bullet points
I just learned, from a reader, that I’m “overly fond” of bullet points.
So I’m obviously confused that someone is concerning themselves with my use of bullet points. Especially as:
- I didn’t realize bullet points could be overused.
- I had no idea that something so insignificant could trouble someone.
- I am a productive member of society. And that should count for something (grasping at straws here).
Mousse time at our favorite Maison Kayser
And when it comes down to it, my bullet points do nothing but benefit my readers. This thanks to the fact they provide:
- An appealing visual sense.
- The summarization (is this a word?) of my posts about nothing in particular.
- The ability to expeditiously scan my posts about nothing in particular.
- Etc.
- Etc.
- Etc.
Lunch at our other favorite : Fig & Olive. Riviera Shrimp / Salmon Salad, Carrot + Thyme Soup, Chocolate Pot de Creme, Spanish Cod
In any case, I’m not going to deny that I like bullet points. And here’s why:
- Bullet points feed my need for Order and Neatness. And we’ve already established that I’m all over that.
- Bullet points allow my posts about nothing to be far more considerable. From a length standpoint at least (note “Etc.” above).
I chaperoned Maya’s class to the Museum of Art & Design. Pretty amazing stuff.
So I’m thinking that instead of being reprimanded? My overuse of bullet points should be:
- embraced.
more sickness
Last Monday morning I woke up to the sound of a sniffle and the slightest hint of a cough.
These sounds put the fear of God in me.
Now if these sniffles had been originating from Maya’s room I would have been okay. I’d have bundled her on the couch with the iPad, the TV, a receptacle for the impending vomit, and I’d have called it a day.
At Oceana Restaurant, minutes after Ali started feeling better, and minutes before I started feeling horrible.
But the sounds were not originating from Maya’s room. They were originating from our room. So obviously, things were much worse.
Ali : “Can you pick up 8 lemons, Sudafed, and peppermint tea?”
My Running Commentary : 8 lemons? Are we preparing to battle the bubonic plague for @#$’s sake?”
What I Really Said : “Sure, no problem.”
At Oceana (one of my new favorite places in NY): Pumpkin Salad, Halibut, Cookies, Grouper (the highlight).
The next few days followed in a blur of :
- half cut lemons and seeds all over the kitchen counters,
- towels and tea bags from makeshift steam sites in the kitchen and bathroom,
- and remarkably absurd questions like, “Where can I buy soup?”
On Sunday morning I woke up sick.
Not unexpected when one is forced to clean up the lemons, seeds, towels, and tea bags, from one battling the plague.
Mexican food at Dos Caminos and Toloache. I recommend both but don’t go to the latter hungry. Oh and be prepared to pay $6 per shrimp. Their portions are tiny and expensive.
Nobody cared. Also not unexpected.
If anything, I made muffins, scrubbed the trash can (self-inflicted punishment), and continued to field more absurd questions like, “How do I prevent you from getting me sick again?” and “Do you think the flu shot would be a good idea now?”
I swear, I can’t make this stuff up.
to anonymous
Not too long ago, someone (we’ll call her Anonymous) made a comment along the lines of: if I couldn’t make my husband a sandwich then I shouldn’t have gotten married.
Talk about stating the obvious.
Family trip to the New York Botanical Garden’s Haunted Pumpkin Garden
I mean, of course Ali should have known better than to marry me. For so many reasons, the least of which is my lack of cooking skills / dislike for cooking.
Still Anonymous, I’ll allow that when I make the flipping sandwich, I do so grudgingly. And truthfully? I couldn’t, for the longest time, quite put my finger on why.
Ali: “Maya point to the pumpkin so people know what this picture is of.” Because otherwise you might have been confused.
Until last week, that is.
When Ali made his way back to NYC after 12 days away on “business.” And proceeded to send me an instant message from one room away (hate that) requesting a lunch (hate that) on a day we were both working from home (hate that too).
Jacket Weather.
I silently cursed. But as I slapped some turkey between two slices of bread I thought of your comment and wondered why Ali’s request felt like such an imposition.
And here’s what I came up with:My husband has an MBA. So why can’t he slap turkey between two slices of bread?
Another scary pumpkin, minus the pointing finger.
And here’s what I also came up with:
I will make the sandwich. Sometimes, when the stars are aligned, I’ll even slice an apple and put it on the side! But I will be annoyed about it. The whole process. I will probably curse. But it will get done. Ali knows that. I know that.
The system works for us Anonymous. It works.
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 