May 08, 2007

12:21 p.m.

Back from Virginia (Again)
Monday, 5/7

My jasmine bloomed while I was away. The flowers only last for a couple of days; they waited for me before dropping.

Kitty the cat palm, on the other hand, was completely infested with spider mites again; they must have wintered over as egglings or something, though I sprayed and washed her several times last year. In the shower she went again. Never can tell if I've offed enough mites to keep them at bay.

Dar said I should get some aphids to eat the spider mites. Then I'd have to get ladybugs to eat the aphids.

We drove a couple of hours north after our concert yesterday, knowing we wouldn't want to drive the 7+ hours all today, and through rush hour on both ends. I slept well in my own hotel room, and awoke at 8:30; shortly after that I heard my mates loading out to leave already. The drive today was boring until I got to Trader Joe's in Connecticut; there I stopped for a few groceries, a little lunch and some gasoline that was priced WAY above the national average. I didn't realize that until I'd almost filled the tank; I'll never go to that station again.

Allergies stepped up this weekend, and my middle section is definitely looking its age these days, in spite of exercise. Other than that I have few complaints. I'm so happy to be home. Last week I took my first walk of the year in the state forest trails behind the University, and it was glorious. I found absolutely the most perfect, amazing heart-shaped rock I have seen to date.

...also a very big one which I carried, in one hand and then the other, all the way out of the woods. I turned over a few stones in a stream (once I found a very tiny newt) but didn't find much in the way of bugs or water life. Later in the summer there will be worms and bugs under there, and maybe, if I'm lucky, another newt.

I think it's time to start running outdoors instead of at the gym.

********

I had a long talk with James tonight; he's gone on a few casual dates since we stopped officially dating each other, each time saying they had nothing at all in common. One or two of these were women that various friends had been trying to hook him up with for a long time. He feels he shouldn't even be dating right now; not only did he not leave any time, after his divorce last year, to get himself together before dating me, but now he also feels he hasn't fully transitioned out of our relationship before dating other women. Yet... he likes their company, is ragingly horny, and doesn't like to be alone very much. So. Apparently this weekend he had a second date with a woman (who had a Peter Tork story -- tell you later), and she was keen on him, and they came back to his house, and... and. Ended up in bed, doin' it. He said he was very clear with her that he had no idea what he was doing going out on dates, or what he wanted or anything, but she told him he was thinking too much and why not just let things be? So after makin' whoopie they're lying there in bed and she says, "So what are we doing next Saturday?"

And it was then he decided he wanted to become a monk.

I asked him, "If things hadn't gotten physical and therefore weird for you, is she someone you'd have liked to spend more time with?" He thought a moment and said no, he didn't think so. She's tightly strung, he said. A little too wired. That's all James needs; he's pretty wired, himself. I reminded him (in the midst of his self-bashing and remorse for getting too deeply into something too quickly) that she made choices, too, and perhaps he'd be feeling less bad if she'd been more casual herself. "But I knew I didn't want to have sex be a part of this yet!" he bleated. "So why, the next minute, did I have my clothes off?" "Because... you're a MAN?" I suggested. We had a laugh. I was teasing him, but I did feel sorry for him, too. He was being really funny about it, so at least his sense of humor is intact.

And all the while I was checking out my own reaction. I didn't feel jealous or sad at all. In fact, though I care for him a lot and feel tenderness toward him still, this illuminated things about him that tell me I did the right thing. And there was something about his having f**ked someone else now, that seals our transition. I don't know why that gives me a sense of relief, but it does.

And the Peter Tork story. This selfsame woman has a photo of herself with the Torkster, in her home. Jack remarked on it the first time he went over there, and she told him how she'd come to have it taken.

She was always a big fan of his. A few years ago she went to a sort of celebrity memorabelia signing event, and he was there signing old Monkees albums and so forth. She was there with her mother, who took this picture of the two of them together, at which she was thrilled. After the photo was taken, he leaned over to her (according to her story which was repeated to me by James) and said, "You know, you're really cute. Can I squeeze your breast?"

She adamantly refused and went elsewhere; later in the afternoon, though, she said he was rubbing up against her from behind in a totally inappropriate way, in the crowd.

Ew.

That sheds a little more light on what Wes told me, that he was dating an 18-year-old last year. Eighteen. And sixty-four.

After hearing this anecdote I got so off him, man! Now I don't have to meet him any more. I'll find someone else to be fixated on. I told Carol and she said a friend of hers had heard a sleazy story, too...

...and of course thirdhand rumors just don't get circulated unless there's some secondhand truth to a firsthand account. So.

Alas, Peter, you've forfeited your chance to meet me, Bornearly, Queen of the Hilltop, owner of the Blue Cottage; Village Goddess, Reiki Healer, Color Consultant, Feeder of Goats, Wedding Officiant and Occasional Knitter.

Hilltop. Goats.

It's all part of a master plan which will be revealed in time.

********

Much band work to do this week; Carol has given me extra assignments because they're overwhelmed over there. They've put a bid in on a house, and the inspector comes Thursday. Chris has had some suspicious numbers come up in his medical checkup, and they're a little on edge about that. Carol's dad's health is pretty low now. So they have a lot to lose sleep over at the moment. I'll put on my Supergirl cape and be a little more conscientious than usual. Except tomorrow is laundry day and dinner with Rose; I can work in the morning (unless I fritter it away writing poetry) and then get down to business Wednesday.

I called Steve tonight to see how his new puppy is doing. Milo is king of the house now. Steve is just madly in love with this dog. Last night, he said, he just burst into tears, watching Milo being so sweet and adorable and loving, and suddenly missing his old dog (which he inadvertently ran over last month, in case you didn't read that part). Steve lost his two best friends in 9/11, and his mother and another best friend within a short time afterwards. Losing his latest dog was like the departure of yet another close friend, and I know it went very deep. I think he was brave and right to get the puppy. And I think the Universe sent him just the right one.

Well, I might be unwound enough to brush my teeth and go to bed now. The neighborhood is quiet tonight. I'm grateful.

p.s. Did I ever show you this?