Don't Worry, I'm Happy

Things that make me happy include:

Reading people's blogs, including Garret Hill's, which, to paraphrase Homer Simpson, is funny because the source of its humor lies in the mundane and specific truths in life. I love how Garret records his every visit to Trader Joe's, uses the word temple as a verb, and takes a picture of every single thing he eats (sadly, he doesn't post these on his blog.)

Listening to podcasts from The Moth.

Talking to my older brother. He is one of the funniest people I know, and a computer whiz, to boot. Last night when I had a computer question, I called him and he was able to walk me through it step by step and explain each thing the computer was doing without even needing to be here to see what was on my screen. That amazes me. And I was laughing the whole time.

Observing the city. Last night when I left work, the sun was setting, although I couldn't see it because of all the skyscrapers. The sky was full of fluffy clouds which obscured a pink and gray sky. The last bit of sunlight was hitting the buildings just enough to electrify one thin edge of them, so it looked like every building in midtown was half-outlined in neon. It was breathtaking and so fleeting a moment of extreme beauty.

Walking around my neighborhood, which has businesses like this:I don't know whether to be hungry or horrified. But I'm happy.

The Worst Day Ever

It was a horrible day, but there's nothing I can do about it, so there. At least I got to see a man walking around with a real cat sitting on his head.

Chickens and Churches

Today during Sunday School at church, we were reading the part in 3 Nephi when Jesus appears to the Nephites. But before he appears, they hear His voice saying to them, "How oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathers her chickens, and ye would not." The teacher asked the class if anyone had ever seen a hen gather its baby chicks. Nobody raised their hand but me, so he asked me to describe it. My mother keeps chickens, so that's where I've seen this. It's adorable. Basically, the mother hen has a certain clucking sound that she makes if she spots danger, and as soon as the baby chicks hear it, they all run underneath the hen. The reason why this is a perfect metaphor is because the Lord is always wanting to protect us under his wing, yet we are the ones that have to listen for the clucking and go towards the shelter. The hen doesn't chase her chicks around trying to shelter them, the choice is theirs. The choice is ours to either draw closer to the Lord and be protected by him, or wander far away, ignoring his beckoning.

That's the Sunday message for today. And I have a new idea, which I'm going to start doing. Every Sunday I'm going to post the picture of a different church in my neighborhood. There are a billion! So I'll never run out. And they are all so fascinating to me. We'll start with my favorite:

It's the Soul Saving Station. How convenient--I feel so lucky to have one in my neighborhood. How do the rest of you get by?

Oh the Joys of Work

My favorite part about work is all the gorgeous and interesting things I get to handle. I see every single item before it goes to the sales floor, and usually I try it on. For example, the pair of vintage Harry Winston earrings I was playing with today. Set in platinum with huge cascades of marquis shaped diamonds, they would be too heavy to wear for very long, but what fun while it lasts! I wanted to take a picture of them, but wasn't sure if my boss would approve me posting that on my blog, so I will make do with this vintage Harry Winston ad from a 1950s Vogue magazine. Today I also got to play with some amazing watches, including an electric Hamilton wristwatch from the 50s (electric!) and a really old Jurgensen pocketwatch in its original box, with a really cool chain that had a pocketknife charm on it. My favorite is when the watches or jewelry have inscriptions on them, or other clues about the owners. Like charm bracelets, which illustrate a person's life by what the charms are. One time I saw a pocketwatch with a photo-realistic engraving of a beautiful woman on the inside. It must have been the owner's sweetheart.

That's why I love antique stores, because when I'm in one I feel like I'm in a giant keepsake box of things that people have saved for years and years because they are either very unusual or very meaningful. I'd like to know the story behind everything I find. Who made that old silk yo-yo quilt--was it for a wedding? Whose precious china plates were those--were they used for a special occasion? What soldier carried that military issue wristwatch--did he see battle? After work I called home to say that E and I will be home for Thanksgiving, and my littlest sister K was ecstatic about a pendant watch she'd bought at the Liberty, NC antiques fair today. She also found an amazing hat from the 40s. I wish I could have gone too! Well, someday when I have my yarn/art/fabric/antiques store, I can play with old treasures to my hearts content.

P.S. We've been cleaning out the dusty corners at work and these weird things are sitting in a box that I pass by every day. I have no idea what they are or what ancient technology they came from, but every time I see them I get the feeling that they could be the severed heads of feminine robots. (Feminine because of the "eyelashes...") Okay, okay, so I have a very vivid imagination! But can't you just picture them as the heads of droids captured by the sand people and dismantled a la Star Wars episode IV?

A Foggy Day in New York Town

This morning the fog was obscuring the tops of the skyscrapers in Midtown. I arrived at work early and waited in the mist, thinking about how much it reminded me of the Pacific Northwest, where instead of skyscrapers, the fog blots out the tops of tall pine trees. I wonder if I'll ever live in Oregon again? I love New York, but I don't have any major ties to any specific place right now, other than the fact that most of my family is in North Carolina. So who knows. Nobody knows anything these days--it's a nervous atmosphere in the city right now with the financial crash and the election just around the corner. People don't know what to do. And I don't know how to feel about the big "bailout" because on one hand I do want the nation to have a good economy, but on the other hand this is a capitalist society which means businesses should not be controlled by the government. When they become too entangled, how can it be good? And you hear so many stories about these rich CEOs making off with millions when their companies fail, so is it wise to be handing these people the taxpayer's money?

I can't think about it right now--my head hurts. I've just been staying up too late at night these days, trying to cram my days full of as much stuff as I possibly can, but it's catching up with me! Mostly I just stay up late trying to get itunes to do things it doesn't want to do. I have some ranting to do about itunes, but I'll save it for when I have more energy...

New York is transitioning into autumn. Trini, my super, has been joking that E is already dressed for subzero temps while I'm still walking around in short-sleeves and sandals. I guess I got the Viking genes and E got the Italian in our family. The leaves are starting to change color, and it's been rainy and windy. Too windy for David Blaine, I guess. He's the magician/stuntman guy who has been trying to get attention for hanging upside down in CP, but nobody is buying it. For one thing, that's a stupid thing to do and New Yorkers don't sit well with stupidity. For another, he's been seen taking breaks, so what's with that? The latest I heard is that he's blaming George Bush for interrupting his television spot with a speech on the financial crisis, which caused him to lose his concentration. Ugh. That's all I have to say about that.

Raving and Ranting

It's been a busy week, and it's only Wednesday! I'm on a weird schedule at work where I work every other Saturday and every other Monday, so it means I have 6-day weeks and 4-day weeks. This is my 6-day week, and the good news is that its already half over.

Anyway, at work I share office space with Princess and Dali (their real names, of course) and this week is Dali's birthday. Dali's birthday is my favorite, because that woman knows how to throw a party. Instead of just having cake at work, she goes all out and throws a huge party. You know, most people expect to receive things for their birthday, but Dali gave us a gift. She invited everyone from work plus everyone in her dance class plus her family and a few other random folks to come to Ricardo's, a locally owned steakhouse in Spanish Harlem, for a huge feast with drinks and dancing. She paid for a huge party with a delicious multi-course meal, drinks for everyone, with music and a beautiful outdoor terrace setting. It was delightful. The food was delicious--I'm going to have to go back there soon! The company was great--it was fun to meet Dali's family, as well as some other random people. (The party was shockingly full of crashers, but I don't blame them for wanting to join in the fun with Dali's crowd.) After dinner and cake they pushed the tables back and everyone started to salsa. I wish I had brought my camera. You will notice the sad lack of pictures here...

So that was Tuesday night. It felt like a Friday, so that means today was sort of like Monday, so in that sense, maybe it is a short week after all.

The second part of this post is a rant, so stop reading if you want to--I just have to vent for a minute. New York is annoying right now because its full of U.N. dignitaries and they are constantly driving back and forth through midtown, where I work, so the traffic has been horrible. I'm not even a driver and it annoys me! This morning the security guard at work said he saw George Bush drive by with a police escort. That's fine, I just wish they would not use the sirens and alarms, or close streets off. Let the city flow! Or else go make the U.N. its own little city somewhere else. Seriously, today was the first time I've seen gridlock traffic in the city since I've lived here. And since I'm on a rant, I just want to complain about the group of people surrounding some singer in Borders that was blocking the aisle of cds that I wanted to look at. I couldn't buy Dali a salsa music cd for her birthday because I couldn't get through the crowd of people gathered to watch some visiting performer. That just isn't right.

But those are my only two complaints today, so I guess I'm doing pretty good. Now it's time (what! it's 9:48 already! ugh. complaint.) to clean my room, which exploded this morning as I was searching for winter (ugh) stockings to wear to work...

Art Night

As an attempt to motivate my sister (and myself) to start producing more artwork (and by more I mean more than none), I decreed that we must have Art Night every week. Art Night will consist of us choosing an art project and working on it for a few hours together. When we are done we will assign each other homework that we must complete before the next Art Night. So, for our first project I decided that we would draw pencil portraits of each other. To the left is my version of E, and, while its not perfect, I think it does capture something recognizable about her, even if she does sort of look like Pocahontas.
On the right is her version of me. Naturally my sister has a much more stylized, almost comic, technique, which I like. My drawing and painting tends to be realistic to a fault, and I'm always afraid I'm going to end up one of those people painting with a magnifier and a one-haired brush to get every last bit of detail. However, E has a nice way of softening and generalizing details, creating a more idealistic and cute picture. Our homework for next Art Night is to each draw another picture of each other, based on photographs, and next we will try self-portraits.

Interesting

I'm being good and working on my thesis. Well, I don't mean this very minute (I'm watching the Emmys and cheering for all the wins for John Adams!) So, because I'm writing about the Nauvoo Temple, part of my focus is the baptismal font, which was the very first font built for the newly restored church and installed in the basement of the Nauvoo Temple (built 1840-1846). Joseph Smith had revealed the doctrine of baptism for the dead before the temple was ready, so the first of these ordinances were performed in rivers and lakes. But this sacred ordinance needed a sacred place. So, while the temple was being built, the basement was quickly completed first and dedicated, before the temple's walls were even complete, so that the Saints could get busy and start baptizing.

This first font was carved by Elijah Fordham of joined wooden planks. It was in the form that Mormons are all familiar with today, with the large font resting on the back of 12 life-size oxen. The wooden oxen were painted white and finished with horns of tin. A few years later, this original font was replaced with one carved of stone. To non-Mormons in the 1840s, stories of the temple and its strange font seemed like outlandish and weird tales, and those who saw it called it the 8th Wonder of the World because it was so unusual to them. While some other churches practiced baptism by immersion like the Mormons, it usually took place in rivers as well. Fonts were small and simple, reserved for infant baptism or sprinkling.

While it is accepted that Joseph Smith saw the design for the entire temple in revelation, he must have also been familiar with the description of the "molten sea" in Solomon's temple (1 Kings 7:23-26) which was supported by twelve oxen. The number twelve is highly symbolic, representing among other things the twelve tribes of Israel. Oxen as a symbol might have been chosen because of their extreme strength.

I don't know all the answers, but I did find something interesting when I visited the Victoria & Albert Museum in London back in May. There they have a replica of the baptismal font in the Church of Saint Bartholomew in Liege, France. This is what it looks like:
This font was built between the years 1107 and 1118. Note that the font, which is large enough for total immersion, rests on the back of twelve oxen. (Also note that the high relief imagery and extraordinarily lifelike figures predate Giotto and the Italian Renaissance by more than a century, but that's another story...)

Joseph Smith and probably 95% of the Mormons in 1841 had never been to France or even heard of this church. So there's no question of copying. I believe that the Christians of Liege were influenced by the same sources as the Mormons: the scriptures, and some divine revelation. Its late, so I don't want to get into a huge religious discussion right now, but I just think its interesting.

Now We're Talking!

Remember when I was gushing about African wax print fabric? Well there's this guy that works for GQ and he photographs style as seen in real life on the streets and publishes it on his blog. Anyway, yesterday he posted this picture:

This is exactly the type of fabric I was talking about! I love it. I haven't seen any men in my neighborhood wearing stuff like this, but this is the type of fabric that the women make their dresses out of, with matching headwraps, so they end up with the same allover look as this guy. I don't know what it is, but fabric like this fascinates me. This guy is actually Mobolaji Dawodu, a stylist and designer, so he knows what he's doing. And when he makes African wax prints the biggest thing in fashion, can I just say I loved it first?

Another Crazy Day

It was another crazy day at work today, but pretty fun. The gallery where I work is having a two day trunk show for a group of artists from France, so the past couple of days have been a flurry of preparation. I'm not in charge, so it hasn't been the most organized of events, but that just means there has not been a single dull moment. I have been helping out in every possible way upstairs, and then running downstairs to do my regular work. I like being able to escape the craziness of the salesfloor and laugh about what goes on up there with my downstairs coworkers. We're a much more relaxed crew down there.

This painting I found on the Internet is a good illustration of my day, although it is a pastiche of "Guernica" by Picasso, which was a response to the 1937 bombing of Guernica, Spain, by the Nazis. My workplace is definitely not as tragic and horrific as a war scene, although there is always some sort of feud going on between some people. I'm the one on the sidelines observing, trying to remain neutral, helping out whomever needs it (I was stitching up someone's dress today) and keeping a lighthearted view of the situation.

An advantage of being a "downstairs" employee is that I don't have to stay late when there are special events. Tonight the gallery stayed open way late because of the French thing, and even though they were serving chocolates and other pretty foods, and even though some of the girls were begging me to stay, I did not. While there is something to be said about having a high-power job and making the big bucks, the life of the peon can be very free. I work my 8 hour day and then I'm free to go. There are no strings on me. The fun part was when I left the store and was walking down the street listening to "Party Time" by Thad Cockrell and Caitlin Cary on my ipod. Suddenly I bumped into a couple of the Frenchmen who were headed to the gallery for the event. They expressed sadness and dismay that I wasn't going to stay, which made me feel special (those two were quite handsome, too!) but I told them I had very important things to do. So we said farewell and I hopped on the uptown train. At home I changed into pajamas and jumped into bed with a fashion magazine, a laptop, and a baked potato. What could be more important than doing that?

Re:

The mouse. I murdered him today. I don't want to talk about it.

Monday No Fun Day

The internet was down at work on Saturday, and since my Saturday coworkers know just enough about computers to think a server is a modem, I was elected to fix the problem. However, the problem was with the ISP, so there wasn't much I could do. You would have thought the world had ended--it's amazing how dependent we are on the Internet these days. Everyone was in a horrible mood. They couldn't check their email for messages from clients, or send wire transfers, or do anything without actually using a phone and talking to someone. It was quite painful. The mood spilled over to today, when I got to work and there was still no Internet. Luckily, it was restored around 1 p.m. but in the meantime I was blamed for making the alarm go off in the gallery at 1 in the morning which forced my boss to have to drive in from New Jersey to check on things. Why was it my fault? Because I must have shifted something in the electrical closet on Saturday when I was fiddling around with the modem and the routers that caused something to trigger the alarm. I'm not buying it, but whatever.

It was just the beginning of a day where it seemed like everything I touched went wrong. I even took a break to go buy a donut, and Dunkin Donuts was closed because of mechanical problems. I had irate artists emailing me, I was accidentally hanging up on people, I was getting pulled in all directions by coworkers needing help, and all kinds of merchandise was having to get retagged because nobody would give me the right information. So frustrating. And then when I got home, there was plaster dust all over the kitchen floor from the maintenance people fixing a pipe, and there was a mouse in the trap, but it didn't die--it escaped and ran back into its hiding place in the wall!

So I'm hiding in my room, uploading all my cds to my computer, and looking at pictures of kittens. Cute kittens will cheer anyone up, right? Meanwhile, my dear sister made me dinner and mopped the floor. I think I'm going to go to bed early and pretend like this day never happened. I'm off tomorrow, and am planning on having nothing but fun.

The Mad Quilter of Central Park

In between working on my thesis, I've been working on making a quilt. It's crazy, because the quilt is about the same size, if not larger, than my entire bedroom, so that makes it really hard to put together. I've been experimenting with different techniques. If you've never made a quilt, you must know that a quilt has three parts: the top, the batting (fluffy stuff inside), and the back. When you stitch the quilt together, especially such a large one, it's very difficult to get the two parts to line up properly across the entire thing without weird puckering and bunching in parts. Usually quilters have a large frame that they stretch the pieces across, securing them tightly to ensure nothing moves while they sew. I have no quilt frame, so things are progressing slowly... Finally today, after ripping out two days of work that was going badly, I took the quilt to Central Park and stretched it out on the grass. I tacked the corners down with pins into the soft earth and started securing the whole thing with safety pins. It's not an ideal method, but at least it will make sure everything doesn't shift and move while I'm sewing a section. That is, I hope.

While I worked, I was blasting tunes on my ipod, in my own little craft-world, so I didn't pay much attention to what was going on around me. Still, I couldn't help but notice how many people strolling through the park stopped and stared at what I was doing. Me in the grass, pinning a quilt together. Women stopped and watched, men stopped and pointed me out to their children. One old man walked over to me and asked if I'd seen the tapestry exhibition last year at the Met and how much was I going to sell the quilt for. I said I had no idea, as I had no intentions to sell. But maybe someday. Someday when I get a quilt frame and space enough to make a quilt properly instead of in the shade of an oak tree in Central Park on a hot and steamy New York day.

Don't Forget

Today at work everyone told their story of where they were when they heard the news about the twin towers. It was sad to think about it, but I'm happy to report that New York is resilient, hopeful, and thriving.

What's Up

I love what Corina had to say about New York. She's leaving for London, and will fall in love with that city, too. They are so lucky to be getting her.

In other news, Abby will be sad to know that my future boyfriend isn't going to head the Met after all. The new director was announced today: Tom Campbell, a curator in the European tapestries department. That's interesting, because I actually remember attending an exhibition of tapestries at the Met several months ago, and I loved it. Speaking of tapestries, I need to go visit the Cloisters and see the unicorn tapestry.

Being Boring

I guess I haven't written anything for the past few days because nothing really interesting has happened. There was the ceiling scare, and getting all the stuff out of the clutches of the crazy ex-landlady, but other than that, I've just been buckling down, trying to stay hard at work on my Paper. The thesis is coming along okay. I've got about 15 pages done, which is a quarter of the way there. My hardest problem is staying on task. There's always the thought that I could be checking my email or finding new music on i-tunes or listening to the radio or playing online scrabble, but I have to ignore those urges. (And while I'm ignoring stuff, I've gone ahead and just ignored the giant laundry pile in the corner. I've got work to do!)

The other hard thing to ignore is the summer-turning-into-autumn weather. The air is getting that twinge to it that makes me want to go outside and tramp through piles of orange leaves. There's a stack of crochet patterns I want to make for the chilly weather times, and I want to bake. And I want to explore the city some more before winter sets in. Well, all the more reason to get busy and get this paper done with!

Calm Down

No worries--my ceiling didn't collapse last night! It started dripping for a while, but that's about it, and then when the rain stopped, the welt in the ceiling got weirdly smaller. Hopefully when they patch the ceiling that will solve the problem. My dad says that modern sheetrock doesn't collapse on people like old plaster does. But I'm traumatized.

Rain Rain Go Away

There's a reason why I can't sleep when it rains. It's because I'm cursed. Yes, not only do I have a computer curse, I have a water curse. When it rains, I always get a premonition that something bad is going to happen, which I just ignore, because the rain has never done anything to harm me. I've got no fight with Mother Nature.

It's been raining torrentially all day long, which is fine--I carry around an umbrella like any good New Yorker. I'm happy that the rain is bringing the temperatures down--it's been too hot and humid for my taste lately. And I'm fine with getting a little bit wet around the ankles and having to close all the windows in the house because the rain comes down horizontally here. But I'm not fine with wet ceilings. You'll recall that in my last house the ceiling collapsed because of water-damaged plaster. Well, I came home from the library today, went into the living room, and for some reason I looked at the ceiling. It's got a huge water spot and it's dripping!!!

This is a newly renovated apartment, and they just put a new roof on this building, the Super said. But I guess they weren't prepared for Hurricane Hanna. We're on the top floor, and it seems the roof isn't draining fast enough, so water has seeped into a hairline crack right above our living room and has made its way through the sheet-rock and paint and into our home. How frail this existence is. I feel like the little pig who lived in a house of straw. I mean seriously, this is the 21st century and we still have dripping ceilings! And trust me, you could take a survey of the five other apartments on this floor, and we would be the only one with the dripping ceiling. I'm cursed.

Entering the Labyrinth

Finally, the day we have all been waiting for has arrived! The day that my old landlady unlocks the door and lets us get back into our old house to get the stuff we left there while we were in the middle of moving out two months ago!!!

Okay, to recap the sitch: In June I lived in a cute old townhouse on a historic street in Hamilton Heights. The landlady was a little kooky, but you know--aren't they all? So she stored trash in the first floor--it never really affected us and we got discounted rent because she would never get around to fixing stuff. Then our ceiling caved in almost killing my sister and I and damaging a lot of our stuff, so we decided to move out. We packed up in a hurry and moved as soon as we could find a new place, but before we were done the crazy landlady locked the inner door that had never been locked before so we didn't have a key to get back in and get the rest of our things out like all the food that was in the fridge and E's artwork and plants. Our other roommate was in Indonesia for the summer and all of her stuff got trapped in there before we could get movers to take it to storage. So all summer long I have been calling and harassing this lady to unlock the door and let us have our stuff. Finally our old roommate came back to town and threatened to call the police, and that was the final straw that made the landlady do something.

The frustrating this is that this crazy lady has been going to that house periodically over the last two months because when my sister and I went there tonight to pick up our stuff, the entire foyer of the house that used to be nice and clean, is now filled with bags of empty bottles, broken furniture, styrofoam and other random things that the lady has pulled from trash heaps and dragged in. She has a mental disease, undiagnosed except by me, that causes her to collect and hoard things that she's never going to do anything with. She thinks she can get new renters, but no one is ever going to put up with that. E and I could hardly get in the door--we had to leave the rolling cart outside while we made trips in and out, through the garbage labyrinth, to get our things out. It was disgusting. The plants are dead, the food in the fridge moldy, and everything is coated in plaster dust. E said it was like visiting a graveyard, and finding all her dead belongings. It was quite creepy.

We didn't get everything--one trip was enough to wear us out. K is getting a moving truck on Monday to move her things, and since her new place is just a block away from our new place, E and I can piggyback and get the rest of our things then. I will be so happy when I am finally rid of that crazy landlady!

Stuff I Feel Like Saying

1. Some of the people I work with are super gung-ho about politics, and when we set up the store in the morning it's all they want to talk about, but they have nothing nice and tons of horrible things to say about their chosen candidate's opponents. At this point I'm so sick of these peoples one-track opinions that I almost feel ready to just vote for the opposite person just to spite them! Isn't that terrible? I can find strengths and weaknesses in both parties, and I can make my decision privately without spouting venom to make myself feel better about the choice. Ugh! I think I'll just start wearing headphones in the morning.

2. Some of you may not realize that I'm a motorcycle lover. It's dangerous, I know, and I'm not into the whole hoochy-biker girl thing or the guys with the long beards blowing in the wind, but I perk up at the sound of a motorcycle engine coming my way, and so I got a huge thrill today when about 50 bikers cruised up 6th all in a pack. The other day I saw a gorgeous chopper parked out front of a pizza place on 51st that I go to sometimes. That's nice, but I'd settle for a nice Honda Rebel and a long country road. P.S. Does the posture on this guy in the picture look a little weird?

3. At lunchtime I grabbed a piece of pizza and went over to Rockefeller Center, where they have the U.S. Open playing all day on a huge screen. The nicest part is that they have a big piece of grass in front of it--nice, real, green grass--that people can sit on and watch the games. So I sat there and soaked in some late-summer sun and watched. I don't know why anyone would go to the actual stadium when they could be there in that grass with a life-size game so close you feel like you might get hit by a stray ball.

4. On my to the subway after work I saw huge crowds of people and flashbulbs and people in fancy duds parading around next to a huge sign that said "Entourage." But I didn't go take a closer look because I've never even seen that show and so I probably wouldn't even know who I was looking at if I saw the actors. But then when I got home and read that Michael Phelps is doing a cameo on Entourage, I wish I would have stopped. I'd love to see him in person!

Happy Labor Day

As you enjoy your day off from work, do you realize you have New York to thank? Yes, Labor Day began here, like so many other great things. In 1882 New York's Central Labor Union of decided that because everyone was working so hard, they all deserved a holiday. Aren't you glad?

On Friday, as I left work I tried to savor that golden moment when my weekend was full of promise, when three completely free days stretched unknown before me. Long weekends always end up going by too quickly! This one was no exception. It seemed like I barely blinked and it was Sunday evening. I don't even remember Saturday... Now it's Monday night and I have to go back to work tomorrow. I've been working on my paper all day, which is a good thing, but I feel like there is still so much to do. (Don't worry, Dad--I'll get it done!!!) Now my sister comes and tells me that we could have gone to Ocean City, New Jersey and visited a saltwater taffy factory! Um, could I have another day off, please?