2004-09-10 - 9:29 p.m.

So tonight after work I ran a few errands, one of which was to stop at Lush to buy a long overdue birthday gift I MUST mail out next week, and I spent about a half hour picking up everything in the store and sniffing it, including every variety of their fabulous bath bombs, none of which I am currenty allowed to use. I finally made my purchase and walked the 30 blocks home. Due to abovementioned crazy schedule of late, I have fallen into the habit of calling my friends on my cell during the walk, so I called Jane and gabbed all the way home. As I approached my street, I stopped to finish up my call before going to the market, and I looked down and noticed that my black sweater was literally covered in glittery, multicolored powder from all the bath bomb sniffing. Nice. I am now officially one of those crazy people walking the streets. All I need is black socks and slippers. My last stop was the snooty market across the street, the one I have developed a love/hate relationship with.

Reasons I love the snooty market: The produce is amazing. Ripe, shiny fruit, precut jewel colored vegetables. I walk the displays in a daze, unable to stop myself from picking up everything that catches my eye. The juice. Oh, the juice.Things I've never even heard of. Pomegranate, peach nectar, youngberry, litchi, fancy lemonade in pretty bottles with glass stoppers, organic concord grape. I'm also a juice junkie these days. Thirsty all the time. The cheese counter. Fox's u-bet, crucial ingredient of the fabled NY egg cream. S@rabeth's Jam, lined up on the shelf like a jewelry display. Homemade donuts the size of my head.Greek yogurt with honey. It's like a crackhouse to me these days.

Reasons I hate the snooty market, other than the exorbitant prices: It's a little TOO snooty. I took a look at all the veggies in the case, and developed an immediate craving for vegetables and onion dip. However, the market is too snooty to carry premade onion dip. Apparently, the truly discerning shopper does not buy such a thing. And dude, I'm pregnant. I need the onion dip NOW. I do not want to buy organic sour cream from vermont and make my own. Plus I'd have to go somewhere else to buy the stupid onion soup mix, because it's too snooty for that, too. So I decided I'd buy some ranch dressing and make do. HA. No ranch dressing. The fuck? I don't want sundried raspberry sesame vinaigrette, or roasted garlic chick pea with balsamic. I want some fucking onion dip. And come to think of it, I want some damn plain potato chips to go with it. I was trying to be good and have vegetables with it instead, but by that point I was just pissed off. So I went to the Korean on the corner and bought W1se potato chips and onion dip in a can. Bite me, yuppie market.

So the memorial lights of the Twin Towers are lit back up, this month. I don't know why, but the sight of them when I'm out on the street gives me the chills. Blame it on the hormones. When I sit on the couch in the living room, I can see them clearly from the window, and I wish they'd make them permanent. Tomorrow, you know. I haven't really thought about it until today. But tomorrow morning I'll get up early and walk to Uni0n Squ@re before we leave. To bow my head. Because it's not about remembering, here. Not much chance of forgetting.

last - next