Ode to Gratitude

Thanks to the word
that gives thanks.
Thanks to the gratitude
for how excellently
the word melts snow or iron.

The planet seemed full of threats
until soft
as a translucent
feather,
or sweet as a sugary petal,
from lip to lip,
it passed,
thank you,
magnificent, filling the mouth,
or whispered,
hardly voiced,
and the soul became human again,
not a window,
soome clear shine
penetrated the forest:
it was possible again to sing beneath the leaves.
Gratitude, you are medicine
opposing
scorn’s bitter oxides,
light melting the cruel altar.

Perhaps
you are also
the carpet
uniting
the most distant men,
passengers spread out
through nature
and the jungle
of unknown men,

merci,
as the delirous train
penetrates a new country,
eradicating frontiers,
spasibo,
joined with the sharp-cusped
volcanoes, frost and fire,
thanks, yes, gracias, and the Earth
turns into a table,
a single word swept it clean,
plates and cups glisten,
forks jingle,
and the flatlands seem like tablecloths.

Thanks, gracias,
you travel and return,
you rise
and descend.
It is understood, you don’t
permeate everything,
but where the word of thanksgiving
appears like a tiny petal,
proud fists hide
and a penny’s worth of a smile appears.

— Ode to Gratitude by the great Pablo Neruda

Cupcakes are an ugly, cut-throat business.

As most of you know, last spring I began selling cupcakes out the window of Peter McManus Cafe on 7th Avenue in New York City.  All was going well  -  I had some success, developed a following, got some great reviews - and then all hell broke loose.  I started receiving threatening letters from a law firm representing a cupcake company out West with a similar name.  Then the weather wreaked havoc on my business plan.  (Let me tell you - there is no love lost between humidity and butter cream frosting.)  An elderly person ate a cupcake and died.  (In my defense, she was very old and dying anyway, but the fact remains that my cupcake was the last thing that passed her lips.)   Lacking the financial and emotional resources to fight the law and mother nature, (let alone a murder charge,) I folded like a cheap tent.  A couple of months ago, my business FaceBook page disappeared without so much as a warning.  My photographs and all the wonderful posts of encouragement disappeared along with it.  I just wanted to thank everyone for their support, and let you know that I am well out of the cupcake business.

"Moon for the Misbegotten" and "Brief Encounter" all rolled into one!

And now, for one of the best moments I have ever experienced in the theater. Last Tuesday night I saw "American Idiot." I invited my friend Rachel to go with me. We had orchestra seats; they were towards the back, but still good. Rachel is seriously pregnant, and was seated next to an ENORMOUS man. I offered to switch seats so she would be more comfortable, but she graciously said no, she was fine. At the end of the play, we were still seated, but the enormous man next to Rachel stood and bent over to retrieve his coat. As he did, his pants fell halfway down and right at that moment, Rachel turned her head. A perfect storm– Rachel's head came within 2 inches of the biggest, whitest, hairiest ass in the history of theater. I turned at the same moment to see her beautiful face framed by that enormous butt and the look of shock and horror on her face. (It was like an ass halo, really...) I cannot remember ever laughing that long and that hard. As we were leaving the theater, I had to cling to the walls and railing; tears of laughter streaming down my face. I count us lucky that the encounter did not send her into labor. In the cab coming home, Rachel just kept saying in a dazed way, "Did that really happen? Was I just mooned on Broadway? I mean, I feel like I came very close to cheating on my husband..."

When I woke up to pee at 4:00 in the morning, I was still giggling. Seriously.

I liked the play, but it made me feel very old–disaffected youth doesn't hold much allure for me anymore, but I liked the music and had a great time with an especially stunning finale.

And Rachel deserves a Tony, at the very least.

A tale of redemption (and cupcakes) on the cold streets of New York

I have a relationship with a homeless guy who bikes around Third Avenue. (He's sort of an anomaly in that he's homeless, but he does have wheels.) We're not dating or anything, but I realized he was funny after I got hit by a car last year. My knee was destroyed and I had to have surgery. The recovery was long and hard, and crutching around the streets of New York City was no picnic. (Don't even get me started on the subway at rush hour - I'm lucky to be alive.) The homeless guy took to calling me "Hop-a-long Cassidy," "Peg-Leg-Meg," and so on. A trip to the supermarket was exhausting. I'd often have to stop and rest, even though it was only a block away. "Hey Peg!" he'd yell encouragingly, "Better slow motion than no motion!" If he was in a hurry, he'd yell "Better slo-mo than no-mo!" He made me laugh.

A couple months later I got laid off from my job. I decided to change direction completely and started a home baking business,"Double-D-Lish Cupcakes!" (Bigger than average and all natural...) I often gave cupcakes to the homeless guy whenever I was baking and happened to see him on the street. He loved my cupcakes, though once he mentioned that I could ease up a little on the vanilla... He made me laugh.

It's been about a year since then, and I won't say it's been an easy one. Depression, lack of exercise, unemployment and cupcakes (my constant companion) are not a recipe for physical fitness. A few weeks ago, I was hauling my laundry down Third Avenue heading for the laundromat. The homeless guy, laughing, yelled out, "Hey Baby! Better lay off the cupcakes! You're getting big!" I froze, then spun around, not sure I'd heard correctly. (Was I just HECKLED by the homeless guy? Did that just happen?) "Stop eating those cupcakes!" he yelled. He did not make me laugh. Not even a little bit.

My first impulse was to scream, "Fuck you - at least I've got an apartment, you asshole!" But then I quickly realized that baiting a homeless guy with the fact that you have an apartment is really bad behavior and in fact makes you the asshole, so I said nothing. But silently I vowed he would never EVER get another cupcake out of me. So there.

Yesterday I was out walking Sparky and I saw the homeless guy riding his bike. I turned the corner to avoid contact, but he rode up alongside me. "Listen, " he said, "3 weeks ago I said something to you." "I remember," I said, "You called me fat." He looked crestfallen. "I was joking!" "It wasn't funny," I shot back. "But you're not really fat!" he said. And before I could stop it - a torrent of words came flying out and I found myself speech-blasting the homeless guy that he had hurt my feelings. (Even as I write this, I am totally mortified.) He apologized and rode off down the street. When he reached the corner of 18th St. and Third Avenue, he turned around, looked back at me and yelled at the top of his lungs, "YOU'RE NOT FAT, SISTER!!!"

All is forgiven; I have to go preheat the oven.

Once you've been kicked to the curb like a wet food stamp...

All kinds of possibilities open up. It's time for reinvention. Being single and having no one to impress or disappoint just makes you that much freer. I've been unemployed for a week now, and I'm trying to think in different directions - expand my employment horizons. In all my working life, I still have not found that perfect job - the one that makes getting out of bed in the morning tolerable. (Though I have to admit, working at Godiva in college comes close.)

So last week, I started thinking about what I like to do. I like to read, watch movies, play Scrabble, cook and act. Reading and watching movies is not likely to be lucrative. I mean - I guess I could read for the blind, but what if they wanted me to read nothing but science fiction or training manuals? Besides, that seems like more of a volunteer kind of thing anyway. Watching movies - I guess I could be a critic. Oh ...no way. I am so impressed when anyone does anything (I mean anything at all, let alone make a movie -) that I would be useless. I'd gush and gush. Scrabble - I'm not weird enough to devote my whole life to it. (Anybody happen to catch the movie "Word Wars?") Acting.... yeah, right. But hold on a minute! Baking - now there's something.

In fact - I have already parlayed baking skills into tangible goods. There was a time I was without health insurance, and traded cakes for antidepressants. ( I won't name names, but there is a certain sweet-toothed receptionist at a doctor's office not above taking a bribe.) I also made a friend's wedding cake as a gift, but believe me - buying the toaster would have been A LOT easier. And just last week I plied my physical therapist with cupcakes in the hopes that she would also help me get in shape. "Yes, my knee feels much better, but what are we going to do about these jiggly arms?"

Now I am older, wiser and riddled with experience. PLUS - I own a fancy kitchen aid mixer, thank you very much Gabe.

Perhaps now is the time I try and bake my way in the world.

He used the word, "Bellicose"

I'm up to my ears in affidavits. Just before Christmas, some creep managed to get his hands on my personal information and marched into several stores, opening charge accounts in my name. He then proceeded to charge up a storm. Each time a bill comes in - that is more paperwork I have to fill out. The most recent bill I received was for $2,000, charged to Sears. I know the drill now, so I was filling out the affidavit for that while listening to the Presidential address. And then President Obama used the word, "Bellicose." I put down my pen and thought about how much I love this President. (I think I may have cried a little.) Can you even IMAGINE George "They misunderestimated me" Bush saying something like that? Or even knowing the definition? (And full disclosure here - I had to look up the spelling; I wasn't sure if there was one "L" or two...)

Life is hard right now, even in just my little corner of the world. I recently was laid off, my identity was stolen (...and, by the way - WHO'D WANT IT??!) and I'm recovering from an accident that required knee surgery. But somehow - I think it's going to be ok.

I think our President may be the smartest person in the room. Any room.

And I'm not given to hyperbole, either.

Never saw it coming... or did I??

Like just about every other Tom, Dick and Mary, I got the boot from my job last week. Wednesday, in fact. And ironically - I felt pretty good that morning. Optimistic, even - which is NOT my default position. The company was getting ready to launch a blog. Everyone was encouraged to contribute. Finally, I thought, here is something I could do! (I was the oldest receptionist on Broadway and deeply bored.) I decided to write the daily horoscope.

Wednesday, February 4:

Aries- March 21 - April 20 Do NOT wear brown socks today.
(If you are already wearing brown socks, hotfoot it down to
Duane Reade to remedy the matter.

Taurus - April 21 - May 21 Your best bet for lunch? Tuna on rye.

Gemini- May 22 - June 21 Sometimes just parting your hair on the other side gives you a totally new look! Why not give it a whirl?

Cancer- June 22 - July 22 JUST LET IT GO! That’s all I’m saying.

Leo - July 23 -August 21 Sometimes, you just need to apologize – even if it’s not your fault.

Virgo - August 22 - September 23 Complacency is underrated.

Libra - September 24 - October 23 DID YOU CHECK THE STOVE?????

Scorpio-October 24 - November 22 Someone may have put a curse on
you. Just to be on the safe side, wear pajamas inside out to bed tonight.

Sagittarius November 23 - December 22 Nobody likes a know-it-all, so keep some of it to yourself.

Capricorn – December 23 - January 20 Sometimes you feel like a nut – sometimes you don’t.

Aquarius- January 21 - February 19 You look terrific today! Ask somebody out, ask for a raise, ask someone to marry you – you can’t go wrong! (And there’s no harm in asking…)

Pisces- February 20- March 20 Today is not a good day for you, I advise you to lay low. (And avoid Aquarians like the plague – you could end up in a mess of hot water!


My Birthday is February 27th, I'm Pisces.

My career as a receptionist may be down the toilet, but if I were Jeanne Dixon - I'd be watching my back! Um...I just had a hunch that she might be dead, and that is true. Jeanne Dixon went to her reward in 1997. (Just further proof of my extraordinary gift.)