Wednesday Words: Types of Bitches

More here (90, in all).
What type of bitch are you?

Ambles, Stoops

I think I'm starting to get the hang of Brooklyn; life in this fair borough, at least in the summer, requires ambling. In Brooklyn in the summer, we amble up, we amble down.

In Brooklyn in the summer ladies in shops speak of tzatziki and watermelon. There is yoga beneath an old Catalpa, the sun twinkling through the beans like the star nobody thinks to take it for. In Brooklyn in the summer there is the Brooklyn Farmacy, all counters and egg creams and fans that spin. In Cobble Hill the men gesture at one another, discussing baseball even when not discussing baseball.

We confer about groceries the way New Yorkers everywhere do, referencing the Fairway with great frequency, pricing chickens with vigor. But in Brooklyn we know the secrets of stoops, say "ball field" more often than the others, possess an astonishing enthusiasm for beer, carry children on our shoulders, amble slowly beneath the fragrant trees.