Narcissistic optimism

The other day I heard an interview with Laurie David, an environmentalist who is also Larry ("Curb Your Enthusiasm") David's ex-wife. "Because I'm an environmentalist, I'm an optimist," she said.

That puzzled me. If you're an environmentalist, I thought, you must be devastated by the awful state of the earth. But this morning I was looking at my narcissuses and marveling that in just a couple of weeks they have sprouted more than a foot (and produced stinky blossoms!)  from dried-up, dead-looking bulbs stuck in a layer of pebbles and doused with water—when I remember. They have thrived so well on so little. And thinking about that has made me feel like an optimist too!

Mutt and Jeff

Jefferson Market Library, shrink-wrapped

I can't remember which came first—Christo's wrapping buildings for art or construction companies wrapping buildings for renovation? 

Some things really do change

Add to the list of things that have vanished along with the once-ubiquitous Andean flute-and-fife quartets: plastic bags in trees. Used to be that plastic bags were common as leaves on New York’s trees. But lately, not so much.

If it's not one thing ...

Stretch tops are the most practical garments for yoga since they cling to your body and don't have wardrobe malfunctions when you're, say, doing a headstand. But I stopped wearing close-fitting clothes after my mastectomy because they highlighted the gouges in my chest. For the past few years I've been wearing T-shirts. I tuck them into my pants and hope for the best when I do inversions. But lately I've been trying to wear breast forms to prevent confusion about my gender. Today I put a pair into a stretchy yoga top and headed off to class, feeling a little self-conscious. A few minutes into the class, I sensed that something wasn't quite right about my clothing. I checked my boobs, and they seemed to be in more or less the right place. But something was off. Oh, right, I put my pants on backward.

No regrets

Today is my 38th anniversary of mating up with Other. No regrets.

Antique reference

Many obituaries of Elizabeth Edwards describe her breast tumor as the size of a half-dollar. I used to get a 50-cent piece every week for my allowance, so the image of that coin is deeply embedded in my memory. But I don't think my kids ever saw a half-dollar, and I'm wondering how many other young people are puzzled by this reference. But then how many young people are reading the obituary of a 62-year-old woman who never performed on Dancing with the Stars or starred in Nip/Tuck? Oops, my youthism is showing!