I'll Seize the Day Tomorrow by Jonathan Goldstein Page B

bursting with life.
    From that night on he made it his habit to jump off roofs, ever higher, while clutching an umbrella.
    After a while he got pretty good at it, too. He saw that by kicking his legs and twisting his back a certain way, he could actually prolong his flight, coasting all over the place, sometimes landing only after several daring minutes aloft.
    It came to pass that The Penguin started hearing more and more about a certain nanny named Mary Poppins. She, too, he was told, had been floating around London hanging from an umbrella handle. Everywhere he went The Penguin kept hearing about her, how it was simply insane that they had not yet met each other.
    So finally a dinner party was arranged by someone who knew them both, and on the evening of the party, The Penguin walked into the drawing room, saw Mary Poppins on the divan, doffed his top hat, and bowed low, as was his style in those days.
    He had planned a few things to say and do when first meeting Mary Poppins. He thought he might lift up his umbrella as though challenging her to a duel. He imagined she would smile and take up her own frilly, perhaps pink umbrella and then, together, they would dance about the room, leaping over furniture, parrying and thrusting, perhaps even winding things up breathing heavily, nose to nose.
    Instead what happened was The Penguin became very shy and quiet. As he stood there staring
    at her, his top hat felt needlessly clumsy and his monocle too small for his face; plus, the squinting needed to keep it in place was giving him a slight headache. For the first time in his life, The Penguin felt ludicrous.
    â€œI imagine you two must have an infinite amount of things to speak of,” said their host as he sat them together at the dinner table. The Penguin nodded nervously.
    After three or four minutes it became clear that The Penguin and Mary Poppins had absolutely nothing to say to each other that did not deal exclusively with umbrella travel—getting stuck in trees, the shoulder aches, the anxiety about tipping over in the wind.
    Everyone at the table just sat there staring at them expectantly, which made the whole thing even more awkward.
    Trying to move things along, Mary Poppins asked The Penguin if he liked to sing, to which The Penguin responded, “Only when I’m drunk.” Then she asked if he enjoyed children, to which he replied, “Yes, in a sweet wine sauce.”
    The Penguin then asked Mary Poppins how she kept people from looking up her skirt when she flew. She smiled politely, then turned to the man on her left and asked him how he was enjoying the lamb.
    The man on her left was wearing an elegant, aristocratic cape. Mary, a bit drunk on the sherry, noted that if he spread his cape out he might be able to glide about like a bat. The man on her left chuckled and suggested that after dinner they head up to the roof and give it a try, which they did.

Honeymoon for One
    (26 weeks)
    SATURDAY.
    â€œSo you’re off to Puerto Rico,” my friends say.
    â€œYou mean Poo-errrto Rrrico,” I say, rolling my tongue with sensual languor.This is one of the many reasons why I do not have a lot of friends; but it’s true: I’m off to San Juan for a week-long holiday.
    Lately I’ve been spending so much time sitting at my desk that I fear I’ve become some kind of Greek mythological beast—half man, half office chair.
    I polled my friends and family for a suitable destination, but in the end, it was my parents who won me over. Puerto Rico it was—the place where they spent their honeymoon in 1966.
    Before leaving, I call them up to pick their brains for some indication of things I should see and do. My motheranswers, and I tell her to have my father pick up the extension. He’s in the middle of watching Jeopardy , but he does so, begrudgingly.
    â€œWhat did you know about Puerto Rico before you went there?” I ask.
    â€œThat it’s where Puerto Ricans come