Um...Thanks?

When the cop who called the tow-guy for me on Tuesday left me sitting in my car at the side of the Palisades, he told me to "buckle up so that you don't get waffled." As it turns out "waffled" means about the same thing as "pancaked," but at the time I thought it was the weirdest thing I ever heard a cop say to me. Until, well, today.
You see, today a cop said, "nice toes" or "I like your toes" to me. Either way is just as weird as the other. In other words, today's cop wins the award for most bizarre random comment made to me ever. He tops the girl who asked me if I eat whale and the man who told me he liked my boots.

Featured Fan: Nukes

Yeah, that's right. Since my mother mentioned to me that she's noticed no one's commented in a while, I felt the need to do something. Not really because of the lack of comments (I do my blogging thing and you do your reading thing and I'm cool with that) but because of what my mother said after that which was, "do you still get an okay amount of hits?" More hits daily than in the past few months, fewer comments. Perhaps it's because the people who used to comment on the blog now just tell me what they were thinking directly. I don't know, but I felt making a featured fan would give my parents some nachas. Ha! :)

A Bug Tale

Chapter One: A Love Story
While waiting in my car on the side of the Palisades this morning for both my father and the tow truck to arrive, I made friends with a little critter I like to call Bugs. His official name is Bugs P. T. Bunny, but he prefers Bugs. Since my windows were down when my car died (between exits two and one on the highway) it was impossible for me to close them. And Bugs, being the friendly guy he is, just popped right in through the passenger side window and landed himself on my forefinger.
After finding my left hand entertaining for about fifteen minutes, Bugs gained the confidence to fly to my right hand. Then he left me. But I know he'll be happier in the wild, so I can't be selfish about our love. And if you happen to see a tiny little yellow critter with black specs on his irridescent wings, a snout that lowers to sniff out fingers, two buggy eyes, and the body type of a bee, tell him I say "hi;" it's probably Bugs.

This is a picture of Bugs when he was on my thumb. It was taken while we were bonding.

Chapter Two: A Gross Story
I was using my fingers as a comb today while drying my hair at the gym and found a spider in my hair. While finding a spider in one's hair is usually gross, my case was particularly gross because it happened to be after my shower.
The end.

"A Nova," He Repeated

I sat at a table in a hallway at school working on today's crossword puzzle. The hint for 3-down was "exploding star" and I stared at the blank boxes. Nova. I knew that the last four letters had to be nova. The first five, however, I just couldn't get. After moving on to other hints, I noticed my Astro lab professor walk behind me and go for a drink from the vending machine. He selected a drink and knelt to get it out when it came. I pretended to fill in some other squares. He got up and started walking behind me again and I turned around.
"Professor, what do you call an exploding star?"
"A nova."
"No, no, I know that. But what kind of nova?"
"A nova."
"And one that explodes?"
"Is this for your...?" He pointed to my puzzle.
"Yeah."
"Supernova. A supernova is a star that explodes."
I thanked him and filled it in. He walked away and I realized that I should've figured it out on my own.

I Got These Old Walkin' Blues...

Sometimes, one is called upon to give up some of their comforts for the sake of another. This is common when one is in a relationship. You give some and the other one gives some and both of you are happy. It's called compromise and I happen to be a fan of it.
However, there are some times when I wish I could draw the line. Call it quits. Throw in the towel and say, "well, if you're going to be impossible to deal with, I'm just not going to deal with you!" And to then walk away without so much as a sideway glance. I don't often feel this frustrated with a relationship, but when I do, I really, really do.
Take this afternoon, for example. I don't ask for much from my car other than for it to transport me hither and thither. And sometimes, on days when the temperature is in the ninties, I ask that it provide me with an area of cool respite for the interim of a trip. In the past, my car was more than happy to indulge me with a little bit more than usual. We dubbed the indulgance "the air conditioner" and called it even when I'd give my car an extra-early oil change. But recently, things started turning sour.
My car, in its oddly passive-aggressive way, is asking me to break up with it. You know how it goes. Someone wants to break up with you but doesn't want to be the one held accountable for that kind of decision so they make you do it. They'll start with the small things first, waiting for the fifth time you call them to return your phone call. Then they'll move onto bigger things like showing you up on a date and calling later that night to apologize for something that came up so suddenly they couldn't even call you until three hours later. Then they might move onto even bigger things like making you keep the heater on in the heat of the summer. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The point I'm trying to make is that they'll basically abuse you until you're forced to break up with them. And my car, I fear, is falling into this pattern.
My car developed an allergy to the air conditioner recently. I turn the air on and my car tries to outdo it by heating the engine. I happen to find driving with the windows down a pleasure in the summer, so I've been good about giving my car its space and letting it get away with its newly discovered dislike for the air conditioner. But when I'm sitting in traffic, my open windows do nothing but allow 90-something degree air to mix and mingle with me. And 90-something degrees of humidity mixed with intense sunrays isn't pleasant. Even then, however, I'm okay with having my windows open. Because I love my car, and that's what you do for love.
What I'm not okay with is sitting in traffic with my windows open to 90-something degree air and having the heater on full blast at the same time. You see, my car's newest trick--my car's second degree try at getting me to break up with it--is that it tries overheating regardless of whether I have the air conditioner on or not. And when a car tries overheating, you have to put the heater on to draw the heat away from the engine. Which is why I am slowly, but no-doubt, getting upset with my car.
It even drove me to the point of sacrilege. I tremble as I type this, but I have no choice as to relay it lest you not really understand why I feel so abused by my car. With the sun beating down on me through the open window and my flip-flop clad foot developing a blistering burn from the heater that was blowing on it at full blast, I had no choice but to remove my lucky Allman Brothers tee-shirt (I was wearing another shirt underneath because my lucky one's sleeves are too short) from my very own back and wrap it around my boiling hot right foot. That's right, I wasn't just giving up some of my comforts for another...I was giving up my lucky tee to assuage my foot's pain in the name of my car's silly antics.
I have to state that as much as I love my car (and I do, I really do), I can only give 60% to this relationship if it will too or I will feel that I am being taken advantage of. So let this serve as a warning, my car--shape up or I will have to move on without you. It might be a slow moving on because I'll be on foot, but I will be without you.

And Here It Smells Like Garbage Because Pick-Up's Tomorrow

I was standing on the sidewalk right near a pile of garbage bags as a group of about five women passed me.
"And here it smells like horses because the race track is right over there," the most knowledgable one among them said.
Curious as to how New York City could fit a race track smack in the middle of the city, I started looking around. Lo and behold, we were right in front of an Off-Track Betting. I'd think she's a tourist, but I'm pretty sure being absolutely certain about something you don't know is a New York thing too.

Good-Bye America, said The Old Man

There I was, standing on line at my hole-in-the-wall coffee shop when an elderly man behind me ordered two poppy seed bagels with cream cheese for $4.
"I remember when you could get this for a dollah in Brooklyn," he said.
I smiled and got a straw for my drink. We walked out of the coffee shop together in awkward silence. Afraid that he'd be grumpy for the rest of the day, I decided to make an attempt at explaining our generation.
"Well, y'know, it's really just the value of the dollar that's changed," I told the old man.
"Oh, yes...I know."
We continued down Lexington together.
"I'm safe, by the way," he assured me, as if I were afraid of being attacked by an 85 year-old man my own height. "Do you know what an egg cream is?"
"It's a drink, isn't it? A malt?"
"They used to make it in Brooklyn; it was vanilla milk, ice cream, and seltzer. The best thing on the planet. What do you have over there?"
I told him it was just an iced coffee.
"Have you ever had an egg cream?"
"I don't think I have."
"This country saw its best days in the fifties and sixties. Those were the best days. I'm telling you, it's just going down."
And with that, he crossed the street to take the train.

No One To Run With

Wow, a comic mirroring my life? Unbelievable. :)

Z Y X W V U

When I had successfully thought the entire Alphabet backwards, I moved onto the Times Table. Particularly the x8 table. I was absent that day from Mrs. Emma's fourth grade class and still have difficulty remembering what 8x7 is (when I do 7x8, I remember more quickly because my hint was 5,6,7,8 which does better with 56=7x8). Anyway, I got stuck at the aforementioned 8x7 and decided to find something else to entertain myself with.
Looking around the hairdresser's mirror, I noticed that her license was above the top of the mirror. In other words, it was just out of my field of vision. Glancing away, it hit me that I don't even know my hairdresser's last name. She's been cutting my hair since I was in tenth grade and yet, well, I don't know anything but her first name. Then I remembered that time I was walking down my block and the little kids were chasing the mailman in his little truck and screaming, "Gary! Gary!" Some older kid on the block assumed the role of boss and informed the others that his name was "actually Greg." Which is true.
I should probably just go and get ready for Shabbos. Have a shabbat shalom!

Like Mother Like Daughter

While driving down one of the two main roads out here, I heard my phone ring. Closing my windows and turning off the radio, I answered my mother's call.
"Look behind you!" She said into the phone.
Lo and behold, my mother was there driving right behind me. We waved frantically to each other. As it turned out, we were heading for the same place. So we drove around the parking lot together, found spots one behind the other, and laughingly walked into the strip mall. Where would we be without small towns?

The Distance of the Sun to Earth is called an Astronomical Unit

I took a bus in on Monday and arrived with plenty of time before class. Being as I am such a cool person, it seemed logical to walk all the way from the bus stop to school. At one point in my walk, I noticed that the front of my skirt (marked by a tied drawstring) was, frankly, nowhere near the front of my body. Which sounds like I'm trying to say the skirt fell off. But I'm not trying to say that. I'm trying to say that it twisted itself. A lot.
On any normal day in the year, my first reaction would have been to twist it back to its proper position before even thinking about it. Only, no day this summer will be a normal day because my mind is under the influence of numbers. The mass of the Sun is approximately 2 x 10^30. An artificial satellite will take 83 minutes to complete its orbit around Earth. When the Earth is closer to the sun (the Earth's orbit is elliptical so it is, at times, closer or farther from the sun) it moves faster in its orbit than when it's far away. And I thought, "I wonder how many degrees my skirt rotates a minute!"
Distance: 22 blocks + 2.5 avenues = approximately 27 blocks or 13.5 avenues.
Time: 30 minutes.
Number of rotations: the skirt completed 3 full 360* rotations around the axis of my body.
So, for about every street I walked, my skirt rotated approximately 40*. Or, my skirt rotated at a rate of 36* a minute.
Of course, my hips are more elliptical than circular and that probably makes some sort of difference. But in conclusion, I need to stop wearing skirts that are too big.

QOTD: Phonebook Edition

Zvi, looking through Zahava's phone: Who's "aaaaaah?"
Zahava: The Triple A!

Classic.

Peaches

Something amazing happened to me today. I took a bite out of the peach I had just taken out of the fridge and a huge spray of peach juice exploded from the fruit and landed in big wet sploshes on the newspaper I was reading. This, by the way, is why I love summer.

Have a good Shabbos!

FLOSSER!

Chapter One
Once upon a time I was driving home from school with a friend. While going over the bridge, I had my eyes on the cars ahead, beside, and behind me, the road, and the sky. After noticing how brilliant and stunning the sky was on that particular day, I pointed it out to the friend. He replied, "Dina, you're a stoner...who just doesn't get stoned."
Chapter Two
My brother was looking through the pictures I had in my phone and after what I think was the eighth, closed the phone and asked me if I drive to get places or to take pictures of the sky. I would have told him I drive like anyone else (if you hold the phone on the steering wheel to take a picture, you still have full control of the wheel), but realized I would have sounded like I was just in denial.
Here are some illustrations before I continue this tale.






























Chapter Three
I realized it might be wise not to divide my attention between the road and sky while driving and vowed not to take sky pictures anymore. The only problem was that I am gifted with a talent for observing things...while on the road. So, I turn your attention to the other pictures I've taken from both the road and just walking around complete with explanations and/or captions. As a bonus, I made three galleries. The other pictures are kind of just floating.

It says NERF!

Apparently, some clouds believe in Gd.

I used to pass this ad everyday on my way to school. And what's the only thing cuter than a baby? Four babies!


The License Plates Gallery

Punchbugi Red!

"I floss at you."

Someone should inform this driver that a simple MD would take up less room and not require spell check.

Destination: Sweet?

The Signs Gallery

A sign I saw while leaving da Bronx once. Classic.

I guess after the lords took the valley all that was left for the dingman was the ferry.


The Trucks vs. Drivers Gallery

Is this the trucks way of telling me I can choose the driver's destiny?

This truck was a lot more clear. The left side said, "live." The right side (featured here) said, "die."

Coins for sale?

It's the Trucker Dog!

Except Of Course Medical Emergency

I thought I couldn't feel any dumber than I did last summer when I took Math 100. But I was wrong. After one Astronomy Lab, I realized that there is a part of the brain generally used for computing mathematical equations that I am missing. This could easily be helped, I thought, and took my friend up on his offer to tutor me.
During the tutoring session, I subtracted 5 from 23 and got 13 (I went two below 15 instead of two above), rounded .15625 x 10^10 to 26 x 10^something (apparently, you would just go with 16), and got 9 after subtracting 5 from 17. And, like I said before, this was all after only one class.
Feeling dumb and doomed, I stopped into Shakespeare to pick up my lab manual today. Opening it to the first page, I read, "Welcome in the Laboratory Exercises In Astronomy Class." Excited, I read on, "Here in the laboratory we provide you with the chance to practice your knowledge using little mathematics, but don't worry we will help you through that." My heart jumped and skipped. "The lab. periods are very short and we have a lot to accomplish during this time, so we ask you to read the laboratory manual before coming to the class, this way you can finish the exercises on time." One missing apostrophe, one incomprehensible sentence form, four run-ons, one gratuitous comma, and one mid-sentence tense shift later, I remembered that we all have our strengths and weaknesses.
But I can't resist leaving you with this beauty: "Attendance is mandatory, except of course medical emergency, in each class the attendance will be verified. If you miss a class then you have to make it up in one of the other astronomy laboratory sections, or at the end of the semester during the make up week, check the schedule of the semester."

But They Had Prepared Coffees Already

After oversleeping Monday morning, I hurried too much and got facewash in both eyes. Which is why I wasn't thinking straight and left my sweater at home. It wasn't so cold that I was suffering though, but my classroom was freezing! So after class, I went to the coffee shop up the block to get a tea. Only, they were out of hot water. I repeat--they were out of hot water.
Have a good day. :)

G9!

To sum up my last week, I will replay a conversation I had on Wednesday.
Me: Hi Doni, I'm calling to wish you a happy birthday.
Doni: Oh, um, it's not my birthday.
Me: But I thought on Shabbos Miryam was saying that your b-day's on Tuesda...oh.
Doni: That was really cool because I actually just heard your brain click.

Anyway, I spent Shavuot in Pennsylvania where I met the most adorable 5.75 year old in the world. He sang like a star and break-danced for me. Then we hung out on Shabbos and, I'll admit, were a little wild (he was jumping off the porch which was about three feet off the ground at least and I was catching him and then twirling him around really fast). Later in the day, he said to me, "we're always together...like we're married." Collective sigh.
G9 was the bunkhouse I stayed in for the Shavuaton. We were the best bunch because we were all friends and if we didn't know someone, we were mutually friends with all the rest of the people. So we made a cheer: G9! We're so fine! We're so fine we blow your mind! G9!
Anyway, Shavuot was ridiculously amazing. Between the learning I did, babies I held, little kids I played with, and new friends I made, it was the best campy experience of my life. :)

And the award for best tidbit of conversation overheard from across the room goes to...
Eli: Oh look, a crumb.
Chaya: Eat it.
Eli: No way.
Chaya: I dare you to eat it!
Eli eats the crumb.
Chaya: EW! I would never eat something I found on my blanket!