It's still overcast, but at least it has stopped raining for a bit. Coffee and ciggies on the front porch, and a nice texting thing with Walter. He's been out of town this weekend, doing some kind of music thing for high school students, and has been on my mind.
I'm going to the flea market today to see if anyone is there. I have to have some produce anyway. I'm making Caponata today, an Italian eggplant dip/relish/spread.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Song for a Saturday night
I have this recorded by Ann Hampton Callaway. It's amazing, and perfectly describes how I feel tonight, alone on this yucky rainy Saturday.
I call up my old friend
And I say let’s get together
I’m under the weather
Another love has come to an end
And he listens as I tell him my sad story
And wonders at my taste in men
And we ponder why I do it
And the pain of getting through it
And he laughs and says
“You’ll do it again.”
And we sit in a bar and talk ‘til two
About life and love as old friends do
And tell each other what we’ve been through
How love is rare and life is strange
Nothing lasts and people change
And I ask him if his life is ever lonely
And if he ever feels despair
And he says he’s learned to love it
‘cause that’s really all part of it
And it helps him feel the good times when they’re there
Yes, we sit in a bar and talk ‘til two
About life and love as old friends do
And tell each other what we’ve been through
How love is rare and life is strange
Nothing lasts and people change
And we wonder if I’ll live with any lovers
Or spend my life alone
And the bartender is dozin’
And it’s getting time for closin’
And we figure that I’ll go it on my own
But we’ll meet the year we’re sixty-two
And travel the world as old friends do
And tell each other what we’ve been through
How love is rare and life is strange
Nothing lasts and people change
Love is rare, life is strange
Nothing lasts, people change
Old Friend
Every time I’ve lost another loverI call up my old friend
And I say let’s get together
I’m under the weather
Another love has come to an end
And he listens as I tell him my sad story
And wonders at my taste in men
And we ponder why I do it
And the pain of getting through it
And he laughs and says
“You’ll do it again.”
And we sit in a bar and talk ‘til two
About life and love as old friends do
And tell each other what we’ve been through
How love is rare and life is strange
Nothing lasts and people change
And I ask him if his life is ever lonely
And if he ever feels despair
And he says he’s learned to love it
‘cause that’s really all part of it
And it helps him feel the good times when they’re there
Yes, we sit in a bar and talk ‘til two
About life and love as old friends do
And tell each other what we’ve been through
How love is rare and life is strange
Nothing lasts and people change
And we wonder if I’ll live with any lovers
Or spend my life alone
And the bartender is dozin’
And it’s getting time for closin’
And we figure that I’ll go it on my own
But we’ll meet the year we’re sixty-two
And travel the world as old friends do
And tell each other what we’ve been through
How love is rare and life is strange
Nothing lasts and people change
Love is rare, life is strange
Nothing lasts, people change
Lazy, lazy bear*
After being up so late last night, I was drug out and sleepy today. I woke up at 7:30am, late for me, ate some brekkie, and went back to bed. I mainly laid around and read. The cats are thrilled, and taking turns laying all over me. I alternately napped and read most of the day. I finally got motivated to get some things done a bit after 5pm, when I realized I was wasting the whole day.
I did a bit of work on my hat (not nearly as much as I had planned to do today), cleaned up the kitchen, took out the trash, some stuff like that. Then I got cleaned up and ran by Michael's craft store to get a hat piece I hadn't realized I needed.
On the way home, I took myself out to dinner. I finished The Godmother today, and started on the next Sookie Stackhouse book, so I went to dinner with just Charlaine Harris and me tonight. There was a cute boy sitting at the next table with two fat girls and a suspiciously fashionable haircut, so I was pretty sure he was gay. But of course he was a kid, and wasn't paying any attention to me.
I think I really just needed some downtime today. I hope I can afford it.
I did a bit of work on my hat (not nearly as much as I had planned to do today), cleaned up the kitchen, took out the trash, some stuff like that. Then I got cleaned up and ran by Michael's craft store to get a hat piece I hadn't realized I needed.
On the way home, I took myself out to dinner. I finished The Godmother today, and started on the next Sookie Stackhouse book, so I went to dinner with just Charlaine Harris and me tonight. There was a cute boy sitting at the next table with two fat girls and a suspiciously fashionable haircut, so I was pretty sure he was gay. But of course he was a kid, and wasn't paying any attention to me.
I think I really just needed some downtime today. I hope I can afford it.
Friday, April 4, 2008
A date
Work was work. I’m coming off two exceptionally difficult weeks, but I’m seeing light at the end of the tunnel. I just hope it isn’t a train.
I’m breaking in a new boss, and this was his first month end flying solo. It went very smoothly, all things considered, but I had to be very aware of how to keep it going that way. I’m also in the middle of the account from hell that I’m trying to un-snarl through our review department, as I have said.
By tonight, when I got home, I was ready for some peace, and quiet, and my good book. Plus the weather is awful. Nasty, drizzly, rainy yuck. But I had a late date tonight. At 10:30. In a bar. And not just a bar, but also a bar downtown which entails finding parking, and then walking through the yuck to get someplace I really didn’t have any desire to be. I really wanted to be tucked in bed with my book. So I was really trying to remember why I had thought this had seemed like a good idea before I even left the house.
But I had given my word. So I straightened up the house, showered, and went back out into the misery. Fortunately the rain had slacked off for a bit. I (amazingly) found a parking place for free within a block of the bar. As I headed that way, he called to say he was going to be late. I wasn’t particularly gracious. I was crabby, it was yucky out, and I really didn’t want to be at a straight bar this far past my bedtime already, and now he was going to be late on top of that?! Plus, I had just caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window, and discovered that my faithful ole hoodie that is so comfy and warm gives me a remarkable resemblance to Jabba the Hutt. Not. Happy.
I tried calling back to see if he would meet me somewhere else, but now he wasn’t answering his phone. A text message elicited no response. Grrrr.
I got to the bar, and got a table. I was dressed for comfort and warmth, not really for style. In keeping with current fashion, the bar featured no carpet, no rug, no curtains, nothing to muffle this two-storied echoing chamber of noise. Which began filling up with children. Noisy, loud, thin, fashionably dressed children with cocktails. All having a great time. As I sat there, by myself. I ordered a glass of wine, actually a quite nice Albarino. And I sat. And waited. A lumpy, quiet, solitary dodo in a room full of sociable flamingos. From somewhere, a loud stereo began blaring rock music into the reverberating cacophony.
I was in Greenville's only Tapas Bar. I have been there once before, but never went back because a) the food wasn't that great, and b) the prices were practically usury. There was however, one particularly good dish they used to make, a stuffed mushroom with a cheese and wild rice filling that was exceptional. I found that it is no longer on the menu.
Half an hour later, as I was paying for the over-priced wine, and preparing to hie the fuck back home, he got there.
We ended up in a little coffee place down on South Main; formerly crack central, now charmingly re-urbanized and christened “Scenic West End”. We talked. Or I talked. A lot. I asked him some of the questions I had been wondering about.
The rest of this post has been redacted by the subject, who threw a good old fashioned hissy-fit.
I’m breaking in a new boss, and this was his first month end flying solo. It went very smoothly, all things considered, but I had to be very aware of how to keep it going that way. I’m also in the middle of the account from hell that I’m trying to un-snarl through our review department, as I have said.
By tonight, when I got home, I was ready for some peace, and quiet, and my good book. Plus the weather is awful. Nasty, drizzly, rainy yuck. But I had a late date tonight. At 10:30. In a bar. And not just a bar, but also a bar downtown which entails finding parking, and then walking through the yuck to get someplace I really didn’t have any desire to be. I really wanted to be tucked in bed with my book. So I was really trying to remember why I had thought this had seemed like a good idea before I even left the house.
But I had given my word. So I straightened up the house, showered, and went back out into the misery. Fortunately the rain had slacked off for a bit. I (amazingly) found a parking place for free within a block of the bar. As I headed that way, he called to say he was going to be late. I wasn’t particularly gracious. I was crabby, it was yucky out, and I really didn’t want to be at a straight bar this far past my bedtime already, and now he was going to be late on top of that?! Plus, I had just caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window, and discovered that my faithful ole hoodie that is so comfy and warm gives me a remarkable resemblance to Jabba the Hutt. Not. Happy.
I tried calling back to see if he would meet me somewhere else, but now he wasn’t answering his phone. A text message elicited no response. Grrrr.
I got to the bar, and got a table. I was dressed for comfort and warmth, not really for style. In keeping with current fashion, the bar featured no carpet, no rug, no curtains, nothing to muffle this two-storied echoing chamber of noise. Which began filling up with children. Noisy, loud, thin, fashionably dressed children with cocktails. All having a great time. As I sat there, by myself. I ordered a glass of wine, actually a quite nice Albarino. And I sat. And waited. A lumpy, quiet, solitary dodo in a room full of sociable flamingos. From somewhere, a loud stereo began blaring rock music into the reverberating cacophony.
I was in Greenville's only Tapas Bar. I have been there once before, but never went back because a) the food wasn't that great, and b) the prices were practically usury. There was however, one particularly good dish they used to make, a stuffed mushroom with a cheese and wild rice filling that was exceptional. I found that it is no longer on the menu.
Half an hour later, as I was paying for the over-priced wine, and preparing to hie the fuck back home, he got there.
We ended up in a little coffee place down on South Main; formerly crack central, now charmingly re-urbanized and christened “Scenic West End”. We talked. Or I talked. A lot. I asked him some of the questions I had been wondering about.
The rest of this post has been redacted by the subject, who threw a good old fashioned hissy-fit.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Pretty discouraged
With work today. I have this horrible account that I am trying to resolve with our horrible returns department, and it won't go away. After three interminable visits to my desk yesterday, on top of my regular work, I was pretty done for the day. I loathe our returns department. Our warehouses are beholden to no one. And they bonus on how many credits they don't issue. Yeah. Do the math. Getting a credit issued is like trying to get Anne Coulter to stop being a complete bitch. Well maybe not that hard.
I went straight home last night in the cold drizzly yuck, put on my fuzzy socks, got under my snuggly blanket (from Russ and Billy for Christmas last year) and read, while allowing the cats to love me back to a semblance of humanity.
Fortunately I'm reading an excellent book by a great author I just found: The Godmother by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. I am enjoying it immensely. It's nice to have someplace to esacape. I'm still indulging my Charlaine Harris addiction. I finished Club Dead this week - it was GREAT. That woman sure knows how to end a book. I had to order a short story compilation to progress in the series - my one complaint about both her and MaryJanice Davidson. But I went ahead and ordered it, and put the next two books in the series on call with the library. I'm really enjoying the Sookie Stackhouse series. I'm going to be sorry when I finish them! Fortunately I am not anywhere near the end, and I'll sandwich some other stuff in there to make it last.
I talked to Dan last night some more. He is a really nice guy, but I swear I think I'll just talk that boy to death. It's hard for him to get a word in edgewise on the phone with me. He just starts topics I am naturally loquacious about. He may come down on Saturday, he hasn't decided yet.
After a simple dinner of tuna salad (the cats were thrilled, they got the juice), I just read and enjoyed the silence. Sometimes it's good to be single. I just really didn't feel like being around anyone else.
I went straight home last night in the cold drizzly yuck, put on my fuzzy socks, got under my snuggly blanket (from Russ and Billy for Christmas last year) and read, while allowing the cats to love me back to a semblance of humanity.
Fortunately I'm reading an excellent book by a great author I just found: The Godmother by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. I am enjoying it immensely. It's nice to have someplace to esacape. I'm still indulging my Charlaine Harris addiction. I finished Club Dead this week - it was GREAT. That woman sure knows how to end a book. I had to order a short story compilation to progress in the series - my one complaint about both her and MaryJanice Davidson. But I went ahead and ordered it, and put the next two books in the series on call with the library. I'm really enjoying the Sookie Stackhouse series. I'm going to be sorry when I finish them! Fortunately I am not anywhere near the end, and I'll sandwich some other stuff in there to make it last.
I talked to Dan last night some more. He is a really nice guy, but I swear I think I'll just talk that boy to death. It's hard for him to get a word in edgewise on the phone with me. He just starts topics I am naturally loquacious about. He may come down on Saturday, he hasn't decided yet.
After a simple dinner of tuna salad (the cats were thrilled, they got the juice), I just read and enjoyed the silence. Sometimes it's good to be single. I just really didn't feel like being around anyone else.
My body is talking to me.
Actually, it's yelling at me. I am reminded that I have not enjoyed the company of a gentleman companion (i.e. gotten laid) since 3-16-08. George is apparently very unhappy about this.
I am reminded of a Marga Gomez routine where she's talking about how you're not really thinking about it, just idly marking that another week has gone by, and then suddenly you realize that you're biting the heads off live puppies (I'm paraphrasing, but it's funny when she does it).
I was not-so-subtly awakened this morning at 5:30am by a disturbing, yet titillating dream involving Matthew McConaghey with an enormous and apparently prehensile schwanzstuker. It had fire coming out the end at will also. Having opened up that bizarre can of Freudian worms, I'll stop.
It is definitely time to get back out there.
I am reminded of a Marga Gomez routine where she's talking about how you're not really thinking about it, just idly marking that another week has gone by, and then suddenly you realize that you're biting the heads off live puppies (I'm paraphrasing, but it's funny when she does it).
I was not-so-subtly awakened this morning at 5:30am by a disturbing, yet titillating dream involving Matthew McConaghey with an enormous and apparently prehensile schwanzstuker. It had fire coming out the end at will also. Having opened up that bizarre can of Freudian worms, I'll stop.
It is definitely time to get back out there.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I was so bad tonight
I went to find hat fabric tonight. And I ended up buying it from Wal-Mart (I did check Hobby Lobby first, but they had nothing that would work). And I was supposed to bake a pie tonight for BB, but didn’t feel like it. And since I was up there anyway, I stopped at the all-you-can-eat pizza trough on Woodruff.
After that, I got to go to Big Lots, which I had kind of been saving as a treat. I love to go to Big Lots. But I usually spend way too much money when I go. Fortunately, being stuffed to the gills worked out great for me there. I was so full, I wasn’t tempted to buy a bunch of novelty end-of-run food stuff like I usually am. I don’t know why extinct potato chip flavors and failed Betty Crocker mixes thrill me so (other than of course that ALL potato chip flavors thrill me), but they do. As it was, I corpulently waddled in, got what I needed, and waddled out. At least it kept me from spending too much.
The problem with buying cool stuff at Big Lots, of course, is that there isn't any more of it. I am currently using the best hair gel I have ever used, but I got it there, and they aren't making any more of it. Pity. I'm going to have to switch off.
In other news, my personal life seems to be looking up a bit. Maybe.
I am meeting a guy for a drink Friday night. He seems nice, but there are complications there. First, his life is so full I really don’t think he has time for a boyfriend. He is in numerous plays. That’s great for him, but frankly, I have been an office widow before. I don’t think being a theater widow would be much better. Plus he has three teenage kids. I have never been around any but my nephew for the weekend – I don’t know that I am ready to be a step-monster. And yes, I know that I don’t have to be, but that doesn’t matter. Any step-parent is a step-monster to the kids. It doesn’t seem to matter how good you try to be to them. His are at least apparently through the worst of adolescence, thank God. But of course I’m thinking way down the road. Why am I meeting him? Well I need to get out there. If I keep eliminating them all up front, that could conceivably never happen. Plus, I was really not thinking about Michael seriously when I went to meet him for the first time either, and that worked out pretty well for a while. It was the most significant relationship I have had (to date anyway).
I may have a guy coming down from Asheville to see me this weekend too, Dan, whom I mentioned earlier. He is a very sweet guy – I’m thinking maybe too sweet for me. When we talk, I always feel kind of like Maleficent, about to devour an unsuspecting Cinderfella.
But I may scare them both off anyway, so this is all premature. I’m supposed to call Dan tomorrow night to talk about stuff before he decides whether or not to come. Down. The mountain. Oh forget it, you know what I mean.
After that, I got to go to Big Lots, which I had kind of been saving as a treat. I love to go to Big Lots. But I usually spend way too much money when I go. Fortunately, being stuffed to the gills worked out great for me there. I was so full, I wasn’t tempted to buy a bunch of novelty end-of-run food stuff like I usually am. I don’t know why extinct potato chip flavors and failed Betty Crocker mixes thrill me so (other than of course that ALL potato chip flavors thrill me), but they do. As it was, I corpulently waddled in, got what I needed, and waddled out. At least it kept me from spending too much.
The problem with buying cool stuff at Big Lots, of course, is that there isn't any more of it. I am currently using the best hair gel I have ever used, but I got it there, and they aren't making any more of it. Pity. I'm going to have to switch off.
In other news, my personal life seems to be looking up a bit. Maybe.
I am meeting a guy for a drink Friday night. He seems nice, but there are complications there. First, his life is so full I really don’t think he has time for a boyfriend. He is in numerous plays. That’s great for him, but frankly, I have been an office widow before. I don’t think being a theater widow would be much better. Plus he has three teenage kids. I have never been around any but my nephew for the weekend – I don’t know that I am ready to be a step-monster. And yes, I know that I don’t have to be, but that doesn’t matter. Any step-parent is a step-monster to the kids. It doesn’t seem to matter how good you try to be to them. His are at least apparently through the worst of adolescence, thank God. But of course I’m thinking way down the road. Why am I meeting him? Well I need to get out there. If I keep eliminating them all up front, that could conceivably never happen. Plus, I was really not thinking about Michael seriously when I went to meet him for the first time either, and that worked out pretty well for a while. It was the most significant relationship I have had (to date anyway).
I may have a guy coming down from Asheville to see me this weekend too, Dan, whom I mentioned earlier. He is a very sweet guy – I’m thinking maybe too sweet for me. When we talk, I always feel kind of like Maleficent, about to devour an unsuspecting Cinderfella.
But I may scare them both off anyway, so this is all premature. I’m supposed to call Dan tomorrow night to talk about stuff before he decides whether or not to come. Down. The mountain. Oh forget it, you know what I mean.
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