Dear Friends and Lovers:
At this very second, I’m sitting at my dining room table, watching the rain. It’s pouring. No, monsooning. In one month, a weather event of this magnitude would require hours of shoveling. I’m glad we’re not to that point yet.
I was about to leave for the coffeeshop, but I’ll wait a minute and tell you some things that are going on around these parts instead. Deal? Deal.
1) Hormones. They’re good. Really good. I think I survived that episode. That, or I’m only affected by hormones seeping in via my left ass check, and not the right. I guess we’ll know in a couple weeks. The upside to hormone surges, however, is, well, the upside. When you are super-hormonal, you are an opposite-sex magnet. And this is vastly amusing.
2) Work. Projects and money owed and invoicing and taxes. It’s a lot. It’s hard work. But I still hold firm in my belief that it’s absolutely worth it. I like being freelance girl. I like owning my own charcoal-black soul.
3) Work II. I’m thinking of getting a super-part-time-middle-of-the-night-type job that will fulfill my blue collar fantasy, get me way more exercise than I ever knew I wanted, and also provide me the health and dental coverage I so richly deserve. More on this later.
4) Casa. I’ve recently realized that our house is the Hummer of houses, in that it’s a little excessive for our needs. I mean, I love mi casa, even if it is a huge source of stress to me occasionally, and way more responsibility than I want. So, our solution is this: we’re renting out the downstairs. Apart from laundry, I set foot downstairs maybe once a month at most, and that’s generally to reboot the proxy server. Heather goes down there occasionally to watch movies on the
spirit-crushing demon television. And that’s it, really. I mean, there are even rooms on
this level I hardly ever visit, such as the office and the guest room. We can afford to spare the 4th bedroom, 2nd bathroom, and cavernous living space down on the ground floor. Yes, we can.
April might be moving in. Those arrangements would be almost perfect, methinks.
5) The theatre. Last night, Heather and I returned to the Orpheum to see
Urinetown. We hadn’t been back to that place since we left its employ over three years ago. It was interesting to be back.
The show was enjoyable. It was goofy and often clever, and we laughed really hard several times. The people at the show… well, I had totally forgotten about them. Which is funny, since I spent so many years interacting with them. Heather was a little irritated at me when I turned to her and said, “You know what? I think I hate every single person here.” It wasn’t true, exactly. Most of them were just so amusing in their predictability. Old guys in tweed jackets with elbow patches. Old ladies with huge coiffures, too much perfume, and dangly jewelry so heavy it made them stoop. Heather pointed out one of them, saying, “Is she wearing our bathroom rug??” I saw some fascinating fashion, and even more fascinating pretense and self-importance. Yeah, it was a good night.
We decided to revisit our pasts even further, so we stopped in at Palomino after the show and hung out. There’s always a bizarrely interesting crowd there. We fixated on a group of 9 or 10 at the bar. Half of them were young girls, most of them barely 21. The rest were old guys, trying to get in a feel. But they weren’t those old guys who are used to having cute girls around because they know how to work their money and power, they were more uncomfortable and clueless and maybe a little shocked at their good fortune that night. We debated about what their story was, and finally decided on coworkers. One of those offices that has a bunch of old guys (they weren’t lawyerish enough to be lawyers, maybe insurance? something?) and then a bunch of girls doing the faxing and typing and whatever. Anyway. They made my skin crawl.
6) Lunch. Bertine and I went to
CC Club for lunch today so I could hear about her date with the D&D player (ha). I think I like it better than
Nye’s, because even though Nye’s has a polka band and smartass server girls and huge gold-glitter
Isaac Hayes booths, CC Club has more funny locals crowding barstools and a good black bean gardenburger and itty-bitty Isaac Hayes booths. Also, if you’re itchin’ to be ogled by so-called hipsters and weird old guys
at the very same time, it’s the place to go. Also, it’s right next door to
French Meadow, where all the local rockstars work. You can’t go wrong.
Yes, I
did just link to three restaurant websites in one paragraph.
7) And so on. All I have to say about the rest of my night is: If this van’s a-rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.
Right on.
Jenni
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