Stamp Of Approval

So I was in my local post office picking up my held mail that, for some reason, wasn’t there because it was delivered.   I think my mail man deems himself an artist more than a person who provides a service.  He’s like the barber who won’t let you pick your own hair...

So what, Shoe me

I got off the plane in JFK and immediately went into Native New Yorker mode.  Now, perhaps I wasn’t fully awake or am in need of “New York” recalibration.  As I walked down the E train platform at the Jamaica-Sutphin station pulling my rollie carry-on behind me, a...