For shoecleaning in a horse-infested yesteryear

I really love to look for anachronistic little things around my city. (I adore Forgotten New York for this reason.)

One thing I keep my eye out for is boot scrapers. These are little flat pieces of metal either imbedded in the steps of old houses or welded between the banisters of the railings that run up the stairs. These are relics of when transport was by horse and carriage, so there was quite a lot of manure on the streets that you wanted to scrape off your boots before you walked into someone's house.

Two of the houses on my block have bootscrapers still.

Bootscraper on Leroy Street.

Jeff loves the pretty hat I brought him

Don't let him tell you otherwise: he loves that hat.

He'd wear it to work if they'd let him.

Care and Feeding of Your Cast-Iron Skillet

Shhh! Baby's sleeping!

So I got a Lodge cast-iron skillet out of a restaurant supply store on lower Bowery, in my old 'hood. Right now I'm in the middle of "seasoning" it, which apparently involves rubbing it lovingly in oil and tucking it in to a hot oven for a nice three hour nap in the afternoon. I am also advised to cook bacon in it a few times to speed the seasoning process. You're also supposed to eschew soap when washing it, just using a wire brush and hot water.

Why did I get a cast-iron skillet, you ask? Two words: Pot. Roast.

Cleanup!

See, there are many, many ways to procrastinate.

You can read a book, watch television, suft the 'Net.... All of those do, however, feel like goofing off, and eventually will make you feel guilty.

There's a better way: chores.

See, if your time-wasting avoidance-oriented task is both somewhat unpleasant as well as at least marginally useful... well, that's a horse of a different color, now id'n'it?

So, seeing as I had something that I very much wanted to avoid doing the other day, I thought to myself, "Isn't it about time that I completely clean and reorganize my room and the apartment altogether?"

Yes, yes it was.

So the floors got swept and mopped, all the clothes got taken out and down and reorganized. The summer stuff was packed away into boxes and placed way up high, the huge clump of unfolded clean laundry was folded and put in the dresser, and the books were reorganized. And it only took four hours! Lovely!

Cleanup!

World's cutest French bulldog puppy outside Gray's Papaya on Sixth and Carmine. He has just emigrated to New York from Hungary.

The Prodigal Son Returns

Jay to the en-oh does the Robot while fleeing the scene. He's fresh back from Argentina, and in hiding in Niskayuna after a brief sojourn in New York City.

Besty!

One of my very best friends... and Leah's in the picture, too.

Night swimming on Cape Fear

Swimming in Wilmington on New Year's Day.

My glasses are quite tight on my face, so I didn't worry too much about going in wearing them. However, a high wave knocked them off my face into the ocean.

Immediately, I dove and laid prone on the seafloor, to try to get as much skin in contact with the bottom to try to feel for them. After a minute, I came up for breath, then dove down.

I actually found them on the second dive.

I found my glasses, in the Atlantic Ocean, at night.

I'm a putz, but a very lucky one.