A Young Barbra Streisand with a touch of Halle Berry...

I took in photos of both of these women with the requisite short, romantic hair cuts and asked a stylist I'd never met before, let alone entrusted my hair to, to come up with some acceptable hybrid of the two. The result? Art. Pure and simple. And not because of me. If you'd seen my hair last night, you'd not believe the metamorphoses.

I look...sophisticated. Smart. Like someone a little over half way to 30.

The Long Day Is Over (and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps at this petty pace)...

So I will get on the bus, and ride for 25 minutes to my apartment, then I will go out and buy an outfit for the wedding. Later, I will be at home detangling my hair, prepping for the drastic change it will undergo tomorrow, and in the morning after my hair has become relaxed and significantly shorter, I will psyche msyelf up for the event that probably won't be as bad as I fear it could be.

Weddings: Number One Source of Woe

Every wedding I've been to, participated in, or heard tell of in the last two years has been a colossal pain in everyone's bum.

Why is it that everyone gets so riled up, takes out their anger for everything that ever went wrong in their own lives, and chooses this blessed event as the very time to assert their own agendas?

Weddings are a social landmine. Everyone feels that the role you give them or don't give them in your ceremony is the ultimate statement of how you feel about them forever and ever amen. Then people start to feel that they are the point of the day. The Bride and Groom? Well, they are bit players in this whole thing. Their preferences? Well, why should what they want matter more than say, what random third cousin to the left thinks is a good idea?

It is enough to make me cuss.

And I am part of the problem. I found myself confused and put out when Victoria told me she put me at a table with people I attended church with 5 years ago. Not at the same table with Gordon. It just felt like a lack of forethought. I felt like I'd been boxed up and relegated to the back of her mind, where I know most of those people (from our old church) reside.

I suddenly had the supreme challenge of keeping quiet and remembering that this is not about me. That I can blow that popsicle stand as soon as it becomes unbearable. Whatever. That my wedding will be my opportunity to have things the way I want them. To remember, with compassion, that these choices are not malicious. I am sure she did the best she could with what she had available to her.

I can handle it better if I affect some kind of detachment from my expectations. Aren't they always the culprit for every one's sorrow?

I Call This One 'Eye Contact, 2nd Hand Smoke, and Impromptu Photographs.'

He picked me up at about 7, and then we had to go pick up another girl who was joining us because her car is in the shop. Once at the pub, I couldn't sit near him, so we looked at each across the table while he blew smoke seductively. His lips looked very soft. The pure, unjaded look of youthfulness still characterizes his face in spite of his 29 years, not really matching his cynical outlook on the world--that I know is really the pain of being an optimist who's been let down one time too many.

I told everyone I was planning on getting my hair cut very short on Saturday morning, a la Halle Berry. Gordon mentioned how much he liked that look. So I somewhat jokingly said I'm doing it for you... He gave me kind of a half smile. But, if I might, I will share my interpretation of that expression. He seemed somewhat caught off guard, but pleased...intrigued. Obviously, I'm getting my hair done for me. But I want him to enjoy it.

This all came about because he asked me about my propensity for wearing baseball caps these days. He said I've noticed you're wearing baseball caps lately, why... That's when I said that my hair was too weird right now. Between gigs....

I loved that he made efforts to talk to me, all the way at the other end of the table. I loved that he returned my gazes.

And finally, I loved that because of a switcheroo with seats, I ended up sitting directly across from him. When he asked for water, the waiter brought me one too, as though we were one in the same, our desires one in the same. At some point, before we left, Victoria took a picture of the two of us. It will be the only one in the world to exist when it gets developed.

So I'll see him at the wedding. I think I can handle whatever happens as long as I look good. As Iong as I get to see that look I sometimes get from him when I know he thinks I'm beautiful.

You are a Pear! To save this image, right click and
save picture as! Enjoy!


Which Fruit are you?
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My workday is winding down, and I find myself restless and excited at the thought of seeing gordon tonight. I sent him a 'happy birthday' e-mail this morning telling him how psyched I am to hang out, told him to read Psalm 37, etc. He wrote back that it will be "fun as hell to have [me] along!" and he told me to call him tonight [to make arrangements].

I hope that my next post is infused with anecdotes and hope. Here I am on the cusp of my night. My dear friend's birthday. So much to come.

I'm sitting here in a Yankees baseball cap and the business casual outfit I wore to work, trying to figure out how to say He was just here.

See we had a bottle of wine we couldn't open, and it was crucial to Sarah's pot roast recipe, so she said Call him, see if he has one...ask him to bring it over. So I did, and he came. He left the corkscrew behind. Maybe I imagined the look on his face, the small opening door of his smile when he handed it to me, saying he could get another one. I love saving the day, he told us....

At some point, shortly after opening the bottle, Sarah spilled a bit, and said she wasn't sure why, but she was a bit agitated and nervous. He said "Katie can do that to a person."

He stayed for about 15 minutes. In the course of that time I asked him what he'd be doing tomorrow for his birthday, he said that he'd be getting together with Victoria and a couple of other people at the Charles Village Pub. Then, he asked me if I wanted to come, and if I needed a ride. I said yes, and that I did.

'Bina, ever quick on her feet, also invited him over for dinner some night next week (To Be Determined by him and me), for a belated b-day dinner. I could have kissed her.

I spent some more time outside during the tiny lunch break that I took praying for his and my friendship--that God would open the floodgates of our respective hearts to each other, that He would grant us access to each other so we can really begin this thing.

Back In The City That Makes Sense To Me (oh, and I have comments now, so don't hold back!)

I haven't gotten up at 4:45 to catch the 5:35 MARC train in weeks. But today my youngest sister graduated from high school at 9 a.m., so that meant hooking up with my mother at about 7 to give us plenty of lead time to get to the arena where the ceremony was taking place.

I was bummed to only have black & white film in my camera, but with my financial crunch and the lack of time, I resigned myself to cataloguing the day with a vintage feel. I find graduation proceedings to be extremely boring, so I read a little something during the 2-hour span, stopping only to clap when Caryl's name was called.

I had a filling, if barely par lunch with my family at the "Old Country Buffet" afterward, and then got back on the train to my beloved Charm city. I fell easily into my old habit of sleeping as soon as it pulled away from the platform at Union Station and I knew I was leaving the place I was born for the place that gave me birth.

Among other electronic missives, I had waiting for me a note from Gordon telling me he has finished The Catcher In the Rye, and agreeing with me that He is Holden...and he asked me when I came to the conclusion that this was true. So I told him.

My non electronic mail included a letter from Devika, and an invitation to her engagement party. I hope that by the time the date rolls around, I'll have secured his services as my escort.

I need to make my peace with the fact that I am a romantic. It flies in the face of the persona I've spent my life constructing. I wanted to be someone logical, ordered, rational, but with a poetic soul. It's not that I'm not those things. But I am more intuitive than I thought, more given to daydreaming than I would have allowed to be acceptable in terms of the way I conduct myself. I have a cadre of standards, codes of behavior for myself and others. And they have hemmed me in.

They cause me to appear closed off to the person I most want to open myself to.

All of my prayers these days are to be unafraid to inhabit the moments of my life. I want to be rid of that damnable self-consciousness that is so myopia-inducing, I can't even see what's real.

You are Neo, from "The Matrix." You
display a perfect fusion of heroism and
compassion.


What Matrix Persona Are You?
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There is something so comforting to me about Catchka. She is affectionate, nurturing, hysteria-inducing funny, and her favourite of all adjectives... feisty!

Sarahbina, she, and I all went out to dinner and ate grilled flank steak salad, walnut encrusted chicken breast over fettucine, and spinach and tomato cream sauce over fettucine, respectively. She introduced us to this dish whose music and voice I have fallen for (as Lady C predicted I would).

I felt so blessed to have seen her, and when she left at close to 1 a.m., I was tired and full of her essence, so I slept nicely, deeply...

I e-mailed g yesterday. I thanked him for inviting me to the movie, told him I had a good time. He wrote me back that he had fun too... It was just a sweet exchange. Kind of basic, but I was glad to be able to intuit that there is something less business-oriented about our interactions these days. Reading his reply made me remember how the smell of his skin mingled with tobacco and laundry detergent, wafted upward and caressed my senses during the movie, and in those moments, sitting in the dark and knowing him only by his scent, I felt such affection for him. I wanted to bury my nose in the crook of his neck, fold myself into him, pour myself into him until we were one spirit.

if you were mine, if you were mine... i wouldn't want to go to heaven...you're ruling the way that i move, and i breathe your air...

I asked him Wednesday, over e-mail, if he wanted to grab some coffee on Friday night. By Friday evening when I left work he still had not responded, so I assumed he wouldn't--whether he was out of town unbeknownst to me (has happened several times) or was simply too depressed to be social--I accepted it, figuring the object lesson for me was to feel free to make the suggestion, because there is an appropriate context there now to ask something like that, however small it is.

If you read my post from yesterday, you will see why asking is sometimes tricky for me. I have the most trouble with it when the stakes are the highest. So, in addition to my professional life, I took a small step in the direction of confidence in my private one.

I was wearing my pajama pants and washing dishes when he called at 7:30 to ask if I wanted to go, instead, to a 10:30 showing of a film at the Senator theatre. Previously, I had been categorically disinterested in seeing this movie, not being a fan of Sci-Fi-- and I felt that it was too popular. Something about the thought of going to see it made me feel like a sheep. But over the course of the last couple of weeks I really found myself opening up to the idea. By the time he called yesterday I had made an internal decision that I would go if the opportunity presented itself.

I didn't know he would be the opportunity. I had never gone to see a film with him before--alone, or in a group--so it was thrilling to find myself in a new context with him, all other things aside. The film was engaging--beautiful to watch--and I loved the dialogue in it, actually. I appreciated the contrast of the intense visuals with the simplicity and tenderness of the exchanges between Keanu Reeves's "Neo" and Carrie Ann Moss's "Trinity."

From time to time Gordon's and my arms would touch (shared armrest) and I felt the usual warmth, the comforting sparks of being attracted to him, but having that attraction largely under quarantine, lest it poison the waters of our friendship. We were not on a date. I know that if only because I assumed I should pay for my own ticket, and he let me. There have been times in the past when I've been on an outing with just him, and it seemed to hold the metaphysical properties of something beyond "hanging out," and while this did not feel like hanging out, or just two people at a movie, I also don't want to endow it, in retrospect, with romantic overtones it didn't have.

Here's what I liked... we were both wearing a sweater over top of our shirts with non denim pants. Neither of us was dressed up, per se, but the end result is that it looked like an effort had been made.

I loved that it was a rainy night with patches of fog.

I loved that we saw the film at an historical (in Baltimore city) theatre.

I loved that he asked me to go.

The Wife of Noble Character: A Case Study in Proactivity

In Proverbs 31, verses 10 through 31 there is a pretty inclusive description of this woman's activities--the kind of wife she is--and the reader is encouraged to understand her activities in light of her character, a word that doesn't always have much meaning in our increasingly corrupt society.

This passage has been a bastion of hope for me for several years, because it depicts a business savvy, generous-spirited, practical, entrepreneurial, discerning, shrewd, multitasker. A woman whose pervasive and influential gifts are a benefit to her, her children, and her community, and that, in effect, crown her husband's life with respect because of who she is. I want to be this woman, who in addition to being on the ball, can be a source of strength, encouragement, pleasure, and sexual fulfillment for a man who is doing his best to be those things for me.

I try to begin every morning by reading a passage of scripture. It's a way of centering my day and welcoming God into it, asserting my dependence on him to help me with whatever is going to happen, and to know Him better. The other morning I came across this passage, and I understood that this woman is free to be who she is, and out of that freedom results appropriately aggressive (meaning that it does not violate others) behavior.

Later that day my boss told me he wants me to be more aggressive about getting his attention, getting on his calendar, if you will...And I saw that hesitance to "bother" him that is so native to my dealings with men, even the ones with whom I have the context to support proactivity and some level of assumption of acceptance.

I saw how much this fear holds me back professionally and personally. It was a gift of an object lesson. I am committed to working on this now.

Stretched

The tension that lives in the space between my shoulder blades is taut with the pain of being stretched. I felt myself snapping, the seams unraveling...at work today. I feel the weight of the world in that space. My ability to be flexible is limited. That has to change, clearly. It isn't unwillingness, It's my discomfort with the unwieldy element, whatever that happens to be. I like it best when things are humming along...established, unquestioned, and humming along.

As a side note PF is leaving our little start up for a job with some organization I have already forgotten the name of. Today was his last day. It's funny. My hypervigilance over information experienced slippage when I first heard about this... Someone said earlier this week that he was leaving, but I thought they meant for the day. He came by my desk this afternoon and asked me for my business card--so he could keep in touch. I will miss him commenting on my cubicle decorations. And he told me that he would miss seeing what new post cards I bring in... It's nice to have struck someone as being cool and fun to talk to.

He and his girlfriend (to whom he will probably be proposing soon) are going to Paris for the Memorial day weekend. Hearing that reminded me of how much I do yearn to see that city. Maybe I will take a vacation this fall.... Maybe New England again...

I would love a beer, to get away, have this knot in my back moved away by strong hands.

Upnote: I will see the illustrious Catchka on Saturday. And I don't go back to work until next Wednesday. Okay, so things are looking up as we speak...

Take me back in time, maybe I can forget, If I'd turned a different corner, we never would have met.

Maybe it is my desire to write a novel of compelling complexity, deft nuance, and the subtlest but profound sensibilities that makes me see our story as an emergent, unfolding piece of literature.

I think of having met you at a wedding as delicious foreshadowing, of having waited for you, two years later on church steps at a fair, as the progression of torture found in love the heroine believes to be unrequited, of having attended masses and evensongs as a common conceit of spirituality in our conspicuously strategic plot, and of the paintings of yours that I own—and the way that I came into them—as proof that it is really yourself you are wanting to give me. The poem you asked me to write, the ones you did not, the parties at which I wanted you to kiss me, but where we instead shared cigarettes, or simply let our shoulders, arms, hands, or shod feet touch until the warmth passing between our bodies became us…

Someday our biographers will write about the dinner parties at my various and sundry residences that you came to, our first motorcycle ride, how we once drank coffee in our pajamas and socked feet, how I sent you postcards from New England, how I once ran smack dab into you on a date at a coffee shop and nearly decided to never see you again…

My beautiful, paradoxically detached man-boy, I love you. So there is more to come…

Every Freckle On My Face Is Where It's Supposed To Be (India.Arie)

One of the distinguishing features of my face is the tiny freckle that lives on the tip of my short, pert nose. I also have several others, scattered liberally, but spaced widely apart, on my cheeks, jaw line, and around my eyes. I didn't realize I had any for several years (except for the obvious one that evokes memories of "Samantha" wriggling her nose on "Bewitched" to make magic and miracles happen) until I really looked in the mirror one day. It was a pleasant surprise to "discover" something so obvious (in retrospect) about me. It gave me a sense of hope that things would somehow be fine.

It helped me understand that just because something is hidden from me, doesn't mean it isn't there. I am preoccupied with what waits to be discovered. I am comforted by what I already know, but am enamored of that which waits to be known.

Laundry Day

20 dollars and several loads later (including all bedding and towels) I am back in my unmentionables. I know you're all relieved.

Sarah and I went out for a meal at our favourite place in Timonium, then headed over to Trader Joe's (she needed groceries) and Pier One (I needed a wedding present for Victoria). Before returning to the apartment we hit Blockbuster and got "Catch me if you can," "Lovely and Amazing," and "The Emporer's Club." We're kind of in the middle of "Catch Me..." right now, but the Sarah-one got sleepy and needed to stop for a nap.

I don't mind actually. I have an ambient headache, and the break from watching is welcome.

Things feel settled... except for the fact that I've got to set some librarians straight. Other than that, it's all copacetic.

It's Really Got To Be About Me & My Blog Right Now...

I took all the accessories away, turned it all way down, so I could get back to pure and simple pleasure of posting to my little page. For a long time it was about making my blog visually "interesting" and in so becoming, I found I had less interest in chronicling my days. So I'm beginning at the beginning. Nothing but this basic template and me starring as Kate Krupnik, whom you know, but don't really know.

Stay tuned.

If I were wearing any underpants, that is...

At the risk of sharing too much, I've being "going commando" (thank you 'Friends') for the last couple of days, and it is surprsingly liberating. I'm thinking of only wearing underwear one day a week (perhaps on Mondays) now. I need to do laundry this weekend very badly. That explains how I stumbled onto this new freedom, of sorts.

Okay, so I think I have a tiny crush on my boss. I'm obviously sublimating.

Raining in Baltimore

I am contemplating going to the WholeFoods market for a breakfast pastry. I also need a book of stamps. And I need to make change for bus fare. So even though it is categorially disgusting outside, I think I have to brave the cold, clammy, not to mention wet, air. I should have gone straight there, but I came into the building first to put some things down and get settled. Now I'm warm and drinking coffee, and the thought of going back outside is about as appealing as deliberately putting sand in my underpants.

Today at work...

We all received a pep talk complete with cold beers and the freedom to knock off a little early. The rubber is about to meet the road, and long hours are expected in the near future. Today was arguably one of the most emotionally stressful for me so that beer hit the spot.

I took a nap when I got home and dreamt of split infinitives.

I am planning to make a hair appointment for the morning of the wedding (in a couple of weeks). I'm going short.

But for now I am going to drink some tea.

What last night taught me

I am incapable of being in a relationship at this juncture. I actually spent some time in prayer yesterday afternoon—specifically, I asked that whatever is preventing me from being ready to relate to Gordon more deeply be removed.

My fairly standard evening with him and Sarah led to an existential crisis.

To rehash what happened would be too exhausting, mostly because if you are not me, you probably wouldn’t understand what the big deal is, and if I did provide these details, I would have to give inordinate amounts of background information to give said details a context.

I’m not saying I don’t have legitimate wounds that were revealed during the course of the evening, but I am saying that the wounds wouldn’t be healed by having him more fully in my life. They are part of the reason he can’t be.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer...

In a New York Minute...

I am thinking I need a web site. a real one. My dear Catchka suggested I do this, and I already have a sketch/stratagem. I know that I want it to evoke a certain antiquated, literary quality. I still don't have a title in mind, and for what I want it to be, I think I need a developer. We'll see.

Once I unload this template and settle my aesthetic issues with this blog, I will be happier. I already have a new one in my sights, so hopefully I can load it sooner rather than later.

I am starting to become more comfortable with my role at work. I seem to be developing a rapport with one of the guys there. PF is well-versed in music and film and we've had a couple of good conversations this week about Jazz and Woody Allen (while he eats candy from my candy dish which he has dubbed the "bowl of happiness").

I know what you're thinking. No way. He's got a girlfriend.

I had an excellent prayer time with Sassafrass Teawrap last night. I went to sleep immediately afterward feeling very calm and centered.

I bought Mr. Renaissance a copy of Ella Fitzgerald's "Like Someone In Love" for his birthday (in a couple of weeks). I recommended that he buy himself this album 2 years ago; I highly doubt that he has done so. I have wanted to get it for him for some time, but I'll be honest, giving him an album with that title seemed too bold, and seemed to give away too much. Now I delight in the double entendre. I love this album, obviously. I would want him to have it even if it were called "I despise your rotten soul." I can't help the connotations of its name, though it does please my writerly and poetic sensibilities.

The card I am giving him is too perfect. I didn't even buy it with him in mind, at least not consciously. On the front of the card there is a black and white photograph of rowhouse fronts, taken of a small neighborhood in Baltimore, circa 1945. On the doorstep of one of the homes there are two bottles of milk that have not yet been taken inside. Mr. Renaissance lived in this neighborhood when I first began to get to know him, just a few streets over from where this photo was taken. It occurred to me after I bought the cd that this is the card I should give him. I think it's kismet.

I am pleased to report that I enjoyed a very pleasant Mother's Day. My mom loved the presents I got her (including a Japanese Brush painting set), and the comforter and sheets set (she was so touched by this gift that she cried) from my sister and the "almost boyfriend" figure. She looked very lovely in a dusty rose coloured blouse and tan capri pants with matching sandals.

Sarahbina and I tried to watch "Secretary" last night, but found that the S&M (among other themes) bits were a bit too much for either of our tastes. I wasn't bothered, per se, but I wasn't invested either, and felt that I could live my life without seeing how this particular story ended, so we shut it off.

I just enjoyed a rather tasty lunch from the WholeFoods market--Thai soup (with shrimp and scallops) and a little container of "chicken nibblers" I bought to supplement the soup. I hope that sees me throught the next 5 hours or so.

I brought in a candy dish this morning to make my cubicle more "visitor-friendly." I can always eat my own chocolate if I need more sustenance. Speaking of the office, I'm relieved to have decorated my space a bit more. I am a big fan of postcards, and little items you can tape up or tack up. Cheap, easy, and visually stimulating. I believe a person's space should say something about who they are--even at work--maybe especially at work, since that is the place we are least likely to be known.

I spent the earlier part of my day at the Inner Harbor with Sassafrass Teawrap. It was okay. Very humid. I hadn't seen her in a couple of weeks.

I was able to get my mom a few presents for Mother's Day while we were there--in that veritable soup of humidity. I'm not looking forward to the
dysfunctional drama that will play out over dinner with her, her quasi boyfriend, and my youngest sister, but this is the price you pay for being in a family.

Tonight I spent a leisurely meal with another old friend--celebrating my good fortune (the new job) and catching up.

At this point, the next thing I'm really looking forward to is seeing Mr. Renaissance on Wednesday.

An interesting item. S. Teawrap told me that I treat a lot of the interaction in my personal relationships like business transactions.

I had my first difficult day at work.Back-to-back meetings, no lunch til 2:30, and unclear action items. I felt very out of control of myself. I started losing my ability to make sound judgments, and felt my margin of error increasing. I realized that the last time I felt that way was when I worked for "that woman" in Washington, D.C. I also realized that that pressure is mostly self-imposed, and that I just needed to eat, regroup, and slow down, internally. Things got better and I got a little perspective.

I just have to get comfortable operating in the realm of another person's theories. My company is still very much like a group of think tankers, which is to be expected in an organization that is so young.

It's hard for me because I'm not a big picture person. I like to know what my piece is, how to work on my piece in a way that will help others to work on theirs, what is expected of me, etc. I guess it will be a growing exercise. Like everything else.

And to top it all off, I feel unsettled about things with Mr. Renaissance (how stupid this moniker seems to me now). I haven't seen him since Easter weekend, and our virtual communication (I am really starting to chafe at the very construct of that way of relating to him) has been paltry. I am supposed to see him next Wednesday, but even this feels hollow since Sarah is the one who set that up with him (his coming over to hang out "with us") totally independent of me.

I feel the walls of my apartment closing in on me.

I don't like the phrase/term "face time" (e.g., I need some face time with him to work this out), but I do very much like the term "get on [your] calendar" (e.g., I need to get on your calendar so we can talk about the Johnson report).

With that being said, I thought I would share that when I come home in the evenings I smell like Baltimore's Disenfranchised.

i.e., Bus exhaust, cheap cologne (or B.O.), stale, cigarette breath, and coin change that has touched many hands.

Oh, and one more thing.

Well, i'm not sure what I was going to say, so let's just skip it.

What is most different about my new job is the amount of actual work I do in a given day. At this point, the pace is not frenetic (not by any means), but I am always busy doing the actual, albeit solitary, work of an editor. Without having to break up my day into arbitrary codes, charging my time in half-hour increments, I find that I can actually think. Ideas occur to me. I am finding ways to be ahead of the game, to really leave my stamp on the documents I touch.

At my old job I knew that somebody else was going to be looking at the papers that crossed my desk, and I am sorry to say that often was my excuse for not being super careful. Other times, even if I tried my hardest, my work would be undermined by another person's superceding editorial effort, which would make me feel like my work didn't matter anyway....

Now I am the last stop, and I find that that makes me care very deeply about every jot and tittle.

Comments From The Carpet

I took my tri-weekly trip to la biblioteca and got this, among other things. I like the tone of it... it's like sipping cool tea on someone's porch, eavesdropping, 1 person removed, on the events of a life.

'Bina is running timestables with my sister, singing her questions in gospel call and response fashion. It's quite entertaining listening to them.

I can't help but comment from time to time, to which 'Bina says, in mock exasperation, "Comments from the carpet..."

Today is breezy and easy (like Sunday morning).

Three Wishes

If I were to stumble upon an old lamp from an Arabian cache of booty, and just happened to rub it, and a benevolent genie just happened to materialize from within (well-rested from having slept a thousand years), and he wanted to grant me three wishes, this is what I would ask for:

1. To have all my debt erased (and as part of that, any dubious credit ratings made perfect).

2. Entrance into the graduate school/program of my choice for the fall of 2004.

3. A better apartment--still in the city--in which to live comfortably.

*************************************

Odds 'N Ends

My sister Caryl has been here this weekend getting tutoring for an important math test that she has coming up. Sarahbina graciously offered her services to this end.

On Friday, I received an e-mail from Johns Hopkins (not a personal one, but a "tailored" one) asking me to come and register for their Masters in Writing program. Kismet.

I had not formally requested any information from them.... How did they know?

"purple haired old lady": You don't
really have to be a lady to be a purple haired
old lady--all that means is you're one of those
wierd eccentric old people. Purple haired old
ladies are those old people who go out on their
lawn at midnight with a pair of scissors to cut
the grass. They do whatever the hell they want
to do because they can. They take advantage of
being old and aren't afraid to let is show.
They're the kind of old people who get stuck in
the crazy section of the nursing home because
they're too rambunxious for their family to
deal with.


What kind of old person will you be?
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The Friday Five

1. Name one song you hate to admit you like.

Candyman ( a la Sammie Davis, Jr.)

2. Name two songs that always make you cry.

Send In The Clowns ( a la Barbra Streisand) and Treasures in Heaven (Burlap to Cashmere)

3. Name three songs that turn you on.

Don't Walk Away (Justin Timberlake), or whatever it's called (Number 6 on his album), Get Mine, Get Yours (Christian Aguilera), and Number 4 on Barry White's Greatest Hits

4. Name four songs that always make you feel good.

Sledge Hammer (Peter Gabriel), Mary Jane (Rick James), Number 8 on Christina Aguilera's new(er) album, Senorita (Justin Timberlake), and Hella Good (No Doubt)

5. Name five songs you couldn't ever do without.

Venus As a Boy (Bjork), #41 (that's actually what it's called) (Dave Matthews Band), If I Should Die Tonight (Marvin Gaye), Black (Pearl Jam), and Billie Jean (Michael Jackson)

In the movie "Music From Another Room" one of the characters says to the woman the protagonist covets "Don't you see, [his] love for you is so huge, it's spilled over onto the rest of us..." The blooming tenderness in 'Bina and Mikhail's relationship is kind of like that. It's just adding to the honeyed flavour of these Spring days. My heart rejoices for them, really.