The Promise of Morning

    There are these monkeys in Animal Kingdom--White Cheeked Gibbons.

Those cheeks can flap

They swing around all cute in their large enclosure, a major attraction for the guests. 

But in the mornings, they are completely different. The dominant male monkey perches on his bamboo piece and screeches, cheeks flapping, spit squirting. His cries echo through the park, even up through the Mountain, like a baby Yeti squeaking.

He is calling for his mate who, spoiler alert, is five feet away in their little house.

I see the resemblance.

There was something about walking to work in the park at 4am, the mountain, navy against cerulean, pink at the edges from dawn, with the haunting screeches piercing the low fog, that fired all your senses. Like a promise that everything was going to be new that day, even if you had done it yesterday and the day before.

Why morning shifts were tolerable

This morning, I felt it again, for the first time in two years. Descending from the night, the yellow lights punctuated by flickering green and red looked just like the New York I had flown out of 14 hours before: we may as well have gone a circle.

 I stepped off the plane and was hit with that promise feeling, that one that fires your senses. The humidity, the dim lights, the scribble on the walls that everyone else seemed to understand, but most of all the quiet. No one is at the airport at 4am. Like hollow Everest and the gibbons, the only sound was the echoing snores, coming out of corners and behind planters and other places sleepers try to hide.

I watched the dark airport fill for the next twelve hours, an entropic whirlwind of people, and I knew that that promise of morning, was only a promise of mornings to come.

PS: 26 hours is a long time to be stuck with only your own thoughts

No Touching!

Dear Produce People at Shoppers Food Warehouse,
I am excited that you are expanding the range of fruits you offer at your Burke location. However, due to the exotic nature of some of these fruits, your customers may unwittingly injure themselves if not warned of the intricacies of handling them. For instance, hypothetically, someone is walking down the aisle looking for a mango and happens to spy a pile of prickly pears. The customer is intrigued by the strange, monster toe shaped blobs, and considers purchasing one, just to try it. She/He can see that the large spines have been removed, rendering the cacti harmless, and she/he picks up and squeezes various specimens in an attempt to determine what makes a good prickly pear. As she places the chosen one in her cart, she feels a small stab. While inspecting the hide for the offending prick, she realizes her hands are covered in miniscule barbs and splinters. If I had known the risk, I never would have handled so many of the prickly pears, and I would not have to spend my days fruitlessly hunting prickle pieces embedded in my skin. I strongly recommend that you clearly label and describe the risk of touching such dangerous produce. And provide utility gloves.
Thank you for your time,
An Unsuspecting Customer



Handle With Care

Some irony in my life right now

We got lost on our girl's camp certification hike

Isn't there an easier way?

My library job is more interesting than my reporter job

Yes that is a dunk tank. Yes I was in it.

I'm bringing my own soy sauce to China

Thank you Amazon