New York is blissfully quiet, and the New Yorkers who stayed in town this wekend are not hurrying anywhere.

Traffic is almost non-existant.

I left home round about noon, and lunched at Ollie’s, a local Chinese restaurant.

After lunch I photostrolled my way through Central Park. I’m in the Village right now.

Spent the afternoon walking through parks, Central, Bryant, Madison Square & finally Union Square.

The last three are mere postage stamps compared to Central Park. My walk through Central Park was the equivalent of 21 blocks, and I only walked way less than half. The park begins at 110 Street & ends at 59th Street.

My guesstimate is it’s about 5 or 6 city blocks wide.

Toyed with the idea of seeing a movie, but none of the theatres seem to have anything that I would pay to see.

Sasha Baron Cohen’s Bruno will be opening in a few days, so hopefully I’ll be able to see it next Sunday.

The restaurant I’m in had some newspapers on the bar, so I borrowed one to browse at my table. I haven’t actually bought a paper in years; Yahoo and MSN keep me up to date.

This whole Michael Jackson thing is going places it shouldn’t. As I walked downtown today I passed people were selling MJ memorial t-shirts and posters. There’s a lottery going on for the memorial service, and his portrait by Andy Warhol is up on the auction block. Looks like there’s going to be a fight for the kids and the money that goes with them.

MJ was only a little over 2 years older than me when he left this plane of existence. I remember playing my ABC 45, watching the Jackson 5 cartoon show, when Michael went solo, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Thriller.

I have quietly replayed MJ memories on my mind’s screen several times in the last few days. It is my hope that he is now in a place of painless peace.

Waving at you all from NYC

Saturday & Sunday off this week, and I’m spending it quietly.

I’m in a writing mood, so it’s time to break out a fresh notebook, and see what appears on the pages.

I’m not into holiday picnics, but I do like a fireworks display. The trick is getting a view without being part of the crowd.

I got a nice walk and a trip to Starbucks in before I jumped on the subway, so my day started well.

Maybe I’ll head downtown for an after dark photostroll when I get back to the city tonight.

So what are your plans for the 4th?

So I’m lying here on my futon pecking away at my trusted Sidekick’s keyboard. Adult Swim is on for background – King of the Hill – I love te whole Arlen gang. Just finished a bowl of Special K red berries; it’s so good I consider it a dessert.

The only electric items on in here are my fan and TV. My apartment building is being renovated, including the entire electrical system. The place is just over a hundred years old, so you can imagine the madness. Management has asked everyone not to overload the temporary circuits. I’m complying ’cause electrical fires and ending up homeless is just not cool.

Oh, and there’s a giant hole in my bathroom ceiling. It was a small one before the plumber fixed the leak. It’s damn scary looking up into all that old timber and pipe. Very The People Who Lived Under The Stairs. I keep imagining zombies will suddenly crawl out of there or something.

Speaking of scary, I feel like renting some of my old favorite B&W chillers. The House on Haunted Hill, The Tingler, The Last Man on Earth all with Vincent Price, and The 50ft Woman.

I remember watching them all and other moldie oldies on Thriller Theatre on Saturday afternoons back in the ’70’s.

Sunday afternoons were Elvis, The Dead End Kids, and Abbott & Costello movies.

Man, is my age showing or what?

Time to say ciao- for now.

Up early.
Long bath.
A bit of e-mail.
Grabbed the camera.
Out the door quickly and quietly.

The sunshine felt so good after all this doggone rain. The sidewalks were packed with NYCers in their summer best, moi included in my new super cute grey capris with hot pink top and matching Crocs.

My first stop was Barnes & Nobles where I had my choice of tables in the cafe – a rare treat.

I sipped iced chai, flipped through magazines, and people watched.

The idiot at the next table was loudly warning his younger sister against eating too much. ‘You will lose all your beauty,’ he promised.

The fact that several of the women around him were size 16 plus and could hear him was of no concern.

My hand itched for a heavy blunt object, but there would be too many witnesses.

I read a bit more, then headed to the wilds of Central Park.

Right now I’m having dinner in a little Malaysian place. They make a coconut curry soup that’s heaven in a bowl.

Dear daughter remains cancer-free. She volunteers with the youth in her church, and is out raising funds for various good works. Both her and her minister husband remain amazingly tolerant of her raised Catholic mom who has been Hindu for quite a few years now.

And of course, she will be my personal hero till my last breath and beyond.

May you be absolutely immersed in love.

Actually it’s the bus shelter on the New York side of said bridge.

There’s a lovely breeze blowing; the shelter’s shade keeps you from being blinded by the sun; if I had a deck chair, a book and a pitcher of ice tea I’d spend the day.

Okay, here’s the bus. There’s an absolutely chubblicious little girl of about 2 dancing with excitement – her mommy has let her hold the ticket receipt – it’s a big moment.

There’s one person who has no idea what bus they should be taking, and one person whose totally ticked off that the driver won’t make a special stop for them. Typical.

The woman next to me is curious about my phone. In general teens use the Sidekick, but it does a lot of what I need, so it’s my main phone.

Even rigged it out with ringtones & themes that I alternate.

Well, here’s my stop.

Til later.

Ta-Ta

I’m sitting at one of my favorite tables here at Starbucks. I have a good view of passers-by, but they really can’t see me.

Sitting here sipping chai, and thinking about how many icons from my youth have slipped away.

Yesterday this plane of existence bid Golden Girl Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson adeiu.

We knew it was just a matter of time for Farrah. She knew it was coming too, and made her final farewells while she still had some strength.

No one was expecting MJ to leave us so abruptly. As soon as I heard that old Jackson 5 tune ABC began playing in my head. For the rest of the day you heard people singing MJ and J5 tunes all over the streets and in the stores.

This morning as I heard the newscaster talking about Farrah, I remembered how stunning she was in Myra Breckinridge.

I also remembered how she changed her image from bikini babe to powerhouse actress.

May they both be gloriously happy wherever they are.

Peace out.

Someone I’ve managed to get through a rainy day New York day without opening my umbrella once.

It started to drizzle, so I went to the new Barnes & Noble on East 86th Street. I don’t like it as much as the original near 2nd Avenue. The layout is a little confusing, and there is no cellphone reception in the cafe, which means no mobile blogging. Booooo!

Afterwards I had a slider at Unos, and went on walkabout round the Upper East Side.

A drizzle started so I ducked beneath a large awning, and chatted with my long time pal in Philly.

Right now I’m enjoying a cold root beer, and trying to work out the bugs in a potential business plan.

The title of this post is something Daddy used to say to me when it rained.

‘Run between raindrops Franny.’

May you all be blessed.

In the waiting room, with just the hum of the air conditioner, and the distant whrrrr of the dentist’s drill for company.

Such a tasteful room. Antiques mixed in with some new made to look like antique things.

Daddy would have loved the vintage radio. It would get him started on the old shows he loved: Gangbusters, Dick Tracy, and the Shadow.

Back in the early 70’s Channel 13 ran the old Buck Rogers serials on a weekly basis for a while. This was before VHS players. The program started at 11pm. On those nights Daddy managed to get the bookkeeping done super quick after closing the store. He wanted to be home in time to take off for the Planet Mongo.

This coming August he would have been 74 years old. I wonder what life would have ben like if he hadn’t passed on so young. He was just fifty-six.

These days I often comment on how much I act like him.

He would often say, ‘Frances you won’t be able to uderstand a lot of what I talking about until after I’m gone. That’s just the way things are.’

He was so right.
I do understand now.

Happy Fathers Day Daddy.
Love,
Frances