The Birthday Depression that I evaded last year has me in its tenterhooks this year. Something feels "off," somehow. I am anxious that I will feel let down by something or someone, and the thought of that is driving me crazy--because at 4 days out, the impending let down is technically preventable. In recent years I have tried to loosen the leash, expectations wise. I made a huge leap last year by not trying to make the plans for my birthday celebration, but perhaps that had less to do with personal growth and was more about being distracted by my own sense of self-importance over turning 30. In any event, I feel that old panic creeping in... the If I don't Make Something Happen, Nothing Will Happen thing... Let me state for the record that being the one to make somethign happen never makes me feel truly satisfied, but it does keep me from feeling dejected. I'll take "not dejected," and "hollow victory" over "let down" any day.

To make matters worse, I feel awful, like I'm getting a cold. At least I'm getting my hair done tomorrow. Nothing is that bad when my hair is done. I think.

Fall Menu

Provided I can procure a crockpot, I intend to make pot roast,tender burgundy stews, and potato soup. I am also pondering rustic things like shepherd's pie and chicken pot pie. I want to make zucchini bread, pumpkin bread, and banana bread. I want my apartment to smell warm and inviting, yeasty...like the home everyone wants to come back to after a long day.

If anyone has any ideal Autumn recipes (for anything) please pass them along!

I arrived in front of XS at about 12:50; I stood outside on the off chance that Devika and El Mono had not yet arrived/gone inside. I turned, at one point, to look inside the restaurant window and saw Devika making her way down the stairs, in a winning quasi sheer pink frock shirt, looking absolutely beautiful. We hugged and then went up to join her husband, who also greeted me with a hug.

It was wonderful to have time to linger over a meal with them, to chat, become acquainted (El Mono and I),and to debrief about work and many of the elements of life Devika and I usually "unpack" by way of our letters. It was just so easy to be with them and enjoy them as a couple, but also as two wonderfully intelligent, socially adept adults. I loved observing their relationship and how they interact as husband and wife.

After they left I got ready to join up with Sarah for the evening...we met her parents for lunch in No.VA today to celebrate my birthday (next Saturday!) a bit early. Sarah also bought me a few early presents from Williams Sonoma (sale!) before we left the mall (glass pitcher and a chocolate ceramic loaf pan).

I've been home for less than a half hour, but am already back in my little pattern of checking e-mail, blogging, etc. Can't believe it's already time to go back to work tomorrow.

Accomplished

I left work a bit early yesterday (half hour) so that I could get a jump on my busy evening of posting my resume on a couple of search engines, job searching, and working on the romance. You'll be happy to know that new plot twists involve New York, a nearly fatal car accident, and a vixen!

I also ordered some cds from BMG; I had 6 free ones coming to me. I got india.arie's "Voyage to India," The best of Chaka Khan, The best of Ashford & Simpson, Bob Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks," and "Love and Theft," and finally Jane Monheit's "In the Sun."

I work up at 7:40 this morning to finish tidying up for Devika's visit. The challenge in keeping my apartment clean, I'm realizing, is keeping the dust that congregates on my hard wood floors to a minimum. I also packed up my slightly malfunctioning stereo that my mother is all too happy to take off my hands, since I am getting a newer one from my friend.

I have some toast in the oven, I'm soaking the new Brita filter, and listening to G. Love and Special Sauce. I think it's going to be a good day.

After three consecutive nights of not being able to work on the novel, I am relieved to know that I can devote some time to it this evening. I have a feeling I should get used to having evening engagements, and therefore needing to guard my writing time. One week from tonight I know exactly where I'll be--in the last hour of my first class.

Even if the book doesn't ever go beyond the writing process, I am finding that it's a writer's bootcamp for me--I'm being conditioned for the writing life through the exercise of composing. I am thinking, actively, like a writer again. I am always processing a different element of the book now, the plot and subplots, character development, and certain specific scenes I want to work in to the story. It's gone from being an attempt at making a dollar and amusing myself and my friends to a very organic entity that I care very much about. Finishing this book is something I need to do for myself. I feel that I'm writing my own story and I need to find out what the heroine will choose for herself.

Dinner tonight was a simple affair of potato salad with scallions and red onions and crab spheres. I drank ginger ale, and that made it like a picnic for one. I'm noticing that my stressed finger injury from last week feels no better, though motility and function are still not compromised.

I'm a little put out with the UPS driver, who rang my apartment from the intercom at the front door of my building several times, but who disappared before I could buzz him or her in. When I say "several times," I mean several times in rapid succession, but when I activated the door release from my apartment, the person was clearly already gone. I'm going to leave a note tomorrow morning advising him or her of the fact that I will be home to receive the package after 5:30, and that if the delivery is before then, to please leave it at the office. I just hate that the person left before I could get to the door... I know that the package is my birthday present from Catherine, and tomorrow is the final attempt.

Unexpectedly, I had to give notice at work. There is a pending office relocation (as I've mentioned before) that will not be convenient for me for a couple of compelling reasons. A general announcement was made that anyone who will not be able to continue with the company after the relocation, should let his or her manager know. There's been some real turn over lately, and they don't want to be caught by surprise. I felt at that point that I would be remiss if I did not let the appropriate personnel know. So, it's official, yet nothing is really different.

Well, off I go to produce more pages...

The parchment disc Host stuck to the roof of my mouth. I kept trying to work it loose with my tongue before the priest made his way down to me with the goblet of wine. It eventually dissolved, you don't chew those things like you would the protestant Saltine or Ritz.

Gordon called yesterday and switched the print exchange back to Tuesday. He suggested that I go with him to his art studio to see his emerging work because he wanted some feedback on it. It's been under wraps, and save one other person with whom he shares studio space, I would be the only one to see it. He also thought he might do a little painting while we were there--but first, we had to attend his Anglican parish for a weekday Mass in honour of St. Bartholomew.

I sat between the priest's wife and another lady and fumbled my way through the liturgy...not in an obvious way, but I felt very out of my element, not knowing all the verbal cues. Gordon was assisting with the service, as is usually the case when I attend with him, so we couldn't sit together.

I have been sworn to secrecy about the nature of his new pieces, but I can say that they are indicative of such growth in him as an artist. I told him he should be proud of these pieces. I told him that they are inspiring. I felt as though I was looking at poems.

So, now after much discussion of the print on these pages, I have it in my posession, and can give it to my friend who is departing for a more northern borough.

The novel is humming! I'm nearly at 50 pages, and as the ever-supportive Catherine said, "Fifty pages is already a novella."

I have some odd duck events on the docket this week. Tonight, I am getting together with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship personnel at another alum's house for what... I'm not sure. A kind of meet and greet, perhaps? Yes, I think that's the closest to an actual event title. I was very involved in this group in college, and the staff person with whom our campus's chapter had the strongest affiliation is introducing the college's new staff worker to former chapter members. I have a continued vested interest in the campus ministry, especially since my sister will be participating this coming semester.

At some point, I am going to be getting the print from G to give to my friend and coworker who is relocating to New Jersey. I think this is happening on Thursday?

The most exciting of all these atypical events is that I will get to visit with the illustrious Devika and her Mr. on Saturday. How about sushi for lunch, D?

Aborted Attempts

The book club has essentially been defunct since it began. I don't understand why, but I have never been able to be part of a successful reading circle--in which everyone was equally committed. In this case the demise was sped up by the fact that a founding member is uprooting and another of us has taken new work and no longer has the same schedule. When you consider that there were only four of us to begin with, you can understand why it's ovah. We read and discussed one book together (not everyone could be present), the second book sucked so badly, half of us didn't finish (or start)it. What we had on our hands was an inorganic group with no synergy. It should have worked. Everyone was excited at the outset. We had a big "expectations" discussion, we picked books...

Sometimes there is no valid reason for things to crumble except that God knows something we don't. I don't want to wax too philosophical about a book club gone south, but as with all other things that peter out, I guess I just have to trust that had it worked, something else in my life that should be coming together, couldn't.

I now have 40 pages of the romance novel. Given when I started it, this isn't actually that great, but fits and starts aside, I remain committed to the process. I'm sure the pacing is off; I'm accustomed to writing poems, where the point, so to speak, gets made very quickly. This whole thing may be quite bad, who knows?

Dinner tonight was wild mushroom ravioli and a mango milkshake. I know that's an odd combination, but it was delicious.

I think I sprained my finger. While vigorously wiping down my kitchen counters, I managed to push too hard on the second to last finger, and though I can bend it and have full use of the hand, including that finger, it feels a bit stressed. It doesn't hurt, per se, but I do have an odd sensation when I apply pressure to it or use it in a certain way.

Am continuing to ponder the leather coat I first saw a month ago and nearly purchased this weekend. Almost ordered it online this morning, but stopped myself and forced myself to come to terms with the fact that I cannot afford it. Must. not. purchase. camel-coloured. leather. coat. even. though. I. would. look. great. in. it.

In all my grad school fantasies, I am wearing this thing. I am sitting outside a cafe at a table in mid fall when it's just getting cool, sipping a vanilla latte. I am traipsing about in Charles Village, doing my marketing, paying for things in cash. I am fresh from the hair salon, looking drop dead gorgeous, on my way to The Charles to catch a matinee.

This was to be my version of Audrey Hepburn's black dress.

The Devil Rides the MTA

Because I live and work in the city, I encounter a diverse cross section of city inhabitants. Everyone from the poor, disenfranchised to the academic, ecologically-minded; from the indigenous blue collars to the pretentious affluent.

On the particular bus line(s)that I ride, the contingent is largely the disenfranchised and ill poor. I see and smell the evidence of bodies rotting from the inside out, blank stares of the intellectually compromised, and during the school year, I ride the bus with students who bear the mark of parental negligence. Soiled, orphaned sheets of paper--homework, I suppose. No dog would eat it, that's for sure. They are often unruly, loud... as though they had "no home training."

Once or twice, I have seen the age old saga of the spirit realm in effect. There is a look a person has when he or she is demonically oppressed, or possessed. Frothing at the mouth, optional. This morning a gentleman who struck a decidedly discordant note boarded. His movements were jerky, his eyes wildly darting about, and he had such a malevolant air about him. When my eyes locked with his, I saw pure hatred. I was thankful that he disembarked before I did. His walk was an exaggerated stomp, and not the result of a physical disability.

In another instance, more than a year ago now, a man boarded the bus, and immediately began yelling in what I assume he thought was "revival fire and brimstone preacher style." His rant was pure babble and gibberish; he was erratic and I worried that he might become violent. I began to formulate a plan in case he began to exert himself. I was deeply troubled, and began to pray because I knew that something had a hold on this man. No sooner than I had the the thought, another man boarded. This man was wearing what can only be called a zuit suit. It was blue and pinstriped. He looked as though he did not belong to this world. He was carrying a huge Bible.

Literally, this man got on the bus, the yelling "preacher" ceased and desisted immediately, and got off as though his life depended on it.

Accessories Sold Separately

It began with a simple inquiry. What should I wear to my first grad school class? Catherine's answer was "chic, yet understated. You’re cool and hip and smart, but very approachable and ready for fun!" "Great...I'm Grad School Barbie; I love it," I told her. This yielded a fun exploration of the kinds of accoutrements that my barbie would own, and her corresponding Ken doll.

In case you were wondering, Catherine is Boston Barbie, and her plastic man is New England Ken. She has a variety of kerchiefs and fun summer skirts that you can purchase. New England Ken has a yacht and an M.I.T. education.

Grad school Barbie's accessories are an MTA bus pass, a stainless steel travel mug, and a messenger bag. Her boyfriend is Artist Ken, who sports a fedora, rides a motorcycle to drive his grad school honey around, and comes with a pallette and paint brushes. I think you see where this is going...

I bought a new printer over the weekend. It specializes in photoprinting, which I don't need, per se, but it will also print regular text documents. If I had been paying more attention, I probably would have gone with something else, but the price was right. Who knows? Maybe it will come in handy. Hewlett Packard was nice enough to include some photo paper gratis with the product so I've printed out a couple of photos, including one really close up one of Gordon that he took with Sarah's camera on the day of our road trip. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with it, now, but I'll figure something out, I guess.

I'm not exactly smarting over the leather coat I passed up this weekend, but I keep thinking about it. I'll get over it, I guess. I'm trying to prioritize all my needs--for a new cell phone, new coats, new clothes...

It is at times like this that I comfort myself with Christ's words: "Don't think about what you will eat or drink, for your Heavenly Father knows you need these things..."

My mom threw my sister Caryl a surprise birthday/going back to college party. It took place this afternoon at a local franchise--and several of caryl's friends, two of whom are from her freshman year at St. Mary's, came. She actually didn't suspect anything, which my mom wasn't sure she could pull off.

I had a nice, unexpected visit with Victoria and her husband after church. They came up to visit, and since we didn't get to connect after the service (I had to bolt since I was expecting a grocery delivery) they called me up and came over to hang out. I had such a nice time chatting with them. This is the kind of day that life is all about.

Since the Friday Morning Breakfast Meetings (read Carb-Fests)have been put on the back burner for the time being, I went to Whole Foods and got my own cooked breakfast this morning, complete with Nantucket Nectars Orange Mango juice. I don't need to tell you how delicious it is,do I?... I knew I didn't!

I pounded out three or four solid pages of the romance novel last night, including some good dialogue with the female protagonist and her mother. I would have written more, but I ended up on the opposite end of one of my mother's monolouges. I'm trying to make an effort to appreciate her more. I just can't stand when she starts rehashing the past...it's clear that she's trying to understand something. I'll admit, I often feel irritated, not patient, with this process.

Well, I must go do my online grocery shopping... more later.

I couldn’t bring myself to pour out my sister’s coffee; it was the most recent, most tangible evidence of her presence in my apartment. This is the first time in a week I’ve burned candles in the evening without her being here.

Caryl’s essence is grace and humour. We drove around the neighborhoods of Guilford and Roland Park with Sarah today; we admired the regal homes on Lambeth and Charles streets. It was a perfect end to an afternoon of games, coffee, cd burning, and a gelati run.
And it seemed right to be with my two girls… chilling in the sunshine after the storm.

It is far more common for me to be myself in these rooms of mine, to make tea for one, to board and disembark from buses alone…but she was here with me for five nights and five days, and it was easy to make room for her in my understanding of the immediate world I occupy. She makes sense in my landscape.

Our relationship transcends sorority and is steeped in shared Faith and a deep, spiritual bond. On this past Sunday after church, we read the Bible together and enjoyed a magnificent time of fellowship as we marveled at the sovereignty of God.

She is a silly heart, a little girl, a grown woman—stronger than me in so many ways, though 12 years younger. Caryl is a constant gift to me. Watching her ride away, I thanked God that I have been allowed to know her… to be in her life…

Stealing the Covers

Sharing a bed with my sister this week has been interesting. Because I only have a one bedroom apartment, we usually do when she visits, but this week, more than any other, I've paid attention to just how difficult it is to keep the covers equally distributed throughout a sleep cycle. And don't get me started on elbows...

Sharing sleeping space with Caryl is not unpleasant. She's not an uncommonly "wild" sleeper, she doesn't snore...but even with these ideal conditions, I still had to plan for the interruption of my own space continuum, as did she.

So, it's settled, nothing less than a queen size mattress the next time around. As with most things, I think of this kind of exercise (or epiphany) as a preparation for marriage. You know, if i didn't see sleeping together (actually sleeping,not euphemistically)as being crucial to couple intimacy, I wouldn't be against separate beds (in separate rooms) at all. Not so much because I don't want to be encroached upon, but because I don't want to encroach upon someone else with my talking in my sleep, moaning, and unfortunately, snoring...

Misunderstanding

I guess I'll begin with the very [now] commonplace proclamation that my company is on a fast track to obliteration--from the inside out. Someone else gave notice today. This time one of the technology gurus, who was brought on to amp up our product. He's been on board for about 5 months, if that. Essentially, in typical fashion, the lovely institution where I work brought this guy on and immediately dumped a clunkly project in his lap, told him to make it happen in about 3 months with limited resources and no real lead time. Something for nothing. Something for nothing. That's the office motto. The beautiful thing is that this guy's last day is Friday, because next week he's on scheduled vacation! Beautiful. Good for him.

Oh, then. The meeting. To avoid revealing too much, let me just say that it was to be a simple affair, but that it ended up raising some fundamental, philosophical questions... which are never good in a meeting in which an end result is being demonstrated. So, it's not "back to the drawing board," but more like "tweaking." It's not my burden, it just affects me because I have to edit it, of course.

Then the awkward financial misudnerstanding... well, not too awkward. But, I was under the impression that I was getting something for free, and as it turned out I was getting it at "no extra cost," which is different. It was the scenario with Gordon and the print... It didn't cause tension between us, but there was that moment when you have to say... "oh..right.." and I just felt kind of dumb.

Since I've been home I've written the MTA a quasi-scathing e-mail about their "schedule." I guess I thought the bus was supposed to come at the time printed on their timetables, and I guess they think the bus is supposed to come whenever. Whatever!

So now I'm home and have applied for a job (the 2nd; I applied for one on Friday afternoon, too), am eating leftover pizza, and consoling my sister who got together with a phone friend today. She was hoping he'd be attractive (at least to her); he wasn't, so now she's recovering from a less than thrilling "date," sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, kvetching to a friend.

Nobody was on the same page today!

Mango Pancakes

I woke up at 7:30 this morning to shower and wash and style my hair. My pixie's gotten some body and volume in the weeks since my last salon appointment, so I looked especially cute (I felt) in an oversized button down shirt and ripped jeans, with a bit of batter smeared on my cheek (unintentional).

I took the time to make the mango compote for the pancakes last night to save time this morning when I'd be responsible for making bacon, the flap jacks, coffee, and orange juice frothies (orange sherbet, mandarin oranges and pulp free oj with a splash of half and half,frapped in the blender).

Gordon didn't eat much, as I knew he wouldn't (not liking fruit, or much beyond toast for the inaugural meal of the day). But he ate some bacon, loved the frothie, and had the requisite cup 'o joe.

We took the painting outside so he could photograph it (in order to make the prints), he chatted amiably with me and my sister, checked out my new furniture and computer ("I love your opulent apartment,Kate."). I even showed him the two poems I wrote yesterday, of which I am extremely proud.

He had a full afternoon of errands lined up, so he left after an hour and a half--but I wasn't disappointed. I loved the vibe with him this morning... I appreciated how much he appreciated my hair... I am a woman, afterall.

There is a distinct chill in the air, reminiscent of the weather most common in the last weeks in September or the first in early October. The sun is out full force, but not obsessive in its ministrations, giving us all some healthy distance. It felt like the first day of school. Viscerally, I was back in 1989 grooving to Prince's Hits and B sides, standing at the bus stop with "Nothing Compares 2 U," and "Adore" filling my senses. It was perfect, cool enough for a sweater.

I'm also psyched because my Illume shipment arrived yesterday and now my house smells like this.

As if all this weren't enough, well I have to mention that I'm wearing red and tan sneakers. I'm digging the small pleasures today, like this cup of coffee I'm about to ponder.

Glamour Puss

I love having a subscription to Glamour Magazine! It is the most informative of the "fun" magazines that have women as a target audience. Of course, there are the requisite "Are you good in bed?" articles, but also wonderful op ed pieces on job place ettiquette, relationships with friends, family, and lovers, political pieces, and lately I've seen them (the editor and publishers) make a real push to make women who are more, well zaftig, feel let in from the cold by specifically including clothing and fashion tips for women of "any size."

I really benefit from the articles men write about relationships, too. I need a male perspective on these matters. I love reading it over the course of days, sitting on my couch sipping peppermint tea, letting the gusts of fragrance from the glossy pages wash over me.

31 Days to 31

"This is the year I will stop being afraid to succeed at work, in my relationship with the man I adore, in my finances, in ministry/church, and in establishing healthy boundaries with my family."

This is what I said last year, at 40 days out from my 30th birthday. How've I done? Let's see.

As for work, shortly after that post last year, I willingly threw myself into my job, assumed greater responsibility for projects, worked tirelessly, and did not back down from a passive agressive boss. Now, I am looking for a new job.

My relationship with the man I adore... a considerably more difficult thing to assess. Well, I can say that I am not afraid to succeed in a relationship with him. And as challenging as it has been, I have taken a few brave steps, in as much as the burden is on me to do so. Between now and roughly this time last year our ostensible relationship has not changed, but I have and he has. What that says for the future, well only a fool would say.

Church is an A++ since I am now attending church again (which I wasn't last year), and am pondering my place in the ministerial schema of my congregation. I am more grounded now than at 23,and I was able to really throw myself into things then. Maybe now I can pick one element of God's Kingdom to which I can really give my heart.

Family. I've had some clarifying discussions with my mother about boundaries. I'm learning. My relationship with my youngest sister continues to deepen. I have divested myself of almost all obligatory family scenarios, including how and where I spend holidays.

Here's what's markedly different this year:

I moved out of my high rise apartment into the more antiquated one I coveted.
I live alone.
I am a candidate for the M.A. in Writing at Johns Hopkins.
I have furniture that I picked out and bought with my own money.

I am leading the life I want to lead, though not everything is happening exactly the way I want it to,or on the schedule I'd like, but I can see that I've made progress. I'm moving forward, headed to something. I didn't waste the year.

Taboo

I've given a lot of thought to why so many Christians who attempt abstinence fail. I don't know any actual stats, but I read an article in a leading magazine recently that proffered some discouraging numbers. Many teens who made pledges of purity (a la "True Love Waits")a few years back have broken those pledges, and are unmarried.
My own church, several years ago, faced the issue of not being able to take sexual abstinence for granted among its members when a young couple (dating, not married) confessed that they were pregnant. The pornography industry is booming, as usual, and if we think that Christians don't contribute to that seemingly unstoppable machine, then we are choosing to be in denial.

I have a good friend who commented to me once that she noticed that sexual innuendo flowed freely among me and my Christian Fellowship friends during our undergrad days. She also noted that among her friends, most of whom were sexually active, that it happened markedly less. I suspect that was because our only outlet was those jokes. It was perhaps our way of dealing with this lumbering unknown. People who talk about things a lot are almost certainly not actually in the know... and that sets the stage for failure in most cases. I know most of the friends went further sexually [prior to marriage] than they intended in relationships.

I am not suggesting that abstinence is impossible, though I know it is difficult--even more so in a society that won't sell milk without infusing the idea of sexuality into its campaign. Sex and sexuality are at the core of our identity as people. It's not all that we are, but so much of how we determine who we are is filtered through that lens.

I think a lot of Christians are confusing honoring the sanctity of sex, and their abstinence from it until the right time, with denying its potentially staggering beauty, the unparalleled intimacy it can offer two people. It is perhaps an oversimplification of the issue, but most people would better be able to handle themselves in their efforts to refrain, if they didn't think of sex as something that is taboo. For the Christian to think, not "I can't have sex until I'm married," but rather, "I respect the act of sex so much, that I won't partake of that outside of God's provision, because I don't want it to be broken, out of synch, or defiling for myself or another person."

We have not put sex in its proper context, and that is the rub.

My middle sister asked me once a few years ago if I even have sexual feelings, if I, as someone who was then in my late 20s who'd never had the pleasure, even cared. The idea that one would only abstain if sex didn't matter to him or her is prevalent, unhelpfully, I might add, among many who are abstaining. Sex and sexuality are of paramount importance, and therefore easily corrupted.

I told my sister that I am excited about sex, conceptually. That I hold it, as an expression of a covenant between a man and a woman, in the highest regard--not just as a means to procreate, but as one of God's most lavish gifts. I respect sex and myself too much to have it capriciously, with someone who has not made a covenant with me before God and our friends and family. I take it too seriously to open myself up to any number of people. Just how many others should see me naked? Should have access to something so mysterious and hidden? My answer is of course, just one.

I wouldn't get a video rental card with someone if it wasn't serious, let alone enter into the very spiritual connection of sex without a mutual desire to be committed in marriage.

But, I have to admit, sometimes I think "Okay, well what if I die never having had that experience?" There are times when I cannot believe I'm in my early 30s, and have never been properly kissed. It's hard not to feel like a mutant freak. Worse, unfulfilled on a primal plane. I think "oh, is it really that big a deal?!"

It would be easy to sublimate, decide that sex is unimportant, dirty... the very trap that will lead to indulgence, I'm sure. There is a time and place for everything. I believe that I will be married, but that the time for that is not now. Delayed is not denied. There will be point at which that part of myself I have reserved for one man will be something I can offer, untattered and unreservedly, but not now.

In the meanwhile, my personal challenge is to regard sex frankly, informedly, spiritually, whatever... To remember its origin, not what we, as a society, have made it. The disconnect is significant.

I picked up some scallions, a zucchini, loose garlic, honey, Texmati brown rice, russet potatoes, and fresh greens from Wholefoods this afternoon. I am making blackened salmon, rice and green onions, and sauteed spinach w/garlic for dinner tonight. I'm also taking home some work to do while I indulge in my favourite Monday night pastime--the UPN lineup.

The proofreader at work has given her notice, which was in no way unexpected. We are friendly outside of work, and I've known of her pending move for quite some time, but today it became official.

Gordon will come over on Saturday morning, we've determined, to photograph one of his paintings of which I'd like him to make two prints for me. One is for my departing colleague, who requested it. If all goes according to my plan, my sister is coming into town on Friday evening afer work,and will stay with me through Wednesday of next week. It's exciting to think that we'll both be starting school in the fall.

Seduced by the Dollar Tree

Who remembered those "Everything's a dollar!" stores? It seems that I forgot, at any rate. On Saturday, Sarah and I made a trip to Payless because I badly needed shoes, and directly adjacent to the shoe store was one of these places. We went in on a lark, and I ended up getting so much great stuff for under twenty bucks! Let me recount the purchases:

4 scented candles {spiced pear, ginger snaps, vanilla, and carrot cake}
12 unscented tea lights
a refillable torch lighter
a set of 10 coat/clothes hangers in a nice mint green colour
trash bags {lemon scented}
paper towels
2 four-packs of toilet paper
a four-pack of AA batteries (!!!)
a round brush
hand lotion for my purse
cotton swabs
body wash
2 fine point Uniball Deluxe pens
1 gel impact Uniball Deluxe pen

I could hardly wait to get home so I could begin enjoying my new wares. In addition to these necessities (and a few fun things), I also bought three pairs of new shoes, and a new journal for notetaking from Barnes and Noble. I went into a Sprint PCS store and started windowshopping for new cell phones. I called my provider (Sprint) on Friday and they told me that I am indeed eligible for their phone rebate offers. So now, I just need a new printer and a new cell, and that will really end the big ticket purchases for a while.

I had a wonderfully relaxing time in VA with Sarah and her parents. Their new house is lovely and suits them very well. I love these people for many reasons, the least of which is not that they believe in a cocktail hour, honey. Sarah's dad makes the best gin and tonics. Last night we enjoyed London broil, eggplant parmesan, salad, and boiled new potatoes with butter, salt, and pepper.

Now I am back in my own digs with all my things about me. And I feel very settled in, ready to entertain a friend and her boyfriend for the evening.