There's a path along Riverside Drive from 106th to 108th Streets, close to where I live.  It's hidden from view and many people don't know about it.  Jeff and I call it "the poop path" because Fletcher is guaranteed to--well--poop there.  It's beautifully tended by a dedicated volunteer.  From 106th Street, you walk down a flight of marble stairs ( Read more... )

The past week's news has been almost unbearable, and I'm watching from a safe distance.  Living in New York City, you get used to the existential concept of having a huge target over your head.  But then there's that hideous incident in Boston (which I could not stop watching on the news).  Then the poison-laced letters sent to officials.  Then the ( Read more... )

So, as you all know, I have a new puppy (temporary official name: No Name).  He chews everything, and I've spray the entire apartment with bitter spray.   But he loves electrical cords.  Due to this being a 1920s building, which was converted from gas to electric, each room only has one or two outlets.  Which means surge suppressors and wires ( Read more... )