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September, 2015

  1. You’re funny, god.

    September 17, 2015 by admin

    Ken is allergic to mosquito bites.  We know this because if he should get even one bite it swells up into a blister, drives him mad with itching and in turn he will drive me to madness with his endless complaining.  “I couldn’t work all day”.  “The itching kept me up all night”.  “I think one got in through the front door”.  We live on the 51st floor of an apartment complex, lest you forget.

    Okay so this is how I know there’s a God and he has a wicked sense of humor, or Karma as some like to call it.  We’re back in the city on a really humid night and walking the dogs.  I have a short summer dress on.  We do our usual walk, 20 minutes, come home and I notice about 25 mosquito bites on one leg!  The other leg only had about 10.  They were all over, up and down my leg, in between my toes and up my thigh which got me thinking bad thoughts that kept ME up all night.  The itching!!  The swelling!!  I was embarrassed to wear shorts for days.  Jenny came into town the next day and all I did was obsess over it.  “They itch like crazy?”.  “People will think I have the measles!”.   I’m pretty sure she still loves me though.  Pretty sure.

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  2. Jho

    September 16, 2015 by admin

    I dropped Jenny off at the airport this morning after 6 perfect days in the Hamptons and it was so sad to see her go.  Niu Niu might be the most droopy about it.  When she’s around the world is right and a million times funnier.    Ken and I took her out sailing on the windiest day we’ve ever sailed, we came back wet and haggard but she still had a smile on her face.  We walked the entirety of the Elizabeth Morton Reserve coast, swam in the clearest ocean water, dodged some wild turkeys, body surfed, played smash ball, drank French 75’s, stalked Isaac Mizrahi at Estia’s and somehow whenever she’s around I am able to throw out my favorite term, “bloody stump” in a sentence at least once!

    Now it’s back to NYC and the return of Fall.  My bathing suits will soon be put away, shorts no more and my shelves will be filled with sweaters in varying shades of oatmeal.  But the memories of summer are still so fresh, like a recently picked heirloom tomato or a surfer with a bloody stump.

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