Journal: August 3rd. Hair cut, lobster roll and Zabar's before driving back.

My minimal New York plans had included breakfast with Margie, and a last minute haircut at one with Izumi on East 7th Street.

Margie canceled, giving me some welcome New York quiet time.  Due to the heaviness of my possessions, I decided to leave them on Wooster Street so I could walk easily to and from haircut.

Oh, there are few things that give me more pleasure than walking in New York City.  It is indeed my natural habitat--so much so that I forget to take pictures of my many excellent encounters--perhaps I will rectify that eventually but for now I can only report that I got an excellent haircut followed by a sublime lobster roll with root beer and potato chips--pure heaven -- next door at Luke's.  Reclaimed my bag and brought it to my happily parked car on 84th street.
How could I be on 84th Street and not visit Aunt Debbie, 94 year old widow of Uncle Mike, and mother of Jeannie.  Jeannie had told me she most likely would not remember me, but with just the slightest reminder, she knew exactly who I was and we had a splendid visit.

She appears to be in perfect health, and mentally, she is quite all right.  In fact, she laments about her good health, wishing that she could manage to exit this particular existence in which she spends most of her time lying on her bed, doing cross-words puzzles.  "I just do the easiest ones, now," she says, claiming she doesn't have the patience for anything challenging.

Who knows how you're supposed to grow old?  I would think she'd be much happier in some kind of group setting where she could talk to others.  "No, no.  I would hate the regimentation," she says.  More likely she just can't imagine any change.  She has, after all, lived in that apartment for decades.  Why move now?  Why not?

Old reliable windows

After my allotted twenty or so minutes (she does tire), I left for a Zabar's run before returning home.  I'd promised myself this treat (oh--what a day of seafood treats--first the lobster roll in honor of my non-existent new england heritage and then whitefish salad and herring in sour cream--my true heritage indeed.  Oh--and a loaf of fresh rye and assorted cheeses.

New risky ones

With the promise of a fabulous dinner/snack awaiting me on my return, I walked back to my car to discover that despite my obsessive locking of all doors and the double locking of the trunk, I'd left the back window open.  No harm done.  I don't think there was anything to steal, but the car, open window, California plates, Obama sticker and all,  sat undisturbed for two full days.

Got home before dark.  Had a brief pang of regret on sighting old wooden windows with their many panes stacked by garage. I did love those windows, though they failed miserably at all basic window duties, they did look great.  but I can take comfort that my new windows, vinyl though they may be, might provide some excitement of their own, as they all
bear many warnings.  Still, if the open car window led to no trougle in New York City, it is unclear what dangers an open window (with excellent screens, mind you)  might leave me open to here in the country.