to my one-day-pal,



you are a very lucky man.

why?

because nothing unburdens my soul quite like cleaning house.

however, you'll have to put up with said burdened soul.

and cook. you'll have to cook, because i can't.



love, love,
me

ps: i had to beg, borrow, and steal (all three) a computer just to get this note to you.

away from computer.

computer broken. stop.

earliest appointment at genius bar, tuesday evening. stop.

will return when fixed. stop.

have no idea when that will be. stop.

ah. stop, stop, stop.

there must be an end to the string of bad luck i've been having.

hmmm.

the world series. history.

im sitting here. on the futon. legs hanging over. watching mariano rivera's long run in from center field.

the man is unflappable. someone asked him what he hears when approaching the mound. silence. he said. he comes to do his job. and he does it.

i can't imagine what it must be like to be there at yankee stadium right now. the noise, deafening. the energy, full and tangible--a moving thing.

baseball was my first love. the field, my first home.

my father was raised in the bronx. the booze for my grandparents wedding provided by three yankees of the day. my destiny was tied to the team long before i ever entered this world.

but it was the summer after my junior year of high school that i began the slow and steady apprenticeship of becoming a true lover of the bronx bombers.

my uncle (the phillies fan, ironically enough) taught me the bulk of it. and my aunt the yankee die-hard and devotee of past great center fielder, bernie williams, added her own. i spent that summer falling in love with new york city and all it had to offer, most especially, its most decorated--most storied baseball team.

it is the history of it all that really gets me. it tells the history of this country. of my own childhood. and i am indebted to the sport for that alone.

there it is. line drive to jeter for the first out of the ninth inning. the yankees lead seven-three.

two to go.

the last time my boys were in the world series was the year of my apprenticeship. they lost. i have yet to see them win the world series. for me this story is new. this is a new part of my history.

i know many think baseball is boring. but its like the equivalent of a strip-tease. it's all about tension. give and take. gentle undulations.

fly to right-field. my boy swisher gets it for out number two.

hideki matsui got six rbi's tonight. seven runs we have, and he drove six of those babies in.

the whole stadium is on its feet, but my legs are dangling. off of the futon. kicking a bit wildly at this point.

there it is!! they did, they just did it.

their bodies coming together in one mass huddle. bobbing in a sea of green.

i love baseball. i'm so proud of my boys.

november is the month, indeed.

lipstick pick.

yesterday joanna posted about red lipstick. 

and it got me thinking.

about my own pick.

the past year or so i've taken a great liking to lipstick.

because my left eye leaks (a lot lately) spending any time on eye makeup tends to be a waste. 

so i do mascara and a strong lip.

but lately i've been wanting something a bit more natural--like a lip stain, but not quite.

i've been feeling very low maintenance. 

so my pick for the season is laura mercier's hydrating tint in "berry." 

it's actually more vibrant than it appears in the picture and as it wears off it definitely has a stain quality.

so there you go. 

my two cents because i know you wanted to know (what?). i'm talking crazy now.

but seriously. after working for a cosmetic company this is what i know--yes, those girls and guys are informed, but nothing beats spending a few hours in sephora and trying everything on. you know what looks good on you. or you'll learn. either way... win, win.

november brings good tidings.

i'd like to wipe october from my slate.

start again.

fresh.

so november first came.

sunday morning.

my friend kate and i ventured to the east side to catch the nyc marathon.

if ever you find yourself in the city on the day of this gorgeous event, you must watch--participate--partake in some way.

there's nothing quite like it. 

people. everywhere. from all over. doing something so unbelievably difficult and miraculous. each with a story. running together. a moving quilt covering the blacktop streets. an endless stream of wordless music as their feet meet the pavement.

kate and i were walking across 62nd street towards first avenue, approaching the party, when we saw runners. moving at a speed you can't even imagine. whoosh. whoosh. woosh. followed quickly by a news camera on a dolly. whoosh. and we realized, oh that's the lead pack. we just saw the very front-runners. live and in person. i took this as a very good omen for the month. had we arrived a minute sooner we would have been inside and walking up the stairs and missed their passing. a minute later and we wouldn't have had any idea. our timing was... fortuitous. 

a tiding of all the good things to come. i think.

i hope.