Our apartment is a mess.
There are little bits of lint and crud all over the carpet. The kids’ bathroom smells like a bus station. Empty pizza and Capri Sun boxes are piled in the kitchen.
I took my kids out to eat tonight.
They’re going with their dad tomorrow for the weekend. We went to a little Italian cafe which doesn’t look like much and doesn’t taste like much, either, but for some reason people rave about it. I think it’s the red checked tablecloths.
A big group of people reserved a table with a sign that said “Opera in the Heights”. Half the table was made up of quiet elderly folk. The other half contained noisy women with money. One, an Ivana-esque blonde, wore a gigantic faux leopard cape over gauzy black pants and a cheesily beaded animal print stretch nylon top. Also, she had huge dragonfly earrings.
“I just love dragonflies,” she told her friends, among many, many other things.
There’s this lady who works in my building.
She’s a tiny elderly Asian woman. I’ve never heard her speak, but every time I see her, she’s wearing at least one item of children’s clothing. The first time I saw her, in summer, it was a boy’s Garanimals t-shirt in a red and blue dinosaur print that she combines with work slacks, work flats. The next time, in fall, she had a fuzzy white pullover with a big pink teddy bear on the chest. With work skirt, work orthopedic shoes. Last time, this winter, she wore something with a teddy bear print.
She stood on the elevator with me and three corporate types. We all stared at the elevator doors like good little peons, but I felt waves of amusement and maybe derision emanating from the men and the woman in the suits.
I felt protective of the old lady. I wanted to give the others dirty looks. So what if she wear kids’ clothes to work? She’s a bad ass.
This lady’s my hero. She doesn’t give a damn.
My friend Letty got married last week.
Also, today’s her birthday. Happy birthday, Letty. Congratulations!
