding on anything they could find. Two boys used their boogie boards to sled off of snow covered dunes. One of them landed flat on the ground.
"I'm dead" he said, "I feel like I'm dead." The other boy was quiet for a moment. "You're not dead!" The other boy got up and yelled "Thank Heavens!" to no one in particular.

Overheard in the A train

10:30 PM
They're putting everyone in the stands now. Anyone can be in the stands. This shorty next to me today was getting mad voids. I'm telling you, mad voids. And I swear on my mother, vendors can't get cashier shifts. Cashiers can get our shifts, but we can't get a cashier shift. I swear on my mother. Now when you call out, they don't just put a cross on your sheet, it's all too much paperwork. Lydia can't keep track anymore. She can't keep track. Now it's all verbal warnings. All verbal. I shoulda been gone a long time ago.

Things I will work on in February

Not offend people. On this blog or elsewhere. This is specifically meant for one person. Who I offended on this blog. And in real life. Sorry.
Do groceries and buy vegetables.
A retrospective. Of things I once wanted to do, but might never complete.
Being friendly to people while waiting in line. When I'm doing groceries for instance.
Count to ten when I want to hit my sister with my fist on her leg.
Wearing appropriate outfits, for the weather, circumstances, etc.
Use my planner, rather than virtual post-its on my computer I often accidentally delete.
Exercise.
Save receipts.
Wake up early. Sort of.