I'm eating the most delicious guava (Lowfat) yogurt! I went to the neighborhood market yesterday and they were having a special (69 cents each!) on this new La Yogurt (Sabor Latino) brand. I got guava, papaya, banana, and mango.

Now for what's not so good. I don't get it, but my Internet connection at home has gone rogue... and I can't figure out what the problem is. According to my computer the connection is established. It's not the cable modem (for once!)... I just don't know what on earth to do...

My sister's gig went exceptionally well, I was happy to hear. Oh, and there were tons of vibes with another singer. Ah, those musicians!

Nothing much on the horizon except a concert tomorrow night and next weekend, I'm going to buy some bedroom furniture. It's about time!

Revision

After a more-reasonable-than-last-time hair appointment at 10:30 this morning, I came home and revised five poems. I started the process yesterday at work--I'm already thinking ahead to my last submission for workshop in a couple of weeks. Anyway, I identified the pieces I want to hand out and in a fit of creative energy, I developed a new vision for the work. I feel the poems opening up into something more...more daring. There is one in particular where I had been shying away from the ending I really wanted it to have because it's so "balls out," but in the end, I did it. I wrote what scared me.

State of the Union

One down, two to go. Weeks on this job that is. Negative 27 cents in the bank (long, long story... my fault, good intentions meet the road to hell once again). Whatever. I've made it through the first week of my three weeks' notice--the carpeted walls of my cubicle are looking sparse. Yesterday I took home the money tree--the flowering jade and placed it directly in front of my kitchen window. Should a money tree be in the kitchen? I don't know if that's good placement or not...

We discussed the story (one by Courtney Eldridge,"Unkempt.") I submitted last week. It's decidedly a voice-driven piece and it intrigued me for this reason. Very structurally solid. It brought up this point, though. There is this one woman in the class who is always commenting that she "wants the character to do something else here..." no matter what the premise of a story, no matter what. That is the main thrust of her comment. I'm never totally sure what she's getting at. To be sure, I know what she means, I'm just not sure how her assessment is accurate a good bit of the time. There's no patience with the native, inherent contradictions a character might have. I personally delight in that. She wants every action and thought of a character to be structurally indicative of that character's overarching problem. Maybe my take on characterization is messy, but I think that's art imitating life.

Every Thursday night, in the hour or two before my group meets, I get nervous. Excited nervous, as though I'm preparing for a tryst and not a class. It has become the best night of the week, and no matter what else is going on, no matter what other wonderful thing I have on the calendar, I look forward to that moment, that inevitable second...the smile. The smile that at once makes me feel like I've been punched in the stomach and handed a single, sincere daisy. How does he do it?

From The Top

My sister has a gig on Saturday night. Two of her much spoken of musician friends came over to the apartment to rehearse last night and they sounded wonderful. It felt so artsy and urgent. Just having all that creative energy compressed into that space made me want to do something important--write, think, have an engrossing conversation.

I am aware of my sister's talents and gifts--I know that her singing voice is evolving, developing, and becoming more textured and nuanced as she gets older--but last night I was impressed, again, by the arresting quality of her passion for music.

I lay in my room while they jammed in the "office" and I felt so blessed to be in the same space with them. I tried to read a little poetry criticism, ate some cookies, probably dozed for a bit, surrounded by the blues...

hands at work

Some things I've neglected to mention...

Like dinner with E and a neurosurgeon last Friday night at Sammy's Trattoria, the delightful, newish restaurant in my neighborhood. This meal, that was initially to have been just E and myself, became an agreeable threesome when she told me about the new attending at the hospital--new in town, knows no one, etc. He is very funny, a good conversationalist. I felt like I was in a Jane Austen novel. If a Jane Austen construct met the poorer, less sexual version of Sex and the City.

After the meal we walked around Artscape for a bit looking, appropriately enough, for art for the good doctor's bare walls. E and I fully intended to have him try out this smokeless bar, The Red Maple (she'd been before but I hadn't), with us but Dr. Neuro begged off. We continued on to the establishment. I had a mojito. Not bad. The atmosphere was even better than the drink. I think it's my new place to take people.

Oh.

The announcement of my imminent departure was made at yesterday's meeting as I hoped it would be--both so that everyone is now in the loop and so that it could start to feel even more real to me. I am actually the one who made the announcement. My manager asked me prior to the team powwow if I was ready to make the information public. I indicated that I was, but didn't know when the time came that she would turn it over to me.

Ah well. Now its done. Let the tying up of loose ends commence!

You Are a Plain Ole Cup of Joe

But don't think plain - instead think, uncomplicated You're a low maintenance kind of girl... who can hang with the guys Down to earth, easy going, and fun! Yup, that's you: the friend everyone invites. And your dependable too. Both for a laugh and a sympathetic ear.

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

Schematic, The Second...

You all know I love a good scheme. Especially a closeout scheme. So this morning while eating my Cheerios® out of a French Blue bowl and drinking my hazelnut coffee (8 O'Clock coffee) out of a glazed red mug, I am hatching a plan.

I'm thinking through what I'd like to accomplish before I leave this post--I'm cataloguing my responsibilities, trying to remember things I've done here, as a matter of course, for the last three years that I don't even think about as tasks, per se, and I'm going to construct a Modus Operandi for dealing with it all.

But this document will be for my purposes only. It's not a contract or a promise to the Powers That Be that x, y , and z will get done. It's something that I will present at the last minute (not the document, but a summation of what I've taken care of)--a report on the good faith effort I've made to do right by my job until the last possible second.

I've already started taking some of my things home. My good-sized cubicle is like a tiny apartment. It's by no means cluttered, but I still have a good bit of stuff. Most of the heavy pieces (like the coffeemaker and some books) I've already gotten out. At the same time, I'm trying to pace the process. I want it to feel homey right up until the last few days. Also, I've only told two coworkers (one out of necessity, one out of friendship) about my coming departure, and I don't want to raise suspicion until my manager makes the announcement. I figure that it should be left to her discretion when that information should be distributed. Well... within reason, I'm leaving it to her discretion. If it doesn't get announced at today's team meeting, I'll start making the rounds informally. I don't want to step on anyone's toes, but I'm also not going to leave my coworkers whom I respect in the dark for an unduly long time.

Dinner, Last Night...

I managed to make myself some miniature crab cakes, red skinned potato salad with scallions and spices, including Old Bay (to create resonance with the crab cakes) and corn bread with cheese and scallions baked into the batter. I substitued spicy chicken breasts for my sister's portion of the meal. She's deathly allergic to seafood of any kind. It was a Monday night feast, if I do say so myself.

To celebrate the new job my mom, her friend, and both my sisters and I went to Dukem, just mere blocks from my apartment, for Ethiopian food. Sidebar: Devika, I don't know why I didn't mention this to you before--that there is a Dukem in my neighborhood... In any case, if we ever get to hang out in Charm city, we so have to go there...

In any case, that was an adventure for us, doing something so off the beaten path (my mom doesn't usually do such experiences so well, but she got over not having utensils pretty quickly). It was so good to see my other sister, who is home from VT for a few weeks.

Can I just say? I was downright excited to come to work this morning. Knowing it's almost over has improved my morale a thousand-fold. I guess it's that experience that is common when something oppressive is coming to an end. You suddenly have all manner of resilience and cheer about muddling through the last of it.

It's been more than 3 years since I have had occasion to say the following words...

I Got The Job!

Restless

On the brink...about to drop...ready for my close-up...irons in the fire...yeah. makes it hard to concentrate.

So I went back to the library to get the CD I errantly returned to them and then met some friends for dinner at Donna's. It started to rain by the time I left the restaurant, and it was such a relief. When I got back home I set about saving the bananas I bought on Sunday (they have such a short shelf life). I cut one up into a smoothie mixture (complete with fresh blueberries and blackberries) so I'd have something to "eat" first thing in the morning (I really do well if I can have something substantive almost right away). I put some stuffed chicken thighs (spinach & gorgonzola) from Whole Foods into the oven for lunch today for me and C, then hopped in the shower.

How is it Wednesday already? I still haven't read the story for this week's workshop.

Work is okay... busy. Oh, and did I mention that in about a month EditorBoy is leaving? That'll be about 6 months for him. Bigger and better things. I knew he wasn't long for this place.

99 In The Shade...

My trek to the library yesterday evening was quite a haul in the heat. Thankfully, it was a dry heat. The saving grace of that 100+ degree day is that it was not very humid as summer days in Maryland go. Today promises nothing much more. It is July beneath the Mason Dixon line...

Lunch today is breaded tilapia with broccoli florets and Lemonnaise for dipping. C and I had spicy chicken in red chile tortillas for dinner last night. We retired early to the bedroom (the one room with a/c). I read a bit more of Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job, and was out before 10:30 it seems.

Tonight I meet some friends from the university's Graduate Christian Fellowship for dinner. But before then, this annoying 9-hour work day to get through...

I am excited about the meals I can make with the groceries I've bought. Tonight, I have to run to the library to renew a few books and return most, so I probably won't do anything too complicated, but.... but! I'm thinking of doing my special twist on red bliss potato salad one night, a tofu Inca red quinoa with scallions and portabellas another night/lunch, crab/shrimp salad, etc. Oh and C and I stocked up on fat free yogurt and fresh berries and bananas, so we can have plenty of good smoothies, too.

on other fronts: the first day sans my former manager is a good one. her absence doesn't bring the pointed relief that the departures of other managers has brought, but it's a relief nonetheless.

There are times when I feel especially competent--small moments, really--little slivers of a day when I pull off something basic with remarkable ease, and I think 'I've really grown up.'
This morning, anticipating the "delivery" of some kitchen carts I bought from someone's moving sale, I woke up and got breakfast started while C continued to sleep. The coffee drip was going, the turkey bacon warming, and the eggs were scrambling. And I got this all on the table at once, complete with orange juice. I woke up my sister and we sat down to eat. She told me about her dreams. I got such a sense of satisfaction from it. These are my favourite kinds of feats. The ones that are no big deal, but that require some overarching degree of aplomb. I was finished eating and halfway through my cup of joe when I got the call that the woman with the carts was downstairs. Perfect timing.

Yesterday, after a stellar hair cut (my stylist is such an artist), I came home and resumed doing my laundry. I had about 4 loads (including linens and blankets). C did about three loads, too, then we got dolled up because J and E (from college days) were meeting us at my place. We went to the City Cafe for dinner and then to Sammy's Trattoria for dessert. Afterward, we came back to my place-- J and E stayed just long enough to watch a Sex and the City episode and to take a few photos, then off they went.

I resumed my reading of Christopher Moore's "A Dirty Job." Talk about comedic genius.

The Devil Wears Prada...

God bless Meryl Streep. The woman is a treasure. C and I had a delightful time at the theatre. We ate this one up thanks to Ms. Streep's delectably evil Miranda Priestly. When the lights came up, we made our way from the Charles to XS for some pretty okay dessert and iced coffees.

Now, at 10:18 I'm about to do a load of laundry. Have to. My 10:30 hair appointment got bumped up to 7:30. You read that right!

On the Town

I got together with a former coworker (you may remember her as the girl who was railroaded into quitting) and her husband last night. They wanted to take me to dinner, and not just anywhere, but to Sotto Sopra, an establishment I have never been to before, for an elegant, upscale Italian meal. We rounded out the evening at The Brewer's Art for nightcaps.

Before the evening had concluded we agreed that next fall I would a) give a reading at their home in tandem with a wine-tasting that some wine conoisseur they know will set up, and b) speak in the husband's AP English classes about poetry. I can't believe I even remotely know people like this! Oh, I also think I'm to join them on their boat at some point.

They are among the most accessible, generous people I've met in a long time. If the Great Gatsby met your average, good-natured sitcom couple, it would be these two.

I had two major things yesterday--a conversation with the new manager at work, who as long as I'm there, has a significant influence on my feelings about the office--and the poetry reading.

The "conversation" was a planned meeting, one in which she and I got acquainted, talked about my perceptions of the dept., etc (there were such one-offs with everyone on the team). It was during this meeting that I also stated, explicitly, that I believe I deserve more money for the work I'm doing. It went very well. No decisions have been made at this point, but regardless of the outcome, I am so glad that I professionally and respectfully made a statement to her about what I belive my efforts are worth.

The reading was a very managable affair. C, from poetry group, and I pulled off a pretty engaging round robin (is it a round robin if there are only two of you?) of reading. I felt solid and sure, and I think the work came across well. Hearing C read her pieces, many of which I knew well, in that context was so rewarding.

Readings are so crucial for poets; it gives a sense of accomplishment... at least it does for me. Finally, something comes of the solitary writing act! There's a sense of validation in putting the words out there, knowing that people heard them. In an odd way, it's like I was hearing those words for the first time. They didn't fall flat. I may just have something going here.

You Can't Go Home Again...

For about a week, a place much like this was my home. Sarah and I set out on her birthday, July 1st, for North Carolina. By about 8 p.m. we pulled up the steep driveway to a cabin whose name is "Heaven Sent" and spent the week in rustic luxury with her tremendously generous parents (they let me tag along on their vacation!).

As soon as possible, there will be pictures forthcoming, but in the meantime, I'll try to paint a picture with fewer than a thousand words.

The nearest town, Asheville, was an accessible, charming, artsy hodgepodge that felt, at times, like Baltimore, but more meandering. I'm not suggesting that there's a legitimate, sustainable comparison (I barely scratched the surface of the town), but I think that when one is away, one thinks about how the place is like home or unlike home.

Anyway, we took it slow on Sunday the 2nd, but on Monday, set out to do some heavy duty touring of the Vanderbilt estate. This place is huge. What an understatement. After doing the audio tour of the house that is really a small town, we were beat. Sarah's parents got us all some lunch and then we attempted to do the winery tour, but Sarah and I begged off. They decided to bag it too and back we went to that homey cabin that smelled of cedar--it's ambient light made the rooms feel inclusive and warm. We are all avid readers. I would say that between the four of us at least 9 books got read--and that was the one point where the cabin rated less than an A+. That same lovely ambient light I just mentioned was a bit dim for long stretches of reading, but we still made it work.

On Tuesday (the 4th) the illness that Sarah felt hinting at itself on Monday became something real and she was waylaid. It was also the day of sheets of rain and thunderclaps. I went along with my surrogate parents to the Brevard music center to see the Canadian Brass group (Sarah was too sick). We brought her back some medicine, though, and it seemed to help.

Thursday was our big visit to Cherokee for a tour of a model village. In addition to some of the more overtly touristy elements of the reservation, this tour (led by a beautiful Cherokee man and several other tribe participants) was one of the most meaningful, historical experiences I've had. My family have a significant portion of Cherokee ancestry-- enough to be recognized by the nation, but we lack documentation, so it cannot be officially recognized. You only have to be 1/16th Cherokee to be given the nod by the nation, which I find to be extremely generous.

We finished up the day at a German restaurant (Black Forest) which was scrumtuous. I had Veal Oskar (veal with lump crab and hollandaise sauce) as my entree and a hazelnut torte for dessert.

Friday, Sarah and I took off on our own to do some shopping in Asheville and were determined to eat here, which we did. Let me tell you! I finally had shrimp & grits (with a delicate, soft cheese) and roasted red peppers. I sopped up the last bits with my biscuit.

This morning, we set off again, this time for home. And I found that inspite of my declarations to the contrary, I was in no hurry to be back. I could have stayed tucked up in the mountains of North Carolina for a fortnight more.

But I am back. And unpacked. Reacquainted with the facts of my life, and there is a little bit of gladness in it. I can still smell the cedar in my clothes.