birthdays

Bey-vangelicals

Listen, before Hayden and I get to our recap of seeing Beyonce live last week, I just want to say this. There are five thousand million think pieces in the world about Ms. Knowles Carter that talk about the art that she makes, the feminism she touts, the brand that she creates, the politics that she embodies, the Everything that she Everythings. There’s nuanced writing, thoughtful writing, with subtlety, with close-reads, with acknowledgement of the deep strata of her body of work and what she means to the culture at large. What follows here ain’t that writing, y’all. What follows here is us BARFING OUR FEELINGS OF RAINBOWS. Just so we are clear. Ok, I’ll start.

R:As my dear co-blogger mentioned a couple weeks ago, I am kind of an awesome person in that I got her tickets to the Beyonce concert for her birthday. Sure, it would be fair to say that I actually bought MYSELF a ticket to the concert and then gave her one too. But I believe that it was Mother Teresa who said: “give of oneself in a way that makes sure you get your’n also.” I was excited to go because I always have fun with that Hayden lady and also I am a Beyonce fan in general. I had some trepidation about going to an event in a stadium because I do not enjoy sportage so therefore my knowledge of how to even attend such a venue is limited. But for this, I would stadium it up. I figured it would be an awesome concert, like a ten on a scale of ten. BUT YOU GUYS IT WAS LIKE A THOUSAND OR LIKE MAYBE THE SCALE WOULD JUST BLOW UP FROM GREATNESS LIKE I DO NOT EVEN KNOW HOW TO SAY WHAT WE SAW AND HEARD. Ok, first of all, our SEATS. H, tell them about the seats!

H: THE SEATS.
So, we had floor seats, which of course I was excited about.  Who has floor seats to Beyonce? I figured we’d be out in the middle of a sea of seats, and that’s still very cool and better than the nosebleeds. But in fact, there was a main stage area up front, with a longer L-shaped stage sticking out from it. We were right at the end of the L. Which meant that when Beyonce danced out to the end of the L we could ALMOST TOUCH HER. I was sitting next to a high school boy who was there alone, and almost died from joy when he realized how close we were going to be to they Bey. (Side note: I loved that kid.)
There was a structure on the main stage that was about the size and shape of a 6-story building. When we first sat down Rekha said, “Do you think that thing will spin around or something?” And I was all, “Ha ha no my foolish child, it will just have images projected on it and stuff. It’s cute that you think it might spin tho”
Well GUESS WHAT. It did have images projected on it. It ALSO spun around, and SPLIT IN TWO and had TRAPEZE ARTISTS INSIDE, and there were HIDDEN DOORS on the bottom that the dancers could go in and out of, AND. It was nuts.
R: Aside from the spinning 6-story building, there were 20-foot vertical fire sprays you could feel in your face like you were standing next to a dragon and then the stage filled up with water and everyone came floating out on a conveyor belt and IT SOUNDS LIKE I AM MAKING UP STUFF BUT I CANNOT DESCRIBE IT ALL. But honestly, all of that was just a backdrop for Beyonce herself. I don’t know if it was because we were so close to her but she was truly astounding to see, and I mean ASTOUNDING. Like, the power with which she sang was for serrrrrrious. Over two hours straight, no stopping (except for some costume changes that somehow took less than a minute each), every note just so perfect. And also, full on dancey dance and she wasn’t ever out of breath the whole time. We were right in her face and SHE BARELY EVEN SWEATED OR NOTHING. She kicked water right in our faces from two feet away and WE LOVED IT. KICK AT US AGAIN MY DARLING. And there wasn’t no lip-syncing either. I just don’t even know how to talk about it. Hayden, help a chick out. WHAT DID WE EVEN JUST SEE WAS THAT REAL
H: IDK PRETTY SURE BEYONCE IS MAGIC AND THEREFORE MAYBE NOT REAL??
The whole way home I kept saying things like THIS IS WHAT CHURCH SHOULD BE LIKE BEYONCE IS AN ANGEL THANK YOU FOR KICKING YOUR FOOTWATER ON US BEYONCE.
She really is the ultimate performer, but also possibly a perfect human? Like, her hair was always blowing in the breeze in the most photogenic possible way. And she had this way of making us all feel like part of her perfect magic? I don’t know how to explain it except that before this, I was a Beyonce fan, and now I am BEYHIVE TO THE MAX.
R: ALSO. The layering of images and videos and music and dance and poetry was so awesome. Like, there was fun and pathos and politics and it was just so artful it sort of hurt to be there taking it in. And somehow the whole thing felt totally organic and grounded EVEN WITH THE SHOOTING FLAMES AND STUFF. The spectacle was happening but it all felt so simple and not overdone at all. Just gorgeous, top to bottom. The talent and smarts of that lady were just KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF GOOD, AND ALSO YOUR PANTS AND KNICKERS AND BRASSIERE JUST ALL OF IT KNOCKED OFF. I KNOW WE ARE YELLING A LOT IN THIS POST BUT IT WAS LIFE CHANGING. You think we are overstating but I PROMISE YOU. I ain’t never seen no business like that business.
H: Thanks so much for reading through our screamy devotion, you guys. I really appreciate the fact that you didn’t run away like my friends and coworkers have started doing whenever I start talking about Beyonce’s foot water.
And the biggest, hugest thank you to Rekha. I look forward to a future in which I often bore all the nurses in the assisted living facility with my stories of Beyonce’s talent, magic, and abs–and the amazing woman who brought me into the Beyonce light.
This was an incredible birthday gift and you are an incredible friend. Love you, girl.
R: Only half sure that last sentence wasn’t directed toward Bey.
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Kara-okayyyyyyyy

While I was wallowing in my TRIPS BE SO HARRRRRRD whining, I was remiss in telling you that it was Ms. Hayden’s birfday a little bit ago and how hard she is rocking the birthdayness. Her true love, Justin Trudeau, was all hey girl, come on over and spoon my border for your birthday so she up and went to Canada and made everyone jealous with her Instagram, eating fancy food and running around looking all fresh faced and happy.

She also threw a karaoke party for her non-Trudeau-related fun times. I have decided that karaoke may be the best thing on planet earth. Well, no wait. Wedding reception dancing is the best thing on planet earth. Karaoke is second. I have many thoughts, feelings, and opinions about karaoke. Here are some.

  1. Let’s just get this out of the way right up front. KARAOKE ISN’T FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN SING WELL. I mean, it’s fine if you sing well, but it’s so beside the point. The true karaoke crowd, we are warblers. It’s about CONVICTION, people. To quote Debbie Boone/Urkel: FEELINGS, WHOA WHOA WHOA, FEELINGS.
  2. On the other hand, if you can sing well, you can be That Person. The one that goes up there and knocks people’s shit right out of their guts. This is a rare thing, as I have noticed that for reals singers often have disdain for karaoke. This makes me nuts because if I could really and truly sing I would be the worst mic hog of all times.
  3. You can come right back down that Stairway to Heaven, or better yet, take the elevator. Don’t choose a long song, people! 3-4 minutes TOPS. Sometimes there are songs that you don’t realize are too long, it is true, so look it up on your phone before you go up. Like, one time, I did a rendition of Papa Don’t Preach, and did you know that that song ends with repeating the chrous for nine hours? I did not know that. PAPA HEARS YOU, AND WE ALL GET IT THAT YOU ARE KEEPING THE DANG BABY.
  4. Even if you have no interest in singing, karaoke is SO FUN TO WATCH. I personally have never been in a karaoke establishment where there was any pressure put on anyone whatsoever to sing, so if you are a person who is terrified of some weird singing bully to force you to Neil Diamond, let me reassure you.
  5. I knew someone once who was really, actually, truly competitive about karaoke. DO NOT BE THAT PERSON.

Karaoke teaches us a very beautiful lesson about life. It does not matter if you can hit the notes. JUST BELT IT.

Homegirl

Many years ago, when I was a baby librarian fresh off the librarian vine, my first job was as a teen services librarian in the local branch just a few blocks from my house. I walked to work every day like I was in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood or some shit; it was the greatest. One day there was a meeting of a few other librarians of the same ilk as me (you got ilk?) in a nearby coffee shop, and one of those librarians was one even newer than me. All I remember about this little librarian zygote that day was that I thought “that lady seems smart” and also “that lady has a way cute haircut.” It is a hazy memory. Over the years since, that librarian and I have floated in the same patch of air, sometimes working on stuff together, sometimes attending parties of mutual friends, sometimes having each other over for dinner. There was a short period a few years ago where she lived on the same street as me, and during that time we would go on walks after work. I went to her wedding, she became a mom, I changed jobs, I lost my dad. There was no event, no particular day that stands out in my mind as “ah, that’s when we really became true buds,” but week after week, month after month, I just loved her more and more. I really don’t know how it happened because usually my friendship stories are ones that have a falling-in-love moment. I knew I was in love with Biogirl when we had a date that ended up being ten hours long including two meals, a movie, and staying up past midnight talking. I fell in love with Alli watching her sing to herself on the bus the first day of kindergarten without ever having talked to her once. I fell in love with Map when she showed up to Mr. Menard’s history class wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and undies in defiance of our no-shorts-at-school policy. But this one? It happened early but I don’t know exactly when, and now she is a person I talk to just about every day, and when I don’t, I miss her. She sends me texts and/or emails that make me cry-laugh on the regular and she listens to my BS no matter what it is and treats it like it’s a mothershucking Ted Talk every time. And over the years we have either gotten more and more alike as our friendship has changed us, or we were twinsies this whole time and we were discovering it layer by layer. Either way, our brains are pretty much melded at this point. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not kick it with her. That girl is my homey right there. Like, for super serious.

Last week was her birthday, and we went out for a fancy dinner on Friday night to celebrate, and then went to trill out the jams via karaoke times on Saturday. It just got me thinking how thankful I am to call her my friendcess. Here’s a few reasons she is awesome.

As when I met her, her haircut is still the cutest.

She has impressive gif-sending game.

We agree on sort of everything, but yet she still teaches me new stuff, which is a weird trick.

She has the best WUT face of anyone I know. Like, if I say “YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS ONE” and then say something dumb and pass it off like it’s news as I am wont to do because I can be dramatic, she will bug out and say “WUTTTTTT” in a most satisfying manner. This is an important friendship skill.

She will argue with me about which one of us loves Emma Thompson more.

She always has mints and shares them. They are locally made mints. One time she was considering moving out of state and she told me that one of the cons on her pro/con list was that they wouldn’t have her mints in the new city.

She got in my face with aggressive kindness when my dad died. I’ll never forget it, never ever.

She’s just the goddamn best, that one. My homegirl. Love her.

Younguns seem more refined nowadays

Friday night I went to my bro-ham’s house and spent some time watching my nephew and his friends for Halloween times. They seemed perfectly contented to be in the house, horsing around. They did head out trick or treating eventually but there wasn’t much urgency around it. It made me feel old and decrepit because all I could think about was how in my day (uttering the words “in my day” automatically gets you an AARP card) there was nothing more that my friends and I wanted to do than get out of the house and run amok around the neighborhood. I mean, we LIVED for it. When I was teensy, my dad would take me around from house to house to house. When I was a tween and teen, we just ran around in pods of pals, not even really trick or treating as much as just roaming the streets and yards, groups meeting up and parting and meeting up with other groups. I remember getting chased by a group of friends across a vacant lot that had grown squishy patches of grass that we called the Guacamole Patch, just running our asses off in costume, for no reason at all except to laugh and be giddy. I remember this other time that we ended up on a side street and some kids who had cars parked them all in a circle with their headlights on and their radios playing and we all had a dance party in the middle of the light beams. I am not even trying to start a “them there days were better days” argument. My nephew and his friends were having a hell of a time just maxing and relaxing at his house too, so that’s cool. It just struck me how different my young Halloweens looked, and how ragtag and rowdy it seems. All of my young relatives seem positively genteel compared to the scruffians we were.

Saturday we hung out with Delium for most of the day which is always good because that dude makes me bust a gut. Have a friend who makes you laugh until you have feelings of barfness? If you don’t, try to get one. Later that evening my friend H took me out for birthday dinner (eff birthday month, apparently it is now birthday season) at a fancy restaurant and then for drinkies afterward and the conversating was flowing and plentiful. Friends who will listen to your dumb jibber jabber and treat it like it is a goddamn Ted Talk are also a delightful thing.

Sunday (after some steadfast, dedicated sleeping we did with that extra hour of nighttime. I mean WOO WEE our sleeping was almost pornographic in its hardcoreness) was chore day, correspondence day, home improvement day. We built a hand rail for our front yard steps and put that in (and by we I mean mostly he but I got in there a little and made two supportive trips to the hardware store so that counts for something) because now that it’s dark around the clock I would love it if I didn’t die on my own front stairs.

I had signed up to help a friend who recently had some serious health stuff going on by taking her family dinner on Sunday night- a bunch of us are rotating the days. I bought her a delicious pre-made meal that she could heat up. It was from a really nice place and had good natural ingredients (just saying, I didn’t buy her no Hungry Man frozen dinner or anything janky) but there was a part of me that felt like I should have cooked up something myself, because the effort to do that seems more loving? Or because buying something seems like phoning it in? I do not think of myself as a person who does a lot of unnecessary judging of myself but I had a little twinge this time. I had to remind myself that the judgey self-talk just makes the situation about me at a time when it so isn’t about me. I got something my friend needed and I objectively knew she would find it helpful and kind. Sometimes you have to tell yourself to shut up, is basically the lesson I re-learned. I may still act dumb sometimes but at least I know when to tell myself to shut it a little more often, so that’s progress.

That’s my weekend roundup! I hope you are having a gorgeous day. Later, Mr. and Ms. Potaters.

Oh yeah, my birthday

It was my birthday a couple weeks ago. I forgot to mention it. After my beautiful trip to New York there just didn’t seem to be much need for further to-do about it. But I’m another year older, time marches on, blah blah like a fine wine, etc. I’m feeling pretty grounded these days, like I know what’s what as much as one can considering we’re all stumbling around like a bunch of drunk pigeons. Knowing what’s what is good and bad, but it all seems like it’s where it should be, so that’s something.

Overall though, I can’t complain. I’ve got my dude and my little band of people who love me, and best of all I’m taking care of myself more than ever. I love myself, for reals, and that, in the immortal words of Whitney, is the greatest looooooove of allllll. Although she also said “we can take the night into tomorrow living on feelings” so who knows what anything means, is maybe the real message here.

Anyway. Happy belated birthday, me.

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Food and friends and also jumpers

Last week I got a message from an internet friend from the Twitters. Her name is Aine, she’s a librarian, and she and her bf were visiting Seattle for a few days from jolly old England. We met up for a short visit one afternoon last week and she was a total delight. I have the best internet-to-IRL encounters, you guys! Just top shelf, every last one of them. Aine is a funny, smart, nice-as-can-be librarian (with a royal blue skirty trench coat that was the cuteness), and I could have listened to her talk all the livelong day. I mean, good conversation, what is better? Plus, when she said that she was glad that, considering Seattle weather, she had packed some “wooly jumpers,” I could have died from the accent alone. WOOLY JUMPAHS! I want to have every opportunity to say and hear WOOLY JUMPAHS every day of my life.

This weekend was supposed to be rainy, but ended up being quite a nice springy weekend. The kind where you may leave your coat at home and just tool around feeling fine in your wooly jumpah. Nordic Boy and I stayed in Friday night and caught up with the teevee, and then spent a lot of Saturday doing all of our chores. We cleaned the house, paid some bills, weeded some weeds, grocery shopped, hardware stored, all that kind of thing. (An aside: I sort of love the word “chore” because in Hindi a “chore” is a thief. So “doing a chore” sounds sort of like you are having grown up sexy touching times with a burglar or something. Aren’t you glad you don’t live inside my mind?) Then that night we met up with Delium for dinner, where we sat at our table and talked for almost four hours. Now that I am thinking about it, I hope we left a really good tip after hogging that table like that. Shit. Now that’s going to bug me for days.

On Sunday, because we had done all of the chores (ha ha), we spent the day just being all leisurely. We read in bed in the morning, we made pancakes for a late breakfast, we went on a long walk, we made some phone calls, we made food for the week, we took a nap. Just good solid Sunday stuff. That night, we met up with Biogirl and her man to celebrate the date of Biogirl birth. We went to a fancy restaurant and ordered the tasting menu, chock full of things half of which I do not even know what they were. The salad had freeze dried grapes on top, for example, which seemed half fancy and also half like really tasty camping food. Anyway, it was one of those meals where, after I ate it, I was pretty sure I was going to be full for the rest of my days.

That’s what’s up in my world lately, everyone. Food and talking to nice people. It’s not a bad life I have.

 

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Nordic Boy’s 3 Part Birthday

This year, my dude asked for three things for his birthday. One: a day off work for both of us where we spent the whole day doing interesting stuff, but he didn’t know what and wanted me to plan it. Two: a very low-key activity of some sort with his most favorite Seattle people. Three: a fancy dinner and a night out seeing something arty. I am happy to say that I came through for him on all three things. After months of him taking care of me, I really, really wanted to plan a bunch of stuff that was exactly as he wanted. And I did. Yay, me! (Oops, see how I turned that shit around and made it about me again? DANGIT).

 We took the day off on Wednesday and I took him to a history museum which was a total score. They had old timey tools there, and old timey printing presses, and old timey factory machines. My guy likes old timey stuff in a Ron Swanson sort of way. We then walked around in the surprising sunshine and ended up on the Ferris wheel. It was good times. Thing One: DONE.

 I tried to make us reservations to go bowling but the reservation lady jacked it up and so we didn’t know whether we were showing up for bowling on Friday night or if we were showing up to shoot pool. I sent out an email to Nordic Boy’s pals saying that all I knew was that we were going to be rolling some sort of balls around for sport, but I was not sure of ball size or rolling format. We showed up and it turned out to be pool, which was fine. If you play pool with me, Nordic Boy, or our friends, we are not pretending to be not good in order to pool shark your ass. We are really just that stinky at it. At any rate, drinks were drunk, balls were rolled, fun was had. Thing Two: DONE.

 Saturday night I made us reservations at our current restaurant obsession, got dressed up all swanky, and went to stuff our faces. After that we went to the opera. Rigoletto (or “Rigatoni” as we like to call it because we are SO FUNNY) was the show. I have many things to say about that opera. First of all, it will never cease to amaze me the sheer volume that comes out of those humans. Like, it is blasting right out of their faces in a way that does not seem right at all. Second, this thing had all of the elements of an episode of Scandal- kidnapping, beating, murder, affairs, betrayal, all of it. Opera does not tone down the drama, y’all. Third, of all, I know it is a cliche but it really is true that sometimes characters in an opera take an awfully, awfully long time to die. This girly in Rigoletto got stabbed, and she sang, then she got rolled up in a bag and dragged around (NO JOKE THIS OPERA WAS THUGGISH), then she got unwrapped, and then she sat up and sang a bunch more and THEN she croaked. It was bananuts. At any rate, Thing Three: DONE.

 Birthday times, over and out.

The Boy’s Birthday

Oh my pretties! So many things.

My unlucky attempt at ice skating has left me no worse for wear, except yesterday all of a sudden my ankle felt janky all over again. On the plus side, when my ankle feels janky I get to call it my jankle. So there is always a plus side.

We spent a lot of our weekend at home this past weekend, so naturally this was the time for a rainstorm that caused the power to be out for a lot of the time. And lookit, I know my wimpy Seattle ass has no room to complain about being cold (when my mom is all “it really warmed up today! It was EIGHT DEGREES!”), but I hope it’s not too annoying to say that I was feeling so much love for my furnace when that power came back on. I mean, I was marveling at the invention of all furnaces. Furnace people, I salute you!

Also, I forgot to tell you that I up and did a super un-me thing and made some New Year’s Resolutions after all, yo! I honestly think this is a first for my whole life, maybe? I am fixing to read 100 books this year, watch 100 movies, and go on 100 dates with people I love. Oh and also I am going to try to take a photo every day. That’s right, I have gone from no-resolution-lady to Ms. Resolution Up the Yin Yang! Go big or go home, is what I always (never) say. Actually my resolutions are less about making changes to my life (I already read lots and watch lots and love lots and photo lots) and more about counting this shit up and getting to make lists of them all. AND HOO NANNY I LOVE A LIST.

Lastly it was Nordic Boy’s birthday this week and so we both played hooky for the day. We went to the Museum of History and Industry and learned us some stuff about local history like a couple of old farts (I guess you could say historic farts), and then we walked a bunch (the sun actually came out! In January! In Seattle!), and then I went to work for a few hours (oops, I only played semi-hooky), and then we went over to the Seattle ferris wheel and took a ride in that (this city is pretty pretty pretty), and then met up with Biogirl for dinner. It was such a lovely day for that dude o’ mine.Walking at Mohai

Annual Aging Day

It was my birthday last week. The first birthday of my whole life without my dad. As the day approached, I felt more and more dread about it, and honestly I just didn’t even want it to happen. People had started to ask me about what I would like to do this year, and my responses ranged from “whateverIdon’tknowIjust…[trailing off]” to “NOT FEELING IT DO NOT TALK ABOUT IT” to “nothing. I guess? I don’t know. Something?” It was a lovely soup of confusing messages. Luckily, I have people in my life who know how to cut through the baloney talk (I am currently fluent in baloney talk) and know that it really doesn’t matter what the venue- a party, a quiet evening, a home-cooked meal- what I really needed was a reminder that I am loved. Nordic Boy and the gang proceeded to ignore my weird mumblings and be bossy about the whole thing and orchestrated several birthday activities for me. Thank goodness. Here are some of the things that got cooked up.

A small group of my favorite Seattle pals gathered up for a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant. We got a private room in the back (sitting in the back rooms of restaurants feels like the mafia, only without the impending threat of violence), and ate up. The restaurant could not have been more tasty and the people running that restaurant were de-fricking-lightful. They gave us free bottles of Prosecco all around and the best, most warm service. Afterwards we went back to my house and we had cupcakes and there were presents and everyone sang to me and is there anything more awkward than having the birthday song being sung to you, but I loved it because what are friends for if not to embarrass you with their love for you.

My friends Alli and Map, in their lifelong tradition of showing up at my door whenever I need them no matter what, both flew to Seattle for a long weekend which was so, so lovely of them. I love those girls so much, I can’t even tell you. I boohoo-ed a little bit with Alli the first day that she arrived, just talking about all my FEEEEEEEELINGS, but then Friday and Saturday I did not get teary once, you guys. The thing is that I have gotten weepy at least once a day, every day, for the past 5 months. A non-crying day is kind of a big deal these days, and those girls made it happen. How? Example: there was a point in the weekend where one of them yelled out in confusion “What the FUCK is a pudenda and do I have one?” and how can you be sad when that is being yelled at you? You cannot.

Nordic Boy took me out to dinner one night and to a ballet show afterward. The show was three pieces by Twyla Tharp and one of them is a classic of hers that is set to a series of Frank Sinatra songs. Those songs are so common to our ears because Sinatra is so iconic and they are everywhere- in movies, in ads, whatever– it’s almost like I don’t really hear the songs anymore. The show made me really listen to a lot of it in a way I hadn’t for a while, and hey, news flash, they are pretty much great songs. I am just only now discovering this, because I am super ahead of the times. I was watching the ballet, and the song “Strangers in the Night” came on, and is there a song that seems more corny than that song? But dudes. It is not corny, is what I sat there and realized. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the dance, maybe it was the night, maybe it is the mood I have been in. It made me think about how well I am loved. I looked over at Nordic Boy. He was already looking at me.


(If you want to give it a listen).

Live in the Now, Brosef

I have been floating through my days this summer, not paying much attention to things that I normally would. Summer usually means trips, a full up social calendar, and tons of time in the sunshine (Seattle summers are so gorgeous, the entire city freaks out this time every year). I have been living in the present to a sort of ridiculous degree, which is mostly a good thing, but can also be kind of weird, when I stop to think about it. I find I am having awkward conversations with people where they are asking me perfectly reasonable things like “do you have any upcoming trips planned?” or “what are you doing this weekend?” or “do you want to come to my party next month?” and I feel like I am being asked to perform time travel. The future? Plan something? What sort of crazy talk is that? My days (outside of work, that is- I can get it up for work because people aren’t paying me to  be a damn hippie) consist of me only thinking of the very next thing that might happen. I read a book for a while, until my stomach grumbles, and then I find something to eat, and then I might look outside and decide to go for a walk, and while on a walk, if a friend calls and asks me if I want to go out, I will do that. Just, consecutive decision making, one thing at a time. It’s sort of awesome. I don’t mean to overstate this- I mean when I think about it I am still doing things that are autopilot for me, like getting my groceries and cleaning my house and things like that, so I don’t mean to say that my life lacks any structure. I am a pretty structured-time kind of lady (I know, so sexy) so certain things are just always going to be happening in my life because I have always been that way. So, just know that I am not patting myself on the back too much over Living in the Moment, Man. I’m just saying. For me, it’s been loosey goosey.The downside of it is (aside from awkward conversations where I answer “I don’t know” a hundred times because I have never before noticed how often future planning comes up in conversation but people are doing a poop-ton of planning, it turns out) is that things move a lot slower this way, and I can sometimes feel like life is moving along super fast for everyone else, and I am standing still, and look at all these things people are getting done, and what have I done, and omg, nothing, I have done nothing, and summer is almost over and I missed the whole thing, ahhhhhhhh! Life is not a race but it can sure feel like one when your friends have had babies, written books, gone on vacations, or remodeled their homes all during a span of time where you’ve just been dicking around wondering if now would be a good time to go for a walk or not.

Anyway, my weekend was really lovely. Much of it was spent at home with that dude of mine. We chatted and read and home improved a bit. On Sunday evening we took Delium out for a belated birthday dinner at a fancy restaurant and played Last Word with the topic: Comfy Mystery TV series, which lasted like an hour, because once somebody utters aloud the phrase “Father Dowling Mysteries” then it’s required that we talk about that for ten minutes before someone else says “Rosemary and Thyme.”

When Delium arrived at our house to pick us up for dinner, he rang the doorbell, Nordic Boy answered the door, Delium walked in, and I stood up and did a sort of Russian style jumpy jig while yell-singing “Ha—ppy birthday happybirthdayhappybirthday! Ha—ppy birthday, happybirthdayhappybirthday!” and Nordic Boy and Delium watched that shit for like, half a second before full on joining in, jumping, raising the roof, and throwing in some turns. “HA—PPY BIRTHDAY HAPPYBIRTHDAYHAPPYBIRTHDAY!” it went, from all three of us. This makes me think about how these dudes help me to live in the present all the time, by not thinking too much before deciding to act silly, by being present enough to join in on some dumb shit right in the moment, by not being worried about looking weird in front of each other, by bringing out joyfulness in something as simple as saying hello. I know that sooner or later this slow pace I have been in will end and I will speed up my life again. But I have people who bring out the present so vividly and exuberantly all the time, I won’t lose this feeling.