Dreams last night. I go into the master bedroom. It's my birthday and there are a few presents for me on the dresser, including a couple of large envelopes marked with my name. I carry the packages into the other room. My niece, a little girl, curiosity piqued, follows me, hoping there's something in it for her. I get annoyed because that's the only reason she's interested. I tell her to get lost. She bursts into tears and I feel bad. I crouch down, put my arms around her and tell her I'm sorry, that I was having a bad day, something I'm sure she can understand. She nods yes, and I hold her tight.
I run into Christopher Benfey and tell him that I'd like to attend the talk in Amherst. I'm a little self-conscious - I don't want him to think that I'm going only for the wrong reason - to witness a smackdown. What do you think of the piece on the board, I ask. He smiles at me over his shoulder, friendly flicker of raised brow, suppressed eyeroll. I know, me neither, I reply. If I'd turned in an essay like that you'd have given me a C minus!
The cats are pouncing over the unmowed lawn, capturing and killing gray mice, I'm horrified at the tiny corpses strewn all over the driveway...
So I'm back to dreaming. It's been a while. For the last couple of years I've faithfully recorded the ones I remember when I wake (yes, I am the kind of person who writes down her dreams!) - but it's been a couple of weeks.
Ruth has an iPhone and goes out for bagels in the morning, but surely not before dawn, not at 4:08. Besides, she's upstate isn't she - not in the Bronx Friday evening (well maybe - on her way up), but surely not in Brooklyn at the very moment yesterday afternoon that I sat down at the computer after getting back to the apartment? (No - she was giving a luncheon talk in Hudson.) More to the point, I don't think Ruth would be that into my blog. Plus I keep thinking it's a guy (unlike Houston who I think is a woman, unless it's a Bush). Of course, iPhones are popular. It could be two or three different users. Except that I don't have so many readers, I keep thinking the iPhone is just one guy - this weekend Man About Town. Not Ruth - and please no, not R. Bourdain. Tony I'll accept though - Tony, is that you?
I have had such a hankering for a lobster roll, ever since walking over the Brooklyn Bridge yesterday in sparkling weather that just made me wish to go to the sea. I contemplated taking a daytrip today to Noank, Connecticut, to Abbott's Lobster in the Rough, a shack with tables overlooking the ocean - beautiful - but so far away. Why go there when we're in a weekend in New York? Then I thought about driving out to the other Greenport, on the North Fork of Long Island, a walk along the beach at Orient, lobster roll in town. Back at the apartment I googled brooklyn lobster roll - there's a place right in Red Hook (the other Red Hook) where you can get one either "Connecticut-style," warm and on a buttered bun, or Maine style, in a cold mayonnaise. One of each I think, and we'll share.