The only interesting thing that happened to me all week – besides the usual [ crammed subways, unpredictable weather, & beautiful fall foliage] – was a conversation that I happened to eaves drop on at the Met. I’m kind of broke (and by kind of I mean really)… brunch and fancy speakeasies are freaking expensive. Going out on the town (or brunching it) will run you more than a couple pretty pennies. With that said, I was a little frivolous with my budget in the first part of the month (something I’m usually really good with managing) and am now having to tone it down.
The most exciting thing that happened to me all week was when I sat on a bench in the middle of the Renoir room in the impressionist section of the Met for 20 minutes. When visiting the Met I like choosing one painting that tickles my fancy at that moment, finding a nearby seat, & soaking in the art while observing others [observing]. Normally, I experience a period of incredible fulfillment followed by a strange sense of hostility; watching others pass by some of my favorite pieces without so much as a heartbeat. Once I’ve gotten over my dumb ego I experience a period of boredom… this is usually where my inner monologue really picks up. Anyway, it’s not normally a note worthy outing. This time, however, I got extremely lucky. I sat right next to a couple of elderly ladies who chose the same bench to perform their gossip hour… the conversation was obnoxiously entertaining. The lady closest to me (maybe a foot and a half) was as prim and proper as they come with a lovely lilac silk bow wraped about her gray-ish golden hair. At age 75 (?) her posture was better than mine. The other not-so-prim-or-proper lady was very clear about the fact that she had the only right opinion in the most brilliant Brooklyn accent I’ve heard yet. I don’t think she intended on being quite as loud as she was, but I could hear her in the room over. I’m guessing her hearing aid wasn’t working. The two broads paid no mind about the curly haired lady sitting next to them and carried on with their focus on Gilbert and Mary’s newest grandbaby and Sue’s poor decision making skills – all as if they were sitting alone on the stoop of their Brooklyn brownstone. I especially enjoyed their remarks on gay marraige – I was preparing myself for a series of outdated and ugly statements, but was rather surprised when Marge (I named the red head) said ‘What the hell are they waiting for? Marty and Ben have been lovers since the day they met, even Ma didn’t try to argue those two.’ Marty & Ben must have sparked Marge’s memory because that took her on a rant I’m not sure I was able to follow. I waivered in and out of their conversation as I followed (visually) folks walking past one of history’s greatest gifts as though it was the latest movie poster.
All in all those 20 minutes fed me more than the rest of the week’s lunches and dinners combined. I’ve slowly found myself slumping into a funk [and not the groovy kind] lately… my trip to the Met was exactly what the groove master order (by ‘groove master’ I mean me). I did some other fun things this weekend… pickle day (3 blocks of ALL things pickled… I ate my weight in salt and loved every single second), Central Park, & a Halloween inspired ladies evening (Hocus Pocus was just as perfect as I remember).
I’ll try to make my next post a little more interesting. Here are some pictures from this week… all taken with my iPhone… I’m too lazy to caption, just use your imagination.
Happy Fall 🙂