Monday, October 27, 2008


My sister bought it on eBay and had the seller send it directly to me from Eugene, Oregon, where I know no one, hence my puzzlement at the parcel from those parts. Certainly, it is a charming reminder of both my left-handedness and deep-seated affection for Georg Jensen, whose tiny and all but illegible hallmark may be seen on the back of the spoon. Who knew? It's true that I, like Leonardo da Vinci and the Babe, am left-handed. Furthermore, I was a Georg Jensen fan as a kid. I loved the ads for fancy glass and silverware and I really was astounded that "Georg" had no final g. If I had been more sensitive and introspective, I would've remembered it all and realized that it came from my sis. Refurbishment of my character continues.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Disappearing Dog Waste Station
At first I thought it was an old-school mailbox, sturdy and peak-roofed, mounted on a thick post stuck in the ground on the edge of the Long Meadow in Prospect Park, not far from the Garfield Place entrance to the park, through which George and I usually pass at the start of our morning constitutional.
Then I wondered why there would be a mailbox on the edge of the Long Meadow in Prospect Park, not far from the Garfield Place entrance, etc.
Then I noticed that the long blue streamer flying from a hole above the mail slot was a length of plastic doggy bags, and the mail slot was not a slot at all, rather a hinged flap opening inward.
The dog waste station offered free bags and a place to put them after use, a useful convenience for bagless dog people or those too dim to realize the nearby garbage can also accepts properly packaged dog waste, and even that which is not. I have never met such dog people, but I’m sure they exist.
Less than a week after I first noticed it, the dog waste station is gone, leaving only a hole in the dry earth. Did somebody steal it? Who would want to steal a dog waste station? Even considering its camp value? Or was the removal order from the highest reaches of the Prospect Park bureaucracy, a tacit acknowledgment by the responsible parties of the dog waste station’s stupendous ugliness?
One doesn’t expect one will ever know.