And on the 7th Day . . .
On the 7th day, she rested.
She sat in the backyard in the sunshine listening to Brooklyn – until she heard the beautiful raised voices of a gospel choir, raced upstairs to get dressed and shot out the front door looking for it.
Alas, she found the church, but it was all quiet by the time she got there. So she decided to wander on through the neighbourhood to the dessert shop where once a day she calls by for a creme brulee, the miracle of which is she’s never eaten a creme brulee in her life and now suddenly she can’t live without ‘em.
Only they didn’t have any! He was very apologetic, it was hard to get good help, he said. So I settled instead for a lovely strawberry cream meringue-like chewy pie. Mm-mmm, delicious!
Then the woman who serves me my regular creme brulee – who every time I buy it goes out back to the baker and says ‘Joy-age (which is New York for George), how much is the creme brulee with tax?’ – she comes over and tells me about Dance Africa 2011, that’s on ‘just down the road’.
‘Four blocks?’ I say. “Eight? Ten? 12?’
‘Bout that,’ she says.
And I smiled a hearty smile – because New Yorkers are the only people I know, with the exception of my sister (hi Gin!) who think a 10-20 block walk is ‘just down the road’.
Although these days, with my healing bones, my shoe is on the other foot, so to speak 🙂 Sigh, the irony the irony. And I walked the 10 blocks nonetheless. To the big food party!
Cucumber lemonade! Funnel cakes. Saltfish. And people people people. And music music music. A lovely way to spend a day of rest.
And I was reminded for the 50th time about an observation I made early on this blog, about people here not being alive to each other and the fact I need to correct it.
They are indeed! Just not first thing in the morning. It takes the early risers in New York time to get going, tha’s’all.
Here’s some scenes from the food party.