A Brooklyn Journey

So I don't have to tell you how hot it was this past weekend. Or maybe I do. My indoor/outdoor thermometer was 97 degrees at 11pm on Friday night in my living room and 98 degrees outside. Nutty cuckoo.

We holed up in Max's tiny little bedroom which has an air conditioner and watched movies and TV until I  started to hallucinate that I was in prison. A prison cell, by the way, is larger than the bedroom.

Friday night I had an interesting conversation with three youths on the roof.  They thought we were insane for living here, and, made us feel good by not believing we were as old as their parents. "You don't look like my parents," was my favorite compliment of the evening.

Saturday we spent yet another day in prison, adding Janice to the mix which makes the tiny bedroom crowded like the L train, watching Song Remains the Same. Starving because going into the kitchen requires sweltering in 100 degree heat so we didn't eat. Buzzer is broken so we couldn't order anything without going up and down 76 stairs.

She convinced us to go to Brooklyn to see a band in Prospect Park. The heat. Brooklyn. A mediocre band. Not things I'm in love with. But off we went, anything to break out of prison.

And then Brooklyn won. On the F train a woman sat next to me with a cake box. I told my husband in my quiet whisper voice that I was going to snatch the box away from her. He said, in his quiet whisper voice that he thought she was going to offer us some the way she lurched as she got on the train. Then, the woman, with a very keen sense of what's going on around her, asked, in a regular outdoor voice, if we wanted doughnuts. YES I WANT ALL THE DOUGHNUTS. And she gave me a delicious donut with a very light cream filling, sprinkled with donut crumbs.

And the other highlight of Brooklyn was seeing this Stag Beetle on the sidewalk.

The band was meh. But who cares, I broke out of prison and got a free doughnut. What more can a sweaty girl ask for?