Holidays are here again

Cass is gone for the week, so here's fair warning. She may communicate through the old ways (tea leaves, telepathy, astral projection, or dictation from her cell phone that may not work at the beach while I, Tiresias, faithful scribe, will tap away at ninety-seven percent accuracy, because blindness and allergies keep me from peak eficency. thus my spelling problems), but it looks like it'll just be me for a while. Lucky, lucky reader.

Did I mention that I am a former failed spelling bee champ? I couldn't bear to reinforce all the Asian stereotypes that dictated the compulsion to spell every word right and keep the blonde boy from winning the bee and going to county (yeah ... no win at the school level. I knew if I had to go to county, I would be forever raised from nerdy obscurity only to be jumped in the bathroom and alleys forevermore.)

Though truth is, I really couldn't spell some of the words, and I did my best to spell the ones I knew wrong, too.

Broken dreams aside, I, Tiresias, will try, in all possible ways, to fill the void left by dear Cass this week while she is away living her double life and I am left to canvass our shared section of Penn Station. It was ever crowded this weekend. At eight on Saturday, I wended through crowds of people wearing the requisite uniform of terry cloth halter tops over bikini top, short ruffled beach skirt, flip flops, sunglasses perched atop heads (could it be ... Hamptons 2000? oh, ma gawd), giant tote bags, beach towels slung over one shoulder, and the occasional plastic beach chair clutched tightly in one hand, a Dunkin Donuts coffee in the other. All looking avidly at the timetable for the Long Island Rail Road waiting for the track number to appear. Besides the LIRR, the NJ Transit and Amtrak were also experiencing high traffic, and no one seemed to notice me as I walked in between the eager couples and families.

Alas, the unusually crowded train station doesn't seem to offer higher levels of generosity. In fact, I must work harder for their sympathies. "I was just mugged by some awful men. Could you please help?" I did have a tote bag stolen in a London supermarket once, so my plea has a note of truth to it. The bag, stained with coffee and all sorts of graduate school detritus, contained a wallet, Marlboro Lights and Bic, Burberry scarf, a bottle of scent (L'Artisan du Parfumeur), Armani sunglasses, a journal, and my T Le Clerc compact (my! such a label whore). I try not to lie, and I always try to say please.

I hope I don't let you down, Cass. Work on your tan and mental well being for now, and I will try to keep the forthcoming damage control to the barest minimum.