New Year's Eve Like Valentine's Day, NYE is an event I generally ignore. Maybe it has something to do with it being the biggest party night of the year, and I hate parties. So, out of sheer orneriness, I eschew celebrating on NYE.
Night Having worked many years in the theater, I used to be a night owl, rarely going to bed before 1 a. m., and very often staying up as late as 3.00. I loved using that time to write, study, or to work on my Italian-to-English translations. This helped banish whatever music was running through my head from the day's rehearsals. Also, the apartment building was quietest during those hours, so I could concentrate and get my best work done. Of course, the monastic horarium cured me forever of the night owl habit, so now I keep "old lady hours."
Nails Finger nails, that is. Every once in a while, I wonder what it's like to have long nails. As a pianist, and now as an ersatz organist, I never had that option. Maybe someday I'll let them grow out. They'll probably drive me mad.
Nancy Drew Shh--I still read my Nancy Drews. Not sure that's something I want to say out loud at my age. Then again, why not? They're very well written, and Nancy is still the coolest female protagonist in juvenile serial fiction. I have two complete sets (well, "complete" up to The Phantom of Pine Hill, because those are the ones I grew up with): the hardcover blue "tweed," and the ones with the yellow spines. Why two sets? Because the texts, and even some of the storylines, changed over the decades. It's fun to compare.
Nasal spray Two words: Simply Saline. It's the bomb.
Neighbors (shudder) Let's just say my past experiences with neighbors have not been positive, at least during my apartment living years. The scariest was at my second place: a 30-something woman moved into the unit next to mine, and she played her stereo at a truly unbelievable high volume, at random times of the day. I was awakened one Sunday morning at about 8.00 by a sudden wall-shattering blast of rock-and-roll. In a stupor, I went and knocked on her door; she opened it, asked curtly, "Too loud?" "Uh, yes." Then without another word, she slammed the door. She did turn her stereo down--a bit. The following night--morning, rather; it was around 2.30 a. m.--I was awakened by an insistent knocking on my neighbor's door. I heard her open the door; however, I couldn't hear the short conversation that followed. A few hours later, I was again awakened, this time by the sound of glass shattering, which went on for some minutes. When I emerged from my apartment that morning, I saw that all my neighbor's windows had been broken, and also the sliding glass doors to her balcony. There was no sign of her or her rattletrap car. When I asked about this later at the manager's office, they told me there had been too many complaints, so the police had been summoned and she was asked to vacate. Her response was to break all the windows before leaving. And I had been stupid enough to knock on her door!
There were other neighbor confrontations at my third apartment. I came away from the whole apartment living experience wearing an invisible but very thick coat of armor.
New England I've only been to Connecticut; namely, the Abbey of Regina Laudis in Bethlehem. But New England is really the only area of the US, besides New York City and San Francisco, that I've dreamed of visiting. I always wanted to see the autumn colors and stay in a White Christmas-type inn. I love that part of the film Baby Boom when Diane Keaton moves from New York City to that lovely white elephant of a farm in Vermont and gets kissed by Sam Shepard on the hood of her SUV. I want to hear that accent I've only heard in movies. To paraphrase Rosie O'Donnell in Sleepless, "I don't want to go to New England; I want to go to New England in a movie."
Nineteenth Century Where I really belong.
Nocturne The musical equivalent of a Romantic sonnet. Short, introspective, sometimes angst-ridden, rife with emotion and elegance. Synonomous with Chopin, but certainly not all he was and is.
Noodles I love noodles. All kinds. I could eat noodles every day. They are what makes my world go round.
Normalcy, Normality I've no idea what it is. Does anyone?
Novels Where would we be without them? They "take us away" better than Calgon ever could. They delight, enthrall, shock; they leave us wistful, moved, bemused, sometimes depressed, and ultimately grateful. They inspire screen adaptations--some excellent, some terrible; either way, we novel enthusiasts welcome them as we would a newborn child, and we can't wait to see what they look like and who they really take after. Although one may walk into any bookstore and feel utterly overwelmed by the sheer number of novels to choose from, the truth is, there can never be too many of them. Long live the novel!
November Amy March: "November is the most disagreeable month!" Jo March: "That's the reason I was born in it!" I suppose that's why I was born in it, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment