The lady's perfume

The lady's perfume
accompanies her like an aura
on the train which speeds along the tracks, faster than I could run, but not really fast,
and causes my bronchial tubes to contract,
and wheezing ensues.

She is one of the
"they who carry the many bags" tribe.
The second bag is a Disney tote bag confection,
in the style of what someone thought was an old movie marquis.
Complete with glitter. And typography.
Diagonal typography.
We exchange a glance and
a polite smile.
My wheezing is congenial.

Outside as the scenery slides by
I imagine breathing in the cool fall air.
I breathe from the bottom of my abdomen, as I have been taught. I consider whether the inhaler I think I have in my single bag actually contains any magical mist to calm my bronchial passages.
Not likely.

We pass a stream with an arched Monet like bridge next to parking lot and I wonder if Monet has a parking lot next to his garden at Giverney.
I muse that I would like I go there someday and think that I would make a mental note the placement of the parking lot.
Perhaps we can take a train from Paris,
if we ever make it to Paris.

The buildings are closer together as the lumbering train which carries me
and the perfumed one
and the other worker bees into the city.
She types on her iPhone with the typing sound turned on and it annoys me inordinately - the typing sound
the glittery oversized second tote bag
 - and her aura of pernicious perfume which
is choking me.

Rhinebeck, aka NY sheep and Wool Festival

Rhinebeck was spectacular. The weather was appropriately changeable and autumnal
and the knitters, spinners, designers, vendors, et al, were all out in force. This year was the first year I went to the festival on both Saturday and Sunday. Saturday was crazy crowded and hard to really shop in the small booths.
The knitters were dressed to the teeth in hand made knitwear. Some were spectacularly overdressed and all were wondrous and beautiful, proudly attired in their handmade finery. The question of how many hand knits is it acceptable to wear simultaneously is answered gleefully with "as many as you want."
And no one will bat a dissapproving eye.
This year we hosted Tilde and Thomas, friends from Denmark, and Jen from Queens ( my daughter Jen ) who drove up on Saturday evening. We had dinner in Rhinebeck and then drove up to Chatham where I reserved a lovely farmhouse for the night via Airbnb. It was the first time I used Airbnb and it was an all round good experience. The house was really nice and there was plenty of room for the five of us to repose comfortably and the area is beautiful with grand views from every window.
On Sunday the crowds were much dispersed and shopping was a good deal more pleasant. Our friends left early and took the scenic route back home and Jen and Mike and I stayed and shopped.
And bought yarn. and some more yarn.
and it was wonderful.

dad memories

I remember one time when I was hitching a ride ( it was the seventies. hush.) from Bloomfield to the University of Hartford campus, about three or four miles down the road. A middle aged guy in a Pacer picked me up. He was less than average looking, sporting a day old shirt, loosened tie around a five o’clock shadowed wattle and gray poly something suit

- clearly of the traveling business man ilk

- all around nondescript.

I told him I was on the way to school and he whipped out his wallet exclaiming that he had sent his son to Columbia and he lost his shirt doing it. He searched the wallet for a picture of his son (proud papa) and came up with a picture of his round hairless naked body instead. 

Get it? shirtless.

"Well now this is my stop and thanks for the ride, perv." thought I, as I exited the Pacer. 

I stopped in my dad’s office. He was a professor at the time at UHA, and told him my story 

to which he replied without missing a beat, 

“You should have said - oh is that a penis? I thought they were much larger."

Still makes me chortle. Miss him.