Take me out to the ball game (again)...

E e-mailed me yesterday afternoon with a crisis. 4 free tickets to the last Os game of the season and her friends had bailed. Was I interested?

After traveling with her to Owings Mills to pick up our Race For The Cure T-shirts for Saturday's race, we made our way back down to Camden Yards to see our beloved birds play the Yankees. As was the case with the Red Sox game last Friday night, there were more New Yorkers (or at least New York fans) than Baltimoreans. The section I sat in was easily 90% Blue and White (as opposed to Orange and Black)...

sidebar: These days, of course, you can get your team's isignia on hats and shirts of any colour or design, so you can't always take the colour-recogntion at face value.

I had been fairly warned that Yankees fans are, by and large, a problematic, unpleasant group. I'm happy to say that the people around me were good-natured. In no way obnoxious. It was beautiful, people, to see Os fans and Yankees supporters engaging in light banter. Up to the right of me, there was a truly obnoxious baltimoron all decked out in Os paraphenalia that was suffered gladly by the enclave Yankee fans near him.

Which is not to say that there weren't problems. At one point about 12 cops came into the stands (to the far left of where I was) and escorted some less than exemplary stadium goers out of the place.

All things considered, I preferred this crowd to the Bostonians from last week. It's all about where you sit, though. The toxic, rabid nature of the fans near me last Friday night produced some nasty vibes, even though nothing unpleasant happened, I was keenly aware of that.

The highlight for me:

Getting a pink Os cap on my way into the ballpark for 5 bucks!

"...it's gonna be so great; it's gonna be just like my wedding day..." (Rosie Thomas)

Prologue: Random day in 1986

At the age of 13, I looked at a calendar to pick the date of my future wedding. Having 365 days at my disposal, I scanned the months and settled on the one that smells like smoky apples, sweet wood, bread baking and honey & spices... the month of longing and fulfillment.
I had a perverse need to flout the trappings of convention, too, so no weekend wedding for me. October 1st, 2001. A Monday.

October 1st, 2001:

Sarah and I were on the Bar Harbor Whale Watch tour. Every single person on the boat heaved over the railings, blue from the cold. Most of us missed the one whale who made an appearance. At the height of my personal misery, I remembered that I should be doing something else that day... what was it? My 13-year old-self whispered to me "Today's the day you were going to get married." "Oh yeah," I nodded. "sorry I let you down, kid; I know this isn't what you had in mind."

October 1st, 2003:

A dear friend of mine and her intended marry. It strikes me again, the possibility that exists on the first day of the month, the strength of beginning a venture right at the beginning.

Late September, 2005:

This year I expected to be robbed of the fall, just a bit. Another wedding, I know, is to take place. The last I heard, "sometime in November." And of all that is painful about this wedding, the blows were somewhat dulled by November, the mere vestiges of Autumn... things begin to take on graying shades. It is the first of the bleak months.

I am haunted by so much...I have always envisioned being a fall bride, walking on a carpet of rain-slicked leaves toward him, inherently certain of my footing...

When the unfortunate news of this wedding broke, the 13 year-old I used to be was silent, defeated. So I reasoned with her irrational silence. For God's sake, we don't own the fall, do we? Anyone can get married anytime they want...

Yesterday, through convoluted circumstances, I stumbled upon a vague piece of intelligence. I turned it over in my mind, knowing what it meant, but choosing to refrain from apprehending, fully, the knowledge of it.

I believe in fate. I knew, as I have known so many other disastrous truths, that it would find me out if it was indeed what I believed it was.

Tonight at the gym (I nearly talked myself out of going), I saw reflected in the glass Gordon's former roommate. I suppose I could have averted my eyes, not made eye contact with him, maybe he would have missed me (life always comes down to split second events, have you noticed?)... but I know I willed him to look at me. In the narrative of my life, I know operatives, foreshadowing (I saw this guy last week, too, but that night he stayed outside the gym and did not enter, just suddenly pivoted, deciding on a dime not to come in. I was on the same elliptical machine then that I chose tonight.), and irony when I see them. I knew what he was doing there.

"So are you going on Saturday?"

I asked him to repeat himself to stall for time.

"What are you doing on Saturday?"

"Race for the Cure."

"Oh, I thought you'd be going to Gordon's wedding."

"No. I'm not."

"So, Race for the cure, huh? That's great..."

The familiar heat of grief rose to the surface of my skin. I wondered how it is that everything I chose for myself, even before I knew Gordon, could be stolen this way.

It's as though I live in a house that was burglarized, thoroughly decimated, and then the thief came back to see me standing there surveying the damage, saying, almost apologetically, "whoops, I almost forgot this!" smiling in relief as he picks up the one item I thought had been spared.

So I gave myself one option. Stay on this machine. Do not get off until your 50 minutes are up; you are not slinking off anywhere in despair. Run on. See what the end will be.

I'm right here!

I've not abandoned you, pumpkins! Just been buried under a mound of reading and editing... and when I've not been doing that, I've been cavorting with the Sarah-one. Our stop at Normal's on Sunday yielded me this treasure for a mere 4 dollars. Having recently finished The Jane Austen Book Club, I started it immediately, and it has done more to fuel my imagination, and has fired more of the coals in my fingers for writing and artistic expression than anything else has in a very long time. I love listening to or reading about an artist's thoughts on her work. I have some thoughts percolating that I'll talk about later (they're too new and tenuous to go into just now), but I can tell you this: My life's work is going to be revolutionized.

The non-stop/gotta-go parade continues. On Friday, I'm heading up to Philly with Sarah to see this lady, on Saturday morning, I will be Racing for the Cure, and on Sunday, a matinee at the Everyman Theatre. Between those two things, on Saturday evening, a nice family dinner with Sarah and her parents in DC. They are always so great about letting me tag along on their family outings to shwanky restaurants.

What a great morning! I'm listening to india.arie's debut, Acoustic Soul, enjoying the Hopperesque light of this hour.

I have never seen so many bostonians outside of boston as I did last night at Camden Yards. Accents aside, it was just clear from the cold-weathered skin, the demeanor, the affect of 90% of the people around me that I was sitting in enemy territory on home turf.

The Red Sox gave us a beating (the hits just keep coming for the Os on and off the field), no doubt, and I know Bo Sox fans are still on the high from their landmark series win last year, so there was no competing with their momentum.

The highlight of the game for me is when I turned around and engaged a guy and his buddies on the Sox/Yankees rancor. He was taken slightly aback to have to actually give a reason for this deep-seated, inherited hatred. He said (goodnaturedly) "What? the Os don't have a rival?" I assured him that we did (the Yankees, actually, are our rival, but they so far outdistance us, that it's an insult to them for us to say that). In any case, this kid, God bless him, has no reason for hating the Yanks so much. They're just "an evil empire." It was fun, I have to admit, to say to him "...but it goes so deep, can you talk to me about that?"

I'm just going to state it right now for the record. I in no way hate the Yankees. I have mad love for that ball club, because they are good, and the very fact that they inspire such unadulterated hatred says better than anything else just how much a threat people perceive them to be. But you are reading the girl who, once in 1998, wore a Yankees hat to an Os home game. Just my way of shaking things up a bit.... The irony of this? I'm not even a baseball woman. If I had to pick a sport, It'd be football all the way.

I'm on my way out to a women's prayer brunch. If there are anecdotes from this event, I'll share them!

The Week In Review

Monday: I don't remember, except that I went to the gym. Wore a shirt to work that is reminiscent of a mixed berry smoothie. Oh! wait! My bedding arrived.

Tuesday: The Jolt!

Wednesday: A poor showing from Professor Genteel (PG, hereafter) who made comments on my poem all based on a misreading of its intention. Admittedly by him, not my fault, but due to his own poor reading. I still like his manner, but he's a loose cannon. His syllabus, finally given to us on the third week of class, is a paragraph long. He's obviously an INFP.

Thursday: At work, I lent my voice to the recording of some more of our online lessons. After work, a Graduate Christian Fellowship Dinner. The hosts sent everyone home with leftovers. I went to the gym afterward. They live on Pastel row, apparently the most photographed street in Baltimore. Why didn't I know this?

Friday: Am wearing a new sweater (the black one) that can only be described as sexy. More recording of lessons. The young gentleman engineer in our, um, "studio," may have a little thing for me... or for the sweater. It's hard to tell. This thing is so flattering even other women are commenting, but they don't know what it is... "did you get a new lipstick or something?" No, dahlings. It's the sweater!

Friday night: An Os game.... I'll post about that later, if I get the chance. I will be stone occupado all weekend!

Exquisite

I finished Beloved this morning. I know this from reading The Bluest Eye, Song of Solomon, and Love, but it must be said again for the record. Toni Morrison's prose employs such a staggering, masterful overtone of the best lyrical poetry there is...anywhere.

I am very much looking forward to exploring her technique(s) for affecting a distinct voice in her narrative in class.

My new lamp and bedding arrived yesterday! Remarkable, since they shipped on Friday afternoon. Now I'm waiting for a few various and sundries, of which these two are the only fun things (I also got an additional sheet set and some new sleeping pillows).

Oh, I also got new curtains from Pier 1 on Saturday afternoon....for 9 dollars, total! They were having a major "Bedroom Sale." While there, I couldn't resist their seasonal candles. I got a pillar, a huge round, some votives, and tea lights all in the pumpkin bread scent (so that I have a cohesive olfactory autumn theme going in the house).

Thanks to Sarah's mother's generosity, I am wearing a new ribbed sweater--I'm having a hard time deciding what the blue is--it is light, but somewhat electric. Definitely not pale blue. Anyway, it suits me. She found it, never worn, in her closet, and thought I might like it. It's not one of the hues on my personal palette, but it works. Cut and texture often have a lot to do with these things...

Am more than half way through "Beloved." It's actually the third or fourth book on the syllabus for class, but I want to keep the momentum I have going. Am really anxious to start "The Jane Austen Book Club," which Sarah bought at a White Elephant sale (at her job).

On the horizon: An Os game on Friday; A Chile party on Saturday!

Reclaiming the Apartment

The weekend was productive. That is to say, I dropped some cash... on necessary things like food and clothes (either washing them or purchasing them). Friday night, I did four loads of laundry (including towels and linen), but since all of the machines in my building were available, time-wise, it was the equivalent of one load.

Saturday was a big grocery shopping day for both Sarah and myself. She stayed with me through last night, but in preparation for reclaiming her own living space, she decided to stock up on food stuffs. A new Trader Joe's opened in her neck of the woods. We headed there after buying a few basics at Whole Foods. I will shop at almost any grocery store, but I'm finding more and more that I have developed brand loyalty to many items that I can only find at specialty stores like the ones I mentioned. I'm also accustomed to produce that isn't bruised and old-looking. Having shopped a bit mid-week, I didn't buy much in the way of food-food on Saturday, but I stocked up on things like balsamic vinegar and spices.

During the afternoon, A long-time friend of Sarah's met us over at Sarah's apartment. We had a light snack with her, Sarah caught her up on the latest, and we eventually made our way back to my place so that I could walk Babygirl, who had been alone for several hours by that point. My guilt and anxiety were pretty intense because I knew she was perplexed and upset at us being gone for such a long stretch like that. It was quadrupled b/c I knew that after her walk, I'd be leaving her again for an evening outing.

Just as her days with me were drawing to a close, she started to get used to the people in my building. She's been barking to a significantly lesser degree lately, which has eased my stress about being out with her. Anyway, Sarah and her friend waited at the One World while Baby and I ran the paces and bonded a bit.

Then, after another delicious meal at the OW, the three of us headed over to see these guys (thanks to Sarah's impetus). It was a tremendously fun evening. Once back at home, I cuddled and kissed Bg within an inch of her life. She reveled.

On Sunday morning, I woke at 6 (per the usual on weekends) and took Babygirl out for a very leisurely walk (40 minutes!) to commemorate her last morning with me. Because it was early enough, and no other dog walkers were out and about, we trekked over to campus, and celebrated our time together by tromping through new grass and really doing it up right.

About two hours later, Sarah and I had a quick breakfast, then headed out to Lane Bryant (the place where I will soon be unable to shop) to buy some necessities (like more shirts/sweaters) because I had hella coupons from them, and If I didn't use them, it would be the equivalent of losing 100 dollars' worth of free stuff/savings.

First we stopped at Sarah's place and dropped off the lion's share of the things she'd had with her at my place, then over to the store where I got two new shirts, two new sweaters, etc. I learned from my mother that morning that she didn't have any ready cash to buy the doggie any food, so I stopped off at the store to get our little Bg a mammoth bag of Kibbles 'N Bits, then back home to do one little "etc." load of laundry, and to bond with Baby for a few more hours while Sarah worked on a freelance project (I wanted her on hand to say goodbye to Bg, who has come to adore her).

My mom and her friend showed up at about 4:45. Bg about had a conniption, so excited was she to see the two of them. Fortunately, we'd already had our second, and final walk together, so it wasn't too jarring for me when they corralled her things and her into the car (after visiting for about an hour, I guess). She was confused, I could tell, about why I was not getting in the car with her...

I later learned from my mom that she whimpered for me for a significant bit of the ride home, but I know she was torn. My mother is really her home, and as soon as she got inside my mom's townhouse, she immediately knew where she was, and seemed happy.

I spent the evening dusting, polishing furniture, and sweeping up mounds of dog hair. I'll probably get the last of it right in time for Bg to visit me for the weekend in late November when my mom next goes out of town...

I went to collect Minas's painting Memory Lapse, and to give him the money for this abstract piece that reminds me of a series of grenades exploding. A kind of chaotic order. I think I've found a place for it.

Stopping in at Atomic Books (see their linked blog under the "Strictly Baltimore" section on the right), I also procured this beauty. Next, I may get her companion action figure. But... I passed him on this go round because I got this instead.

After our Hampden jaunt, Sarah and I met up with a friend and coworker of hers at the illustrious One World Cafe. I had garlic risotto cakes with zucchini and green tea (later, though, I was so chilly that I ordered a hot chai). Sarah's friend J was feeling brave enough to meet BabyG, so we took her up to the apartment. It took all of about 30 seconds for BG to decide that she loved, loved, loved this new visitor.

Just before bedtime, I got online and ordered new bedding and other accoutrements from target.com. I didn't remember curtains, but it's just as well. It's not the end of the world, and it may be better to pick those out in person (I'd already seen the bed-in-a-bag that I purchased at the store, so I know I like it) anyway.

Covered in Rain

Ambient torrents from the lesser-than-Katrina-Hurricane Ophelia are dousing Baltimore's streets. I have been craving a good deluge lately, and even though it had been predicted, I didn't believe it was really coming. The path of Katrina's rage didn't lead to much for us up here in the cul-de-sac of the Mid-Atlantic. I'm obviously grateful (naturally, I am also regretful for those who did not escape harm), yet it is somewhat ironic. It reminds me that just a slight turn to the left or the right equals destruction or escape, depending.

Ophelia is an especially literary, tragic name for a hurricane. I wouldn't dream of making light of it; it will certainly make someone's life a hardship, but she also seems destined to slink off quietly after a few comparitively minor disturbances, much like the heroine for whom she is named.

I remember thinking, about 3 weeks ago, that Katrina was not going to be any big deal. It was the name. All I could think was "that's my cousin's name. She's harmless and ineffectual. This storm will probably lose its steam once it hits land." Irrational and ridiculous, I know.

Walking the dog this morning, the unmistakable scent and feeling of the breezes arrested me. Reminded me of that other lady, Isabel, from 2003, who sent large sheets of slate roof down N. Calvert street. I watched her show from the window of my 7th floor apartment. It is an odd thing to say, but I am grateful for that hurricane. For all of her damage, she is singlehandedly responsible for two of the happiest days of my life. I won't go into it here. But you can view my archives from two years ago (almost to the week) if you want to know...

So those breezes I mentioned. They begged the question of rain, but I have grown accustomed to promised things that aren't delivered. I left my apartment without an umbrella. At some point, I looked out the window of the #61, Inner Harbor-bound bus I was on, and saw the city through streaky lines. Red traffic lights amorphously shaped, bleeding into blobs. It was still night. I began to steel myself for the onslaught of water when it was my time to disembark, but then I remembered that the rain would be warm, the way it is in September.

Standing at the connection stop, the site of my de facto baptism, I debated getting a cab the rest of the way to the office, but then I thought to myself 'why should I be exempt?' Kurt Elling's baritone swirled in my ears, I get along without you very well...of course I do... I stood there drinking my Awake Tazo tea, feeling glad of my life, not minding that I was soaked through.

I am so not into these freaking anime graphics, but this is amazingly accurate...


You're hiding from love and or commitment. You
don't mind people in general. In fact, on the
outside, you're rather good with people. But
when it comes to getting closer than just
friends, you get worried. You don't like pain,
and you especially don't like being the cause
of it. You want the people you care about to be
happy because it makes you happy to know that
you've done nothing wrong. The only problem is
that you're feeling guilty because you think
that the only reason why you want to protect
people from yourself is so that you won't feel
bad about yourself and it's not that you
actually truly care about them. Don't beat
yourself up though. If someone truly cares
about you, then they should be willing to make
the same sacrafices you have.

What are you hiding from?
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Nothing in Particular

I could listen to him all day... and have been thanks to one of the presents Sarah gave me. I also own this one.

In other news, in addition to starting our own business and networking to that end, the Sarah-one and I are bursting onto the Baltimore Society Scene by becoming Charm City's "It" Girls. Our first stop? The theatuh!

In other news, Caryl and Crystal have switched roles. I now talk to Crystal at least twice a week. Caryl is as about as slippery as a greased eel.

Interesting. the instructor has changed the script a bit. I thought I had his syllabus routine down: two short papers during the semester; one long one at the very end. This time, we actually have to turn in writing exercises (fiction, not exploratory reflection papers), four of them to be exact, conduct one 10-15 minute presentation on a work not covered in class, and finally, turn in a short story or chapter of a novel with a 2-3 page commentary on said work at the last class meeting.

Even though it's more intense and more work, I'm relieved. This is my third class with him, and I worried that his style might go stale on me, not because the man isn't a literary lion, but because, well, three back-to-back classes with anyone prof could get old. He gave us a crazy amount to read for next week, mostly short pieces. Full court press. Assignments give my life such meaning. My dream is to turn into an exceptionally busy person, but one who is only busy with things that truly stimulate me.

He told me that his life has settled down a bit since the summer, so on some Monday or Friday night he and I will get together to discuss my paper from last semester. The man does try.

Have to turn in my first poem for Poetry Workshop with Professor Genteel tonight. I'm going to sumbit my Anna Karenina piece written this past April. I thought about trying to churn out something new today before I leave work, but I doubted my ability to get that rabbit out of the hat. Further, I want the AK poem to be part of my final thesis, and I can only include pieces that have been workshopped in a class taken in the program... so that's settled. I just printed out 12 copies.

My finances are fluid at the moment (Praise the Lord), so I finally ordered my sister the birthday present she most wanted--a beginner violin. I had it shipped to her at school. It's only 3 weeks late.

I'm hungry, y'all. Cereal just doesn't do it for me most mornings anymore.

Speaking of eating (and weightloss and all that jazz), my gym attendance is still spotty. I'll get the rhythm back next week when the dog has gone and when Sarah is no longer bunking with me. It's just hard to get motivated to go ride the elliptical when I have my best friend and my best canine at my disposal... and naturally having class again has thrown in a monkey wrench. I'm not down for the count or anything, just need to get readjusted.

This is accurate... (and yes, I am bored)


UNITED STATES - 1900'SFamous Ruler: President Franklin D. RooseveltLiving Quarters: HouseHardship: The Great DepressionThe 1900's was one of the greatest periods around.
Swing music, crazy fads... It had it all.

What Time Period Do You Belong In? (Updated!)
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Is there a more ridiculous time for me to have taken this quiz? Probably not.


simple

What Will Your Wedding Dress Look Like (Now With Pics)
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Some people need to have the truth all laid out for them because the crap they try to perpetrate is dubious at best, sinister at worst. I find that as I get older, I am all too happy to be the one who does the laying out of said truth, if I am in a position of credibility to do so.

If you are a witness, you must come forward to be counted and to give an account of what you have seen, what you have heard, and what you know. Enough of revisionist history and revisionist historians. Most people, I have learned, can endure the indignity and grief of any agony or hardship if the truth is told about it. If the record is allowed to show who they are, who they were, and what really happened.

I recently decided to decrease Babygirl's walks from three or four a day to two high-quality walks. Now that the college kids are back, it is difficult to walk her without incident--barking, lunging, etc. I have made my peace with the fact that much of this is owed to her temperament toward strangers. She can calm down after a period of time in someone's presence, but a walk-in-progress is not the time for training. I can tell she misses that extra walk at night, and the extra two on the weekends, but really, they aren't necessary. I was overcompensating at first. We have a pretty nice rhythm now, and obviously, if she absolutely had to go out, I wouldn't hesitate to take her. Limiting our outings has relieved a lot of my stress. I try to make up for it by being a bit more leisurely with her in the morning, really letting her sniff and smell everything.

This is her last week with me. I am ready to have my freedom back and my apartment back, but I am going to miss her. Oh, she has stolen my heart...

You just never know how things are going to fly together or come apart, as the case may be, at the last minute. There is very little to be banked upon, when you get right down to it. I'm just commenting. Not having a bad day or anything, just noting that it is impossible to know what's coming down the pike, for better or for worse.

I've had some good news recently. I spoke with my quasi advisor about my standing in the Writing Program. I gave him a list of classes I've taken/am taking this semester, and asked him about my chances of meeting my goal of completing my degree by the end of next fall. I am in great shape, and as it turns out, the class I took with him last semester satisfies the technical course requirement for my concentration. Sweet!

Poetry group last night featured a stunning carrot cake (my favourite) that C, a group member, made in honour of my b-day. I think I'm going to eat a piece after walking the dog, but before going to the gym. It was amazingly good. A very cakey cake, which I enjoy. Dense and moist. To die for!

Sarah and I are still muddling through her difficulty. Trying to make some plans to get her back on track, and to go forward with grace, which she has in spades. She's still staying with me for the time being. It's nicer to go through the thick of one's heartache with a friend.

To Continue the Comfortable Jeans Motif...

I had no nerves this year about starting class. I had a few concerns about my poetry workshop (last night's class), in terms of whether or not I was going to be feeling the same old tension about form vs. free verse, but other than that, I slid right back into the routine like I'd just done it yesterday, not 4 months ago.

There were several familiar faces in my class of 11. At least 8 of the people I've been in workshops with before, and of course my poetry group is representing strongly. Among the familiar faces, the kid with whom I "hung out" last semester. What a weirdo.

Among the unfamiliar faces a fellow SMC alum, but she's fresh out of the water....unlike me who's been out of that pond for 10 years now.

And a new prof on whom to dote. Professor Genteel. He's southern, calming, kind of cute, but in an endearing way. Straight up he told us that form will neither be required nor spurned. He had me at hello.

Am I ready to gear up for this again?

My first class of the semester is tonight. Another Poetry Workshop (every student has to take three in his or her concentration). I feel tired at the thought of it.

I'm so glad the gym is opening back up tomorrow...

because I ate my leftover birthday cake for breakfast this morning. Thankfully, I had a reasonable breakfast yesterday, something of a decadent lunch, but ate it late enough in the day that I didn't need dinner, and just finished out the day with coffee and cake & ice cream, so it wasn't over the top, calorie-wise.

I skipped dessert after lunch out with E this afternoon. I'm debating popping in a workout DVD before my mom and Jim show up, but I think I'll allow myself this one more day off because I'm going back to my hard core routine soon enough. 38 more pounds to go! Of course, this week will be a bit awkward because I start classes on Wednesday, and because of the dog, I won't go to the gym afterward. Then, on Thursday I meet with my poetry group for a mini post b-day celebration. The weekend will be a bit unpredictable, but I know I'll make it at least twice between Friday and Sunday. The following week I'll regain some more momentum, but as it's the last with the dog, I'll still have to forego working out on Tuesday and Wednesday (I'll have class twice a week, starting on the 13th).

Sarah went home this morning to prepare for the 4-day work week ahead (laundry, playing catch up to meet some deadlines, etc.) and to deal with some other pressing business. It was sad to see her go after a 3-day stay with me. I loved our unplanned sleep-over fest, but it was not as hard to watch her go as it has been to watch others leave lately. I know I will see her again soon. These days when friends walk or drive away, I feel an odd sadness that it could be the last time, or that they are heading out into the unknown. All of my associations feel tenuous, or if I'm sure of them, it seems that joy is so fleeting that I start to miss those I love even while they are still with me. What accounts for this odd separation anxiety at my age?

I tidied up my apartment before E came to get me, because it was beginning to get out of hand. I've also started reading Toni Morrison's "Beloved." It's on the reading list for one of my two classes, and though I've owned it for years and even started it years ago, I never finished it. It just wasn't the right time, I guess...

Relieved that my b-day has come and gone, now I can just get on with the business of living my life, reading books, writing papers, and leaving the past to itself...I wonder if there will ever be a day that I won't feel this dull ache. It is beneath every happiness, tinges the sky, just a bit. Grief like broken in jeans that wear so well to every line of the body, the shoes that you cannot differentiate from your feet, so comfortable are they... just a little thumping, the skip in the groove that you anticipate, considering it part of the music.

While It is Still Called Today

I'll write at length later, but I wanted to check in while it's still technically my 32nd. I had a lovely low-key day of phone calls from friends, lunch and later dessert (a chocolate tower with raspberry sauce) out...walking the dog, being with my best friend, opening presents, holding the comforting thought that I made it through another year to my heart for warmth. In this moment, I believe everything is going to be all right somehow. I don't know what's next, but as the old gospel song says "I believe I'll run on and see what the end is gonna be."

Initially, my goal was to be at 150 pounds by my birthday, but after revising based upon my current rate of loss, I decided that 160 was significantly more feasible. I am happy to report that I weighed in this morning at 160, for a total of a 62-pound loss at this point.

Sarah and I went to Target to spend up the gift card her parents gave me for my 32nd; I got several things, including: two all purpose t-shirts, a smart waist jacket that will go equally well with dress pants or jeans, a sparkly purple pencil cup, a small water bottle, batteries, sponges, and other various and sundries. A nice mix of practical and fun. Important and inconsequential.
I saw several other things I want but could not afford on this trip. That's okay. Next week I will be rolling in dough (loan check).

The day got off to a slow and meandering start, but by the end, Sarah and I had taken the first steps to beginning our freelance business, tidied up her apartment, and gone shopping. Now I sip chai tea, listen to plaintive, pensive acoustic music, the dog at my feet, guarding me against all evils, both real and imagined.

1 day to 32

Unexpectedly, I was out of the office yesterday. A personal crisis (now largely dealt with) in a friend's life necessitated my physical presence as well as my emotional support, so I called in to the office. I'll just take this on the chin as a vacation day.

I saw Catherine (Catchka) last night; she came by because she's in town visiting her family and wanted to give me the luxurious, intricately woven afghan that she made me! It is very reminiscent of the thick knit burguny scarf she gave me last fall. I am keeping the blanket put away for now because I don't want Babygirl's insidioius dog hair looking for a home in it.

Sarah spent the night with me at my place. Bg and I slept in the livingroom so she could have the bed. I woke up at 6 to take the doggie out for a leisurely walk. When Sarah awakened she immediately set to getting my DVD player and VCR to cooperate with the tv. I can now watch dvds in the livingroom again. Ever since I downgraded my cable and lost the digital cable box, the whole system has been wackadoo.

I made us berry smoothies which we drank while watching the early b-day present Sarah gave me; NSYNC's most requested videos. That's right. I really wanted it... Say what you will. Without Irony, I tell you, I love(d) their music and always enjoyed watching their performances.

Am nearly finished reading Big Stone Gap. What a sweet book.

One of those mornings...

I missed my connection bus; waited for about a half hour for the next one.

The office refrigerator was cleaned yesterday afternoon; My new skim milk was thrown out.

On necessary trip to Whole Foods to get new skim milk and a few groceries was in line behind woman buying about 10 cups of coffee; naturally one of them spilled all over the conveyor belt.

I moved to another checkout line and was completely rung up before the cashier and I both noticed that the card swipe machine was not working; I relocated my wares to a third checkout line before the transaction was complete.

I'm listening to The Gentle Side of John Coltrane. It always makes me think of this time of year.