March 21, 2004

9:03 p.m.

Trifle to Go

Dinner was scrumptious. I almost didn't go; I'd worked on the computer all afternoon, and got stuck trying to install some new camera software (alas, it'll have to wait until the new computer gets here, and that's been delayed a month -- this one is limping and I don't dare put anything else in, I've decided) and by 5:00 I knew I had to take a nap before going out to dinner or I'd never make it through the evening. Half an hour later when the alarm went off I couldn't believe it, and could hardly open my eyes. But I got up and put a hat on my bed hair (like Don Quixote, it was riding off in all directions), pulled on some pants and hied me to Rose's house, where there were several guests including her self-described Pagan Lezbo friends and their adopted Vietnamese daughter, and their other best friend Cathy. Dinner was a soy-based shepherd's pie, spaghetti (mostly for Maggie, who is 5), salad, and a low fat trifle that was way too good. Rose's new neighbor, Wendy, came by later and she's a hoot. She just moved into the neighborhood after a sad divorce, and they met when Rose was walking one of her dogs. Wendy also has a dog, and the dogs and the owners are now good buddies. My sister has some great friends.

Wendy gushed about my music (Rose had slipped her all of my albums, God help her) and particularly the lyrics. We also talked about journals and she said she always keeps one. She gets points for being a wordophile. (I know, there's another word for that but I can't be bothered to look it up.)

Now I'm eating some leftover trifle that Rose insisted I take home. I hope I don't eat the whole damn thing.

(I reread that, and what a stupid thing to say. Let's make up things to worry about. Just put it back in the fridge, dummy. Is someone tying you down and forcing you to eat it?)

Okay, I put it back. Now where was I?

After much discussion, William the Cat is now Linus. Everyone agreed it was the name of choice, and her doggie is, after all, named Lucy. Wendy's brother's cat is named Schroeder. I like this theme.

I'm so tired.

On the way home I had a brief fantasy that Wendy and I would be great friends and then we'd have an affair. I'm not sure she's that kind of attractive to me, but she does look a little dykey.

Speaking of people I'm attracted to, Will is still in the hospital, quite stabilized, and waiting for a heart. I figured he must be bored by now, so I decided to send him my "Lone Star" entry, as he said he was envious of my travels, and some interesting things happened in Texas. I left him a message saying I'd send it, and then I looked at the entry intending to remove all references to him. It interrupted the flow of the story just enough that I didn't want to do it, though, and besides it seemed sneaky. And anyway, aren't I about committed language? What do I have to hide from him, for Pete's sake, what doesn't he already know? So I left them in and wrote a note explaining how people's names were changed and everyone was very anonymous and no one that I know reads the diary, just in case he would worry that I was advertising him somehow. I'm a little torn but I'd left the message already and I don't feel like redoing the whole thing because I printed it out with pictures and everything and it took a while. I don't tell him everything I write about him -- the poems, and at least one song he hasn't heard. I figure if he wants to know, the time will present itself that I should show him these things. So I got myself into a little something here, and I hope I'm not blowing it in some way. I truly only wanted to send it because it made a good story, and I thought he'd like something different to read. I haven't mailed it yet, as today is Sunday; we'll see if I change my mind by tomorrow.

Sigh. I'm going to start a local chaper of B.A.w.L.L.L. (Brilliant Artists with Lame Love Lives).

Instead of eating more trifle, I think I'll actually watch tv, if I can remember how to... turn it on. D'oh!