I saw the cardboard cube poking out of my mailbox even before I got out of the car. My name, printed electronically on the outside just under "Keebler Company," a box inside of a box, plastic, tissue paper—I unwrapped the mysterious present layer by layer, with no idea what it was or why it was sent to me. Actually, even now I have no idea what it is. It's a disappointing little piece of metal in the shape of two teapots connected by bars. On one teapot is an advertisement for some cookies, and on the other, an ad for a store in London. Did I order this? I couldn't have. I wonder if I paid for it.
Perhaps I will receive the instructions tomorrow, hiding in a series of Russian nesting dolls.
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FROM THE ARCHIVES:  
People We Like. I've got a new photo in The Morning News: the co-owners of Frank White, an unusual coffee shop in my neighborhood. — 07.17.08 Charles Atlas will make a man of you! "Against Atlas' better judgment, I declined performing all of my exercises in the nude." (accompanying shirtless photo of the author taken by me.) — 07.17.08 Cat on a Leash. I am totally buying a leash for Coleman asap. — 06.25.08 The Brooklynites. Great photos of a wide range of people from my favorite borough. (Thanks to Kurt [a talented photographer himself] for passing this on.) — 12.19.07 Killer Boob. My childhood (and current!) friend Sarah talks about her experience with breast cancer on her well written and charming blog. She's an American living in Belgium and happens to be one of the best people I know. — 12.19.07 |
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