Little Fish, Big River, Bigger City

Day 704: Mouse In The House

Rewind to Christmas Eve 2004. AxL and I were enjoying a somewhat fancy dinner for the two of us as I knew that with kidney failure, it would be our last Holiday Season together. Our "Charlie Brown" Christmas Tree was bare of decorations, but full of the scent of pine. A few simple gifts sat under the tree for him and a single orange-foil wrapped one for me.

We happily dined on "AxL's Special Marinade" lamb from Gourmet Garage that Jose always had in good supply for the World's Greatest Dog. It was complemented with acorn squash filled with white beans, honey, cilantro and a dash of cream and cayenne pepper. Mashed potatoes with rosemary were a big hit with the old, dignified dog, too. We started with a bit of Foie Gras and finished with Ben & Jerry's.

Christmas music wafted through the room as AxL drifted off, his head relaxed between his forepaws on the floor, his nose just inches from a partially food bowl since his appetite wasn't as big as his good heart. I may have it wrong, but as I recall now, the clock was just striking midnight when a mouse the size of my thumbnail ventured out from under the refrigerator.

A CHRISTMAS MOUSE!!! I couldn't believe my eyes. Sure, I'd seen them scurrying about here and there down around the garbage cans but we were on the third floor which must be akin to scaling Mt. Everest to a mouse as tiny as this one. She padded silently across the floor, it wasn't quite a "scurry" but it was deliberate. She got to within three little inches of AxL's wet noise emitting soft snoring sounds and deep sighs as he dreamed of having a larger appetite and less aching hips so that he could chase squirrels at his former speeds once again.

The little mouse sat up on her hind legs as her forepaws were held tight against her tiny white-fur covered chest which was smaller than a postage stamp. She simply regarded the sleeping canine with black eyes like pencil tips while her paint brush whiskers twitched slightly. I was overtaken with her "cuteness" as she decided all was safe and made her way to AxL's food bowl. As was his fashion, he had of course slopped at least half the contents all over the floor.

I named her "Mirabelle Mouse" as she picked up a crumb and began to nibble while now regarding me. I regarded her back and smiled. She nibbled for about five minutes, chose another crumb and then she tip-toed back under the refrigerator.

Over the next year, she came to visit every night and eventually, she began to get a schedule which I could set a clock by. At 7:30 on the dot, she would come to visit and gather a tidbit from Axl's overspills. She was a welcome addition which I've not written about as I'm sure that most would think me "nuts" for not setting some sort of trap, but how on earth can you kill something the size of a thimble that helps clean up after the dog is done making a mess of the floor?

Sure, there's the "germs on rodent" argument, but in looking at her, I doubt that she's actually large enough to carry a full-sized germ of any kind. She gives the place a "warm and homey" feeling and I noticed that I'd never seen a cockroach in this place so my theory is that with her mousing about, there aren't any crumbs for the cucarachas to enjoy so I began to consider her "bug insurance" over time.

After AxL passed on, she was a small bit of furry affection with her daily visits in an empty house except for some plants and the two goldfish. She continued her daily visits and I began putting out bits of cheese, bread crumbs, or biscotti for her. As spring arrived, her schedule changed. I noticed that she was oddly missing on Saturdays and Sundays but right back on track come Monday. I could only attribute it to one thing - she must have been hopping the "Jitney" out to the Hamptons on weekends to take in the beach.

I spent my weekend evenings on my roof deck enjoying the visiting birds before dark and the ladybugs who flocked to the porch light after the sun set. Come fall, I feared the worst as there was no Mirabelle visits for an entire week, then two. It stretched into a month, then two months. Somewhere along the way, I was invaded by a cockroach, then two cockroaches. I hated the thought of killing them so I caught them using a paper towels and sent them out onto the fire escape. That was that as they didn't come back.

But Mirabelle did! Right around Thanksgiving, a familiar tiny face poked out from under the fridge. She stood up on her hind legs as if to say, "Excuse me, but might you please serve me some dinner, sir?" I gave her a kind greeting and a piece of swiss.

She's now returned to her regular schedule including weekends but I believe now that she's a year older, her hours have adjust accordingly as she now makes her visits around 10 p.m. She's possibly started a career in investment banking since they tend to work long hours. However, she seems to be more of the "creative type" so my guess is that she spends her time working on an autobiography about the life of a Little Mouse in the Big City. I'm sure that with a good agent, she could be quite a success and possibly sell movie rights in her story to boot.

Aha! Here she is now. You gotta love a perfect, real-life coincidence with impeccable timing. My guess is she'd like editing rights on this journal entry before I post. I guess it's time to see what I might offer her from the fridge in exchange for keeping the shoe box apartment "roach free."

Mirabelle Mouse, The Enforcer...

Hhhmm...not sure if there's a movie in that idea or not. Would people shell out $8 to see a Kung-Fu, gun-toting mouse take on bad guy roaches set against the backdrop of an innocent New York apartment measuring 250 square feet? Hey, they made "Mouse Hunt" with Nathan Lane, didn't they?

Something to ponder, I guess..(Fade to black)

Day 703: Street Opera

One of the things that I love about living in New York is that you never know what lies around the corner. It's a bit like walking through fields and discovering new flowers blooming of all shapes, sizes, colors, and variations - each as intriguing and beautiful as the next - but never boring.

Tonight, I only had my mind set on the running of mundane errands but New York had other ideas to treat me on a Friday evening. It may just be coincidence but I was scolding myself a bit for having been here almost a full two years yet haven't taken in much of what New York offers in terms of entertainment. I've yet to catch a Broadway Show, I've not been up the Empire State Building, nor have I visited the Statue of Liberty yet... Ok, so those things are a bit "touristy," but since I plan on leaving here at some point in the next year or three, I want to be able to look back and know that I actually tasted New York's soup instead of only swimming in it.

I walked along 7th Ave southward toward Leroy Street where Fedex is semi-conveniently located and open until 11 p.m. for pick-up. I ordered what I've found to be New York's best shrimp phad thai from Isle Thai on Bleecker along the way. As I reached said street and began to turn left, what else should break the late night air but the sound of opera. Yes, OPERA. A beautiful aria was floating, dancing, and softly caressing all the hard concrete and brick of the neighborhood. I stopped, I soaked it in like a paper towel dropped into a warm, scented oil and water filled bath tub.

The beautiful sound rose and lilted as my cares, bills, thoughts of work and deadlines dropped away further and further with every note, whisked away like a helium ballon in a hurricane. I turned and looked across 7th Ave to see a non-descript woman simply walking along, bundled in a long, black, wool overcoat. A python-sized scarf was coiled around her neck, allowing just enough room for her face to shine out from under the black faux-fur cap which sat on her head as if she'd just crossed Red Square in the former Soviet Union after waiting in line for four hours to buy a pair of Levi's.

It was perfect. She was no amateur and she had no shyness about singing a with graceful force which surely sifted through the windows of every apartment for a full city block. I could do nothing but stand and listen until she had rounded a corner and vanished into what must have been her domicile. I silently thanked her for such a wonderful New York Experience and gift on a fine, cold, evening which she filled with a warm voice.

I retrieved the phad thai, made my way to Fedex and then was greeting every dog along Hudson on my way back north to West 10th. I swung right on some street I'd not been down yet and took some time to read all of the "In Memory Of..." plaques labeling different trees jutting from patches of soil every 10 steps of the sidewalk. As I neared a particularly warm building, again I was treated to song. This time a man belted out an a capella version of something that was probably Top 40 if one listens to the radio which I don't having sold mine in a yard sale on a fine July day to raise money for my Iron Man race on behalf of Leukemia. His voice hurled strong from inside of what I judged to be a second floor apartment decorated by someone with a fantastic sense of interior design and flawless taste. Again, I stood soaking in a wonderful gift to my ears in this city of surprises.

I wanted to sing myself a tune and began to hum as I moved on. I always hum because I somehow don't seem to be able to actually remember words to songs. It's a gift because it keeps songs "almost new" every time I listen to them. As I hummed I realized that I'm not in a Broadway musical because I have zero talent in the voice arena and even less talent when it comes to singing in tune. Embarassingly, I find myself to be completely off whenever "Happy Birthday" is required singing and I do my best to just lip synch along.

It's okay though. I'm good with my "feet" at some sporting endeavors and I can fix almost anything that's broken using anything from duct tape to baking soda and paper clips. I can leave the singing to those who excel and are kind enough to just let it all go for the musically challenged like me.

I'm home again, filled with the memories of a night that won't soon be forgotten. It's the experiences in life that count in my book and the pages are filling day by day with an every unfolding story of my days here in New York City. Maybe someday I'll make it to the real opera or a Broadway show, but until then, I'll keep letting the music find me.

Day 702: A ship in harbor is safe...

but that's not what ships were meant for.

This has been my favorite quote for sometime now as it constantly reminds me to "untie" from the dock and go after new horizons. I recently launched a new site at LittleFishBigRiver.com and find myself at the cross roads of deciding whether or not to keep it sailing as it could very well be a sinking endeavor like so many other things I've tried in life.

I believe that one of the most important things in life is to try and learn the lesson in everything we do. I believe it's also important to apply those lessons where appropriate and possible. The idea for the site seems simple enough - create a place where people can post kindness they've received, done or seen and have it total up by user, by city, by country. From there, the general hope was that folks would visit the site and create traffic for advertisers on the site in order to generate revenues. Then, in keeping with a personal goal of always giving at least 10% of what I earn, I will donate 10% of gross ad revenues (not profits) to worthy causes.

Okay...so where does that leave things?

Well, it was easy enough to get a semi-working site going. It didn't break the bank and some of the intended elements actually work while several others are still in development and still others will take a much larger investment of time and money to finish up. What I've discovered in the meantime though, is that perhaps the idea is only interesting to myself and one or two friends rather than the general public. Hm...

So what next? I asked someone last night - "do I keep going or should I just call it a day and shut it down rather than create a financial whirlpool that sucks down my wallet faster than you can say 'dot com bust'?"

The answer came back to just keep at it as long as I can and keep tweaking it. It still needs something, no one seems to know what, but maybe that's what life is all about - just going for it and figuring it out as you go rather than giving up when things are going slowly, or when they stop, or even when they're in reverse.

For every action, there is a reaction so maybe my actions to this point simply haven't garnered the coinciding reaction. I think back to Sunday when I had the opportunity to talk to a friend about chasing a two year dream he's had. He would have to take off work for five months and face very tough odds. I found myself giving him advice which is now pinging around in my head like a superball in a steel drum.

Since I usually try to put some sort of little "insight" into my postings which might help others when they read, I figure it might be good to throw the advice in here as it both helps me heed my own words as well as impart them further than my own skull. The advice? "Go for it if it's in line with how you enjoy living."

Huh?

Well, I tend to see a couple of ways of living - you can either take more comfort in playing it safe and that's a great way to live each day in that you always operate from a secure standpoint and don't end up in deep, rough water. Or, you can decide that come hell or high water, you're going to live for "experiences" and while they may not always work out as you hope, there is something about the journey that brings an even greater "something else" to your life. When I look back, I can remember all the times I went after something despite the risks involved. I've tried to live in a way so that if I were plowed down by one of the deadly yellow taxis screaming through New York's streets the next time I step out of my door, I'll have a final thought of "I always chased my dreams and have no regrets even when they didn't work out."

It comes down to this - what I call, "happy math." If you are "happier" in your current state, your job, your daily life than you would be out on the edge daring to chase a dream, then stay where you are. But if you find yourself at the end of each day wondering what on earth you are doing and feeling like there must be "more" to it than this, then go for the dream. While chasing that dream if you find that the daily journey is bringing you too much worry, stress, concern, etc. to where you're not enjoying the process then stop, but the basic idea is to simply figure out what "adds up" to the greatest total. Do you have greater happiness and feel better at the end of each day on the "secure side" of things or on the "dare to chase the dream side" of things?

Either choice is fine as there's great joy in security and comfort. There's also great joy in the pursuit of dreams. One simply has to do the math of what would total up to more in one's life experience. However, I would like to finish off this overly long post with a final quote that rings all too true for me personally and, like the opening quote, reminds me to live in a way that works best for me:

"Most people tiptoe though life, ony to arrive at death's door safely."

I would like to say the same thing in closing but in a different way -

"May I run the race of life with all that I have so when I arrive at death's door, I'm breathless, sweating, my heart is pounding, my feet are on fire, a smile is on my face and in my mind, I know without a single doubt that I ran a good race."