Domestic Bliss

I managed to work through all of my laundry on friday night, minus a stray load containing the kitchen throw rug, a blanket, and a dishtowel that I saved for Saturday morning. My mom and her friend brought my sister Caryl to my place at about 11:00 p.m. I had just eaten dinner (takeout, yes, and endured an awkward moment in which the delivery man kind of propositioned me. I was wearing my bathrobe and was fresh from the shower....) and watched the better part of "An American President" (I love this movie, even though I have no affection for Michael Douglas).

Saturday morning was sleeping in til 10, then heading down to 7-11 for breakfast pastries and a few catch-all items. My sister and I ate Entenmanns's raspberry twist danish and drank Moka Java from Trader Joe's. Something about it seemed a bit parisian--having a late breakfast of pastry (albeit prepackaged) and sipping on sweet joe. I made a list of all the things I needed to do (and with which she graciously agreed to help me). We washed, dusted, mopped, straightened, tidied, vacuumed, wiped, and scrubbed like fiends--all while listening to great music. I felt very connected to her during that time.

Before we really got into the thick of cleaning the apartment, I went over to the market in what can only be called a "ridiculous getup." Essentially my pajama pants, a grey t-shirt, and a plaid Eddie Bauer shirt that I tied around my waist. I was on a mission, and I certainly wasn't going to bathe, don proper clothes, and really take time with my hair right before going out into the August heat. 'Screw it,' I thought to myself.

They only had sundried tomato ravioli, so I got a few packages of that, a rustic tuscan boule, a head of garlic, a couple of bottles of Concho y Toro (a nice, round Shiraz and a merlot, the taste of which I do not yet know), crumbled gorgonzola, fresh parm, pound cake, and peaches. I had already purchased Thai basil, chives, baby spinach leaves, portabello mushrooms, onions, and vine tomatoes from WholeFoods the day before, so I was all set to make something that tasted wonderful in my imagination.

Crystal arrived in Baltimore at about 4 o'clock (dinner was set to begin at 6:30)--she had come from work, and unfortunately spent a while in the city just being lost, having to beg directions off a crackhead... She was a bit put out when she arrived, but after decompressing she became her usual charming self. Magenta-tipped hair and all. It worked for her.

I spent the last moments trimming candle wicks, lighting them, and looking for smudges to wipe down, and getting a hot meal on the table.

When I opened the door for him, and I took in the image of him standing there in that seer sucker suit I love, with a crisp white shirt and tie, I can't explain how I felt... pleasantly surprised... happy... right..."I decided to dress up," he told me. I was wearing a black form-fitting sweater with my beloved khakis, and argyle socks.

He opened up the shiraz and we all sat down to eat my sundried tomato ravioli with crumbled bacon, chives, and gorgonzola. He praised the food several times during the meal, again later when Michael dropped in for a visit (and leftovers!), and before he [Gordon] left.

The dynamic between him and my sisters was good, for the most part;he had to work to get a word in edge-wise sometimes, but they loved him, I could tell. They think he is brilliant, funny, charming, and just really enjoyed him--which is important to me--because I take such delight in his company. It's funny; it's been a while since I've seen him be shy around someone, and it reminded me of how socially generous he is, even when in a situation where his own comfort is not at an optimal level.

At one point during the evening, He told my sisters he thought I was L.L. Bean, hitting upon my plaid flannel "thing," the love of New England, etc..... we had been discussing the truly awful "pimp" furniture I inherited from my sister, Crystal--how it wasn't really me, per se. I'm not just those things he called out, but they are a significant part of my personality--and in a tiny moment like that, I see that I am known, and I opened my heart a bit wider to him.

Crystal, needing to get back to my mom's place to pack to go back to Vermont, left at about 8:30 or so. Michael left after only a very little while, and then it was just me, Gordon, and Caryl until midnight--watching tv, nothing in particular, just channel surfing (eventually, when I got up to get a drink, he took over the remote, and I was totally okay with him holding it. I realized, strangely, that I was hoping he would take it over... What's that about?)

He left just before it began to rain. So I know he got wet on his motorcycle on the way home, but I didn't have it in me to wish he'd left a moment sooner to beat the storm. When I walked him to the door, he gave me the look (warm, intentional gazing) and just said "e-mail me."

I felt calm the whole evening (I used to feel very "starstruck" around him), but also excited. The whole thing was very grounding for me.

Gordon actually lamented not meeting my mother last night. Next time, honey. Next time...