Mornings with Honey

Image via Sampler

I am taking care of Honey, my Aunt's standard poodle for the next few days. This morning I awoke to Honey giving me a gentle lick on my foot, which was hanging over one side of the bed, then scrambling around to lick my hand, which was hanging over the other side, then dashing back to my foot, and so on. She took this very seriously. In case anyone is wondering, the technique is gentle but effective. I got up.

Central Park was an interesting spectacle this morning, as warm spring sets in. I witnessed: sleepy-eyed couples sitting on benches, holding hands and drinking coffee; a guy with a backpack and serious hiking shoes perched on a rocky hill, looking like he was about to explore virgin wilderness except he had a freshly made cheeseburger in his hand; runners of every possible size, age, and condition; and an Iranian man trying to settle a heavy ice cream stand on an incline.

I paused briefly to look at this last, as the stand (which was on wheels) kept slipping down. Without warning the guy started speaking to me in a stream of barely intelligible English, the gist of which I was to use a stick to prop the cart while he held it in place. Being an agreeable person, I cast around for a stick, and seeing only ineffectual twigs, settled on a screwdriver that was sitting on the cart. This I first attempted to stick into the hub of the wheel, accompanied by much tisk-tisking by the Iranian man. I finally propped the screwdriver up against the wheel, and it held the cart in place perfectly. The guy again broke into a stream of broken English, saying it was a great idea (the screwdriver) he never would have thought of such a thing, and that he would fix it. The last I saw of him he was searching the bushes for an appropriate twig.