I am a magnet for strange, weird, and interesting things happening to or around me. Or maybe I’m the one that’s drawn to them… either way it seems to happen a lot that I have some ridiculous story that someone replies with “that would only happen to you, Zoey.”
I’m puppy-sitting my first born niece, aka Belle, so as soon as her parents left we took off to spend the day in Central Park. As soon as we got to a good spot, I let her off the lease, she rolled around in the grass like a free woman, and played fetch with her donut.
After she was throughly worn out we walked through the rest of the park, Belle saying ‘hi’ to all the other dogs until we came across one I HAD to talk to. It was a completely black, furry, large dog. There is something about an all black dog that makes me love them and be scared. (Huh, that sounded like a joke and super racist all at the same time. Moving on.) It’s more about Sirius Black from Harry Potter. He was terrifying and could rip your head off, but also that scene in the train station where he rubs against Harry is so sweet. So whenever I see a black dog it makes Harry Potter a little more real.
So I go over to pet the dog and his owner starts chatting me up and convinces me to sit down on the bench with him. (By convincing me, I mean he said ‘sit down’ and I said ‘okay’). I’m pretty sure the only reason this man has a dog is so he can pick up women. Every woman that walked by he would say ‘Come, sit down’ in his Hugarian-Russian accent…. but I was the only one who fell for it. So we chatted for a little, played with another puppy, and I eventually took my leave (yes, making sure he didn’t follow me home).
Then I went down to the East Village in search of an antique, ornate, wood frame. I actually found an entire store of them right next to my apartment, but the random one I pointed to cost $1000! I was more looking for something under $30 that I could ruin with spray paint and throw out when I was done with it. And boy did I go to the right place. On 25th St and 7th Ave there is an entire parking lot with vendors selling antiques, and walk another 20 feet and there is a garage full of them as well. I was in antique heaven. Most of this stuff wasn’t the flea market type crap you find in downtownTennessee where they sell you knives and stereos.
These places had everything you could want. Jewelry, vintage suitcases, fur coats, records, movie projector, silver trays, old games, checkered fur rugs? They’ve got it! The only thing I couldn’t find was vintage maps. But I’m pretty sure there was a woman going around in front of me buying them all up, so I’ll try again next time.
After lots of searching and a little bargaining I finally decided upon this one and got it for $20. Then I proceeded to have lunch with it and carry it home. EVERYONE wanted to see what it was. Since it was easier to carry with the photo facing me, I would have to turn it around, show it to them and we’d chat about it. The median age of the people who loved it was (I’m guesstimating here) 95 years old. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them I was just going to throw her away and use the frame. But it was funny talking to all those people today, hearing their opinion of it, and whatever else they wanted to share with me. One person even said it looked a little like me.
As I’m walking home, carrying my own Wolfgirl, I see a dead squirrel lying in a puddle of water, and of course I have to stop. Low and behold, he’s still breathing, and a woman said it had just fallen out of the tree. Turns out there is another one a few feet away. The mother had brought them out of the gutter, crossed the street, climbed up the tree, and then three of them fell from very high. Apparently this happens all the time, because a few of the people who work in the park start calling their ‘squirrel person’ to come and pick them up and rehabilitate them. (I really wanted to… but assumed Killer would immediately put her head in the oven if I brought another animal home).
‘Squirrel girl’ couldn’t come get them, she was already rehabilitating 20 in her home, so the guy decided he would take them home and have ‘squirrel girl’ teach him how to do it. I hated to hand them over, but relieved that they had someone to care for them.
I miss them already!
So those are all my weird stories of the day. I’m heading to another flea market tomorrow so I’m sure more wackiness awaits me there.