June 17, 2004

5:59 p.m.

Note to Myself

I loved justmouse's entry today. It's how I've felt of late, too -- slacking the rope a little, letting right now be enough, softening into it. "But I'll forget what I have to do next!" No, dear, you won't. You've got notes to yourself everywhere.

So I find myself in a delightful moment of in between. We rehearsed today, new and old; Carol is still beat from her NJ escapade, and goes back after tomorrow's gig to help some more with packing. It's clouding over and I expect there will be thunderstorms tonight. I could have left the windows open but decided to enjoy the air conditioner instead. When I got home there was a message from Chris; Lyn, the artist at whose showing we're playing tomorrow, just found out her brother died of a heart attack today. I think the exhibit will go on as planned but she's in shock. He was only 47, and not unhealthy.

I also called Will this afternoon. His trip was pretty good outside of the first day, which was very hot and a poor time to discover that his car's a/c had NOT been fixed, as thought. He rallied thereafter, though, and enjoyed the weekend. He said he'd check about my July 3rd invitation; a friend is coming in from out of town for a few days, and while they're definitely busy on the 4th, he'll see if he can clear the Saturday to come meet my family and see the fireworks. He's also playing a gig with someone in CT on the 30th, so it's possible I could go to that and/or he could stop by here.

I don't know why every time I talk to him on the phone, I feel in a way that it's the first time and I have to break all this ground, like being polite. Maybe it's just because there are things we still have to talk about. I know there's so much in the back of my monkey mind (mouse mind, scratch scratch dig dig) while I'm talking about mundane things with him, and I can't wait for it all to come out. Still so much reined in. I don't want to frighten him away; is there a chance I'd do that? I don't want him to think I'm just intense all the time. So maybe I try too well to hide it. Part of me just keeps digging away at the corner of the glass aquarium, maybe for something to do while I wait for the door to open. It does open; I've seen it. I'm just not sure yet that it stays open.

Note to myself: When this happens, remember to breathe.

Anyway, I started out saying that this was a delightful moment, and it still feels that way. I don't have to be anywhere until 4:30 tomorrow, and meanwhile the evening stretches out invitingly -- what will I do? I've been reading a lot, since I cleared off the breakfast table and began eating there again instead of on the couch. Got back into a huge biography of John Keats, which I'm suddenly enjoying more than before (though I don't agree with all the author's interps of his poems), and still plowing through Tom Robbins and the Lost Scriptures. There is a stack of books on that table which comprise my future projects: Robert Sullivan's exploration of city rats (actually fascinating; he studied them for a year in an alley); Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy; Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle; The Prophet and the Astronomer by Marcelo Gleiser; a gift from Red in Texas, Peace Like a River by Leif Enger; a couple of as-yet untouched grammar books and, of course, The Da Vinci Code, which I've heard on CD. Oh, and Parker's Wine Buyer's Guide, but that of course is just for reference. These have all been piling up for months, and some are gifts from Dar. Now and then he'll ask me if I've delved into one or the other, and I�ll moan about lack of time etc., when really it�s just a matter of adjusting the blueprint of my movements through the apartment. Eat on the couch = watch television. Eat at the table = read a book.

In other news, here�s a picture of Dar and me at the Persian restaurant last week:

There wasn�t much light and I usually keep the flash off, so it�s all very atmospheric. Our waiter kindly consented to take the photo.

...and, the second completed square of my someday-to-be-finished afghan. This was a really complicated pattern, and I�m rather proud that it looks the way it should:

At the risk of just getting redundant, I had a good 20+ mile bike ride yesterday, after which I felt completely exhausted and depleted again. You�d think someone with a huge I.Q. would just figure out how to eat on these trips. My sister had a couple of suggestions (Luna bar and a banana), and Carol said one of her friends takes a Balance bar and cuts it up into bite sized pieces that he can just reach for every so often without having to stop. I think it�s a blood sugar thing. It certainly makes me feel awful for a long time afterwards, so it really must be corrected.

And if it�s something horrible and insidious that I don�t know about, I�ll find out soon, because I�m having all sorts of physicals next week. No, no, of course it won�t be that, I�m just joking. I think. You know, there�s so much death and cancer all over the place, lots of people I know now, and relatives of theirs, one can�t help thinking about it, can one?

I woke up yesterday crying, from a dream where I was weeping about Suni. I�m trying to pay more attention to Braela now (the black and white dog), as she�s always been the omega dog and, because of her whiny and anxious behavior, is the least doted upon. But I feel like she�s my only link to Suni now, and besides, with the new pup getting so much attention and the hound being the most walked and the most socialized, it�s easy to overlook the older dog who isn�t as active or assertive.

(Just as I was writing that, Rose called, with the report that Braela was once again up in the middle of the night with her mystery illness which we thought had passed. No parasites, no blockage, but she can�t seem to deal with food. Arghhh!)

Rose also said she might come with me to Will�s gig on the 30th, esp. if he can�t come to the fireworks. That would be just lovely.

I�m going to take that thought, write it in a note to myself, and sit for half an hour.