Victoria and I met up at about 9:20 and headed over to GiGi for an uncomplicated but delicious breakfast. We came back to my place afterward and talked for a couple of hours. The more of my friends see the apartment the more real it is to me. Seeing it through her eyes, I was struck again by how tremendous it really is.

I managed to revise about 10 poems in a single stretch last night. There are two that I'm not sure how to approach. I'm not sure they are worth the effort. Either way, I need to figure this out because Sunday I have to start my paper. And that's that.

I just got back from a walk (another plus of moving back to Mt. Vernon is that it's a great walking neighborhood!)on which I ran into Editor Boy, who, as always, managed to work his gf into the conversation. It's somewhat comical to me that he always references her somehow. I don't think he's doing it in that way that men sometimes do when they're talking to a woman with whom they are attempting to establish a boundary. In his case it's a simple matter of the fact that he likes providing background information. For example, if you say to him "Editor Boy, I like that mug." He'll reply "Thank you. I got this in Montreal two weeks after I met my girlfriend."

On other fronts, I woke up feeling off. I think my little "thing" from a few weeks ago is working on a sequel. Not the same thing, exactly... in any event, I think I'm coming down with something. Drat!

I really respect Lt. Governor, Michael Steele, and hope that he will get the nomination for Republican Senate Candidate for the state of MD. Sadly, Black Republicans are still viewed as anomalies at best, and sell-outs at worst. I really sat up and took notice of this man during the Republican National Convention in 2004 when he said that the Democratic Party had essentially put black America in a box by assuming its vote and by subtly and not so subtly indicating that voting Democrat is the only option for any thoughtful, politically-aware African American (Yes, I use "black" and "African American" interchangably).

In an interview with The Examiner (Baltimore Edition), he stressed his belief "in the power of the individual over government" and went on to say some very judicious, yet unapologetic things about race, about the President, and his own record, and what he wants to achieve. He just always comes across [to me] as being a reasonable, pragmatic person, and I admire him for it.

I also have a tremendous amount of respect for Kweisi Mfume and what he has accomplished in his life and in the city of Baltimore in particular, but I agree with Steele when he says that there is more than one black "voice" for the black community to hearken to. He's diversified the political strata in a Democratic state in a Democratic city. Isn't this the American Dream, at least in part, that you have the unalienable right to choose based on something other than past precedent and the status quo?

I was so cold last night that I put another comforter on my bed--the heavy duty flannel one and I plugged in the heating pad. I was "tip of the nose" cold (if the tip of my nose is cold, that means I am really cold... cannot get warm cold).

I'm working from home as is usual on a Thursday. I'm so glad that the weekly trek to DC is coming to a close. Just today and next week and that's it. Now that Devika has accepted a job, we no longer have the luxury of meeting, so that makes the trip feel less worth it to me right there. Ah well. I suspected that the week before last would be our last visit, so I am at least prepared, albeit a little sad.

It's almost the weekend. Hope everyone has some exciting plans. As for me, I'm seeing Victoria and maybe doing some more unpacking... and oh yeah, revising my poetry portfolio and starting the final paper for class.

Since 1998 I have been of the mind that it's going to be me and Baltimore forever... even when I left in 1999 I understood that I would be back as soon as I finished my business in the suburbs of Washington, DC (which I categorically hated). In 2002 I did return and I thought to myself "Okay, that's it; I'm home now and I'm not leaving ever again." It was no struggle to feel and express fierce loyalty to this city, to be protective of it when haters dissed it, which was and is fairly often.

But lately, more and more, I've been coming to a conclusion. That I mind less and less the idea of leaving. Having a class in DC this semester has opened me up to that city in a way that I have never been before (even though I was born there). I'm not saying that's where I want to move, but not hating it anymore is huge. When I worked in the District in 1999, I loathed the visceral impression it gave me, and out of love for Baltimore, I felt that it was my duty to despise it. This may seem extreme given that we are only talking about geographic locations, but perhaps it's understandable when put in the context of emotional affiliations.

In any case, I've relaxed the Vulcan Death Grip I have had on Charm City (or, it has relaxed its Vulcan Death Grip on me)for 8 years now. This may be indicative of a certain level of maturity in me, or perhaps it's foreshadowing of an enventual departure. In any case, I'm staying put for at least a year. I just signed a lease.

Resolution

After talking to several people on the phone this morning, I finally got the one who could help me and she did so quickly and decisively. My bank even refunded the overdraft fees (as opposed to insisting that the vendor take care of it, which, as the institution informed me, it was well within its rights to do), which put my account back in the black.

I took the opportunity to e-mail the Moving Company's headquarters last night about the trouble I had,and took the time to mention that I had not been completely satisfied with the amount of time it took the movers to complete the job. I tried to be judicious in my e-mail, but also clear about the nature of my complaint(s).

Because the money stuff has all been taken care of, now there's no action item there, but a representative did respond to let me know that my letter had been forwarded to the appropriate person who can follow up with an investigation into the claim.

This all brings me to a general observation about the nature of customer service at most companies these days. I have been on the receiving end of vendor error many times in my adulthood, and it is a disturbingly consistent trend that it takes a lot of calling, coaxing, and getting downright proactive (above and beyond the call of duty) on your own behalf to even convince the companies that they are at fault. And when they finally fix the issue they act like they are doing you some grand favor.

Take my shelves from the furniture store, for example. Why aren't these people falling all over themselves to get me the correct merchandise? Why is it that I have to arrange to work from home next week to accommodate their delivery schedule? Why won't they break their own delivery "rules" and arrange to bring me the shelves at whatever time works best for me?

Why did the people at Starving Students Movers tell me that they weren't sure if they would refund me the Non Sufficient Funds fees I racked up as a result of their jacked up, completely moronic staff who charged me 993.00 freaking dollars on a move that cost a third of that?! Thankfully, I didn't have to jump through the hoops that that would have entailed.

And what is more, why did my Bank, the few times I've needed them to do this (refund fees they assessed AFTER knowing that a charge was in error) act like they are doing me such a huge favor to remove their gratuitous fees anyway? I hate it when corporations that are supposed to specialize in making one's life easier make it worse.

It's not home until you light a candle and have a hot cup of something...

I am continuing to settle in, getting used to the vastness of the place. I am a little lonely, but only because the apartment feels strange yet. You reach a point with the place you live at which the space itself is you, impossible to separate out--you have so permeated the air with yourself that the rooms and you are indistinguishable. Being around my things helps. I recognize that they are my possessions, but they also seem foreign.

In any case, I know that I've been talking about the move incessantly. I promise, this is not a foray into a series of maudlin posts about how disenfranchised I feel. I'm just trying to get my bearings.

In addition to feeling all emotionally turned around, my bank account is in utter distress because the moving company charged me, errantly, three times. Obviously, this is a mistake, and one that I trust will be rectified... but in the meantime, it has crippled me. At the moment, I am categorically regretting the choice to use movers. In truth, I was regretting it on Saturday. It was no less stressful, really, than begging people to do it. It was just a different kind of stress.

I'm looking forward to the morning when I can call and speak to a representative who can start the process of undoing this snarl.

First Night

Even though I moved on Saturday, last night was my first night at the apartment. I was worried that I would have some trouble sleeping due to the period of adjustment that is often par for the course in a new place. But, some combination of being bone-tired and the fact that this building seems to have far fewer creaking and settling noises than my old apartment, I drifted off with ease.

I called the furniture store and have determined that I did, indeed, receive the wrong shelves. They'll bring the correct ones out in about a week. Another phone call to my former leasing office helped me to determine that there is no reason I should not get the full amount of my security deposit back (in about a month), so that's all a relief.

It's nice to be back in the office, it's even better that the day is nearly over.

Only Minor Glitches

After all is said and done, the move was a success. The movers moved verly slowly, by my estimation, at the loading site. They were being very careful with my things, which I appreciated, but I really needed them to stay within the 4-hour window (money concerns), so I asked them to step it up at the unloading site and to take less care if necessary. It was clear that I didn't mean for them to throw my things or drop them, but to just be less ginger. They got it done, only going over by about 15 minutes, which isn't too bad. All in all, the move still cost more than I was expecting, so Sarah graciously loaned me money to give to the Cable man when he showed up to hook up my Internet and digital cable connections.

Here's what's been done so far:

Living room set up
Books unpacked and placed on the book shelf
One painting hung in the entry way
Bed set up
Clothes hung up
Dining room table and chairs assembled

The biggest snafu to date:

Upon opening up the shelves for my new china cabinet, I discovered that the furniture store sent the wrong ones. I'll have to call them tomorrow morning to arrange to get the correct pieces. About 3 or 4 boxes can't be fully unpacked until that has been rectified.

My mom and Jim came over (and brought dinner with them) this afternoon. I am so glad that I've had guests already. Makes the place feel more lived in. Now I just need to find my DVD remote...

A Groovy Kind of Love(Nostalgia)...

I woke up for the last time in my apartment on the fringe of Roland Park and began the day at the One World for the House Omelette (spinach, cheese, tomato, and sprouts) with home fries and multigrain toast and vanilla almond coffee. Then I came home to start the rigors of last minute packing, arranging, and taking down.

I wrestled with my full size mattress and box spring to get them standing against the wall; I collapsed the iron frame, then I gathered up some stuff that will have to, based on awkwardness--the kind of stuff that you have to put in paper or plastic bags--be taken over in Sarah's car either tonight or tomorrow morning. I began sweeping and dusting; I boxed up my printer; I remembered the last of the vanilla vodka; I opened up a Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke and made a makeshift cocktail (emptied the bottle so I could throw it out at last); I had a long talk with my mother which both charmed me and frustrated me--but it was endearing, her usual shennanigans and idiosynchracies. Then I decided to empty the trash and to begin cleaning the bathroom and kitchen again. A much lighter round than I did a couple of days ago, but I started thinking about my security deposit (not much, but it will help) and how I don't want to give these people any reason not to give it back to me in full. All this while listening to N*E*R*D in my iTunes library which quickly became Nat King Cole--and soon I was packing to The Christmas Song ("Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire") while the spring breeze flapped and snapped through my open windows. The movers called to confirm; I moved money from savings to my checking account; I clicked on Phil Collins's Greatest Hits. A Groovy Kind Of Love always makes me think of being 14, of Jonathan Mcklveen, how how he climbed my balcony that one day. Just to talk to me.

Preview of things to come

I woke up at about 6:30 to get ready to head over to the new place for the walk through with the Property Manager and to wait for the furniture delivery.

How to describe the interaction with the PM... well, she was obviously on the defensive from the jump, which set the tone for the process. To her credit, she got herself (or someone) in there and hustled earlier this week. Several of the big issues were already taken care of. When I noted that upon my arrival, it instantly made me feel better about everything. She showed up about 2 and a half hours earlier than I was expecting her, which was fine since I was there and just waiting around. She had a contractor in tow, which was also nice because I had someone other than her there to see certain things I pointed out and to validate that these things, are indeed problems. But man, it's clear that my pointing out issues and my attention to detail has alienated her. There you have it; I'm not even in the apartment fully and my arch nemesis is the only person who can really help me with anything. Great.

I spent the better part of the morning cleaning the bathroom, hanging the shower curtain, and scrubbing the kitchen. The place already looks and feels better.

The furniture came at the earlier end of the time window I'd been given, and the delivery men got my new overstuffed chair, china cabinet, end table, and dining furniture (which has to be assembled) in the elevator without a problem. Not only was it a relief to have that leg of the process taken care of so smoothly and quickly, but it's a pretty good indication of the fact that none of my other furniture will have any problem fitting into the elevator, so the movers on Saturday should be able to execute the transference of my stuff with relative ease.

Finally, I was planning to have a friend come over and help me rehang one of the curtain panels (I missed a loop on Saturday), but the contractor, while he was there with the ladder, just took care of it for me so I didn't have to trouble my friend and I was able to get out of there sooner than I had hoped.

I checked out a nearby cafe I had read about in Baltimore Magazine a few weeks ago; It's going to be my new place. I simply adored it. I had a ham and apple sandwich that was so delicious it made me want to sing, along with a french vanilla coffee. Nice.

It's been a long time since I've waxed poetic about my classes; the best thing about this one particular prof is that he can discuss a book like you've never heard anyone discuss a book. Pick a theme, pick a line of reasoning, random interpretation, page number. He can talk from any point in the narrative.

The Money Tree is Flowering...

that would be the jade plant in my cubicle. My own money scenario is touch and go. Whatever; I'm guessing it will all be okay. It all has to be. Not that I have a mystical wing-and-a-prayer approach to money; I know it's either there or not, but what I'm saying is that I've been as responsible as I can be. Hopefully the provisions I've made will be adequate. That's all I'm getting at.

Well, tomorrow begins the onslaught. I may be able to blog a time or two more, but probably not much until Sunday evening (at which time I will give an appropriate recap of the moving experience)... I'm sure I'll need a break from unpacking about then.

X Marks the Spot

In need of cleaning supplies, a shower curtain, and a phone, I went to the catchall paradise we all know as Target, or Tarjay, if you're feeling faux French. Who knew cleaners could add up to 86 dollars? okay, to be fair, I got these 2 khaki fabric shower curtain liners (to serve as the curtain; I couldn't find an actual shower curtain that I liked enough), which was 20 dollars (the rod is circular, so I need two to span the circumfrence), and 2 sets of rings. I lucked out with the phone. I got a really cheap one (5 dollars). As it turns out, I need a land line to buzz in guests, so I got the most basic no frills service imaginable. I'm still going to live as though my wireless is my only phone.

Feeling industrious, I've already started cleaning up here. I did the kitchen and bathroom tonight so that all I'll have to do on Sunday is sweep and maybe wipe down a few surfaces or something.

Tomorrow is my last day at work this week. On Thursday I'll lug all my cleaning supplies over to the new place and try to get that in reasonably good shape. I can't believe that by week's end I'll be sleeping in a new place! I'm actually not looking forward to it. The adjustment period is always a little unsettling for me.

I met C for coffee at my beloved One World (just 4 more days of being able to walk right up the block to get to it); she told me anecdotes about the crazy dates she's had lately. I ended up getting a splurge dessert (carrot cake) to go with my black java (I forgot to ask for decaf!).

Fortunately, I had started several loads of laundry (and even got the loads into the dryer) before I had to meet her, so I got the third and fourth rounds started when I got back. I have several thick blankets, bathroom and kitchen rugs, and dishtowels to wash and box up. I hate the thought of taking anything dirty to the new place. It's going to be unavoidable, but I'm doing what I can to have everything all lined up. what's bothersome now are the odds and ends that defy packing categorization. And what is worse, because I thought there would be enough tape, I packed some extra rolls I bought. Now I have no idea in what box they are stored. What I'm trying to avoid is having to take anything over in any separate carloads. I always see having to do that as a sign of poor planning.

Curtains!

All hung; in every room, including the kitchen. My Graduate Christian Fellowship comrade (and his wife) were invaluable. The place looks great. So funny how some sheaths of fabric can make a world of difference. I can actually envision having people over, and my furniture is all going to look great. Now I just need the Property Manager to take care of some things. It's all coming together.

Good Friday

As is usually the case, I was off work yesterday. I try to always arrange to set it apart as a day for contemplating the Cross. Easter, or Resurrection, as some in Evangelical circles have taken to calling it, is a very sombre time for me. I understand the inherent, indisputable joy in the commemoration, but it's a reflective, humbling joy, not an exultant one for me. The joy is no less real than my joy at Christmas... but that is expectant and raucous (which is separate from the despair the commericalized elements of the holiday can produce in me). In any case, yesterday was not one in which I was able to indulge much in the way of holy reflection.

I was at IKEA dropping major bank on curtains for four rooms,including rods and accessories. While I was there I had a look at all of the other stuff I wished I was buying (that I will buy in a month or so)that I also really need, but I tried to keep perspective. The curtains are going to anchor the rooms, give them some added depth, as well as prevent the constant onslaught of the sun while providing some privacy.

Today I have a friend coming to do the requisite drilling and hanging for me. I'm praying that it all goes well. I was told by the property manager that she would put a ladder in the apartment for me to use for this purpose. I have been disheartened by my dealings with her lately and as a result don't really expect her to follow through on verbal agreements--at least not without extra prompting. For instance, none of the things I brought to her attention a week ago (where the apt is concerned) have been addressed. I'm trying to stay positive about it.

After the Great Curtain Escapade, Sarah and I went back to my current apartment and packed up every dish,cup, mug, glass, knife, spoon, fork,and spatula I own. I had someone come and pick up the computer monitor I wanted to give away. As it turned out the CPU is useless, so that went into the garbage a couple of days ago.

What remains to be done now is some linen laundry next week, some cleaning, and some arranging of the boxes so that the movers can get to the furniture with ease. I have a formal walk-through at the new place on Thursday, which I will be showing up to with copies of e-mails and typed up lists of issues. Often,people don't get serious until there's a paper trail. That same day I'm having some furniture delivered,my new dining room table and chairs will be among the items. It really is getting close now. I'll try to post photos of the new space as it takes shape.

It was odd, I have to say,that while running into the bank to make a deposit yesterday afternoon, I saw gordon. He didn't see me, which is obviously for the best. The realization occurred in stages. First, I noticed a car that looked like his, then, the plates confirmed that it was indeed his, then I saw a man--him, I determined, walking toward it to get in. I was across the street from him.

What is odd is that other than the surprise of suddenly seeing someone that I haven't seen in well over a year, I didn't feel undone the way I assumed I might if I ever ran into him. The way I undoubtedly would have felt 6 months ago if this had happened then. I wondered, to myself, what the significance of seeing him was. The answer came to me fairly quickly. It was so I would know that I'm no longer enmeshed. So I would know that I could see him and immediately proceed with my life and my plans as though nothing much had happened, because it isn't anything much to see him. Not now.

Using up all my food...

I am trying to be strategic about working through my food, the perishable stuff especially, this week because on Saturday I will be packing up all my dishes, glasses, the rest of my pots and pans, flatware, etc., and I will not be able to cook or prepare things normally until I get to the other place. The added benefit of doing this is that I'll be able to start relatively fresh in the new apartment with new groceries.

hack, hack...

My cough is much better today! Last night, after a rough time in class (I had to leave twice to regain my composure), I prayed. I simply asked God to please heal me because I could not take it anymore; I couldn't take the sleepless nights and the irritation of it. I slept through the night and when I awakened, I noticed that the beast, though still prowling a bit, is tamed and about to concede defeat.

Back on Track

I'm leaving soon for DC and I will finally see Devika again after a 2-week interruption of our regularly scheduled program.

Okay, chickadees...

I've made some decisions. I know what my next haircut is going to be,and I found a gym option. The University of Baltimore is walking distance to my new place and I can join up with them at the student rate (I just have to "find" that money from some corner of my bank account). I'm back in the game!

I finished the last of the audio books that I borrowed from the library--Alice McDermott's Child of My Heart--last night in bed. Since my cough has been keeping me awake most nights, I figured I should redeem the time. The only problem with listening to books in bed is that after the story ends I continue to dream in the narrator's voice, so when I wake up I have this "extra" narrative from where my brain continued the story and I have to work hard to remember what was really in the book and what wasn't. I'm about to start Safran Foer's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. I completed The Bronte Project on Monday night; it was a pure delight.

Well, no one has announced that he or she is resigning from the company for the last week and a half. That's practically a streak. Editor boy moved cubicles so that he now sits next to me. I wanted it that way so that we could have the benefit of being able to consult, face-to-face, with relative ease. Even with e-mail and IM I found that one of us was walking down the long stretch to the other's "office" a good bit of the time. He's a good neighbor.

I brought up Christmas stuff from my storage unit in the basement last night. I looked at all the beautiful ornaments that didn't make it out of their boxes this year (no room for the tree because of the livingroom furniture arrangement), and I felt glad thinking about my new huge apartment, how all the glassy, frosted baubles will be on display in December 2006...and it almost made me wish Christmas would hurry up and come, and then I remembered that it has just barely stopped being cold! And I perished the thought. Instead, I welcome the season of crisp salads, gazpacho, flavourful fruits, and cold cocktails (mojitos!).

The End In Sight...

I think I've turned a corner. After a particularly violent coughing episode last night (and several smaller-scale versions during the day yesterday), I think I can determine that this ailment is on the wane.

I've taken a long hard look at money and have made some choices about what I'm buying and what I'm not buying (right now, at least) for the new apartment. Curtains have actually risen to the top of the priority list because the very large windwows in the new space do not have blinds (the management company does not provide them). I get a lot of direct sunlight in the new space and I'll have to be able to temper that somehow. Having to buy curtains right now means that I'll have to wait on some other things, like baker's racks for the kitchen, which means that some of my stuff can't be unpacked, which in turn will make me feel horribly unsettled. I guess this will all come together somehow.

coughing fits...
are the latest development in my illness. I got a doc at a fast medicine clinic to give me a script for my antibiotic of choice (where throat issues are concerned), Amoxicillin, but the discomfort, though manageable, persists. Can't wait to be back at 100%. Honestly, I feel like Peter in the Brady Bunch (I think it was Peter) when he got his toncils taken out. Ice cream is the only thing that really helps.

In spite of all this, Sarah and I got a lot done this weekend, including disassembling my rickety, coming-apart-at-the-seams tv stand. We got it out to the garbage, packed my DVDs and VHS tapes; we dealt with my handbags and winter hats and scarfs from the closet; baking dishes, appliances, and a few small wall hangings got boxed up; most importantly we erased the hard drive on my old computer so it can be given away. I feel significantly more relaxed than I did a few days ago. I feel like I'm back on schedule where the move is concerned.

My days in this apartment are numbered. I'm usually so excited to move, but this time I feel more ambivalent. Not that I'm not pleased to have more space, but so much about this little matchbox apartment I have is so charming and convenient. I need so much to make the new space start up smoothly, and I'm a little worried about making the money stretch. I'm sure it'll be better once I'm in there.

Oh, and quite incidental to my illness, I haven't had coffee in about 4 days. I never have a taste for it when I'm sick. I'm about to eat some sorbet, resume my place in The Bronte Project, and get ready for "Grey's Anatomy."

On what is probably my thirteenth mug of echinacea, I decided to put the spinach, feta, pine nut-stuffed tilapia in the oven. Maybe I'll cut the polenta into discs and fry them in a little olive oil, and make green beans. or Maybe I'll wait on the polenta, and use up the quinoa I have that's already prepared. Yes, that's better for now. I'll saute some scallions to add to the grains and add some spices.

Still reading the one mediocre truly bad chick novel. I'm on the third audio book, though. Disc 4 of 6.

Before I decided to skip my class last night (truly disappointed; it was held at a local brewery/restaurant) I went by my new place with Sarah. Several things are less than satisfactory. I prepared a comprehensive e-mail to send to the leasing agent on the property about the various and sundry items. I know everything will work out, but I sincerely hope they don't think they're finished and that the unit is move-in ready.

But...the space is stil as charming as ever. It has so much room to really make it my own. And I'm looking forward to putting my signature on it.

Audio Books

Mesmerized by the narration of Lahiri's The Namesake I decided to immediately plow forward with a less serious audio iteration, Sophie Metropolis, a Greek American Gal Friday P.I. from Astoria, NY.

I'm convinced that I'm an auditory learner, not exclusively, perhaps, but it is a dominant preference. Experiencing a story this way is novel (no pun intended), but I'm convinced that this is a completely viable option for "reading" more books more quickly, for me. I love books--the physicality of them, the tactile experience of reading one, but being able to hear a book awakens my senses to the words in a whole new way--and I feel that I accomplish so much more. I am able to listen while I work, while I commute, while I work out... I feel like I've really gotten a lot done.

Of course there is the danger of zoning out and misunderstanding a crucial detail, but that's happened to me with the written word numerous times. Instead of going back a page or two, though, I just rewind. Or I just roll with it. For example, there's an Australian bounty hunter/vigilante type in the current story. For at least two and a half discs, I thought he was a mechanic. Whaddaya gonna do?

As someone who is a little wary of silence (I prefer there to be a base level of noise, white or otherwise, at all times in my surroundings), the steady stream of a human voice with me at all times is comforting to me. I always assumed that this was the case because of the unsettling climate of my childhood home--that sound was my talisman against unforeseen danger. And that may be true. But it's dawning on me right now that this could also be because hearing is so intimately tied to the retention of knowledge for me.

In any case, I'm really enjoying this. I've yet to get an iPod, but when I do, I'm wondering if books are available as podcasts? Could I download a book to an iPod? Those who know please let me know...

Coffee as a gateway food?

Some of you may remember that a year ago I gave up coffee. I took it black for a week (cream and sugar had been the culprit of much weight gain), then gave it up altogether (I did not adjust to the bitter taste as I thought I would). This coincided with a significant weightloss undertaking. I intended, in some grand, romantic notion of manageable tragedy, to never sip the stuff again. To love it in my memory, but to refrain from the taste from that time forward.

Not long after, realism returned, and I allowed myself to have it only ocassionally. Ocassionally turned into once a day, decaf (sometimes not)with skim or 2% milk, no sugar (except sometimes if the brew was subpar and needed the boost of sweetener).
When it was available, I used fat free half & half (and still do). No more than one cup a day, and if so, then decaf.

Quite inexplicably but organically, I have come to prefer it black a good bit of the time, especially in the mornings.

I am taking the time to chronicle this journey because of the implications of it. With the reemergence of coffee into my landscape also came the allowance of other foods that I would have barred under the reign of green tea (which I drank religiously after coffee was banished but never grew to love).

Coffee begs the presence of luxury. Of butter. of cheese. of chocolate. of the most succulent meats. Even minimalist black, it causes my tongue to crave the sweet and the savory--whatever is most opulent among foodstuffs.

Sarah asked me, in the interest of my weightloss goals and overall health, to consider giving it up again. With the fixed return of coffee to my diet, I have also noticed a return of the general irritability that characterized my disposition before. And though coffee makes me want the richest food, it also, over time, dulls my palate, which may cause me to eat more (the quest for sensuality)...

At this time, I feel that my intake of the beverage is reasonable (not like before, when it was most certainly not). But any at all may be too much. I've made no decisions as yet, but I'm considering what this all means.

Library

I went in search of The Year of Yes. It was checked out, so I got several other goodies (some schlock novels, some not) including Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything Is Illuminated and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. I also got several books on CD, including Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake.

I did this in anticipation of boxing up all my CDs (which did not happen this weekend as planned for several reasons). Also, I'm just in the mood to be reading right now. The books on CD will be good for work (the commute and during the day editing) and for my weekly train ride to DC and back.

Got some great deals on groceries this weekend. A bag of about 10 navel oranges for 2.99 and a bag of 7 Texas Sweet grapefruits for under 4 dollars were two such bargains. My new act of discipline is to peel about three on Sunday night and put the meat of the fruit into separate containers so that I can eat them with little to no effort during the week. Peeling a grapefruit is a messy undertaking.

Well, I'm about to eat some butter pecan (Edy's Grand Slow Churned Light--Half the fat of regular!)ice cream, resume reading one of the mediocre chick novels from the library, and watch Grey's Anatomy. I'm a multi-tasker, baby.