It's as if I compressed the entire summer I'd been fruitlessly hankering for into the mad crush of its ending. It's been an exhilaratingly efficient, gloriously elastic sliver of time. Now, it's all beginning, with the lists and the stress and the responsibilities knotting into my stomach. But I'm at peace with the carnage of fall(ing), because in the past TWO WEEKS I accomplished the following:

Walking from [Clyde's office/the gym/the schmancy restaurant we ate at because Clyde won a gift certificate (in this case)] near the waterfront to our home sweet home takes about 20 minutes. First, you pass by the old powerhouse, a decrepit, cubic brick shell of a building with incredible, monumental grace, and into a warren of vacant warehouses, some of which are being repurposed into luxury lofts, and some of which are in the midst of epic battles between such development corps. and their resident starving artists. Then, you walk by the Manishevitz factory, which is easy to miss because of its subtle signage -- the smell Clyde always thought was like popcorn: actually matzah. You must stop by Torico's for dessert -- our choice: passionfruit sorbet with a hard coating of chocolate dip. This made the cone rather more messy, and while I was concentrating on not dripping all over myself I stepped in doggie doo, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. T forthwith bequeathed me a retired cleaning toothbrush to dig it out of the pesky grooves in the soles of my birkenstocks. The end.

Yes, that's right, in a new blogtastic adventure I'm coming to you tonight direct from Casa Taormino. Right now we are engaging in the traditional Taco Night ritual of trash TV ("Blow Out"), so I am taking this opportunity to cook up the instant insider scoop on this star-studded event just for you. Mmmm, tasty. [there's more...]

The weather couldn't have been more perfect. Sunny but miraculously not at all hot. The temperature of the pool is, we were told, controlled by the pater familias, and it felt warmer in the water than out of it. Once I got in, I didn't want to get out, and I was in the pool for hours -- reconnecting with my childhood as a baby pisces, when grown-ups would force me out of the water only when my lips turned blue. Mostly we girls just floated around glamorously on these fantastic recliners, tanning, and watched the bois and dogs toss around a nerf football (with a fascination I found bemusing yet adorable). One exuberant guest convinced me it was playtime, though, and taught me elaborate tandem somersaults that she used to do as a child. I was sad I couldn't remember any particular games I used to play in the water (diving for rings, marco polo, making up elaborate storybook scenarios with Janna...) (adding that to my list of things I've forgotten, like virtually every word of dialectical Arabic from Morocco, and much of my French, and so many delicious words of English too that I lean on the Microsoft Word thesaurus like a writerly crutch; various adventures with Anna and Nori that involved running exuberantly across town, which seem at best hazy to me even when Anna retells them, and wondering if I will one day pass some threshold where the things I've forgotten outnumber the things I remember, and if I would know it if this happened). [there's more...]

Tonight we ate:

today's sundae: cherry vanilla ice cream, butterscotch sauce, and reeses pieces

last week's sundae: coffee with oreo cookie ice cream, caramel sauce, rainbow sprinkles

my ballot in the favorite flavor vote: passionfruit sorbet

the mom and pop ice cream shop down the street is one of the reasons I *love* Jersey City.

I'm writing every day at the trendy Williamsburg-esque coffee shop in the neighborhood, which actually is never crowded and has plenty of electrical outlets.