My mom, may she rest in peace, would not take down Christmas decorations until the feast of the Epiphany, January 6th. I had an epiphany of sorts today on Avenue Z, just 100 yards from the entrance to our building. A young woman purchased Madeline Goes to London, part of Arlynn's donation, for her six-year-old, and Sheila bought Close to the Edge, refusing the three-paperback gift to which she was entitled. Thanks, ladies.
A camera crew soon appeared, setting up shop near a stack of recyclables that has been waiting for pickup for days. They interviewed passersby, then slid over to Waj's gyro stand to quiz him. The young female journalist noticed me, approached, and asked if I'd give my views on how the snowstorm affected me personally. I was more than happy to do it, thinking, of course, that it might provide free publicity. It got comic for a moment, as several vehicles roared by, forcing a stop my comments. If I make the cut, it will be part of the Brooklyn Review program on Cablevision's Channel 69. I wasn't nervous, as I've already done two other TV spots. I held the books up to the camera, explaining the main purpose of the floating bookshop. I finished by saying I hoped the removal crews would do a better job with tomorrow's projected storm.
Later, as I was accompanying Arlynn on a walk, she related how her birds act up when there is a change in the barometric pressure and a storm is on the way. Even though the birds were raised on a farm, not a jungle, she believes the warning system is built into the DNA of the creatures. The cackling got to her today.
"Shut up," she told her fine feathered friends.
"You shut up," the smartest of the bunch shot back.
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