Even though the weather is chilly again today and it’s not expected to escape the forties on Saturday, this past Thursday we had a lovely sneak preview of spring here in Gotham City with temperatures climbing 24 degrees above average to 71. Yet, it wasn’t a record high. That was set back in 1987 when it was 76 on that date (March 8th) in weather history. I emailed this news to my Special Someone who has been away and added:
Me: Have I told you that I’ve become a meteorologist in your absence?
After taking a walk outside on this beautiful Thursday, my colleague, (not) Under Ling (anymore), was feeling warm when she returned to our stuffy office.
(not) Under Ling (anymore): Can we open the door?
She knows I have a peeve about people leaving the door to our office open.
Me: Why open the door? Why not open the window?
(not) Under Ling (anymore) gives me a look that asks:
(not) Under Ling (anymore)’s Look asking: Who’s going to do that?
Me: You’re practically thirty years younger than me; you’re going to do it!
My Look barking: You know that there’s no way I’m going to risk pulling, straining or dislocating any precious body part just to open the window.
Hearing that message from My Look loud and clear (not) Under Ling (anymore) carefully climbs atop a counter to open one of our windows. I build her confidence from the confines of my chair.
Me: There are bars; you’re not going to fall out [muttering inaudibly] I hope.
(not) Under Ling (anymore) is a very svelte individual. As she struggles to dislodge the stubborn window she asks:
(not) Under Ling (anymore): Why are there bars on our windows?
Me: To discourage us from throwing ourselves out. We set the standard for Foxconn.
(not) Under Ling (anymore): Hey, it’s stuck!
Me: Get Greg to do it.
(not) Under Ling (anymore) asks our department’s hero, my sidekick Greg, to intervene. Greg leaps into our office in a single bound resisting the urge to sing:
Greg not singing: Here I come to save the day!
Me not saying what I’m thinking if he would sing: Just open the window, will you?
Greg muscles the window open.
Our first opened window of 2012.
The warm breeze is pleasant prompting me to take a stroll to personally check out just how lovely this day is in Tribeca. It is a perfect day for many reasons.
Whenever I can forgo boots for sneakers I have happy feet, even though the seam from my sock was actually slicing through my little toe like a dagger.
There is torture happening inside this Jack Purcell sneaker.
Cute Italian compact cars look cuter.
A trashed coffee cop underneath barely detracts from this Fiat's cuteness.
Great weather is a great way to flaunt one’s sleeve tattoos.
Rachel who's got great tats flaunting them. My liver spots offer no competition.
Although I have easily walked down this stretch of Hudson Street hundreds of times before, I’ve never noticed this flower power wallpaper until now.
I feel transported back in time to Haight Ashbury circa 1967.
Flower stands just look even more colorful on a warm and sunny day.
I'll take one of everything.
A box of shamrocks offering a blunt reminder that it is still March.
Green beer, green bagel and green tongue-time is coming.
Pursuing a mate.
"C'mon, baby, check out my collection of pizza crusts in my nest."
Relaxing on a Duane Park bench with a Special Someone.
Special Someones Sasha and Vaughn.
It’s a good time to go bopping in a pink tutu.
But keeping it real with the winter boots.
It’s a great time to go tree climbing.
"Bet you can't do this, Lady!" "Bet you're right, Sonny!"
An even better time to pretend you’re an area rug.
“I’m dreaming I'm a shag carpet.”
A building built in 1891 carries its age well under a clear blue sky.
You still look fascinating for 121.
It’s terrific biking weather.
You don't even have to pay to park. Yet.
One of the nicest surprises happens at 6:03 in the evening while exiting the 72nd Street subway station on the Upper West Side.
It's 67 degrees!