"Ev'ry situation has a sunny side!"

So there I was, stuck in Grand Central with two hours (at least) to kill. I text-messaged a few folks, and then scrolled through my phone to see who I could bother. Pratt! He made the mistake of giving me his number a few weeks ago, so I rang him up and left a message. He called back while I was playing with some playdoh (which always good to keep in your purse for situations where you might be bored). I got to hear one of bunnies I always read about eating a carrot (was that Twizzle?). This was quite exciting. Oh yeah, talking to Pratt was nice, too.

For someone who was stranded, I had a lot of fun. (Once you realize there's nothing you can do about the situation, you give in and make the best of it). I was able to people-watch, listen to music and make an entire collection of tiny pinch bowls. Also, and I have no way of knowing for sure, but it's possible, likely, even, that I am the only person ever to have sat in Grand Central Terminal on a Monday evening playing with blue playdoh and listening to bunnies munch carrots in Philadelphia.

A woman squatted next to me to reorganize her bag while she negotiated a house sale over her phone. She hung up, sighed, and said to me, "Those people are making me crazy!" She laughed.

"Here, have some playdoh." I said, and offered her a piece.

You can imagine the look she gave me, but then she grinned, and took some, and walked away playing with it. I think I made her a little bit happy.

A pair of pigeons flew out of nowhere and landed about ten feet away from me. They walked around like small, portly, pigeon toed (ha!) commuters. I started tearing off small pieces of newspaper and tossing them in their direction. You could see their little bird brains thinking "Foodfoodfoodfoodfood!" as they waddled over.

Lest you think I'm cruel without reason, I wanted them closer so I could take pictures. A small crowed formed, and when I looked up at them, they looked away hurriedly. In that moment, I realized: I will be that weird old neighbor that the kids whisper about. Even worse, I might end up the crazy lady in the park with all the pigeons and squirrels around. Hell, I'm already the crazy chick offering playdoh to strangers.

I lamented my doom later that night to Ed, who promised to stage an intervention before I got to that point. I don't know, though; the writing is on the wall.

At least I wasn't panhandling.