So sometimes, just every once in a while, I find myself missing the children. It goes without saying that each Friday morning I indulge a private whimper when I think of some other teacher playing with my exquisite 3 year olds, but every so often I even miss the older, not-as-cute ones. To wit, the
Walking to the 6 train, I pass a falafel cart and notice that its owner is face down on the sidewalk. At first, I think he's looking for something - maybe loose change that rolled underneath the cart - or that he's sick. Then I see that he's shoeless and crouched prostrate on a flattened
Breaking my new rule not to write past 5 p.m. - I can't help myself right now. It's been a nice month for me, ego flattery-wise. First and foremost, I was accepted to "Christminster" University to do my M. Phil in Creative Writing. Then, I sold a bit of writing to a travel website. And
It appears that the staple ingredients of my Japanese pantry in New York are coming together quite nicely.