From the post One Year Gone, on Rebecca Moore's blog What would the Wertis say?
The dark bathrooms stank of Dettol disinfectant, an unkind, Band-Aidy (Elastoplast) smell.
It's just a charming, ponytail swing of a y word.
Rebecca also happens to be the author of a passage I copied into the front of my 2009 datebook (the passage is from a short story she published some time ago):
We must be in Mercury retrograde, I thought. It was an astrological condition my Mom's boyfriend, Wayne, told me about, a reversal of luck, good or bad. Wayne explained it like you're on a train and when another train is passing, going in the same direction, it looks like it's going backward. He says Mercury retrograde is a time when it's impossible to judge distances. If you know when it's going to happen, you can get yourself in the right mindframe and it doesn't totally screw you up. That's how, when the trains start sliding backward, you know which way they're really going.
A fine passage, I say.
Even if I hadn't copied down that passage, I wouldn't have forgotten Rebecca. Many years ago, when I was living in my first Brooklyn apartment and having a ball teaching small, very bright, and sophisticated children, she came to a birthday party of mine bearing those bright-colored candy "fruit" slices. Nobody had ever given me those fruit slices before, and, somehow, it seemed a very Rebecca thing to do.