November 08, 2005

9:33 p.m.

Knit Some More

The day was a mixture of things done and things neglected. I did accomplish a workout, some errands, and some long overdue knitting (I'm trying to finish a sweater for Rose, for Christmas). I gave myself a great hair trim last night and today went on a quest for hair gel. The one I like has been discontinued, and there are so many I won't like out there, I knew it was going to be a journey. Yup. Aussie gel = fruit bowl. Not only does it not do what I want it to do, it makes me smell like a friggin' mango factory. I'll try another tomorrow.

I also visited with Wes, returned a guitar stand to him, and we had tea and traded a few songs. I defragged his computer for him, as it was running at about the pace of a small rock.

On my way to other errands I visited a local arts center, a small shop run by a woman who travels all over the world to bring back handcrafted items. I bought half a dozen of the best, most finely designed and knitted finger puppets I've ever seen. There's a kangaroo with a pouch and a baby in it. There's a llama with lumpy fur, a zebra with a mane, a goose, a parrot. Something that looks like a spotted newt, with a baby newt riding on the back. These are small -- finger puppets, mind you. And the detail is amazing. I'll find some young person to gift them with.

There's a tea shop in the back, and I've never lingered for tea as I've always felt pressed for time. I rarely even go to this place because the woman is so talkative I cannot just breeze in and out. Also things are just everywhere -- it's very crowded and a little musty there. Once more she offered me tea, and I decided I have to bring Wes there sometime.

So I finished my errands, sent off some CDs people ordered, went to the bank and the grocery store. Then found chocolate-filled advent calendars on the web and ordered some, cheap. Later, with a noodge from Chris, I updated our road journal on the band website, only it wouldn't load. He discovered he had the same error, so it's nothing on my end.

What I did not do was make the chicken slow-cooker dish, or practice my guitar or bass, or take summer clothes to the (lightless, dirty) basement, or follow up on trying to get showcases at the folk convention in February, or any of a number of other things I'd planned to do today, like meditate or do affirmations. I seemed content to be a little foggy.

It looked possible that Steve's next eye surgery, scheduled for Friday, might have been today, which would mean that I'd be going up there tomorrow to help him out -- but he went to the doctor this morning and found that his worsening vision is only due to the fluid collecting in the eye since the last surgery -- not because the scleral buckle is coming loose. The correction will go on Friday as planned, and I'll go up Sunday instead. He has to lie on his side for several days this time, so people will be coming in to Steve-sit. It just occurred to me that his huge dog, who barks fiercely at me every time I come over, might not want to let me in. Hmm... note to self: get some big dog biscuits.

I'm slightly melancholy tonight; a little worried about money, as we have very few gigs for the rest of this year, and I'll probably lose more money. OH -- reminder to self, take out Reiki ads. That's the other thing I meant to do today. I watched Bridget Jones's Diary tonight, for maybe the fourth time. It was better this time for some reason. But it's that heart thing; just a wee bit sad, not terribly, just wondering if this is it. Watching Lisa and her boyfriend at dinner the other night was interesting. She's so happy, he's so happy, they're so well matched, they're so excited about the future... and I'm looking at them like they're from another planet. A nice planet, yes, but someplace far from where I live. It's curious to be so removed from that love feeling.

And another curious thing came up -- Rose's boss, Josh, is getting divorced. That was a surprise and not a surprise. Josh is a great friend of theirs, a huge fan and supporter of the band (I think he holds the record for buying the most CDs), and they see him often socially. He's been married to a rather younger woman who is perpetually troubled. She's obsessed with exercise, has some very bizarrely placed tattoos (I like tattoos, too, but a big teddy bear across the side of one's neck is startling), and every time I've seen her in public, she's been constantly looking around like she can't wait to find the exit. The story I heard is that Josh, who is a doctor with a big Rescuer side, wanted to, what? Take care of her, fix her, heal her? She doesn't like to travel or go out, so Josh has over the years taken to going out on his own to dinner invitations, or trips with his kids (from another marriage), or pursuing his photography. Her only interest outside of exercising like a fanatic, it seems, is perfume.

So anyway, it really comes as no surprise to hear that they're splitting up; neither of them has seemed happy. But Josh also seems like the type who will stick something out from a sense of duty even if he's miserable. I'm pleased to hear he'll have his life back, though. He's a nice guy.

But Rose says, "...so if you're looking for a Sugar Daddy, he'll be free soon," or something like that, in passing, which I took as a joke, but later I wondered if she were serious. I'm not looking for someone to have sex with, and if you knew Josh you'd know it's out of the question anyway -- just wouldn't happen -- but I had to wonder if he'd want to be a more active "patron of the arts," or of the artist. There are friends who help me. I wouldn't be a musician without them. But I've never actually approached someone for that kind of help. It's just evolved out of these relationships. And I'm uncomfortable and embarrassed even with the thought of it. So I let it go. But I still wondered just how she meant the remark, and why she'd say that in front of people.

I haven't seen any more ladybugs, although I haven't been out onto the balcony either.

There must be more, but I can't fish it out. I think the mango smell of Aussie Hair Gel is clogging my brain. Should I mention to the checkout clerk that I used a little of it, and risk not being able to return it? I wouldn't want them to put it back on the shelf. They should know better than to carry a product that can cripple in one whiff. Why, oh why does every damn thing have to be loaded with fragrance?

Okay. I'll play a little MahJongg in my foggy state and knit some more.