I need a haircut. You know how my hair is. Anybody game for a Hair Thursday kind of thing, where you recommend cuts (with supporting photos) and I use your guidance to make a change?
I'm sort of contemplating bangs, but terrified I'll regret it.
September 24, 2008
also, hair
I need a haircut. You know how my hair is. Anybody game for a Hair Thursday kind of thing, where you recommend cuts (with supporting photos) and I use your guidance to make a change?
I'm sort of contemplating bangs, but terrified I'll regret it.
OOT
I have been out of touch. Things are busy. Busy for everyone, I know.
I have written a few blahg entries but not posted them. They felt like they were trying too hard. Well, I WAS trying hard. I try to open the tap on my brain but all I ever get is foam.
There's a gloom in the air in this town; it mixes strangely with the gorgeous crisp fall weather we're having. Hitchcockian. There are Obama placards in windows and lawns -- like I said, we're a blue town -- but there is also a sort of quiet desperation in the eyes of the citizens. We are teetering on the edge. The rest of the nation...will it screw it all up AGAIN? To be so close and then possibly lose? It is a silent terror. We should be louder, I think, we should be outraged. I read somewhere that the Republicans cornered the market on outrage. The Dems are so tired, then. Their eyes ache from rolling. Their guts ache from disgust. They can hardly move their tongues to talk from the bad taste in their mouth leftover from Shrub.
They wonder if their houses are losing value. They take Metro and drive less. There are a lot of Smart Cars and Mini Coopers in my neighborhood. Gads of hybrids. And crumpled bags of McDonalds garbage on nearly every block, leftover from zoo tourists. I wonder how much garbage McDonald's is responsible for?
Don't let these thoughts fool you. I am the least politically minded I have ever been, I think. I am too complacent.
We talked with our housemate the other night. My brother-in-law. After several talks together and time to think on our own, Rooster and I decided there is no real reason to have D move out right now. A three-income household is a good thing. We take care of each other. God forbid he moves out and someone gets laid off (again). It could happen so easily, I see it all around. It was scary when it happened for us earlier this year -- it would be scarier now. So we will stay put, our little family, for a time. It is a unique experience anyway, a throwback to when families stuck together for stability. I would never have grown to know and love him quite the same if we hadn't shared a home this way. I treasure that.
I have written a few blahg entries but not posted them. They felt like they were trying too hard. Well, I WAS trying hard. I try to open the tap on my brain but all I ever get is foam.
There's a gloom in the air in this town; it mixes strangely with the gorgeous crisp fall weather we're having. Hitchcockian. There are Obama placards in windows and lawns -- like I said, we're a blue town -- but there is also a sort of quiet desperation in the eyes of the citizens. We are teetering on the edge. The rest of the nation...will it screw it all up AGAIN? To be so close and then possibly lose? It is a silent terror. We should be louder, I think, we should be outraged. I read somewhere that the Republicans cornered the market on outrage. The Dems are so tired, then. Their eyes ache from rolling. Their guts ache from disgust. They can hardly move their tongues to talk from the bad taste in their mouth leftover from Shrub.
They wonder if their houses are losing value. They take Metro and drive less. There are a lot of Smart Cars and Mini Coopers in my neighborhood. Gads of hybrids. And crumpled bags of McDonalds garbage on nearly every block, leftover from zoo tourists. I wonder how much garbage McDonald's is responsible for?
Don't let these thoughts fool you. I am the least politically minded I have ever been, I think. I am too complacent.
We talked with our housemate the other night. My brother-in-law. After several talks together and time to think on our own, Rooster and I decided there is no real reason to have D move out right now. A three-income household is a good thing. We take care of each other. God forbid he moves out and someone gets laid off (again). It could happen so easily, I see it all around. It was scary when it happened for us earlier this year -- it would be scarier now. So we will stay put, our little family, for a time. It is a unique experience anyway, a throwback to when families stuck together for stability. I would never have grown to know and love him quite the same if we hadn't shared a home this way. I treasure that.
September 4, 2008
Also: breaking news!
The Argentine BF sent me an email WHILE I WAS WRITING that last post.
Loco, verdad?!
Loco, verdad?!
So.
So I'm married. And it's great so far, almost one month in. It's regular. It's funny -- like haha, we make each other laugh, and also like weird! I'm married?
I was reading A's post and loving on her busy-happy-fulfilled existence that is shored up with the yoga and friends and parties and all sorts of excellent activities. I, it can be acknowledged, have none of those soul-satisfying things in this constipated town. Thankfully, though, my relationship with my husband gives me a great deal of soul satisfaction. That definitely helps make up for the grave lack of other stimuli. And yet, I would appreciate more details about those activities y'all might be engaged in, that are marginally or exponentially fabulous, m'kay? It'd be appreciated. FOR SERIOUS. (Can I get a F5?)
But tonight, I am enjoying a throwback to my NYC singledom, as it were. J had worky obligations, so I stopped in a neighborhood bar for a coupla jamesons and did the crossword and sudoku in the commuter paper, picked up a coupla slices at a surprisingly excellent local pizza spot for dinner, and here I am.
It's not me in a newsboy drunk as a skunk tracing "love" in the newfallen Brooklyn snow...but it still feels decadent.
Cheers girls. Wish you were here. And by here, you know what I mean.
I was reading A's post and loving on her busy-happy-fulfilled existence that is shored up with the yoga and friends and parties and all sorts of excellent activities. I, it can be acknowledged, have none of those soul-satisfying things in this constipated town. Thankfully, though, my relationship with my husband gives me a great deal of soul satisfaction. That definitely helps make up for the grave lack of other stimuli. And yet, I would appreciate more details about those activities y'all might be engaged in, that are marginally or exponentially fabulous, m'kay? It'd be appreciated. FOR SERIOUS. (Can I get a F5?)
But tonight, I am enjoying a throwback to my NYC singledom, as it were. J had worky obligations, so I stopped in a neighborhood bar for a coupla jamesons and did the crossword and sudoku in the commuter paper, picked up a coupla slices at a surprisingly excellent local pizza spot for dinner, and here I am.
It's not me in a newsboy drunk as a skunk tracing "love" in the newfallen Brooklyn snow...but it still feels decadent.
Cheers girls. Wish you were here. And by here, you know what I mean.
July 16, 2008
what i'm doing
Working on a brochure, reading boring tier-3 diaries, shopping online for ribbon and placecards, dealing with day five of a cold sore, managing my first real crisis-communications situation, trying to give the intern enough time to switch screens before I fully walk into her cube, trying to find enough work for the intern, clock watching, finally making dinner reservations in SF, looking forward to when I can have caffeine and booze again without screwing up my face, wishing I had worn something else today, drinking ginger peach green tea.
How 'bout you?
How 'bout you?
July 9, 2008
GDBD/BD/BD/BD*
god damn bad dreams
Every morning before the alarm goes off, bad dreams, anxiety nightmares. In one I am stranded at my parents house with no car, somehow no phone, and R and everyone else is in SF waiting for me. I cry thinking I've led R to believe he has been abandoned at the altar.
god damn bad day
Then the thumping panic attacks between each snooze button. These are work related, I think. I'm unhappy at the job. I am a big proponent of not staying where you are unhappy, but I am also more afraid of irresponsibility and being jobless. Focusing on grad school again. Dusting off the resume, for the application process, and also just in case. It is so hard to be motivated right now. Though yesterday we had a crisis and while initially it made me feel horrible and ineffectual, I was eventually able to appreciate it as a learning experience, which is why I took this job in the first place. I take deep breaths. I traipse around the interwebs. Too much.
god damn big decision
Trying to select a wedding band has been a pain in my ass. R picked something very simple and plain, which is what I thought I would do too. We ordered two, but then I didn't like mine. I bought this funky looking thing from ebay, and then the post office lost it. And then it turned up again in the building. And it is HIDEOUS. I love it. R hates it, but it wouldn't work for a wedding band anyway, it is huge and bizarre. Back to the drawing board. I am now trying to decide between a way too expensive new ring from a famous maker, or a vintage ring from the 1920s that is only moderately too expensive. I have to decide SOON.
god damn big deal
Not really a big deal but I couldn't come up with anything else. Well, maybe it is, who knows. Yesterday I called LA girlfriend P to catch up, only she didn't answer the phone. College girlfriend S answered the phone, because they were hanging out. Now, S is the only one of my close college girlfriends that I did not invite to the GDBD. Because I have not actually spoken with her in years. The girl is notoriously bad at returning phone calls, emails, etc. So in the difficult exercise of keeping our guest list as small as possible, she came off the list. Now I feel like a huge asshole when she says, so how is DC, are you married yet? Ugh. I make her promise to call me back this week and catch up, wherein I will see if she can come and hope she won't be offended by this stupid fiasco. I genuinely would love for her to be there.
*Update: I emailed to tell her how great it was to talk to her and that I would love for her to come to the wedding and how much of a jerk I am for not making more of an effort to reconnect with her sooner. I feel simultaneously relieved and awful. But mostly just glad to talk to my old friend again, wedding drama be damned.
Every morning before the alarm goes off, bad dreams, anxiety nightmares. In one I am stranded at my parents house with no car, somehow no phone, and R and everyone else is in SF waiting for me. I cry thinking I've led R to believe he has been abandoned at the altar.
god damn bad day
Then the thumping panic attacks between each snooze button. These are work related, I think. I'm unhappy at the job. I am a big proponent of not staying where you are unhappy, but I am also more afraid of irresponsibility and being jobless. Focusing on grad school again. Dusting off the resume, for the application process, and also just in case. It is so hard to be motivated right now. Though yesterday we had a crisis and while initially it made me feel horrible and ineffectual, I was eventually able to appreciate it as a learning experience, which is why I took this job in the first place. I take deep breaths. I traipse around the interwebs. Too much.
god damn big decision
Trying to select a wedding band has been a pain in my ass. R picked something very simple and plain, which is what I thought I would do too. We ordered two, but then I didn't like mine. I bought this funky looking thing from ebay, and then the post office lost it. And then it turned up again in the building. And it is HIDEOUS. I love it. R hates it, but it wouldn't work for a wedding band anyway, it is huge and bizarre. Back to the drawing board. I am now trying to decide between a way too expensive new ring from a famous maker, or a vintage ring from the 1920s that is only moderately too expensive. I have to decide SOON.
god damn big deal
Not really a big deal but I couldn't come up with anything else. Well, maybe it is, who knows. Yesterday I called LA girlfriend P to catch up, only she didn't answer the phone. College girlfriend S answered the phone, because they were hanging out. Now, S is the only one of my close college girlfriends that I did not invite to the GDBD. Because I have not actually spoken with her in years. The girl is notoriously bad at returning phone calls, emails, etc. So in the difficult exercise of keeping our guest list as small as possible, she came off the list. Now I feel like a huge asshole when she says, so how is DC, are you married yet? Ugh. I make her promise to call me back this week and catch up, wherein I will see if she can come and hope she won't be offended by this stupid fiasco. I genuinely would love for her to be there.
*Update: I emailed to tell her how great it was to talk to her and that I would love for her to come to the wedding and how much of a jerk I am for not making more of an effort to reconnect with her sooner. I feel simultaneously relieved and awful. But mostly just glad to talk to my old friend again, wedding drama be damned.
July 1, 2008
sneak peek: the dress
It's not done yet, but nearly. Very curvy, very feminine, very retro. I hope I did good.
June 24, 2008
on the treadmill, II
We are still on the treadmill. Well, I am. I feel it here today, at work. The constant cycling around, sweating to go nowhere.
Killing time.
At lunch I went to Nine West. It was mobbed, but I steeled myself thinking I could handle it. Picked out three shoes, waited for a salesperson, gave her the shoes and said 7.5 please. She returned in a few minutes with six boxes. Four were not any of the shoes I asked for. None were 7.5. I left. Breathe in, out, in, out.
OK, no more complaining.
Killing time.
At lunch I went to Nine West. It was mobbed, but I steeled myself thinking I could handle it. Picked out three shoes, waited for a salesperson, gave her the shoes and said 7.5 please. She returned in a few minutes with six boxes. Four were not any of the shoes I asked for. None were 7.5. I left. Breathe in, out, in, out.
OK, no more complaining.
June 5, 2008
day dream believer
I've been having some cuh-razy dreams lately. The subconscious, she is restless. Lots of dreams about the GDBD being ruined, dreams about being on a perpetually thwarted quest of some kind, and lots of being way up high on ladders or cranes. Odd. The kind of dreams that aren't necessarily bad, per se, but deliver you unto the morning more breathless than rested and set on edge with a crick in your brain. Know what I mean?
Well last night's was slightly different. I know reading about other people's dreams is like watching golf, but bear with me. I dreamt I was at some geeky tech conference of some kind, and of course there was this low-grade sexual buzz in the air, something that I always feel at conferences. I don't know if it's just me, but I always pick up on this weird energy at conferences/meetings. Something about being away from home, out of context, semi-anonymous. Like how chat rooms used to be, before the pedophiles moved in, when it was just random people sitting in their underwear at the computer. Seemingly innocent, and yet...
So right. Point is, I'm at the conference, feeling the buzz. Getting to know this blogger that I sometimes read, who's pretty well-known actually, if only because of his proximity to a much more well known blogger. There's this mad sexual tension between us, and ooh, it's so heady. We're checking out some exhibit together, talking, laughing, and he's standing behind me, real close, and suddenly, I can tell he has an erection! My heart is racing, I can't believe it. And then, he is all embarrassed and apologetic, and hurries off. So cute! So hot!
So my dreams can't deliver much more than an erection these days, fine. Still, it had that away-at-summer-camp thrill, the tingle of temptation, of the unknown being way more exciting than following through would be. (Maybe.)
But wait, here's the best part. I wake up all edgy this morning thinking about this blogger. I just know I have to go to his website, which I haven't visited in ages. I get to the office, go to his blog, scroll down a little, and read his entry from yesterday, in which HE DESCRIBES GETTING A HARD-ON.
Granted, he's referencing memories of high school, but still. How bizarre is that? Is it wrong that I feel we've shared something? That maybe we really did have a rendezvous in the night? I don't know, but I enjoyed it. And I hope he did too.
That is all. Go Lakers.
Well last night's was slightly different. I know reading about other people's dreams is like watching golf, but bear with me. I dreamt I was at some geeky tech conference of some kind, and of course there was this low-grade sexual buzz in the air, something that I always feel at conferences. I don't know if it's just me, but I always pick up on this weird energy at conferences/meetings. Something about being away from home, out of context, semi-anonymous. Like how chat rooms used to be, before the pedophiles moved in, when it was just random people sitting in their underwear at the computer. Seemingly innocent, and yet...So right. Point is, I'm at the conference, feeling the buzz. Getting to know this blogger that I sometimes read, who's pretty well-known actually, if only because of his proximity to a much more well known blogger. There's this mad sexual tension between us, and ooh, it's so heady. We're checking out some exhibit together, talking, laughing, and he's standing behind me, real close, and suddenly, I can tell he has an erection! My heart is racing, I can't believe it. And then, he is all embarrassed and apologetic, and hurries off. So cute! So hot!
So my dreams can't deliver much more than an erection these days, fine. Still, it had that away-at-summer-camp thrill, the tingle of temptation, of the unknown being way more exciting than following through would be. (Maybe.)
But wait, here's the best part. I wake up all edgy this morning thinking about this blogger. I just know I have to go to his website, which I haven't visited in ages. I get to the office, go to his blog, scroll down a little, and read his entry from yesterday, in which HE DESCRIBES GETTING A HARD-ON.
Granted, he's referencing memories of high school, but still. How bizarre is that? Is it wrong that I feel we've shared something? That maybe we really did have a rendezvous in the night? I don't know, but I enjoyed it. And I hope he did too.
That is all. Go Lakers.
May 15, 2008
briefly
The GDBD shoes are a.ma.zing. And also verrry tall. Breaking-in process has commenced.
Rooster got a job. I am so proud of him. And so relieved.
Can you believe this shit going on in the world? Love to one and all.
Rooster got a job. I am so proud of him. And so relieved.
Can you believe this shit going on in the world? Love to one and all.
May 2, 2008
Friday Five: Polka nots?
A asked me the other day if there were "colors" for the GDBD. Well...not exactly.
For some brides, maybe that's the first thing they do. There are dozens of magazines and books that showcase these gorgeous color palettes and all the elements that coordinate under the umbrella of Tiffany blue or chocolate or coral. I added the wedding blogs to my general time-killing web rotation months ago, and some like indiebride have actually proved very helpful in some planning aspects. But in general I haven't made an "inspiration board" or picked a theme or colors or anything, though I wonder if I should, or if I still will.
I really do appreciate the value of an event that was put together thoughtfully, with personal touches and good degree of grace, I just haven't been the woman for that particular job somehow. Not sure why. Maybe it's because of the challenges of planning things from afar, and not seeing any of our venues yet. Maybe it's just me.
So I don't really have colors. But. I do have a pretty invitation style in mind, and it is modern and fun, and happens to have polka dots on it. I sort of grabbed onto that and now I don't know where I am. Do I go gung-ho for it? Or do I need to put. down. the polka.
I submit for your consideration the following facts:
1. The invitation. Maybe.
2. I liked the idea of wearing some dainty little vintage gloves with my vintage-minded GDBD dress. And bopping around the internets, I came upon these:
Afraid of my own instincts, I did a quick check with A, and she said "10,000 yeses," so I paypal-ed away.
3. The gloves were waiting for me when I returned from my biz trip to Albuquerque. They are way more adorable than they look in that picture, and also way more OFF-white than they look, too. The fabric for my dress (which I haven't seen) is supposedly pretty white. I don't think the gloves will work unless I find the perfect shoes to tie it all together somehow.
4. And then I found these:
Which put me in a polka panic. Is this all going too far?
5. I really need to stop googling.
Girls, I don't know what the dot I'm doing. Help!
For some brides, maybe that's the first thing they do. There are dozens of magazines and books that showcase these gorgeous color palettes and all the elements that coordinate under the umbrella of Tiffany blue or chocolate or coral. I added the wedding blogs to my general time-killing web rotation months ago, and some like indiebride have actually proved very helpful in some planning aspects. But in general I haven't made an "inspiration board" or picked a theme or colors or anything, though I wonder if I should, or if I still will.
I really do appreciate the value of an event that was put together thoughtfully, with personal touches and good degree of grace, I just haven't been the woman for that particular job somehow. Not sure why. Maybe it's because of the challenges of planning things from afar, and not seeing any of our venues yet. Maybe it's just me.
So I don't really have colors. But. I do have a pretty invitation style in mind, and it is modern and fun, and happens to have polka dots on it. I sort of grabbed onto that and now I don't know where I am. Do I go gung-ho for it? Or do I need to put. down. the polka.
I submit for your consideration the following facts:
1. The invitation. Maybe.
2. I liked the idea of wearing some dainty little vintage gloves with my vintage-minded GDBD dress. And bopping around the internets, I came upon these:
Afraid of my own instincts, I did a quick check with A, and she said "10,000 yeses," so I paypal-ed away.
3. The gloves were waiting for me when I returned from my biz trip to Albuquerque. They are way more adorable than they look in that picture, and also way more OFF-white than they look, too. The fabric for my dress (which I haven't seen) is supposedly pretty white. I don't think the gloves will work unless I find the perfect shoes to tie it all together somehow.
4. And then I found these:
Which put me in a polka panic. Is this all going too far?
5. I really need to stop googling.
Girls, I don't know what the dot I'm doing. Help!
April 23, 2008
GD shoe dreams vol. 1
Clockwise from top left: Dior Karma d'Orsay Pump - 790.00; Manolo Blahnik Open-Toe Mary Jane Pump - 585.00; Miu Miu Patent Double-Strap Mary Jane - 450.00; Manolo Blahnik Sedarby Zebra-Print d'Orsay - 675.00; Prada Crystal-Heeled Metallic Pump - 750.00; Giuseppe Zanotti Knotted Pump - 650.00
Plus extremely honorable mention:
Giuseppe Zanotti Mirror Argento:
believe it or not
Hard to believe it was three years ago today I met my beloved Rooster in a crappy Irish bar. We drank whiskey, argued about perception vs reality, made out on my friend's living room floor. Today, we care for each other so well, with such deep appreciation, that I wonder at how I blundered through other lesser loves. I also marvel at the unexpected places and spaces where wonderful things emerge.
Hard to believe that I could slip and fall down stairs, land on my lower back, and manage to suffer just a bad contusion and not a fracture. After two days of bed rest I am much, much better. But that was scary.
Hard to believe that I will be in Alabama in two days and not get to see A. The trip is just too short and family-intensive, so I will have to head south another time for a dedicated visit. Also, holy shit, rental cars there are CHEAP.
Hard to believe I am this busy with work, while R has none. C'est la vie, no?
Hard to believe that I could slip and fall down stairs, land on my lower back, and manage to suffer just a bad contusion and not a fracture. After two days of bed rest I am much, much better. But that was scary.
Hard to believe that I will be in Alabama in two days and not get to see A. The trip is just too short and family-intensive, so I will have to head south another time for a dedicated visit. Also, holy shit, rental cars there are CHEAP.
Hard to believe I am this busy with work, while R has none. C'est la vie, no?
April 7, 2008
April showers
The forecast said rain all day Saturday, but it didn't. Instead it was that misleading dappled overcast sun that lures you into not wearing sunscreen. I just didn't think of it, a bad habit. So my face has a golden glow. It matches the insouciance I am trying to exude. All will be fine. Mantra.
Sister and I took the metro down to the Mall, dove into the river of tourists and swam through the cherry trees. The time with Sister was worth it. Though the pink and white trees are beautiful, they would be far more beautiful without a million people meandering beneath them. It is a sight to see, that 1912 gift from the Japanese. And we all know how Harry Truman said "thank you."
We ordered carry out from Lebanese Taverna and ate too much. Sister and I played cards. Rooster went to bed early but this time I made him take sleeping pills to assuage the insomnia he'd had for a week. He slept, mostly, at last. Sister says I bring out the ESP in her. We finish each other's sentences, even those not spoken aloud. Even our cycles matched up within hours of her arrival.
Sunday morning I put one of the last frozen trays of Sister Schubert's rolls in the oven, made a fruit salad and opened my presents. R drove us to my seamstress's apartment and waited in the car. She is a whiz with measurements. I loved the mock up and we made a few adjustments here and there to the length, the back, the neckline, sleeves. We'll buy the fabric this week. I can't wait to show you my favorite part. I feel my confidence in this bit of risk restored, I won't worry about it. I haven't really.
I am not worrying. I am all I love yous and You betchas. We are swaying in an uncertain wind but it will abate and then we will move forward. Life moves forward besides.
March 7, 2008
Friday Five
1. I feel better!
2. I completed the last of my four introductory ashtanga yoga classes. In less than two weeks, I am already much stronger and more flexible. Wow. Now I just have to figure out how to work with the schedule and style of classes to continue the practice. And I can always practice at home, which I did this morning. But I need a mat. Ouch.
3. I am growing things too! I bought basil, thyme and arugula seeds, and planted those. I also planted a few packets of wildflower seeds I've been hanging onto for ages (wedding favors). They are all sprouting, thanks to an ingenious greenhouse I made out of The Late Hermit Crab Stein's terrarium.
4. My hair is getting long and I don't know what to do with it. I've started to experiment a little with GDBD hair and makeup, but not much. I would love to do something retro like this ----->, actually, but I don't know if I know how to pull it off, or if it would hold up. Maybe someone has some AQUA NET ADVICE for me. You know who you are.
5. I had all this anxiety yesterday because I needed to talk to my sister about something that I thought she was going to react badly to, but in fact she was great about it and even offered up some assistance that is extra helpful. We ended up talking for a long time and had a few laughs.
TGIF, babies.
2. I completed the last of my four introductory ashtanga yoga classes. In less than two weeks, I am already much stronger and more flexible. Wow. Now I just have to figure out how to work with the schedule and style of classes to continue the practice. And I can always practice at home, which I did this morning. But I need a mat. Ouch.
3. I am growing things too! I bought basil, thyme and arugula seeds, and planted those. I also planted a few packets of wildflower seeds I've been hanging onto for ages (wedding favors). They are all sprouting, thanks to an ingenious greenhouse I made out of The Late Hermit Crab Stein's terrarium.
4. My hair is getting long and I don't know what to do with it. I've started to experiment a little with GDBD hair and makeup, but not much. I would love to do something retro like this ----->, actually, but I don't know if I know how to pull it off, or if it would hold up. Maybe someone has some AQUA NET ADVICE for me. You know who you are.5. I had all this anxiety yesterday because I needed to talk to my sister about something that I thought she was going to react badly to, but in fact she was great about it and even offered up some assistance that is extra helpful. We ended up talking for a long time and had a few laughs.
TGIF, babies.
February 28, 2008
blah blah blog
I feel restless. February is almost over but it totally has me by the balls. Cold, gray, awful. I hate everything. God, I am such a grump. The yoga helps but when I leave it only makes me more nitpicky about things. Zen is out the window. And the window is nailed shut. I know this is temporary but I feel like emoting it anyway.
I miss stuff. You. And you. And how we used to do.
I miss stuff. You. And you. And how we used to do.
February 26, 2008
dark green and leafy*
Last night I came home from yoga and went to kitchen to get my quick dinner. It smelled bad, like meat (*the kitchen, not my dinner!). Odd because usually I don't mind the smell of meat at all. Sometimes it smells delicious, I just don't want to eat it. Not this time, yuck. I heated up my leftover broccoli-cauliflower soup from the night before, salted a ripe tomato and a few pieces of cucumber and some carrot sticks.
I went upstairs and Rooster was just finishing up his reheated Chinese food -- the source of the mystery stank. He looked at my dinner -- bright green, red, orange -- and whined "In five minutes you made yourself a dinner ten times better than mine!"
I am inadvertently bringing him over to the dark side. The dark green and leafy side.
I went upstairs and Rooster was just finishing up his reheated Chinese food -- the source of the mystery stank. He looked at my dinner -- bright green, red, orange -- and whined "In five minutes you made yourself a dinner ten times better than mine!"
I am inadvertently bringing him over to the dark side. The dark green and leafy side.
February 20, 2008
Please stand clear
Saw a great elderly woman on the train this morning, as I was getting off at Union Station. She was maybe 5’ tall, wearing a floor-length sable fur coat, with blood-red lips. Her pale powdery face had long loose jowls and was surrounded by auburn hair that had streaks of Manic Panic red amongst the curls. She was just so unexpected and funny and wild, for a moment I flashed that I was getting off the train at Penn Station in New York.
There are a few characters I encounter in my commute, but they are fewer and less bold, and all at Union Station. There is the plaintive “please help me please help me” man – there always is. There is a gaunt, chain-smoking woman with a voice as low and coarse as gravel who wheels about in circles – I can’t understand what she says. My favorite homeless man stands out by the bus stop every day, by the same stand of newspaper dispensers, ranting the same story about someone stealing his money for 36 years. (When I first moved here a year ago it was 35 years. He is keeping track.) His voice is so booming and magnificent. He smokes a cigarette, glaring, and yells like a senator. Every day the same. Someday I will sit and listen to the whole story.
There is one man stationed near the metro card machines that I assumed was quietly selling the newspapers stacked around him. He wears one of those reflective safety-orange vests. I recently realized though that he is telling it to all the sinners that pass by. I want to let him know that his delivery is much too faint, soft. We can hardly hear you; you’ve really got to project.
I don’t know what the newspapers are for, but maybe he knows something I don’t, like if you are more unassuming, the DC police won’t bother you. Maybe he knows why there are no homeless people on the subway here, on the actual trains. With the entry-exit ticket system, it might just be plain harder to get in there without a fare. There are no drunken, drooling, ranting, raving, begging, scamming, proselytizing nomads wandering from car to car. You can’t even move from car to car. There is also no Dr. Z ad or mono-tanned Bud Light models plastering every surface, just the occasional modest poster promoting Alexandria, VA, as a good place to lease or buy office space. The cars are lined on either side with sets of two seats, so that the person by the window must say “excuse me” to the person sitting next to them, who must then stand up and let them out. There is no piss or soda or unidentified liquid pooling and rolling from one end of the car to the other with the rhythm of the ride; the floors are carpeted. It is subdued, but inefficient.
It has been one year since that freezing “sucks day” last February when two strapping orthodox Jews loaded my stuff on the truck and ten hours later unloaded it in DC. That was when my single life really ended, when the spaces for solitude shrank and reduced in number. It is a different life now, where we share many things and most experiences, and I love that we do. But among the times I have for my own reflection are the 60 minutes round-trip each workday. The subway, she is mine.
Yay for me.
There are a few characters I encounter in my commute, but they are fewer and less bold, and all at Union Station. There is the plaintive “please help me please help me” man – there always is. There is a gaunt, chain-smoking woman with a voice as low and coarse as gravel who wheels about in circles – I can’t understand what she says. My favorite homeless man stands out by the bus stop every day, by the same stand of newspaper dispensers, ranting the same story about someone stealing his money for 36 years. (When I first moved here a year ago it was 35 years. He is keeping track.) His voice is so booming and magnificent. He smokes a cigarette, glaring, and yells like a senator. Every day the same. Someday I will sit and listen to the whole story.
There is one man stationed near the metro card machines that I assumed was quietly selling the newspapers stacked around him. He wears one of those reflective safety-orange vests. I recently realized though that he is telling it to all the sinners that pass by. I want to let him know that his delivery is much too faint, soft. We can hardly hear you; you’ve really got to project.
I don’t know what the newspapers are for, but maybe he knows something I don’t, like if you are more unassuming, the DC police won’t bother you. Maybe he knows why there are no homeless people on the subway here, on the actual trains. With the entry-exit ticket system, it might just be plain harder to get in there without a fare. There are no drunken, drooling, ranting, raving, begging, scamming, proselytizing nomads wandering from car to car. You can’t even move from car to car. There is also no Dr. Z ad or mono-tanned Bud Light models plastering every surface, just the occasional modest poster promoting Alexandria, VA, as a good place to lease or buy office space. The cars are lined on either side with sets of two seats, so that the person by the window must say “excuse me” to the person sitting next to them, who must then stand up and let them out. There is no piss or soda or unidentified liquid pooling and rolling from one end of the car to the other with the rhythm of the ride; the floors are carpeted. It is subdued, but inefficient.
It has been one year since that freezing “sucks day” last February when two strapping orthodox Jews loaded my stuff on the truck and ten hours later unloaded it in DC. That was when my single life really ended, when the spaces for solitude shrank and reduced in number. It is a different life now, where we share many things and most experiences, and I love that we do. But among the times I have for my own reflection are the 60 minutes round-trip each workday. The subway, she is mine.
Yay for me.
February 8, 2008
look book *now with pic
I really would like to learn to sew. There is something mysterious and powerful and sooo attractive about the ability to make things oneself. My mother grew up sewing and tried to teach me a few things, but my interest level didn't go beyond buttons and rough hems.
I went to the fabric store last weekend and all these women were walking around the bins, inspecting things, pouring over patterns. "They all know what they're doing!" I thought. It was cool to be around. And of course the lovely women that worked there were helpful and cheerful and just what you'd want them to be.
So, I have an appointment with a little lady on Sunday. I'll drive out to her house, and she'll show me her book of work, and I'll show her mine. And we'll see what's what.
Here's a tease.
I went to the fabric store last weekend and all these women were walking around the bins, inspecting things, pouring over patterns. "They all know what they're doing!" I thought. It was cool to be around. And of course the lovely women that worked there were helpful and cheerful and just what you'd want them to be.
So, I have an appointment with a little lady on Sunday. I'll drive out to her house, and she'll show me her book of work, and I'll show her mine. And we'll see what's what.
Here's a tease.
January 31, 2008
uptight
Call it what you will, but I am so happy these looks are coming back. Perfect timing . . . I love them!
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