It has been my experience that gratitude can be liberating.
A friend recommended I try the practice, and her advice was echoed on a few occasions.
Eventually, I indulged in some form of gratefulness.
Gratitude is an attitude of mind and a turn of the will. It really is a practice, as my friend told me.
I am so taken with the exhibit of Ruth Asawa at MoMA that I hardly can speak of anything else.
Her work is engrossing and she was so prolific that I can be excused for my single minded focus.
There’s some Picasso. A bit of VanGogh, whose popularity put us several rows back of his masterpieces. Matisse. Monet.
All those surrealists, including some female masters I had not encountered before.
Oh, and do stop for lunch! Café on 2 and 6.
If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?
That he is loved, of course. I don’t have a pet. I used to and I know I always loved them.
And same goes for these pets belonging to other people, my pets by proxy:
They are adorable and adored, not just me but by their proud pet moms and dads, of course.
My meals at my local Chinese eatery are pretty consistently the same. Yesterday, I chose to explore, while staying in Lunch Special territory.
I have favored Shrimp Mai Fun. Always. I especially love the tasty thin rice noodles and the mix of flavors. It’s a rich, dense lunch, a half of which comes along for the next day’s meal.
Another shrimp dish seemed like it could fill in. And one did. I thought Lemon Grass Shrimp had an exotic appeal. Spicy.
Not enough for leftovers but I got all those Lucky Numbers to take away.
Bets are open on whether I will revert to my usual next time!
The political spectacle is not a positive, of course, yet a listen to Politics Chat any given day is soothing.
In part, it’s her voice. Heather Cox Richardson has a pleasant timbre and delivers bad news so calmly that I am comforted.
HCR also speaks colorfully. Her expressions are both elevated and backyard. And she’s never coarse, avoiding all expletives unless they’re in a quote.
So, that’s today’s good news, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen.
Now, for the January 15th chat.
What is your favorite animal?
Llama? I was going to say llama, then remembered they spit. Which is not very nice.
You’re probably hoping to hear dog, or cat, puppy or kitty. These are domesticated. Pets. Homey.
Truth to say, I have to admit to liking both.
The New York Irish Center kicks off its popular “Crossroads Concerts,” for 2026 this month.
We enjoyed one of these cross cultural musical dialogs last May. Can’t wait for this year’s concerts. It’s a wild concept. And it works!
Colin Harte, ethnomusicologist and educator curated the 6-concert series which will start on Thursday January 29 at 7pm and run through June.
The featured fusions are:
All shows fall on Thursdays, and are at 7pm. Tickets, which are $25, are now on sale at www.newyorkirishcenter.org
Near 42nd, right across the avenue from the NYPL lions, I passed a Lovello “Permanent Jewelry” store.
A little down the road, there was a Love Korean Restaurant.
At Peacefood Union Sq, I giggled at the Both sign on the restroom door, envisioning couples going in. Not the intent, I know, but isn’t it romantic?
On 4th Avenue & 12th, I find one more Love sign at a yogurt shop.
Knowing breeds of dogs seems a more satisfying pasttime than recognizing cars.
It’s being able to define and sort out the categories that gives me pleasure. Once upon a time, it came from identifying a Saab.
I spent the better part of an afternoon at a party talking to a man about his champion dog. From the photo I ventured. “He looks like an Airedale,” though my new friend had told me the breed. He is a patient man, so he told me “Airedales have that black saddle.”
Memory is an odd companion, and like a puzzle, the picture in my mind clicked.
We spoke of his champion’s character, and I said, “He’s a perfect dog.” He answered “No one is perfect. He’s a great dog.”
It’s almost for sure, for certain, that there’s an ad I heard on Spotify in which [I think] a live woman pretends she’s AI.
The commercial is a dialog in which a woman [actual] is so pleased with what the AI offers that she says Now, that’s music to my ears. Fake [I think] AI says “I can only talk.”
What we find funny can often be odd.
For my part, I was amused by the synecdoche that Madeleines represent for Proust.
For Proust the Madeleines were what triggered his memory.
Burt, whose memory had been stolen by his dementia, loved these cookies. It tickled me every morning when I ordered a half dozen to go with his latte.
All The Best