the good news is....
I won't have any problems fasting tonight for 24 hours (Yom Kippur and all that) because my stomach can't hold anything down.
I came back to work yesterday for a meeting (which means I had to look all dressed up and professional, and very un-schlubesque) and made it through half a day before I crawled out through the courtyard teeming with Federal nicotine addicts and homeless people and McDonald's employees - yes, there is a McDonald's in the courtyard of the Sam Nunn Atlanta Federal Center - and made it past the line of people waiting for the bus to the Federal prison, across the street, past the people in the MARTA station trying to get MARTA riders to register to vote, crawled onto a train, and almost passed out. Thankfully, I didn't, because I had gotten onto the wrong train (Doraville, and not North Springs, this is what comes from not paying attention on the northbound platform), and had to switch trains a few stations later. I'm only glad I got on the 1 MARTA train in 20 that appears to have a working speaker (which means it was blaringly loud and immediately above my head) and the 1 train in 30 that had an operator who announced which train it was at Lindbergh Station, where the two lines split, and the 1 operator in 40 who announced the train correctly. What is that, a 1 in 120 chance?
I fly back home tonight to surprise my mother for her birthday, which very often falls on Yom Kippur, and I might see if I can leer at the new million dollar yarn store which opened up in town and apparently carries everything. One of the reps for Dunwoody Yarn told Christine all about how this woman literally took one million dollars and spent it to open a yarn store in Saratoga Springs, New York. I had my mother call some months ago and ask if she carried Araucania Nature Cotton. She told my mother there was no such thing, only Nature Wool. I figure if she's going to definitively give out such answers, and speak imperiously about it as if she knows better than her callers, when she clearly doesn't, she doesn't deserve my business. Besides, Norma at The Stitchin' Post was one of the two women who taught me how to knit when I was seven years old, so why would I ever give my local business to anyone else?
I was in Dunwoody Yarn one day and this obnoxious woman came in and started going on all about how she went up to this wonderful new yarn store in SARATOGA and how this store in SARATOGA had the most marvelous yarn there blah blah blah.
I flinched.
People like this are why people such as myself, who grew up in SARATOGA, detest tourists. The place exists without tourism. It is a small city over over 25,000 residents. Some people commute to Albany and work for the state (as I once did). Some people work for Skidmore College, where my mother and I went to college and my father taught for over 25 years. Some people teach at one of the siz elementary schools or work construction or work retail or do whatever it is that people do in a small city. They may make more money seasonally during July and August than they do the rest of the year but it's like getting a second job during December.
I once worked at a small, independent, year-round bookstore in the downtown area which had been around for over ten years. The owner was always asked, "So what do you do the rest of the year?" by tourists. His response? "Well, after they shut off the water and electricity and tear down the cardboard walls we use for buildings, we all move to Albany and wait for the next racing season to start."
I plan on bringing back superior New York State apples to Georgia. We're going to have an apple tastes test at work.
I came back to work yesterday for a meeting (which means I had to look all dressed up and professional, and very un-schlubesque) and made it through half a day before I crawled out through the courtyard teeming with Federal nicotine addicts and homeless people and McDonald's employees - yes, there is a McDonald's in the courtyard of the Sam Nunn Atlanta Federal Center - and made it past the line of people waiting for the bus to the Federal prison, across the street, past the people in the MARTA station trying to get MARTA riders to register to vote, crawled onto a train, and almost passed out. Thankfully, I didn't, because I had gotten onto the wrong train (Doraville, and not North Springs, this is what comes from not paying attention on the northbound platform), and had to switch trains a few stations later. I'm only glad I got on the 1 MARTA train in 20 that appears to have a working speaker (which means it was blaringly loud and immediately above my head) and the 1 train in 30 that had an operator who announced which train it was at Lindbergh Station, where the two lines split, and the 1 operator in 40 who announced the train correctly. What is that, a 1 in 120 chance?
I fly back home tonight to surprise my mother for her birthday, which very often falls on Yom Kippur, and I might see if I can leer at the new million dollar yarn store which opened up in town and apparently carries everything. One of the reps for Dunwoody Yarn told Christine all about how this woman literally took one million dollars and spent it to open a yarn store in Saratoga Springs, New York. I had my mother call some months ago and ask if she carried Araucania Nature Cotton. She told my mother there was no such thing, only Nature Wool. I figure if she's going to definitively give out such answers, and speak imperiously about it as if she knows better than her callers, when she clearly doesn't, she doesn't deserve my business. Besides, Norma at The Stitchin' Post was one of the two women who taught me how to knit when I was seven years old, so why would I ever give my local business to anyone else?
I was in Dunwoody Yarn one day and this obnoxious woman came in and started going on all about how she went up to this wonderful new yarn store in SARATOGA and how this store in SARATOGA had the most marvelous yarn there blah blah blah.
I flinched.
People like this are why people such as myself, who grew up in SARATOGA, detest tourists. The place exists without tourism. It is a small city over over 25,000 residents. Some people commute to Albany and work for the state (as I once did). Some people work for Skidmore College, where my mother and I went to college and my father taught for over 25 years. Some people teach at one of the siz elementary schools or work construction or work retail or do whatever it is that people do in a small city. They may make more money seasonally during July and August than they do the rest of the year but it's like getting a second job during December.
I once worked at a small, independent, year-round bookstore in the downtown area which had been around for over ten years. The owner was always asked, "So what do you do the rest of the year?" by tourists. His response? "Well, after they shut off the water and electricity and tear down the cardboard walls we use for buildings, we all move to Albany and wait for the next racing season to start."
I plan on bringing back superior New York State apples to Georgia. We're going to have an apple tastes test at work.
posted by itgirl at 7:20 AM
1 Comments:
Migraines are the pits, the absolute pits! Mine thankfully never lasted that long. I can't imagine it. Yom Kippur... Funny thing, I often go a day without really eating bcs I'm too lazy or just not hungry. I thought i'd die on Tisha B'Av. I can see the same happening a few hours from now. Because i'm NOT ALLOWED to, i'll just want to inhale everything in sight. (we do 25 hours though.)
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