Thursday, BARB UP July 6, 2017

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And now it’s time for a day in the life….

It’s the day after the fourth of July. The week is beginning technically on Wednesday. This means a lot of catch up. I have a work event on Thursday, I have emails, I have press releases, I have questions, all of which need answers yesterday. I wake at 6am, not because I want to, but because Rocky is hungry. Begrudgingly, I get up. Feed him. Walk him. I gather our laundry. Two large bags filled with a few days worth of things, our things, that need to be washed, fluffed and folded. By the way, the bags are heavier than I expected. Still I lug them. Drop them off. Go to the bagel store, get The Teenager breakfast (everything bagel with cream cheese.) It’s about 8am now. Sit down to work. At 10:30, I grab Rocky. We have to go to the vet. It’s only a few blocks away from our apartment. As we walk up to the vet’s office building, he becomes reluctant to walk. Digs his heels in. I know, I know, the vet means needles and poking. Still. He needs this appointment. We get there on time, at 11. The appointment takes about 45 minutes. Things that need to be done are done. I head back to the apartment. The Teenager is awake. Now I turn my attention to her needs. Which include going to her high school to get working papers. Yes, The Teenager got a job, begins on Monday. We get to her high school. The security guard tells us that the administrative office is closed. She asks The Teenager why she didn’t get the working papers while school was in session. I roll my eyes internally. She sends us across the street to the another high school. This school has metal detectors. The security guard doesn’t let us pass. She asks us what we are here for. We tell her we need working papers. She makes a call. Tells us we need to go to another location. In Chelsea. (Note: We are on the Upper West Side at this moment.) The Teenager is frustrated. I try to stay positive. We are heading to the Department of Education. Surely we will get the working papers there. We get on the 1 train, take it the 28th street. It is about 1pm now. I worry that the person we need to see will be at lunch. The friendly woman at reception asks us what we need, we tell her, she asks us to take a seat. A woman comes out, lets us know the person we need to see will see us soon. Another woman comes out. She’s friendly too. This is the DOE? I didn’t expect to meet so many happy people. She goes through the checklist of what we need to provide. The Teenager as always is buttoned up. She has everything that is needed. Then the woman realized that The Teenager is not homeschooled. We laugh. She says she should have asked that question first. She tells us to wait. She will get the correct person. The Teenager huffs. I tell her to chill. We need to stay positive, chipper. A dapper man in a tie then comes. He asks very detailed questions. Assesses that The Teenager is in fact enrolled in a New York City public school. That she is in need of working papers. That she went to her high school to get them. He is upset that two high schools were not able to address our needs; he tells us the schools are designed to do so. Internally, I laugh. If he only knew what went on with those walls, at The Teenager’s high school. Sexual harassment. Chronic ignorance. Lack of support. He asks us to wait a moment. He comes back with another colleague. This one feels like the right person. He has a binder in his arms. He is speaking at a rapid rate in dulcet tones. He, like his other colleague, is filled with empathy. Wants to help. The two DOE folk walk through the application with The Teenager, filled out her working papers. I feel her relax, watch her cadence return to its pleasantness. By 2pm, we are shaking hands and have become best friends. We walk out of the building. I ask The Teenager is she is hungry. Finally, she is. We walk to 18th street, to Westville. She orders her usual–steak sandwich, fries, milkshake–and wolfs it all down. We are on our way home by 3:30. I have a lot of work to do now. I hunker down, deal with everything. At 5, I meet Tori at a Starbucks in midtown. We are old friends, met in the 90’s when we were production assistants at MTV and Nickelodeon. We kibbitz for an hour. I take a client call, while we are hanging out. We leave Starbucks, head to a rooftop soiree in honor our another one of our 90’s era friends, Jean, who is in from Dubai. We get there 6:15, stay an hour. And then I go meet The Teenager. We are seeing the Broadway show, 1984. And so, begins my night.

Oh look, I’m in Ageist!

So it turns out if you’re over 50, you’ve got bucks and you spend it on things that make you feel good. No shit.

Handmaids rule.

My friend Deb sent me this and I urge you to enjoy it as much as I did, and do.

Agnes Gund puts her art to good use.

Chelsea Handler is taking on a millenial pundit!

Sexual harassers, we are coming after you.

Eye contact. Weird and awkward right?

Wanking secrets!

And now have a laugh with Ali Wong.

 

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