The spring is probably my favorite time of year. Everyone shakes off their layers of indoor winter dust and puts on some sort of pastel skin exposing nonsense shirt and ventures outdoors just for the sake of being outdoors. Moods are instantly elevated in the sunshine and people begin to act a little more human—like smiling and nodding where virtually impossible in the dead of winter. I love the spring but I hate the influx of baby strollers, oh the horror of city sidewalks filled with power moms and their little poop machines! I mean, I’m cool with kids just not other people’s kids. I can’t wait to have a little version of me to play with, how crazy is that someday I will create a tiny creature and teach it the ways of the world.

I hope it’s a hot baby; otherwise I don’t know how nice to it I will be able to be to it.

But seriously, now that everyone is lounging out on the grass in Central Park mating season has begun. Hormones or pheromones or whatever it is that controls our crazy actions are wafting around like a haze of Halal street vendor stench that just lingers on your jacket after you walk through a patch of it.

I went on the best walk today, took some pictures while doing so, but just really got my walk on. Strolling more than anything, people watching as a recreational sport. I love just creating life stories for the random people I see—inserting things that those sad souls may never come to experience and snickering to think that they actually might have. You should spend an afternoon in my head; my poor kid will be in for a treat someday.

I have been going on lots of walks lately, trying to meet new people, it’s still pretty weird in my house… I am just tired of thinking about it. I want to move on already. I don’t know what everyone wants from me. So, I just keep on walking.