Back from the Market

I love the concept of marketing, the acquisition of wares, stockpiling, collecting, all of it. Walking to the neighborhood grocer is so different from driving to the megastores that live in the suburbs. It's so classic. I've got no complaints about superstores. I like convenience, variety, and abundance as much as anyone. But it isn't charming, really. It's at times like this that I'm glad I don't have a car, or I might forget such a simple pleasure as carrying my own food bags home on a brisk winter day.

Tonight I am making shrimp with sundried tomatoes and garlic over angel hair pasta. Maybe I'll open my bottle of white wine from Christmas. I was tempted to invite G over for dinner, but I don't want to make this too easy for him. We've been e-mailing again, and I have thawed somewhat where he's concerned. Even still, I need to learn to let myself, my company, and my good graces be sought after, etc. So it's me, John Coletrane, and maybe a good book later.

Last night Sarah and I went shopping for new handbags. I got this beautiful 70s-style leather purse with butterflies all over it, a new pair of thin, but large silver hoop earrings, and a shocking red velvet newsboy cap. As a gift Sarah got me a lovely new silver ring (it's replaced my pitifully worn spoon ring that I recently threw away).