But Call Me Betsy

Hi, I couldn't help but overhearing the multiple conversations about your weekend that you were having on the phone for the duration of our one hour train ride between Manhattan and Hamilton. You spoke to several people about the same topic and so I really got the gist of the situation. What happened was this: you were on your way back after spending the weekend hanging out with some people along with this guy you really, really like. Let's say his name is Jake, because I've forgotten his actual name even though you said it at every opportunity, because I think you liked saying his name, because you saying his name made the relationship more real; made it seemed like there really was a Jake and you. Wait, now that I'm thinking about it, I think his name was Jason. So, the story went something like this: "Jason came to pick me up at the train station and he looked really cute. He was wearing that scruffy jacket I told him I liked that other time and he just sm...

On my way to see Dan and Luke and to look at more apartments. This idea of moving again is becoming more and more real and a little freaky. Boxes. I will begin to obsess about boxes. Books. I am determined to be ruthless about giving away books. As much as I might like the idea of reading it, I will never crack the spine of The Collected Letters of E.B. White. Or that biography of Sylvia Plath. Knick-knacks? I will keep moving those small items of sentimental value, like the china doll my grandma gave me, my high school yearbooks, a little wooden block from my first boyfriend. We keep moving forward. Eddington next stop.

The guy sitting behind me on the train back from Princeton yesterday had an entirely personal cell phone conversation that lasted about ten minutes. Summary: "Why you gotta throw me out my house into the snow, huh? Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Oh, I am, am I? Okay, if you say so. My dad did not say that. I decided to leave, not him. Okay. Oh, right. Yes, here we go again. You did too! I never said that. But you're the one who threw me out in the snow, not me. That's right, act like that. You don't listen. Why'd you got to keep all of my stuff then, like my sofa? Okay. Okay. Oh, okay. Well, I'm not stopping by then." I couldn't see his face, but I pictured him as a 17 year old kid. When he got off at the Bridesburg stop, imagine my surprise to find that he was a fully grown adult man with tattoos. I just hope they don't have kids together. Here is your next selection of photos to choose from. This is Tilly, who belongs to Lex. Tilly does not like ...