I'm walking with an acquaintance back from a restaurant when we pass a sidewalk news stand, one of those great sprawling things with fluorescent lights overlooking eight or ten bookshelves jammed together.
I stop, naturally, because I can't remember if I picked up this month's Esquire or not and for the same reason that you'd stop if you saw a baby panda wandering the streets of LA; it's endangered, savour the moment. And I'm perusing the shelves (mindful of the MAX BROWSING 15 MINUTE signs written in marker and package-taped to the shelves) when-
"ohmygod holyshit."
"What?"
I point. On the rack, nestled between a shelf devoted to variations on Guns & Ammo and another comprised entirely of cycling magazines, is a section devoted to Literary Magazines. Lapham's Quarterly. Tinhouse. The New England Review. I stop, for the same reason that you'd stop if you saw a baby panda wandering by riding sidesaddle on a unicorn.
My husband and I managed to miss the whole coffee craze. Up until a few years ago I had never had a full cup – try to restrain your horror – and he would have one only when desperate for caffeine. If it was past 10 in the morning he'd move right past a morning cup and reach for a Mountain Dew instead. All that changed one fateful trip to New England where we were introduced to Dunkin' Donuts. Sure, we knew they made good donuts, but apparently their pastry treats were not the reason for the lines cascading out the door. It was for their coffee, which we didn't hold high hopes for.
The little bell on the glass door jingled and I became breathless with anticipation. He looked up just for a second and then turned back, took a large knife off the rack, and started slicing into the beef tenderloin
I am on a constant hunt for The Chicken Pot Pie. A hunt that has become
dangerously like an obsession. I talk about it constantly. My close
friends are pretty much bored with my singular food quirk. I,
decidedly, am not. I was talking to a friend of mine at work, groaning
over the lack of flavorful snacks in our immediate vicinity and she
mentioned The Chicken Pot Pie. I was floored, to say the least. How did
she know? Perhaps I was going on about it. Again
My good buddy Al Yankovic invited a group of his friends to attend the premiere of his short movie entitled Al’s Brain….at the County Fair!! His invitation was sweet. It included the phrase “for those of you who feel like schlepping down there..”