monday it is

Fasten your seatbelts, kids– mercury goes retrograde tomorrow and it is gonna be a bumpy ride.

It is no secret that I have a profound lack of appreciation for this particular planetary phenomenon. Sure, you start hearing from old friends, find that pair of sunglasses that went missing, catch up on some lost sleep– but is that really worth the technical mishaps, the misunderstandings and the broken door knob?

No, it really isn’t.

Not much gets me screamy mcscreamerson more than technical difficulties. Already my computer is getting glitchy and I am going on the record as officially hating Aperture. Hate. I have tried to work with it lo these past three years since I was fortunate enough to switch from a pc to an Apple MacBook Pro (for the record, I would lie down on the tracks for my Mac)– but in the switch I lost my brand new version of PhotoShop which is the program I know and love.

And so– for Christmas– that is what I am giving myself. Photoshop for my Mac. Knowing this– I will weather the storm of the next four weeks.

Just gonna sit back with my arms crossed and wait it out.

Yesterday was an absolutely glorious day of warm temperatures and sunshine. After a decidedly lazy morning, we walked down to Wayland Square for a gelato (coffee & belgian chocolate, if you’re wondering) and then slowly wandered our way home.

Today? Cold. Gray. November as I’ve always known it.

Somehow we got outside for a long walk down to the river. It was just getting light and the city garbage workers were inching down streets with their white, beeping & squeaking trucks– the strips of reflective tape on their neon green uniforms was the only bit of color.

At that hour, the first people to appear are the runners. Slipping out of their houses, skinned head-to-toe in a thin layer of dark fabric that has more technology behind it than your i-phone, they melt into the shadows.

After that you start to see dogs on leads. More often than not, the dog owners in that initial wave seem to be on a schedule. It’s pretty clear the dog is supposed to poo, pee and get back inside. Not so much with letting them roll on their backs in a pile of dried leaves. Not so much with the letting them wander and explore the odd smell at the root of an old oak. They’re the ones who never really look up from the phone in their hand.

Next on the street are the small children being led to school. It’s a true neighborhood around here with sidewalks and schools. I always took a bus to school growing up so the only time I witnessed this kind of tradition was when I lived in Paris. There, the kids all wore pretty much the same thing: dark navy pea coats and dark navy jumpers. The kids around here don’t carry brown leather satchels on their backs like the petits parisians– but they are still pretty cute and they always get excited to see Daisy and Henry.

“He’s got a big face,” one of them said to me today.

Soon, the second wave of dog walkers is making the rounds and they generally have larger dogs and seem to be going for more of an outing.

That’s right about the time we are reaching home. Some of us ready for a fresh hot coffee, some of us ready to flop on the floor for the sweetest of naps.

bisous, e