The Weekend Overheard

One sees and hears a lot of strange things while walking around the city. Especially on the subway (we strongly agree with Bill Cosby's assessment that there is a nut in every car), but that is by no means the only place where one should perk up her ears in the hopes of coming across a tidbit that is worth hearing.

As part of an object lesson in our primary class yesterday we asked the kids to fold a piece of paper into a boat, with no instructions. One boy exclaimed, "I can't do that! Man, I'm only seven!"

Also heard in our primary class: "If Bill Gates was a member of the church and he paid tithing, he would have to pay like $1000!" (Other class members respond, "Whoa!". David and I, appreciating this innocent lack of money awareness, exchanged a knowing look and fried their little brains by telling them he would probably have to pay millions of dollars in tithing).

I was wearing a ruffly skirt yesterday that happened to expertly catch the wind every time we crossed a street and ran into the strong gusts rushing down between skyscrapers. This caused me to have many Marilyn Monroe moments on the way to church, trying in vain to keep my skirt around my knees. Then David, pointing out a sightseeing bus as my skirt flew up for the tenth time, remarked, "Hey Bonnie, all those tourists are taking pictures of you." Luckily I realized he was teasing me before I launched into a rendition of "Happy Birthday, Mr. President".

One of our fellow primary teachers is a somewhat, shall we say, unique dresser. He is definitely an arteest - you know the type - and obviously delights in wearing nonsensical outfits that make you raise your eyebrows (however unwillingly) as you pass him by in the hall. Yesterday, his bright turquoise pants and plaid vest were just itching for a comment, which was readily provided by a member of our primary class who asked, "Why is he wearing nurse pants to church?" Good question, I say.

Though his outfit was nothing compared to this one, which David discreetly snapped using his cell phone camera. You can thank him for sparing you from the "front" view, which was a little more, um, personal. (David says his only regret about living here is that he hasn't whipped out his cell phone to take pictures on a more regular basis).


Yesterday we rode the train up past Central Park to have dinner with my cousin. This provided a decent amount of time to absorb the conversation of the man sitting next to us. He talked all about the coming war between humans and dragons, asked his invisible companion about his trip to London (and told his "friend" he was blocking the light and to move over) and spent several minutes discussing guns and everyone being blown away. He was also the only man to offer me his seat when I embarked the train with a toddler on my hip, go figure.

Of course, we were interrupted in our trying-to-pretend-we-weren't-listening-to-the-prattle-coming-from-our-subway-companion when a woman got on the train, wished all the mother's a happy Mother's Day, and proceeded to sing us a song that had absolutely nothing to do with mothers, or even women for that matter. While these types of performances are nothing unusual, you would think she would have strayed from her usual repertoire in honor of the day.

Do you think we'll be bored when we move back to Virginia? I'm a little worried.