Well, it is a cool, grey Sunday afternoon, and I am sitting around my lovely little apartment -- not quite so shining clean as it has been for the past month, (since Joe left) but still only needing a quick clearing of counter tops in the kitchen to give it that peaceful glow. I am absolutely loving it at the moment. I am both enjoying the comfy, squishy feel of my soft and silky pajamas and my softer and warm robe, as it nearly two in the afternoon, and I have neither showered nor dressed (!) -- and also sort of enjoying the opposing sensation of guilt as my new-neighbor and her stream of friends and family move in downstairs. Shouldn't I offer to help? Shouldn't I hurry down there and carry a few boxes? And yet here I sit, reveling in my second cup of steaming hot sweet tea.
Apropos of nothing, except, I guess that my eyes just fell across them, is the interesting fact that in my dining room, on the three decorative plates that sit on top of the newest bookcase that runs underneath the west-facing window, as well as filling the large oval basket in the middle of the round dining room table (how descriptive is that!) are apples, oranges, tomatoes (big red beefsteaks!) pears, lemons and limes. The tomatoes are going to need to be cut up and disposed of quite soon, and I think I will make at least one tomato sandwich today -- but the pears are slowly ripening, and glowing gently yellower by the hour. I look forward with much anticipation to slicing them into long thin curves and eating them with a great deal of both physical enjoyment and happy reminiscence. The oranges are those thick-skinned kind that are easy to peel, but usually neither as sweet nor as juicy as their thinner-skinned counterparts. Makes them less enjoyable, but good to take to work with you. I took a large bag of them to Joe's house yesterday, along with the pre-packaged, pre-made food that frequently constitutes our weekly food-box. Now I am, at last, glad and grateful for these examples of ridiculous packaging and "ease" and microwavability. They are very handy for Joe, my trained and taught to cook, but young and unwilling to, son. Makes it easy to divide the box up, too! The cook-with stuff I keep, and send the brightly colored plastic things to Joe, along with the Franz wonder bread (It's the loaf with LIFE!)and the various cheeses. No, I still love cheese, but can't eat it as much as I used to, because of this dang nab gall-bladder absence. But don't worry, Joe also got the green grapes (even though I love them, ever since they saved my life during a terrible, nightmare episode of migraine plus carsickness during an apple-picking trip that evolved into a mushroom-picking journey. And no, I know they didn't really save my life, but it certainly felt to me as though they did), the watermelon and the summer squash. So he is set for fruits and veggies this week, if he eats these things.
Let's see -- well, Friday night, Billy (my Scottish cousin-in-law) and his band were playing at the Roadhouse, and once again I went to listen, along with Mickey and friends Bob and Katie. They are as good as ever, Billy in particular being an amazing guitarist -- but somehow I was too full and sleepy to want to stay long, and we left after the first set. Fortunately, Mickey was just as full and sleepy as I, and she was my ride, so it worked out quite well. See, she had come over at about six-thirty, and we had gone down the street for Thai food, which was very, very slow in coming, so that by the time it got there we were absolutely starving and ate hugely of it. So then we had to remind one another that Bob and Katie would be there, and how disappointed they would be not to have us to scream at underneath the huge music, cuz otherwise we would have walked back and flopped on the couch and snoozed.
And, I have been re-reading Hyperion -- the real reason I am still en dishabille this morning -- and being amazed all over again at how powerfully he sucks me in, in spite of how much I know about him -- I mean, I used to own these books and yet I never looked at them because I knew how his books only shone the first time you read them and after that you could see the holes and strangenesses -- like Leon Uris -- and now here I am getting them out from the library and reading all morning in a state of breathlessness that kept me from eating anything that was going to require two hands. Hmm. That was not an appropriate descriptor, since my breath has nothing to do with my hands. I had started thinking about these books cuz I was describing the Cruciform part to my boss, and then got drawn into the Treeships and the Shrike and the Amazing Shrinking Child and the small crystalline perfection of various ideas that he had -- and how much they filled one's mind.
Anyway. So that is what I am doing today.
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