Bad Hair Day

I had a truly schmada day yesterday. Schmada. Frotzy. The synapses of my collective attempts to look reasonably put together not firing. Between the tropical temps here in the mid-Atlantic making it impossible to coif my hair (hello frizz, how ya been?) and the fact that I overslept by nearly 2 hours, it was lacklustre to say the least. So, this morning, having awakened at the correct time (5 a.m.), the rains gone, and my hair done, I see a little more of what I'm used to emerging.

I'm taking the time to note all of this because for years I was content to be schmada except on rare occasions. Now I'm doing this thing where I believe I'm worth a little effort in the morning. To be clear. I am still not one of those women who can get up 2 hours earlier than necessary for the sake of beauty. My routine is down to the minute and very basic, but when I leave in the morning I feel good and I'm projecting something good into the world because of it. Yesterday was a little too like the past for me.

I call that look "Post Holiday Craptastic." May I escape it after Christmas.

For those of you who may be wondering...

I did have jury duty. This guy also had jury duty that day.

Me, Caryl, and Babygirl on Thanksgiving!

Stopping Criminals of love in their tracks!

In honour of Catchka's brief visit (and thanks to Sarah for being the photog who lovingly documented our silliness), I offer these incriminating shots.

In true super sleuth fashion I donned my chocolate trench and headed out into the late evening deluge to get a small coffee at quarter till 11 tonight. Why? because I had to make change for the bus tomorrow, sweethearts. That's hardcore. And no. I in no way take myself seriously...

Super Sleuths!

I had a fairly uneventful weekend with BG. My mom and Jim came to collect her last night after their weekend trip (as part of a community service organization)concluded. The unbridled, unquestioning affection of dogs is sometimes heartbreaking. I think it would be addictive to have someone be so happy to see you every time you return.

I took the day off on Friday so that I would not have to abandon her for long periods of time in my apartment. Wanting to be sensitive to any sense of displacement she might have, aside from a hair appointment, I made myself available to sit with her, or just to be around doing chores while she lazed about.

The young coworker I mentioned some entries back lent me Jean Cocteau's 1947 Beauty and the Beast (la Belle et la Bete)--I had it for about two weeks and really needed to make good on my promise to watch it and talk about it with him. We chatted briefly about it this morning, and in the context of this discussion it came out that I am a poet (apparently Cocteau considered himself a poet, not a filmaker). He expressed an interest in seeing some of my work, so I'll bring some in tomorrow. I have been very blessed with several seminal associations with fellow artists. Good creative energy. Nice vibing, etc.

Am finally nearing the end of Northanger Abbey. I got emotionally distracted for a bit--also the book went through a boring, "too descriptive" phase that wearied me. Now that we've come out on the other end of that I am back at home in the narrative. When it's done, I will be on hiatus from JA, and will read Sue Monk Kidd's The Mermaid Chair for the December's book club.

Other points of interest:

Catchka will drive into town early to accompany me to class tomorrow night, then she'll stay over. A little pre-Thanksgiving fun. And the next day it's entirely possible that I'll have to report for Jury Duty. I won't know until after 5 p.m. on Tuesday what my fate will be.

Sadly, this was too big for the sidebar, but I want to give The Baltimore Chronicles the benefit of displaying Catchka's lovely photo.

one of her favourite things to do

In Honour of BabyGirl's Weekend Visit


in her sweater

In Spades...

Diamond-shaped Clubs You scored 66 clubs, 66 diamonds, 42 hearts, and 50 spades!

You're a combination of Clubs and Diamonds. This reflects balance: you're spiritual and devoted, but also rational and sensible. Some people may find you boring, but others know better and appreciate your devotion and reliability.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 94% on clubs You scored higher than 93% on diamonds You scored higher than 26% on hearts You scored higher than 59% on spades

Link: The Which suit of cards are you Test written by Narry on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

I had a dream that my mother had finagled a wedding for me by telling my intended that I was carrying his child--which was not true for one, and furthermore: this person and I had never known each other, in the biblical sense, but this was a dream, and in a dream you can be carrying someone's child under such circumstances.

In an effort to do the right thing, G had agreed to marry me, but his heart was otherwise engaged. I had agreed to the marriage not knowing, initially, that he'd been duped--and once I caught on, it was too late, too awkward to tell the truth.

My mother drove me to the ceremony in my ill-fitting dress; I got there only to realize I'd left my veil at home, and was, instead, wearing a sombrero. I talked to G on the phone and apologized that "we were in this mess," and he said "well just think of the funny stories we'll all have to tell each other when we live together." By "all" I knew he meant him, me, and the baby.

My mother was "too busy" to go and get my veil, so I asked a coworker to retrieve it for me. The time for the ceremony was approaching, but G was still not there, though everyone was waiting. I understood that he fully intended to show up, but that his indifference toward me had made him unmindful of the time. So, I got on a bus and went to his apartment to intervene. He had just gotten out of the shower when I arrived, still in my ill-fitting wedding dress. I told him the truth--that I'd thought about going through with the wedding anyway, but that I knew his heart wasn't in it--that he loved someone else.

He was so completely relieved that he didn't even hold my mother's trickery against me.

When I woke up I realized that the "me" in the dream was not me as I am now, but as I was--in terms of weight and appearance--the last time he saw me.

Unintentionally stiffing a cabbie

Today is payday. And just in time, too. As is sometimes the case, I took a cab to work this morning, because I did not have bus fare, but owing to the miracle of direct deposit, my wage is all snug in my bank account. I just needed a way to get to it. None of the establishments that are within walking distance of my apartment, that also have ATMs inside, open until well after I'm already supposed to be at the office, so I hailed a taxi. There is a 24-hour bank machine right next to the building where I work. So easy. The cab takes me to my destination, I hop out to get him some cash, and everyone is happy.

This particular ATM lets one withdraw money in increments of 10 dollars, which I appreciate. So I withdrew 30.00, thinking that after my cab fare plus tip, I'd have plenty leftover with which to eat today and to ride the bus back home this evening. I asked for my change, the driver exulted at my generosity. I told him that I believed in tipping well, to think nothing of it... so he drove off.

And I realized, too late (though I did try running after him) that I'd given him the wrong bill. The 10, not the 20. So my "cab fare" after he handed me back over a five, per my request, was about five dollars. Even thought it was a complete accident, I feel like a complete heel.

I just hope that this man, who was a wonderful driver, who didn't try to take advantange of me by going a longer, more circuitous route, knows this was unintentional when he realizes what happened. And I hope God sends him a tremendous amount of well-tipping riders to more than make up for my gaffe.

Saturday at the Cafe


Autumn is calling...

Seattle's Best, indeed

Reading Northanger Abbey

feet under table

Lovely Stranger

Bookstore Cafe at approximately 7:45 p.m.

He walked in.

I was just chillin' mindin' my business with Sarah--the first frothy sips of my (skim)green tea latte made me smile on the inside,deep down. I wrote some preliminary notes for my upcoming class presentation. S was telling me the story of her new, duplicitous coworker.

I looked up just in time to see a dark haired guy with cream-milk skin and this amazing, intellectual energy walk in and assume a seat at a nearby wooden table.

"Stop the presses...."
Sarah smiled, even though my comment interrupted her flow of conversation. She'd noticed him too.

I've seen passably attractive men out and about before, but it isn't often that a stranger preoccupies me the way this dreamboat did.

In a spirit of happy conspiracy Sarah asked me to go to the counter to get a cup of water for her. I did so, careful to put myself right in his line of vision, should he look up. When he did, I mouthed "hello." He returned the lip-synched greeting, and I walked back to my seat, seriously debating an acceptable and witty conversation starter.

Eventually Sarah's friend and coworker (not Ms. Duplicity), with whom we had dinner plans, joined us. After pleasantries we got up to leave, and that was that...

Or so I thought.

On the way out of the store, S's friend decided she wanted to find a book. She walked off and I said to Sarah "I'm seriously considering going back there and telling that man how beautiful he is."

"So do it."

Possessed of an alien confidence, I strode back there, with full presence of mind and walked up to his table.

"Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to tell you this before I leave. You are so beautiful."

He looked up from his book, smiled, revealing a slight gap between his two front teeth that can only be described as dead sexy (not usually a fan of the gap, but the man was working it like a 9 to 5)...

"wow... {he waited a judicious beat}thank you..."

"you're welcome; good night."

And I walked away, leaving him to ponder that.

Hallelujah!

The dead mouse has been removed. I was told that my apartment is being scheduled for an emergency visit from the exterminator. I'm so glad to know that I won't have to deal with that rodent corpse when I get home.

I am so not going to class tonight. I need a mental health break. workshopping a poem about which I feel supremely ambivalent is not a good way to pass the time. Instead, I'm going to a bookstore with Sarah for one of our reading dates. I am so into Northanger Abbey. It may well wind up being my favourite.

I'm starting to get nervous...

I have known for months that I will not be renewing the lease on my current apartment come the spring, but when I arrived at home last night and found a dead mouse in my kitchen, it eliminated any potential doubt.

When it's time to move I always get nervous about the details. the location of my current apartment is ideal; I need to find something equally convenient to the university and my job, that I can afford, that is bigger, that does not have mice.
Oh, and I need to scrounge around for people to help me move. That's always the sucky part.

Next semester is going to be made more difficult by virtue of my having a class in DC; it will be an adventure in some ways, and will hopefully yield access to a friend that I never get to see under normal circumstances, but will be tiring and expensive. My commute on that one day of the week will be roughly 21 dollars round trip (11 for the MARC; about 3 for the metro from Union station; about 7 for a cab ride back to my place from Penn Station when I get back to the Baltimore stop at about 11:30 at night). My Whole Foods habit is going to need to be curbed significantly in order to accommodate this venture.

And wish though I might that someone other than this one prof I always take was teaching a class I might want to take, no one is, so it's him again. I hope he doesn't think that I'm stalking him at this point; I'm so not. Bah! Had a disconcerting exchange with him last night in which he asked me a question (I think) about the story I handed in last week...I wasn't sure what he was getting at at first, and it made me feel strange. I have this crippling nervousness around men who's intellect I respect. I can't explain it, but I felt like I was being judged. And when I feel that I am being judged, I shut down, become super formal. impenetrable.

In other news, I'm pretty much broke until Tuesday.

Reorienting

Save for a few hours on Friday night, I spent the entire weekend away from my little city apartment. On Friday night, Catchka came to collect me to spend the night with her at her parents' place in Westminster. Saturday was to be a family wedding (her family) in PA, and I was invited as her guest. Her mom made the wedding cake and I was allowed to help out with small finishing touches (and I was on hand to eat spare frosting--hey! someone had to). The highlight of the reception for me was seeing C dance with her cousin (a tremendous dancer)in the most carefree,gorgeous way. I love to see people really enjoying themselves in a non self-conscious way--the way one moves when one has lost any notion of what anyone else may be thinking. Distilled beauty, etc.

Catherine was good enough to drop me at Sarah's after the reception. S and I watched about an hour of the "What's Happening!!" marathon on TVLand before heading off to bed. This morning we ran some work-related errands (for Sarah), ate out, and spent time at Borders Bookstore in the county, reading. I purchased the next book on my Austen Reading List--Northanger Abbey--because my time with Emma was drawing to a close.

After going out to dinner we wrapped up our evening at a coffee shoppe to do some more reading (it was here that I finished Emma), afterwhich Sarah brought me home. I immediately set to tidying up my place, which I left in a state of disrepair from a busy week. After a while S called to tell me I'd left my new shoes (the ones I bought for and wore to the wedding) in her car.

My allergies are killing me! I've been sneezing something terrible. No doubt the dust I kicked up during my cleaning frenzy didn't help matters.

I've made a discovery. I don't have the constitution that is necessary for online dating. For the last few weeks I've had an active profile on a leading (and reputable) Internet dating site, and it has yielded only small interest (both on my side and the part of available men), and the reception I have received has led me to the following conclusion: I have a target audience and I am not reaching them. The men who made efforts to contact me are not ones with whom I would be interested in even conversing, by and large. But more than anything else, it just doesn't feel natural to me. I really would just like a more organic context (or an actual context)in which to meet someone. To that end I've cancelled my unremarkable membership (which was only at the most basic level--I never paid a dime for all the bells and whistles--it was just a preliminary experiment). I've removed my profile and made myself unviewable to the other members of the lonelyhearts club. I'm glad I did it though. It was a helpful exercise in many ways.

Seinfeld was right. 98% of the population is undatable!

Doing the Thing I Said I Would Never Do...

I'm taking a class [in my program] on the DC campus next semester. In order to do the Thesis and Publication in the Fall of 2006, I need to have all my reqs out of the way by the start of that term. I need one more Poetry Workshop, and that's not offered in Baltimore in the spring. I'm taking another class as well, but that one will be on my home turf.

I have one friend in particular who might find this of interest. Devika, my class is on Thursday nights from 6:00-8:30, and from what I understand, the building where said class will be held is very near the Dupont Circle Metro stop.

The MARC train and I are about to get super familiar again. Good thing I am partial to train travel. Am trying to get it worked out such that I can work from home, as a rule, on Thursdays to make it a less frenetic undertaking.

Okay, so you might as well know...

I've eaten 6 pieces of candy today! Six! Count them... 1-2-3-4-5-6! Please pray for me. All these people and their evil, surplus halloween candy are going to be the end of me...

Everything I Needed to Know About Relationships I Learned from Jane Austen:

In the midst of truths universally acknowledged, platitudes on decorum and elegance, and the importance of a woman's complexion in securing a worthy mate, I find much to amuse and delight as well as to provoke reflection on the fact that not a lot has changed.

In Austen's day you mated and married on your level, period, and no one would be so boorish or uncivilized as to presume that he or she had the right to let his or her affections meander across class lines. And where they occasionally did, to be sure, some beauty or excellence in the woman made the match allowable. Oh, and the gentleman was probably already supremely rich and not looking for a woman's inheritance to support him for the rest of his life.

It's a charming world where the words amiable and affable are the highest praise, and calling on visitors to the neighborhood in a timely fashion is of utmost importance.

I interrupted my reading of Emma to accomodate McEwan's Atonement (for bookclub) and was delighted to see that he is much inspired by Ms. Austen. Her impact is more considerable that I'd realized. In any case, I am back with our well-meaning, but obtuse heroine (Emma Woodhouse), and was delighted on my morning commute by her latest assertion:

"...it is not every man's fate to marry the woman who loves him best.."