new york

Summer in the city

My father had a doctor’s appointment this evening, so my mother and I picked him up afterward, and then the three of us went to our neighbor’s wake. I didn’t know too many of the people there, beyond recognizing his sons and other family who’d been visiting lately, but it was lovely to see the large turnout, including many of his fellow veterans. After we’d paid our respects, we grabbed a bite to eat at the nearby Azerbaijani restaurant we’ve ordered from often but never actually eaten in.

And that’s about all the excitement I had today. Mostly it was just back to work and skipping a whole bunch of not mandatory (and probably not useful for me) sales meetings.

I am reassured that, though today felt a whole lot like Monday, it was actually Tuesday, and the week is almost half over. At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself until the second half is done with, too.

Though, if this awful heat keeps up — hottest day in NYC since August of 2001, apparently, well around 100°F all day — that could be tougher than advertised.

The same old doggerybaw

Today’s Forgotten English is “doggerybaw,” meaning nonsense. I’m just going to toss that one out there without comment.

It was a pretty ordinary day, actually, fairly light on the nonsense. We had a guest speaker at work, at one of our monthly “brown bag lunches,” Drew Levinson formerly of CBS News. He talked about his career and some behind-the-scenes stories about reporting on Jack Kevorkian, Afghanistan and Iraq, and Hurricane Katrina. It was actually really quite interesting…which these lunches are not always guaranteed to be.

Beyond that…well, I started reading Paolo Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl, needing a break from the nonfiction kick I seem to have been on recently — and also with an eye to maybe being able to make some kind of informed vote on this year’s Hugo Awards. At Frederik Pohl’s suggestion, I bought a supporting Worldcon membership recently, getting with my fifty bucks not only the right to vote, but also access to this pretty amazing voter packet, with electronic copies of pretty much all of the work nominated this year. I don’t know that I’m going to be able to get through it all by the end of July — of the novels, the only one I’ve already read is China Miéville’s — but so far I’m quite enjoying Bacigalupi’s book.

So it seemed almost like fate when I read today that he (along with Jon Armstrong, whose novel Grey I quite liked, and Scott Westerfeld, of whom I’m a big fan) is going to be doing a reading in New York tomorrow evening. Alas, I think I’m going to skip it. I’m not sure I feel like hanging around in Manhattan for several hours, and trekking all that way downtown, for an hour’s event and some possible autographs. I haven’t exactly made up my mind yet, but I’m leaning towards just coming home after work.

We’ll see what kind of doggerybaw tomorrow brings.

Our muttons

Friday’s page from my Forgotten English calendar was “our muttons” meaning…well:

The farming community has given us another useful expression in our muttons. When we speak of something being our muttons, we mean that we like it especially well.

This according to Sydney Baker’s 1941 New Zealand Slang: A Dictionary of Colloquialisms, and if you can’t trust that, what can you trust?

I had a pretty our muttons-y sort of weekend, all things considered; a pretty late night of it yesterday meant I didn’t get a chance to post about it until now, but overall I liked the weekend quite a lot.

I got a haircut, went to the library, and saw my second Broadway show of the week. Not too shabby, eh?

Back on Mother’s Day, we bought my mom tickets to see Mary Chapin Carpenter, since she’s long been a fan but never seen the singer in concert. The show was this weekend in Manhattan, and so to coincide with that (and last week’s Father’s Day), my sister and her husband drove to New York from Maryland. They brought their dog Chloe with them, which was an interesting experience, I think mostly for Chloe and for our much older — and much less interested in rambunctiousness — dog Tucker. We left the dogs at home (Chloe in her crate, Tucker in his pen) and drove into the city for a very nice dinner out. Then we split up, my father and mother off to see Carpenter at the New York School of Ethical Culture, and the other three of us to see American Idiot on Broadway.

I was a little worried about not liking the show. I like some Green Day songs well enough, and even have a few from the album on which the Broadway show is based in my iTunes catalog, but I’m not exactly what you’d call a huge fan. But the show was quite entertaining. It’s very loud and very bright, and if you blink you could miss the story, but the cast is undeniably talented and there’s a kind of pulse-pounding poetry to the whole thing. It’s a little like being inside a music video, with all the good and the bad that that suggests. It’s a breakneck ninety minutes, and it’s not without its faults, but it was hard not to be impressed by the end.

Since our show was over around 9:30, the three of us caught a train home instead of meeting back uptown with my parents. It’s maybe good that we didn’t stay in Manhattan, like we originally thought we might, since when we got home we discovered that Chloe had soiled her crate, her bedding, and herself while we were gone. Wet food and too much water earlier in the day had apparently not agreed with her. Catherine and Brian spent the next hour or so giving Chloe a bath on the front lawn — thank goodness it’s summer — and cleaning up the mess, while I tried to offer whatever help I could and look after Tucker. It was well after midnight before everyone was settled down — Chloe bathed, Tucker calmed, and my parents home.

Today was relatively calm and uneventful by comparison. I watched this week’s season finale of Doctor Who and thoroughly enjoyed it. As Betty says:

I’m not sure how much sense the finale actually made, but, oh, what wonderful, wonderful nonsense it was.

And I went for a short walk, despite the pretty oppressive heat. I worked on some fake horoscopes for Kaleidotrope‘s next issue — it’s a continuing feature, and the issue comes out next month — and on the Sunday crossword puzzle, which I have yet to finish.

Now I think I’m just going to watch a little TV and retire for the evening. Hopefully there will be more our muttons in the week to come.

Such great heights

I only just got home, and I still have to go to work tomorrow, so I’ll try to make this quick.

This evening, my company had a “Summer Night Out” to see the Broadway musical In the Heights. Not so much a company event — I saw three other employees there — as reduced-price tickets. I met my parents for dinner at Grand Central, then my mother and I walked up to the theater. It’s not a particularly deep show or anything, but it’s very energetic, with a lot of great songs and great fun. We thoroughly enjoyed it.

And now, while I can, I think I’m going to enjoy some sleep.

Oh, but you may notice that I’ve changed the blog’s template. I’m not quite done fine-tuning it, but it definitely seemed like it was time for a change.

Right now, though, it’s time for some sleep.

Under the weather

Still not feeling so great, and there were times throughout the day when I wondered if I’d made a mistake going in to work at all. I’m still not entirely sure if this is a cold or just a severe allergy attack I’m nursing; none of the symptoms that are supposed to differentiate the two are definitive in my case; and in fact, I think I’d feel better if I was running a fever because at least then I’d know it was probably a cold, and therefore likely to end sooner rather than later. I’m leaning towards cold, if only for that wishful thinking — who knows when allergies would start to lessen, given the changing weather we’ve been having — and because I’m pretty sure I felt this coming on as far back as Monday or Tuesday. Then again, I’ve heard that yesterday, when I definitely knew I had something, was a particularly bad day for allergies… Maybe if I got myself a hookworm infection to get rid of allergies, I’d know for sure…

Yeah, I’m going to lean towards cold for the time being. All I do know is, I have a runny nose, watery eyes, and a persistent cough, and none of it’s very much fun. I’m not horribly sick or anything — I still have an appetite, mostly, and I did go to work — but I’m ready to feel not sick at all, thank you very much.

Is it any wonder that the rest of my day seems so uneventful?

The reading I went to on Tuesday night got a little bad press, causing a very minor kerfuffle online among genre (and specifically Neil Gaiman) fans. My feeling is, the article in question was very poorly reasoned, riddled with cliche and few factual errors, and not really representative of what I saw there at Columbia. Maybe it’s just that I’m naturally attracted to geeky women, but I don’t remember a crowd of only “balding Goths, girls with jutting chins and faux punks.” I do remember wishing, offhandedly, that the evening hadn’t been framed as “Neil Gaiman Returns to Columbia University,” since it was primarily a discussion of the new Stories book and focused equally on the other panel members. I do think some people came thinking it was going to be all Gaiman and nothing but and adopted maybe too worshipful an attitude towards him. But that was a minor not-even-quibble in what was a really excellent night.

This night has been quite as excellent, but at least tomorrow’s Friday.