The One... The Only... The Vieve

House mommy strikes again

I just barely saved the ice, ice, baby.

Truckin'

So, I am on a goddamn roll this week. I fear that when I put it into writing, it won't sound as impressive, but:

• I am now (admittedly, with some help and the surrender of some CDs I stashed away) now caught up on my taxes, both 2007 and estimated for Q1 and Q2 of 2008. *HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF*
• Had an eye exam, and should have new contact lenses next week, so I can swim without blindness and wear my favorite sunglasses.
• Have plane tickets to visit my favorite person ever and her husband and dog and 14 goats in NC. I'll be there for a week starting 7/1.
• Have taken care of many other odds and ends this week, including mailing a few packages I've been meaning to send for about a month, which include nice, fun things that will make some people very happy (or at least mildly appreciative).
• Finally put new sheets on my bed this morning, which does not sound like a big deal, but is a chore I really really loathe and seems to take forever (owing to the position of my bed, my diminutive stature, and my floppy down comforter, which is a bitch to wrestle with). The results are well worth it, though.
• Have some big plans in the works and a big decision to go along with them, which I will not discuss yet, but should have a fix on in a couple of weeks.

The only things left on my to-do list now are going to the mechanic to get my car fixed (a biggie, will happen next week), staking up the rose bush that's all floppy (should not be my job, really, but it looks ugly and I must do it), and getting a pedicure (yay! but somehow have not gotten around to this yet).

Not bad for a week's work.

Ow

Gay Pride Jell-o shots, while tasty and aesthetically pleasing, are fundamentally evil.

I think I'm spending the day in bed. Particularly if someone would be so kind as to fetch me some coffee and a burrito from Anna's.

Meh.

Trashy novels

And never before had our loving been as it was that day -- a dizzying, dazzling achievement of oneness that wiped out the last shreds of doubt as a clean flame cuts through clinging cobwebs. I had not known the barrier was there until it went down and I knew I was free of it forever.

Yes, complete trash. But it's fun, and a nice distraction.

And tonight I feel OK being by myself and reading on my porch. I enjoy it, I had a good day, and I'm not so upset by what others might be doing without me.

Do what you will. And I will do the same.

Almost lovely

I woke up this morning, about halfway, and felt delicious and drowsy and comfy. I sighed a little (a nice hmm-y sigh, not an irritated, hmmph-y sigh) and nestled down into my pillows, still half asleep. I felt peaceful and light, more relaxed than I've felt for forever.

And then I started thinking about taxes, and it was all shot to hell.

But that moment was very nice, all the same.

Cute thing for my torso

So I just bought this shirt. It is cute, and maybe it will make me feel a little better. Also, I very probably got the last one they had, so maybe my luck is turning around? That would be nice, too.

The snot in my chest, however, is not nice, and neither is my spacey-stuffy head. Yargh.

Two-fer

Another responsible, fairly angst-free night, and up, dressed, and making coffee a little after 8 a.m. It kind of feels like I'm in training for a "real job."

And the routine feels good in a gentle way, and comforting. I kind of wish I were having fun and striding forward into my life with vigor and confidence (or something like that) instead of just maintaining, but I guess this is what I need right now.

Housekeeping

I've had to face some hard truths about myself lately. The fact that I am more broken than I thought. That no one can fix me but me. That the problems I thought were just someone else's are also mine, and maybe mine to an even greater degree. I have a lot of work to do, and no one else can do it for me.

But last night I was alone, and I didn't panic (for long) or feel too empty. I ate an OK dinner at a decent hour (salad! And also mashed potatoes and a brownie, but hey). I didn't drink too much (one small cocktail). I did some work work and watched a little TV and worked on some knitting. I washed my face and brushed my teeth and actually wore my nightguard to keep me from cracking any molars while I clench my jaw in my sleep. (It's kind of amazing how much teeth can shift over the months. Hurt like a bitch, but I know I should use it.) Fell asleep at a decent hour, and when I woke up briefly at 1 AM (and 3, and 4, and 6...), the TV wasn't on and I didn't have cookie or soy crisp crumbs all over me.

This morning I took a shower instead of throwing on dirty clothes from yesterday. Opened my mail, which was all from only the past couple of days instead of the past couple of weeks. I updated some things to reflect recent changes in my life, which was hard but not quite as hard as I thought it might be. (Though I think it was much harder for me than you, which made me sad. Manageably so, though. I think.)

These seem like silly things to notice and appreciate, but I've never been very good at these simple things. But I would like to be, and this will take work. And it makes me sad that I haven't yet mastered so many basic things related to taking care of myself.

I need routine and stability right now, I guess. Dependable people. (And I've had some insights into this recently as well, which have hurt.) This seems boring when I think about it. But at least it's not crazy-making, and I think I've had enough crazy to last a lifetime.

So sorry

I feel so sorry.

You know I do.

And I can't even say why.

Success

Success in small things.

My morning glory and/or moonflower seeds have started sprouting. Little bits of pale green poking above the brown.

I finished my scarf. Imperfectly (the bind-off left a straggling loop, but I managed to finagle it flat when I wove in the end), but it looks pretty enough.

I pruned the gnarly lilac bush out front, and snipped away the dead flowers. Trimmed some of the dead pieces away from one of the rose bushes as well, though with bare arms and legs, so it looks like I got into a minor tussle with a semi-feral kitten.

Paid bills and some taxes yesterday. I still owe more than I want to think about, but it's progress.

Small things, but worth mentioning.

OK, deep breath

Google is such a demon whore when it comes to medical stuff. I Google things obsessively sometimes when I'm feeling unwell, and it is is never never NEVER a good idea.

But in the midst of my tonsil-related panic, Googling things that lodged terrible scenarios firmly in my brain, I came across a site based in the UK called No More Panic, which has a "Health Anxiety" board (which I certainly and fo' sho have), and there was a post about something that sounds like my thing, and it made me feel better. So I'm not pacing and hyperventilating and crying anymore, and am actually getting some work done.

Whew.

(Still concerned, though, and will get a referral to an ENT today or Monday. Also, I really don't need this shit right now. I have enough to deal with. Thanks, Universe. Sigh.)

Worried

I still have this... thing either on or behind my tonsil (anatomy is not my area of expertise), and it's freaking me the hell out. It hurts less, but it just looks like something that really really should not be there.

Shit shit shit shit.

Happy thoughts

There are other things I should be writing about, but I don't feel like it right now. I'm trying to stay in reasonable mode and not let my lizard brain take over, but I can feel my crusty, logical shell softening. I had lots of dreams last night where everything was out of control and frustrating and I couldn't get where I wanted to go. I have a feeling this will spill out of my dreams and bleed into reality soon, but let's try to hold that off for a while.

So, yes, let me describe the plants on my porch, the one bright spot in my life right now. I have four window boxes along the front edge. One has yellow linaria and dwarf cosmos ("dwarf" meaning it will be only 2 feet tall instead of 4). Another has a type of bright pink salvia I've never seen before (and can't find it definitively on the interwebs, though I think it's a greggii hybrid) and white nicotiana. The next has dwarf nasturtiums and blue salvia, and the last has salmon-y zinnias and blue scaevola (fan flower).

The concrete planters on either side of the stairs up to the porch have lantana with gorgeous pink and orange flowers, portulaca, and silver thyme. The portulaca is looking sadly droopy, but I just put it in yesterday, so I'm hoping it'll butch up and sort itself out.

Then, I have two window boxes that should start sprouting moonflowers and morning glories in the next couple of weeks, but right now they just look like big boxes of dirt. So not so exciting at the moment.

I have two little pots of lavender and some semi-trailing nasturtiums waiting patiently for a pot. I have variegated basil, which is so much prettier (and I think has a better fragrance and taste) than plain old sweet basil. I have a spearmint plant (good for summer cocktails and lemonade) and a rosemary plant (which hopefully won't croak -- they can be temperamental, particularly in pots, and I very likely used the wrong soil).

That's it so far. Now that my porch has been cleared of crap (broken chairs and the like), I have a lot more space, so I'm thinking about some shady plants that might be happy behind the lilac bush (which has just finished flowering and looks kind of brown and sad at the moment).

I think it's time for more porchy porch before I settle down to work on something about Linux administration, which I'm sure will be thrilling.

Oh, come ON

Now I think I have strep throat. Or something even more hideous. I keep looking at my left tonsil and wonder, what the hell IS that? (I will spare you a description.) The medical professional I saw today said the same thing. Helpful.

But the rapid strep test was negative, so I guess I just have to wait until the throat culture results. Unless it feels like someone is stabbing me in the neck tomorrow (which seems possible), in which case I'll go back and demand drugs.

Back to my porch, which now has even more plants, a lovely variegated basil. I also planted my morning glory and moonflower seeds, a little late, but better than never. I still need a pot for my lavender and trailing nasturtiums (is that a weird combo?) and more potting soil, which might happen tomorrow.

Liminal space

This weekend was full. Full of bugs and in-between-ness.

I was surrounded and alone. Working and not. Real conversations and those in my head and vivid dreams that had me confused between the two.

I planted so many plants, got my hands ragged with dirt and soil and rocks. Sprayed to gagging with anti-bug spray and swathed in netting, wreathed in blackflies and mosquitoes like an insectoid nightmare. Burned by the sun and chemicals, but happy to be digging and growing.

Then I ventured out for five minutes and got bit under the eye, and said eye is still swollen. Like I'd been punched but more red than purple.

There were ins and outs and what-have-yous. Elderly dogs, a how-is-this-cat-still-alive cat, a not-quite "puppy."

A pseudo parade, with Girl Scouts riding a tank down the main street.

Not enough sleep and not enough talk, except inside my head. Disappointments and arguments I mostly imagined, but fear will come to be real.

I hope I'll sort it out tomorrow, but I'm not confident I will.

If you can't make sense of this, don't worry -- neither can I. Yet.

Nerdalicious

I am officially (even more of) a total nerd: I submitted an entry to the New Yorker cartoon caption contest. If they pick it as a finalist, I will ask you to vote vote vote (like a baby stoat). If they don't, I will be too embarrassed to tell you what it was, so no need to ask.

Waking sleep

I've been having a lot of dreams lately that involve trying to wake up. I know I'm sleeping, but I want to wake up, I need to wake up, and it's a monumental struggle. I can't move, but I try my damnedest. I free an arm, open one eye, try to pull up my head, try to speak, try to control my breathing. Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating. Usually it's scary; sometimes I'm just annoyed. And sometimes I succeed in "waking up," like the last time this happened. After which I promptly rolled off my bed (in my dream, not in reality), and then lay there, sprawled on the floor, tailbone aching, wondering, "What the fuck did I do that for?"

It makes me wonder if this is symbolic in some way, or whether it's physiological. It's happened so often recently, though, that sometimes when I'm very obviously awake, I seriously wonder if I'm really dreaming. Which makes me feel a little psychotic.

Sneaky zombie fruits

I usually try to avoid raisins, because I hate them and their wrinkled fruity brethen. However, I am making something special for someone, and it calls for raisins, so I went looking for them just now at the grocery store, possibly for the first time in my life. Consequently, I had no clue where they would be. Cereal aisle? Baking? I wandered up and down almost every aisle, cursing quietly. These evil, shriveled things are usually ubiquitous, but I couldn't find them for the life of me.

I finally caved and went to customer service and asked, and apparently they are in front of the deli case. Um, yeah. That makes no sense. But now I have a whole box of them, and they were a pain in the ass to get, and they did that on purpose just to spite me, and I hate them even more. And apparently have anthropomorphized them to a ridiculous degree, so I will say no more about their evil nature.

The things I do for lovers of desiccated grapes.

Wondering

I'm going to NY Decom this weekend, and I am really wondering what I'm going to wear. I have no tutus, no hotpants (though I can probably borrow a pair of SnooSnoo's, which is what I did for the Underwear Party a few weeks ago), nothing really that falls into the BurnerFab category. Hmm. I mean, I'm sure I'll figure it out, and it will be fine, but it makes me a feel a little anxious and uncool. I'm already a complete poseur anyway. Maybe I'll wear SnooSnoo's cape and paint a big "P" on my chest.

I'm also wondering if there is any better trend than kids' winter hats with ears on them. They are the cutest ever. And fruit and veggie hats come in a close second.

In other news...

It is freaking cold here, and my porch is unpleasant, and my feet are like icicles, and I hate it. Boo. Time for hibernation. And a hot shower.

Post-pity party talking points

#1: I know I'm not a loser. I was just having a little pity party for myself, but I think I'm over it now. It happens to the best of us.

#2: I'm going to watch baseball AND eat pie (strawberry rhubarb) tonight. Yay.

Sea nymphs are trippy

In one episode of Top Model (shut up), the "models" were tasked with posing halfway up a rock-climbing wall while wearing couture gowns and stiletto heels. When asked what she was thinking while she was posing, one girl -- the one from Yale, who is clearly very smart but also irritating (which is a refreshing change from clearly dumb and also irritating) -- said she "felt like a sea nymph on acid scaling a wall in the sunshine."

I laughed.

I think I need to get out more.

No good deed goes unpunished

Somehow, after staying up to watch the end of the blowout last night, I woke up this morning at 6:30 and stumbled to the gym. And proceeded to put my pants on backwards and reinjure my hip on the demonic elliptical trainer.

I think the rest of the day might be devoted to watching America's Next Top Model (shut up) and eating rice pudding.

Out out damn spot

To illustrate further my domestic insanity, I will tell you that I just scrubbed the kitchen floor. This is no small feat, which you know if you've seen my kitchen floor, which is large and wooden with a million dirty crevices. I scrubbed it on my hands and knees, with a scrub brush, working in clockwise and counterclockwise circles, loosening the dirt and cooking grease and dried garbagey splatters. Then I mopped up the grey sludge with more soap and water, and then I mopped/squeegeed it again with more water.

It still looks kinda dirty.

Suzy F. Homemaker

I finished a project on Monday, spent most of yesterday thinking and moping, and today I have turned into Suzy fucking homemaker. Folding laundry, doing more laundry, cleaning, washing dishes, and making rice pudding. Really, rice pudding (sans zombie fruits, of course). And clearing out my space in the refrigerator to make room for said rice pudding. (I threw away some truly disgusting, oozing things, and now have only bread, cheese, apples, condiments, and vitamins.) Oh, and drinking coffee. Lots of coffee. Zooooom.

These things had to be done, and I have the time now, so why not, I guess. Though I suspect I am drawn to busywork now because I am tired of thinking and silently raging and questioning my tenuously constructed reality.

Maybe later I will take a Valium and chase that with a pitcher of martinis, like homemakers of yore.

GO SOX

You can all thank me for wearing my lucky sweater.

Too damn hot

The heat has followed me, and I am sweaty. Blech.

I am having lunch in Berkeley today, and then... other stuff later? I'm not quite sure. I'm trying to just live in the moment. This sweaty, sweaty moment.

I do, however, want to see the Chomp! exhibit at the Conservatory of Flowers, and maybe wander around the botanical gardens at Golden Gate Park. I'm not much of a sightseer (I lived in London for six months and never saw, say, the Tower of London -- but I did go to most of the museums, because museums are rad, and mostly free in London, and also not completely stuffed with irritating tourists), but I do like the green stuff. Maybe I'll get to Alcatraz or what-have-you at some point, but, eh. Not necessary.

Oh, also, I need to buy some hot pants while I'm here. Rowr.

There seems to be a parade or protest going on nearby Dave's house, but I'm not sure what it could be. Maybe I'll find out when I get my Blue Bottle coffee (!!!) from down the street.

Smooth. Like buttah.

I think I had the smoothest ride to the other side of the country in the history of the universe. Besides waking up at ass:30 AM (actually, it was about 4 AM, but same thing), it was a charmed journey. It turned out that one of my roommates happened to be going to the airport at the same exact time as me, so we shared a cab, which saved me monies. The plane boarded slightly ahead of schedule and, as the plane finished boarding, it dawned on me that I had the entire row all to myself. Unheard of, at least for me. So I was able to stretch out luxuriously and watch Season 1 of Project Runway in relative comfort. And then, THEN, the plane arrived 45 minutes early. After I collected my luggage, I had to wait mere minutes for the BART bus, and then only a minute or two for the train. There was a sketchy moment when two guys tried to "help" me buy my train ticket, but I politely yet firmly told them, "No, thank you, I know what I'm doing. I have it under control. NO, REALLY."

I have a feeling the universe is going to smack me upside the head on my return trip (which is the dreaded red-eye, and during which I never get a wink of sleep, thus making it miserable), but I'll try to be optimistic and believe otherwise. We'll see.

As we flew over Nevada, I gave people there a hearty mental wave. Helloooooo!

When I got into the city, Chris took me for food at Boogaloo's, where I had delicious eggs and andouille sausage and black beans and a corn muffin and tasty coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. Then I watched The Fifth Element (eh) and kind of tried to nap, but San Francisco is really fucking loud, and so is the movie, so oh well. And now I have a pineapple-mango smoothie and another cup of coffee. Hopefully this, along with some melatonin tonight, will help me get on this-coast time. I not so good with time changes, unfortunately.

I have nothing on my agenda beyond that, and that's just fine with me.

Stampede!

I just finished a project (at 10:30 last night), and I am feeling flush and sassy, so I am going shopping. I haven't bought new pants -- or much of anything, really -- since November, and I feel like a schlub whenever I get dressed. Outta my way, you plodding, mall-dwelling moo cows! Vieve's on a mission!

Sexay birthday

Happy birthday, you! Mwah!

Randomizer

Today I am simultaneously jealous and relieved that I'm not going to Burning Man. On the one hand, fire and art and craziness and fun people; on the other, dirt and hot and and cranky exhaustion and a lot of people I definitely don't want to see nekkid. Maybe next year, though. I'm pretty sure I need to go at least once in my life.

One of my bestest, favoritest people is finally moving to this side of the river this weekend. Woohoo! One less friend in stupid fucking Brighton is a very good thing.

I drank way too much coffee this morning, and every fiber of my being is buzzing like an angry hornet.

My car finally told me her name: Edna. It suits her, for sure.

I leave for San Francisco and environs on Tuesday! Hooray! I can't wait to see everyone! Besides hanging out with peeps, I've realized that everything I want to do there involves either food or coffee. Mmmmm...

I need a tuna sammich.

Finally

28 Aug 07 BOS -> OAK
04 Sep 07 OAK -> BOS

I miss you all. See you soon!

Awesome/not awesome

Awesome:

Someone I know was in the Weekly Dig's Exit Polls last week, and his answers included "I'm on the drugs," and "I'd stick my dick in her winkin' eye!" Verdict: awesome.

I saw a toddler the other day with a t-shirt that said "This is what a feminist looks like." Also awesome, but perhaps a bit presumptuous; I doubt the two-year-old chose it him/herself.

I finally tried on my dress for my sister's wedding and was very relieved that it fits, seeing as I've felt a little moo-y lately. It needs to be taken out a teensy bit so I can breathe comfortably, but otherwise it's perfect. Whew.

I worked at the bookstore last week, and it was nice to be around people all day and break my hermit tendencies. I ended up spending most of what I made working that day on books, but that's pretty awesome too.

Not awesome:

I still feel like shit much of the time.

I no sleep so well.

I hate the work I'm doing.

Life is still hard and confusing, and I still keep waiting for it to get easier, even though I know it won't. I'm not sure whether this makes me an optimist or a chump.

Hurdy-gerdy

I'm starting to wonder whether I have GERD. Blech. But it would explain a lot of things, like the burning in my chest and off-and-on sore throat and wheezing and coughing and trouble sleeping.

I think this makes me feel better, maybe? Having a reasonable explanation for things. But it means another appointment with another goddamn doctor. I should just go to med school myself -- it might be cheaper in the long run.

Guh! Well, eh.

I feel yucky again today. The melatonin and/or Indian food gave me bad dreams. My bronchial infection/irritation/HORRIBLE MUTANT DISEASE THAT WILL SURELY KILL ME is still around and making my chest hurt. Despite my recent extra efforts at the gym and attempts to eat regularly and sensibly, it looks like I have gained 2 lbs.

But I did go to the gym, and the trainer said that I'm on one of the hardest programs and that I'm doing a great job and that I'm making progress.

And I did take my car to the mechanic, finally, and it is only one month overdue for its inspection, as opposed to last year's three months.

And I am doing some work. And I have something to do tonight.

Could be worse.

Hooky

I reset my body and brain yesterday with Buck Rogers, fluffy movies, water, bed, and some emergency and barely ever used chill pills. All the agitation and stress of the past month or so had me so wound up, I felt like I was going to pass out, all the bloody time. No fun.

Today is better, though, and I went to the gym and have been toodling around and watching Firefly and writing emails. It really does feel like I hit a Reset button in my brain. Such sweet relief.

But now I'm bored, and I want to play hooky and go to Six Flags or the beach or maybe just Lush with someone.

Although, I guess it's not really hooky if I don't have anywhere else to be or any deadlines to meet... Aaahhhh.

I think I will read on my porch for a bit and then go to Lush and then sit on my porch again, perhaps with an iced latte, and read some more. And wait for things to get busy again.

Practice

I did go to yoga last night. I am so out of practice, but it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. And it took me out of my head for a while, which helped a lot.

I also managed to go to the gym this morning, even though I slept badly (sore throat and fussy, strange dreams). So I've already accomplished something today.

Still no work to do, though I have some lined up. This puts me a little more at ease.

Errands today, if I can manage it. I am excited to buy a good electric toothbrush. If this sounds dumb to you, obviously you haven't experienced one. They're like magic.

I feel like I'm out of practice with my life, but I'll struggle through, and I'll be better at it than I feared I would be. I know this. And I know that all is flux, for better or for worse.

Work it

Another excellent video for youse guys. I am too busy right now to create anything original at the moment. <3

Superstitious

I've had a long, stressful day, and it ain't over yet, but watching this video of Stevie Wonder performing "Superstition" on Sesame Street totally made things better. (Check out the kid in the red shirt grooving like a funky mofo at the top of the stairs!)

Doggy later and a little porch time will also make things better, and a weekend away will make things better still.

Lucky

As I sit on my porch, the light fading, sitting a story above my Somerville street, drinking my second cocktail of the night and vision hazy, not only from the settling darkness, I read my book about an ex-soldier turned Zambian banana farmer, reliving the wars in which he fought, the slaughterer of babies and women and men, who has found God and whose journey brings to light the miseries of the world, as I gaze on the morning glories I grew from seed poking up above the soil and black-eyed susan vine twirling around the porch's wrought iron railing and the nasturtiums that have yet to bloom but will and the salvia with their grey-blue furled flowers, I am filled with feeling, feeling how lucky I am. How lucky lucky lucky I am, to be in this gorgeous light and perfect evening, free to read and drink and looking forward to food that was easy to come by.

Lucky.

Random bits

The gym this morning kicked my ass. Only 30 minutes of training, but it wiped me out. And she's gonna kick my ass even harder next time. I am so out of shape, but I think that will change pretty quickly, unless I have a stroke first.

I finally made it to one of Drunky's Pride Parties this year. So fun! OCD rainbow Jell-O shot parfaits, the Messy Fairy, dance party USA, a veritable bonfire (which I, Maine mountain woman, finally got going)... wheee! Said my guest, "I think this is the gayest party I've ever been to!" (and that was even before he got molested by Drunky...).

At same party, this was up on the fridge. I loled irl.

I got new glasses yesterday, finally, though I'm still not used to them and they are making me a little cross-eyed.

I have work to do today, but nothing I really really really have to get done, so I think I will now go and get a sammich. Yum.

Porcupine

The ooginess has passed, and I am trying to do good things for myself to keep it that way. I went to the doctor this week and got some drugs that will (hopefully) help me sleep better. I've discovered kombucha. I had acupuncture yesterday, which was strangely relaxing. Though she did almost leave a needle in my head...

(As a side note, after acupuncture, I went to Whole Foods to buy some foods for my first-farm-share-delivery-of-the-summer feast, and I was like, "Oh my god, WHO AM I?" I've lived in Camberville a little too long, perhaps.)

I'm also starting some personal training at the gym next week, which I'm hoping will kick my ass into gear. My allergies seem better, so I'm thinking I'll get on my bike more, now that my eyes aren't filled with pollen-triggered tears.

Of course, I shot all this goodness to hell by drinking a leetle too much wine last night, and so now I feel supah wetahded, but two steps forward, one step back, eh?

It feels good to do things for myself, though I can't quite shake that kernel of guilt that whispers to me and tells me I'm not worth it.

Zoomzoom

So far today, I have ridden my bike 10+ miles, gotten coffee at Sherman, and bought plants at Ricky's. Oh, and also cleaned out 20,000+ messages from my spam folder (with a little help -- it pays to be friends with a sysadmin).

Time to plant my plants before it rains. And then try to make an even more sizeable dent in my ridiculous to-do list.

This is boring, but my productivity has been woefully negligible lately, and I felt I needed to broadcast my achievements a little bit. Or, really, put them down as a reminder to myself that I can sometimes do more than what I fear is possible.

I feel bad about my coffee

The only time I go to Starbucks is when I need coffee and it is a major holiday and my local places are closed, like today. I feel a little guilty, but I suppose slipping with regard to this particular principle maybe three times a year isn't all that bad.

Their coffee isn't all that bad either, I have to admit. Though I refuse, REFUSE, to order a venti or a grande or a whatever the fuck. Large. It's a large coffee. And no, I don't want mango or pumpkin or whatever the hell. Feh.

Discovery

It turns out that I don't hate dried figs. Something about the crunchy little seeds redeems the texture for me, and they're not hyper-sweet. I can now add this to my very small list of Dried Fruits I Do Not Hate, which also includes banana chips and possibly unsweetened/unsulphured mangoes.

Now if only I could find an olive I don't hate... For some reason, it really bothers me that I don't like olives. I try them every once in a while to see whether my palate has changed, but no luck so far.

Tired, hungry, happy

I am exhausted, even after 12 hours of sleep on Saturday night (and Sunday morning, and Sunday afternoon) because I had to go ahead and ruin my sleep catch-up with work until late and then work again early this morning and all day. BUT, I managed to finish my project in time, which is a mighty triumph -- I thought for sure I was fuuuuuuucked. I really don't know how I do it. It's a little amazing.

I am hungry because I have been too busy to eat all day. Bad Vieve.

I am also happy because I bought some amazing gifts for friends today, one for an Event and one Just Because. I love doing that.

There are other things to be happy about, but they are a little tenuous, so I can't talk about them here. Maybe later.

Oh, also I am happy because I just got a chicken quesadilla and chips and guacamole from Anna's, which I am going to eat soon, afer I finish this delicious beer. And then I am going to pass out, because it is almost an appropriate time to do so. Delicious food, delicious sleep.

Oh, and tomorrow I am going to see the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie, and it is going to dumb and awesome.

Oh! And also it was gorgeous out today, and tomorrow is also going to be gorgeous.

The End.

Strangest spam subject line ever

We must talk about relieving ourselves and washing our hands and spending a penny, because if we actually just said "I am now going off to take a crap" the whole world would fall apart.

Today I...

Made A Plan for getting unstuck

Looked at plane tickets for zee Bay Area for late May (we'll see)

Bought a farm share

Happily wore my flip-flops

Did some good work

Chatted with friends

Thought about how the recent vacuum of feeling and dreaming and excitement might be filling up quite nicely

Thanked those who helped make that happen (thank you)

Ate a delicious sandwich with extremely delicious avocado

Felt giddy for the first time in ages

Got a cryptic text message: "we trust in you to set them free exactly as they were"

Worked on setting myself free first; them will have to wait a bit

Two bits

Today reminds me of San Francisco. The temperature, the sky, the breeze, my clothes (sweatshirt, jeans, flip-flops), the guy who was walking down the sidewalk in front of me semi-cagily smoking a joint. Someone's birthday, good coffee cravings, my attempt to get a farm share. I miss that city. I think it's time for a visit, at the very least.

I went to a club night Tuesday, somewhat randomly. The scene was, well, scene. The music was good, and I ran into Flynn (which is always good), but I wonder if I have moved beyond this type of activity's demographic. I mean, I was a little trashed, so I didn't care at all at the the time -- I was there to DANCE, which I love more than most things on this earth. ("Move outta the way, kiddos! Vieve's been doin' this since you were 12!") But in the sober light of noon on Wednesday, I wonder if I didn't make an ass of myself.

Finger lickin'

For some time now, I've been looking for fried chicken. Every so often, I get a craving for fried chicken, but I don't want to go to KFC. (And can't, really, now that the one on Walden is closed.)

So I've looked and looked for some more-delicious (and rat-feces-free) alternative, but have always come up empty. Except for some place in Roxbury(? Dorchester?), which in the Boston-area cosmology might as well be in Vermont. But I have come up empty.

Today, however, I found a link to the Coast Cafe in Cambridge. Yum. I will go soon.

MMMM, fried.

Lowbrow

I really want to see Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theaters and Grindhouse.

If this diminishes your regard for me, so be it.

And also, you are lame.

Shake it, almost

I was going to go out dancing tonight, but I had a long day, and just couldn't do it. But just for the hell of it, I put on my stripy thigh-highs and mini skirt and pranced around my room for a bit, striking pseudo-disco poses in my mirror. And, for a few minutes, entertained the idea of going out anyway. And then put on my jammies. I guess I'm going to bed now. Next time.

Poor Petes

It's been a bad day for Petes. Feel better soon, the both of you.

Sweet and doughy

I was talking to a friend who likes to call me Cupcake, and was talking about another friend who sometimes calls me Muffin, and the question arose, "what is it about you that calls to mind sweet bakery items?"

Well?

Bunnies

Last night, while I was picking up my pizza, I walked past a liquor store in Winter Hill. It had a sign that said "OPEN SUNDAY NOON-11. SEE THE EASTER BUNNY."

I'm not sure whether that means someone dressed as the Easter Bunny will be at the store today or it means you can buy enough booze to facilitate alcoholic dementia, during which you will see huge pink bunnies.

My parents

You should read my parents' blog, right here. Do it.

Can't see tits on the radio

I woke up this morning worrying about bounced checks and about my hard drive, which was being replaced by Apple and on which there might be some somewhat unsavory and sensitive data. If you see my ass or SS# on the interwebs, that's why.

Speaking of ass, that describes nicely how I feel at the moment. I've felt on the verge of some flu-y sickness for the past 2 weeks, and at this point I'd just like my immune system to get on with it already and give me the smackdown that is inevitably coming. I haven't been sick since early November, when I had strep throat, which is unheard of for me. Emergen-C and my trusty neti pot have kept the germs at bay, but now I feel like they're simply delaying the inevitable and I should just get sick now before it mutates into Ebola or some shit.

Plus, this weather is enraging me. I would like to get into bed now and wake up in May. That might be best for all concerned parties.

Lizard-like

I've been reminded of the importance of sleep. Yesterday, my brain and body had reached the point of exhaustion. I managed to work and eat, but I had been reduced to a lizard-like creature that could only put one foot in front of the other, type symbols with two fingers, and shovel food into my mouth. The night before last, I slept, but only for about 5 hours, and that was (to steal a line from a book I'm reading now) like an argument. I had dreams I was suffocating, I couldn't move to take in breath. And so had to wake myself up again and again, reposition myself to let in air. This is one of my deepest fears -- suffocation, asphyxiation -- and it made me scared to sleep last night.

But I had to, and I did, starting around 7 p.m. And I slept for the better part of 13 hours, and today my brain and body seem to be working again. Which is good, because I have a couple of secret missions to complete and then work again tonight and a lot of catching up on life to do.

Ready to ride

My parents have a blog now, which they're going to use to document their trip from California to Louisiana. On their tandem bicycle. They are insane, but, you know, in a totally awesome way.

You can read about their trip (and see a picture of their bike) here.

My mom and I on a bike ride last September:

Panty raid

The dog ate a pair of my underwear last night. That sums up very nicely how my day is going so far.

Furry little monster

Meet Zelda:

She likes to steal my slippers and hogs the bed and doesn't really listen to me ("Whatever, lady, you're not my real mommy. Where's my cookie?"). But she is cute as hell and I'm enjoying my temporary guardianship. Arf.

PU

I have been staring at "sentences" such as this one for the past three days: "...however, physical therapists and assistants also need to be aware of how to incorporate strategies to ensure their treatment sessions with patients are successful."

Also, I saw a skunk behind my house at 9 a.m. this morning. I hope it doesn't have rabies.

Regardless, both things are pretty stinky.

Roaming doggies and roller derby queens

Yesterday I tried to save a lost doggy. I left the store on my dinner break, and as I reached the edge of the parking lot, a dog came trotting across the road toward me. I stopped to give it a pat. "Who do you belong to, puppy?" It had no people, no collar, no tags. But it looked familiar, and was headed from my neighborhood. It trotted away from me, into the parking lot, and I followed it. While it busied itself munching on something it found in a plastic bag on the ground, I ran into the supermarket. Found the manager, found security, asked them to call Animal Control so they could hold onto it and make sure it didn't get smooshed by a car. But when the security guard lunged to grab the dog, it bolted and ran back the way it came. "Shit!" I followed it, watched as it almost got hit by an SUV while it crossed the street again, and kept on its heels until it trotted into a backyard. There wasn't much else I could do -- it wouldn't follow me or stay with me -- so I headed back to work and crossed my fingers that it would stick close to home until its people came back.

And to you people who are charged with the care and well-being of this creature: PUT TAGS AND A FUCKING COLLAR ON YOUR VERY SWEET AND CAR-SMOOSHABLE DOG. Jesus Christ, people, it's really not that hard.

Switching topics...

Last night, I had a dream that I was roller skating, bombing down the sidewalk in a short skirt and knee pads. I was off-balance, and there were tree roots and patches of snow, but somehow I managed to speed along without a hitch. It was awesome and exhilerating. After this dream, I must fully confess to having fantasies for quite a while now about becoming a roller derby queen. Evel Kvievel? I fear I don't have enough tattoos, though.

Thanks, poops

The poopyhead is visiting this weekend, and I sent her an email the other day, asking what she wanted to do. Round up some peeps for some carousing? Have a more sedate weekend? Her reply: "Either way, I'll just be happy to see you."

Which made me so happy, I got a little teary.

It's nice having people in your life who don't need anything from you, except for you just being you.

Zombie fruit

Odwalla snuck raisins into my strawberry-pomegranate cereal bar. Curse you, you wily zombie fruit.

Inscrutable

My weather site says we are experiencing "snow fog." What the hell is snow fog? It just looks like snow to me. Fluffy, foofy, wet, cold snow.

Whatever it is, it's way less cool than the thundersnow we had last winter.

Crikey

Last night I ventured out into the slush and onto the T, downtown, where I have a weekly thing. I picked my way over mounds of ice and around tidepools of ice water of indeterminate depth. After I got out of the T station, the wind pushed me around on the icy sidewalk, and then I stepped in a 6-inch-deep lake of slush. Then I got to my thing, only to find out it had been canceled. Fuuuuuck. Either I'm losing my mind and I just forgot it was canceled or no one called to tell me. Thoughts of either, but particularly the latter, pissed me off. So much.

I dried out my shoe, fired off an angry/pathetic text message, and then headed back, packing myself into a train, extricating myself, and then squishing myself into another train. Walked back out into the cold wind, picked my way around the ice floes again. I got to my car, and decided to be responsible and clean it off before the snow froze into a solid mass. I tried opening the car door, so I could get the scraper, but it had frozen shut. My hand slipped from the handle, which caught and ripped off one of my fingernails. I cursed. And cursed more. Then I chopped the damn ice off the hood and windshield. And cursed some more.

Winter: 5 bazillion. Vieve: 0.

Sucker

I was thinking about Valentine's Day yesterday (the most evil of all the "holidays") and wondering whether anyone would send me flowers or something like that. It's happened only once as far as I can remember, way back in the days of Kozmo.com. So, you know, it's unlikely, and I suppose I don't care all that much. (Though I am a sucker for sentiment, to a degree that is a little embarassing.)

So I bought my own damn flowers, and they are very very pretty.

I will not

I will not eat spicy chili before I go to bed.
I will not eat spicy chili before I go to bed.
I will not eat spicy chili before I go to bed.

It gives me nightmares. Ugh.

I <3 snacks

I'm makin' chili tomorrow. And deviled eggs. And nachos. And god knows what else.

Bring yer fat pants.

Touchdoooowwwwwwwn!

Ppphhhhttttt

Holy bajingo, it's cold out. Time for hat hair, constantly fogged glasses and teary eyes, and my shapeless, knee-length coat.

Fuck you, winter.

(Or at least send a nice, big snow storm. I wanna go sledding.)

Cold comfort

Today I have declared a moratorium on freelance work. Bookstore at 3, but no opening the laptop today. No fixing comma splices (though I use them with abandon, willful hypocrite), no writing semi-polite-yet-slyly-bitchy comments ("What, exactly, does this mean? Please clarify").

Instead, I am hiding from the cold rain and staying in my jammies until the last possible moment. Caffeinating myself into inwardly frenetic oblivion. I just denuded the dry, dry Christmas tree. Now pine needles poke out from my shirt like reptilian porcupine quills.

I feel grown-up and old today, even though my jammy pants have pink and purple polka dots on them. Alone with my small tragedies and sad anniversaries, and resigned to those parts of living life.

Fuzzy wuzzy

My hair has gotten super long, and I am tired of it, so it will go away today, chopchop!

I will miss my pigtails, but I won't miss the tangles or the great wads of wet hair I have to clear from the drain every day.

So funny, I almost peed on mySELF

I'm working with the TV on in the background (I know, I know, I should turn it off), and the funniest ad just came on, for some new Clearblue Easy Digital Pregnancy Test.

"The most advanced technology...

YOU'LL EVER PEE ON."

Bwah!

Better

Thirty minutes of walking/running, 10 minutes of rowing, and some crunching and lifting and stretching made me feel better this morning. Sauna time was also good. And then I went to Whole Foods and spent way too much money on delicious and mostly semi-healthy foods. Coffee is also making me feel better. And the weather is gorgeous, even though it is bizarre and somewhat alarming.

So, I managed to lift myself out of the mire a bit, without the help of any noble gases or bits of rubber.

Subversive choppers

Check out my friend Iscariot and a few others talking about their bike gang, SCUL. w00t!

Word nerd

I started watching What About Bob? last night with the cupcake, and the warning about not copying the DVD came onto the screen. I made a little moue of distaste at the clumsy sentence structure.

"Yuck. That sentence is all wrong."

The cupcake laughed at me. And then I laughed at me. And then I fell asleep 15 minutes into the movie.

Salad days

I just had a fabulous dinner at Gargoyle's on the Square, which featured a salad consisting of a whole, intact head of lettuce. It was delicious, and satisfied my need for raw leafy greens. However, dinner also featured a crayfish bisque, a glass of wine, a glass of port, and portions of two desserts (gingerbread bread pudding with molten chocolate and carrot ice cream, and chocolate gelee with cookie crumbs and chocolate oil).

Oof. And YUM.

(Happy birthday, Aaron!)

Update

I have been busy and my usual well of inspired wordiness has been a little dry, but I wanted to post an update.

The iPod's dead, long live the iPod!

I got a new iPod for Christmas, and it is gorgeous: 30 GB, color screen, videos! I just bought a cute case to protect its shiny gorgeousness.

Mooooo.

I spent most of the Christmas holiday stuffing my face. I need some lettuce.

Fuggedaboutit.

I have been introduced to mortadella sandwiches with fresh mozzarella on lightly toasted Italian bread. Holy Jebus, what glorious deliciousness. Apparently, now that I have eaten this nectar, I am now Italian and need to yell more and will become even hairier. Also, now I will never, ever become a vegematarian.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

New York? Boston? I'm still not sure. I guess I will figure it out tomorrow. One thing's for sure, though: pork and sauerkraut for New Year's dinner. So much for that lettuce diet...

Worky worky worky makes my brain ouchy melty hurty.

I have a ton of work right now, which is good for my bank account, but bad for my brain (and my laundry-washing, and my eating habits, and my phone-calling-back track record). Never fear, though -- it will dry up soon enough, and I will be poor and well-nourished once again. (Is that oxymoronic?)

To wit...

My room looks like a bomb exploded in it, showering a hail of cloth and paper debris in every nook and cranny, on every horizontal surface. Must. Clean. Meh. Maybe I'll take a nap first. You know, in preparation for xxxxtreme productivity!

Happy 2007!

May your year be full of all things good and fun and joyous. Gros bisoux, kiddies!

Fallout

Apparently iPods don't like Vitamin Water, particularly when they are doused with it. It makes them all, like, broken-y and stuff.

Fucking fuck.

Lessons learned this week

1. Don't put a mostly full bottle of Vitamin Water in your bag without making sure the cap is screwed on tightly. Particularly when said bag is sitting on your bed. Messy.

2. Being angry with someone who you love and/or depend on is very, very difficult and can fuck up your whole day and/or week.

3. Christmas stresses me out every year, regardless of how much I try not to let it.

4. During interactions with strangers, I sometimes make them nervous. This makes me nervous, and sometimes makes me blush. I'm not sure why I make them nervous. Maybe knowing why would make me less so, though I'm not sure.

5. I sure have a lot of dreams, and remember them much more than most people, I think. Maybe this is why my head is so crowded.

6. I really really really really want a doggy. (I guess I already knew this.)

7. I want to feel settled, but I'm scared of doing what I need to feel settled. Conundrum.

8. Counting the drawers at the store is much easier when you're not exhausted. Go figure.

9. My hosiery choices are somewhat iconic, which makes me happy.

10. Ambivalence is uncomfortable.

Glad tidings

I am too tired for words, so here are some pictures instead.

Hide and seek

I found the rogue doorknob. It was in the liquor cabinet. Appropriately enough.

Tidbits

We had a party at my house on Friday. I drank too much, and the doorknob to our front door is MIA. I don't think the two are related.

I have a massage scheduled for this evening. Boy, do I need it. My right side is all twisted up, and I can't relax for the life of me. Lynda will, miraculously, find some spot in my neck, skillfully make it go "cracklepop," and make it mostly better.

An expert on human complexities has confirmed that I am indeed complex. This is bothersome to me right now, even though it's something I used to revel in. I'm not sure what my problem is. Also, I have some sort of problem with boundaries, which is also bothersome.

I feel unsettled. There have been so many reconfigurations in my life and in my self this year, and it feels all jumbled. It's twisting my tummy in knots. I'm not sure what to do about it. I guess I just need to wait it out. Try not to stress so much. One thing that never changes is the fact that everything changes.

F-f-f-ucking w-w-w-winter

You know it's really winter when you toddle outside to go get your coffee and, within seconds, your hair is frozen solid. Related to this, you also know you are a freaking idiot for not wearing a hat.

Stupid winter.

A day in the life

8 a.m.
Went to get coffee. Forgot I had no money. Had to go to the ATM and then go back. Saw an acquaintance, said hello. He seemed grumpy. Was chastised at cafe for not bringing my travel mug. Made lame excuses. Whatever. Said hello to a very cute chocolate Lab puppy. Got kissy slobber on my face.

9 a.m.
Sat around drinking coffee and reading The Brooklyn Follies, which I'm almost done with. Very engaging; I like it lots. Thought about my dreams last night, which involved yoga (trying to help someone stretch into a position, hmm), my bike (someone had cut it all up and reassembled it, and I couldn't ride it very well anymore, hmmmmm), and desperately fleeing my home (after a crazy cult decided to move in and fired shots into a crowd of children just outside, HMMMM).

10 a.m.
Cleaned the bathroom in an incredibly anal-retentive manner. Involved a toothbrush. Will say no more.

11 a.m.
Put some nasty kitchen towels and a gross table cloth in the laundry. Washed dishes. I have become the house dishwasher, and it's getting annoying. Went through a stack of mail. Called about a medical bill that was denied during the post-employment, pre-COBRA-kicking-in period. Also annoying.

12 noon.
Made more coffee. Drank it. Mistake.

Now.
Thinking about work tonight. Trying to come down from my coffee buzz. Thinking about Christmas cards. Thinking more about my dreams. Thinking about why I feel so nervous. Wondering if all this is incredibly, excruciatingly boring.

Calm, peace, quiet

I've been going full-throttle for the past week. Work work work. Play play play. Sleeping at odd times.

Today I need to pay bills, fold the laundry that's been wrinkling in the basket since Friday, go to the bank, think about Christmas, buy some food. Find some calm and quiet, and create some space to process all the new stuff and scary/wonderful feelings.

Time to get to even, even if it's just for a little while.

Bare-bones update

I am bone tired. Too many late nights, plus a full and insanely busy day at the store. Christmas is a-comin'.

Also, it seems like everyone has been busy getting knocked up. I have never sold so many pregnancy and childbirth books. Expect a zillion babies in Somerville and Cambridge in about seven or eight months.

True things

I still love my job at the bookstore.

I still hate vacuuming.

I should not have had a cup of coffee at 8 p.m.

Andre Dubus III is totally hot.

im in ur cafe spillin ur soymilkz

I woke up this morning without waking up. My brain kinda woke up, but my body is having a harder time of it. I'm fuzzy and clumsy and sluggish. Klutzy. (I really did knock over the soymilk container in the cafe this morning when I got my coffee. Oops.)

I got 8 hours of sleep. I drank nothing but water last night. The shitty weather might be to blame, but, eh. The only thing I can think of is the beef curry I ate for dinner. I don't eat cow much anymore (I haven't had any in at least 3 weeks, maybe more), but last night I was like, oh, what the hell. (I was sucked in by the description: "manly curry." Hee.)

I wonder if this means I have to become a vegematarian. I'm most of the way there anyway, but... goddamn it. I want a hamburger once in a while.

Vox streptococci

Since arriving back from California, land of marvelous sushi and friendly peeps, I've been suffering from/recovering from a nasty strep throat infection. It felt like someone was stabbing my neck with an ice pick. It made me weep, literally, when I swallowed. It was miserable. Today, however, it merely feels like someone is tickling my tonsils lightly with a stiff-bristled brush (yesterday it was a wire brush, so obviously I am improving rapidly), and my voice has a sexy-raspy quality to it. (Until I "Ahem" and clear it. Phlegm is very unsexy.)

Anyway, I have not been feeling very writey this week, which is a shame because I have a lot inside my head. Also, I probably should have been writing instead of watching tons of crap TV. (Did you know there's a new Scooby-Doo, with a new theme song and everything? It sounds like Green Day.) My days were turning into a masochistic lab experiment, whereby unseen forces were assessing just how long it would take before isolation + searing pain + laugh tracks and inane blabber about B-list celebrities' fashion icons turned me into a blithering, drooling pile of batshit-crazy goo. Thank you, Zithromax, for saving me from that ignominious fate.

This afternoon, it's back to the bookstore. I've missed it so. And if I find out who infected me, I swear I'm going to stab him or her in the throat with an ice pick. Or make them watch E! for a few hours. One or the other.

I like Berkeley.

It's kind of like a climate-controlled Cambridge.

Also, I think I see someone I went to high school with on the other side of the cafe where I am now typing this. I haven't seen her in 10 years, at least. It's not as strange as it sounds, really -- I'm always bumping into people from my high school. New York, Boston, London... why not Berkeley? I'll go and say hi in a minute and freak her the fuck out.

Won't you take me to... Hippie towwwwn?

I'm in Berkeley, and I just went down to the little corner store. Where the guy working there smiled at me. And chatted. Asked me how I was doing and MEANT it. Each time I've come to California, I've had to remind myself to unclench. Stop scowling. Smile, and be nice to strangers by default. Cause that's how they roll here.

The friend who I'm staying with bought a bike at the flea market on the way back from getting me at the train station (where I was greeted with lots of drumming, of course), so now I have a bike to ride around. It's come in handy, though I did pretty much fall off of it on the way back from lunch yesterday. It happens, but I felt like a dumbass, running across the intersection instead of smoothly making the lefthand turn like I planned.

I also have a puppy dog to pet and cuddle pretty much whenever I want. He's been my almost contant shadow since I've arrived, which is sweet but also strangely unnerving. I'm guessing it's because I give him treats and let him cuddle with me all night. He's my widdle snugglebunny, and kept me warm during the chilliness of last night.

The house is full of hippies who eat only organic food and/or get their sustenance from dumpsters and don't flush the toilet when there's only pee in it, but they are friendly, and I did grow up in a damn geodesic dome and all, so they are A-OK.

It's been cloudy here, but I was at another friend's house today further inland, and it was bright and sunny. I thought, "Now this, this is my California."

No wonder there are so many songs about it. No wonder.

Top 3

hot wheels
pretty flowers
vieve

The top three searches this month. I like the juxtaposition.

It's Monday morning, and I'm feelin' fine

New music, from different ends of the spectrum: Camera Obscura, gorgeous and sweetly earnest ("Hey Lloyd, I'm ready to be heartbroken..."), and Cansei De Ser Sexy, rough and sexy and a little silly ("I'm an art bitch...lick my art tit..."). Both got me moving this morning.

To the gym, crunchcrunch, sweatsweat, stretchystretch. Then to get coffee and say hi to my ladies at the bookstore, who thanked me for vacuuming and straightening so marvelously last night.

It's Monday morning, and I feel fine. I slept enough last night, and had funny dreams about Kahlua bodyshots instead of molten lava and fire covering the earth (that was Saturday night).

It's not freezing cold out.
I have work this week.
My pigtails look cute.
The aliens seem to have vacated my tummy.
I have fun plans with favorite people penciled into my calendar.
I look pretty hot in my new jeans.
I leave for California in five days.
My phlegm situation finally seems to be under control.

I feel all-around all right.

Cuckoo in the coconut

I had dinner the other night with a friend, and after about 10 minutes straight of filling her in on all of my bullshit, analyses of said bullshit, and so on, she said something like, "You know, you're crazy, too, but at least you're working on it."

I suppose that's something to be proud of.

The Wonderful Story of The Vieve and Six More

I. The Vieve

I realized this morning that I've never written about how I got my nickname, how I became The Vieve. It was during my first year of college. I would call my friend the Poopyhead (that's another story) every week or so, and tell her my ridiculous stories of love and heartbreak and indiscretions and four straight days of puking when I had mono and so on. She would in turn tell them to her friend Kiki, who I guess enjoyed them, and who eventually started asking, "What's The Vieve gotten up to this week?" And it stuck. And I'm still the same Vieve, really, 13 years later, getting into strange situations and and weird relationships and ridiculous adventures. And though sometimes it's frustrating and maddening, it's very rarely boring, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

II. Ginormous

I just got a ginormous freelance project: 1,200 pages. The first 400 or so arrived this morning, and it looks deathly dull. It will make my head ache. Also, it means I will be incredibly busy for the next week or so, and I will probably have to work on it while I'm in California. However, it will also pay my bills for a month or more, and that trumps all discomfort and inconvenience. Hooray!

III. Grey pigtails

I was walking back from the gym this morning, coffee clutched in my hand, dried sweat streaking my face, when I passed a woman on the sidewalk. She was about 50, glasses, grey hair pulled back in pigtails. And I thought, "That's me in 20 years. Grey pigtails." And my mouth and eyes crinkled into a little smile.

IV. Broken promises

I told myself I would not bring anymore books home, at least until I had read a few of the ones I already have. But I was organizing the galleys and free "hurt books" at work yesterday and succumbed to the pull of their siren calls. Foucault's Madness and Civilization ("I do know a lot of crazy people..."); The Secret of Lost Things, by Sheridan Hay (due out in March); The Book of Lost Things, by John Connolly (I guess "lost things" is a popular theme; due out in a few weeks); and The High-Purpose Company, by Christine Arena (this one is for the Poopyhead, intrepid B-schooler; due out in January).

My unread pile is becoming a little unmanageable.

V. Halloweentown

The Nightmare Before Christmas tonight! In 3D!

VI. Old Mother Hubbard

My cupboard is bare. Time to go to Trader Joe's.

VII. Little pieces

I've been thinking lately about the people I become involved with, fascinated and infatuated with. They are lovely, smart, exciting, kind people, and I love them to pieces and always will. But most are also not so good for me, in the way I want them to be good for me, as lovers and partners. Frustrating and disappointing. But of course it makes sense, that being the rule rather than the exception. It seems obvious now, but it's taken me a while to see that. It's freeing, really, and gives me permission to excuse myself for my silly romanticism and cloudy-headed cluelessness. And permission for me to love them so anyway, despite it all.

Instant message to the inner reaches of nowhere

i should go to bed

i'm sleepy, but i don't really feel like sleeping

hmm

and i feel hungry, but i probably shouldn't eat anything

conundrum

Frosty

My plants have been moved inside, and my porch is decidedly less clement than it was a week ago. It's clear and cold. My ride to Sherman this morning to get coffee and a blueberry scone was windy and made my eyes tear and my fingers numb. I need a hat. I need gloves. I need warm sweaters and new pants. I'm wearing leg warmers and a sweatshirt and a jacket, and I'm still chilly. Shivery. Sniffly.

Time for warm baths and hot tea. Time, long past time, to take the air conditioner out of my bedroom window. Time to dream of tropical weather and flip-flops. Time to regret not going to the beach more often. Time to go to California in a couple of weeks and soften the sharpness of New England's brittle air.

The shift makes me think of fruit trees. Makes me think of faraway possibilities. Of coziness and comfort. Of daydreams. Of how I might soften hunched shoulders and clenched jaw. It makes me want to learn how to knit.

Simple things that seem semi-possible.

Random awesomeness

New Top Search Strings!

• doctor naked table brutal rectal exam: I have a sinking feeling that this was a search for porn...

• free keys sex vieve extreme: Again, probably porn, but less gross! Also, hmm, is there possibly a porn star named Vieve? Or is this person just looking for the keys to having free, extreme sex with moi? I wonder...

• geodesic-dome energy health concentrate divorce: Uh oh. Marital trouble in hippie-town.

• love-and- purple-butterflies: And kittens and unicorns? Awwwww.
  

Improvement

Today, instead of feeling like death, I simply feel like ass. It's an improvement.

Onward!

No love for the germs

I am miserable. Someone please fix me, or at least come and keep me company. I will provide makeshift surgical masks. I will also make you nachos, or perhaps a tasty quesadilla. Or maybe some pasta. Oh, and I have chocolate. And movies.

No? Hmph.

I guess I will just Dayquil myself into oblivion then, and float away on a hazy cloud of doped-up semi-awareness.

Hmph.

Bad morning

I woke up full of snot.

This was not unexpected, since I could tell by yesterday afternoon that I was getting sick. But still. I am displeased, and Dayquil has done little to quell the snot and stuffiness.

I got up and took a shower, hoping to clear my head and sinuses. Got dressed, put on my happy orange leg warmers. Listened to my voicemail, which contained a confusing, somewhat frantic message from the bookstore about the safe. (I left a note last night that we couldn't find the cash register key, which was not an emergency and has nothing to do with the safe.) OK, I will deal with that when I go down there to get my morning coffee.

As I'm heading to the front door, I notice that my necklace seems to be falling off. Reach up to fix the clasp, and... it's broken, and the beads are spilling all over the floor, into my shirt, down into my underwear. As this is happening, there's a noisy scrabbling sound of someone trying to unlock the front door. I'm cursing, trying to manage my rebellious jewelry and wondering who the hell is trying to get into the apartment. Finally, the landlord busts in.

"The water bill was too high last month! What have you been doing? Is something leaking?"

The toilet has been running lately, yes. "You need to call me about this stuff immediately!" Through gritted teeth, I say that someone has come to try to fix it at least three times without success. And also, the first time someone came to try to "fix" it, it was not in fact broken. Until he tried to "fix" it. But yes, sir, next time I will call.

He blusters some more, and I ignore him, and head out the door to get my coffee before I rip someone's head off.

Through my Dayquil haze, I straighten out the confusion at work and get my damn coffee. And check the schedule and see that I have been scheduled to work during the week I am in California. So I will have to straighten that out too. But not today.

I go and buy tissues and soup, come home and drink my coffee. So I got that going for me. I also still have tiny beads in my underwear, and I am curious and a little concerned as to where they have migrated.

I think it is time to extract them and then go back to bed. *Sniffle*snort*COUGH*

BOS - OAK - BOS

10/28 - 11/4

Back to California, where it's warm(ish). And where there is Pakwan and Ti Couz and Bluebottle coffee and eucalyptus trees. And some of my most favorite people.

Bring it!

OMFG

Bike Messengers Are on Crack.

Book evangelist

My first staff pick! I am well pleased.

The Last American Man
Format: Trade Paperback
Price: $15.00
Published: Penguin Books, 2003

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, crafts an intimate and vivid portrait of Eustace Conway, a true American mountain man. Gilbert illustrates the whole man: Eustace's extraordinary accomplishments (such as crossing the country on horseback in 103 days) and one-with-nature lifestyle, as well as his frustrations, troubled relationships, and narcissistic streak. Expansive and enthralling.

Mountains beyond mountains

I've just started reading this book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, and I already want to go to Haiti. To help, to experience, to witness.

But I know I won't, and that makes me feel more than a little selfish and lacking. Ah well.

Over-under

I got my first freelance check in the mail yesterday. Not enough to really live on, but enough to get me through the next couple of weeks and enough to pay rent.

I took a Tylenol PM last night, which ensured I got a good amount of decent sleep. But now I am spacey and groggy, and today is shot to hell, productivity-wise. Curling up someplace warm and finding food are the only goals I can focus on for the moment.

I woke up this morning with a lovely feeling of lightness and happiness. That exciting-happy feeling you get and that lingers, glowing, when something really positive has happened. I tried to figure out the source, though (a dream? deep sleep?), and then I lost it.

For the most part I've been feeling happy and busy lately. Exhausted, yes, but engaged and more comfortable in my skin. However, these strangely violent fantasties keep cropping up, where I imagine someone -- stranger or acquaintance -- doing something so egregious, I am fully justified in screaming at them and/or slapping them in the face, hard. I'm not really sure where that anger is coming from. I guess I should think about that more, and figure out a way to face and defuse it.

I'm finding new balance with some of my relationships, a new emotional comfort. But I find myself craving touch. Comfortable physicality. Hugs and pats and hand-holding. Cuddles and the softness of someone nestling against me, melting and warm.

Weekend

Last night after I helped close at the bookstore, I went to The Winchester, the best little bar in Somerville (aka my friend David's house). I had a couple of cocktails, watched silly videos, danced around, debated current cinema, and talked about boys. I left with a CD (The Power of Pussy) and DVD (9 Dead Gay Guys, which according to the New York Times is "frenzied tastelessness") on loan, as well as some homemade raspberry jam.

This morning I've been drinking coffee, reading a book, and watching the woodpecker rapping away at the dead branch on the tree in front of my house. A jet just flew by overhead, a throaty scream from the sky, and I watched the specks up in the atmosphere until I saw stars and felt dizzy with fear. It shattered my calm. Hopefully I'll reclaim it. It's a beautiful day.

Oontzoontz

My roommate was playing some music the other night, some very danceable disco music, and so I danced about for a bit, as I do.

Then he switched to hip-hop. I stopped. "I don't dance to hip-hop." Because I don't. I like hip-hop (well, some of it, as with any other genre), but it doesn't speak to that ass-shakin' part of my brain the way, I don't know...New Wave, disco, electro-punk, '80s pop, oontzoontz, etc. do.

"Oost ooch? What's that?"

"Oontzoontz, you know, like techno music."

"Oooh. Gotcha."

"I actually used to go to a lot of raves, once upon a time."

"You did? Really?"

"Yup, really."

"Wow. Do you have, like, a drawer full of glowsticks and E?"

Which made me laugh and laugh, long and loud.

To everyone who gets spam from thevieve.com

Dear Sirs and Madams:

I am not sending you spam. Someone has harvested my domain name and is using it as a return address for their demonic crap emails.

Though I wish I could do something about it, I can't. This is unfortunate, because I get all of the bounced emails, which is annoying, and I also get emails from irritated people along the lines of this:

who the hell are you, what the hell is this, and why the hell are you sending it to me?

Get a good spam filter, and understand that the return address on an email is not necessarily an indicator of its origin.

Best wishes,
thevieve

Randomly we roll along

I have a lot of dreams about airplanes. Airplanes out of control, swooping and diving around dangerous obstacles. Airplanes that are late, or hard to find at a confusing, enormous airport. Airplanes that can't take off from a teeny, hilly runway. Dangerous machines that take me somewhere, conveyances I can't control. Hurtling through the sky, going somewhere quickly, and I have little power over that somewhere, or that somewhen.

I was listening to Yo La Tengo's "Don't Have to Be Sad" this morning, and I think it's one of the most beautiful songs ever.

I wanted to feel that way forever
And that's why
If you're looking at me I'll try to be what you want to see
and if I'm, if I'm, ever that lucky
You won't have to be so, You won't have to be so sad
You won't have to be so sad.

Tylenol PM is my new best friend. I slept a good 8+ hours last night, mostly uninterrupted, and my brain seems to be working better now. I'm a little groggy, and my eyes are hideously puffy, but... Whew.

Last night at work, I saw John Malcovich, who comes in to get coffee sometimes. He didn't smile and seemed a little grey and gloomy, but he did say "Hello," and he sounded just like John Malcovich. Which seems like a silly observation, but gave me a little thrill.

I also had a nice long chat with the film critic at the Weekly Dig, David Wildman. He's interviewing Augusten Burroughs sometime soon, and so he bought a copy of Running With Scissors, which I read a while ago and liked quite a bit. I have a sneaking suspicion that Augusten Burroughs might be an asshole, though, and told him so. "Oh, I'm used to interviewing assholes. Did you see the one with Harrison Ford?"

I am newly slightly obsessed with a Seattle band called The Trucks. Think Peaches combined with Bikini Kill/Le Tigre.

What makes you think we can fuck
Just because you put your tongue in my mouth
And you're twisting my titties, baby?

I've been in therapy for five years
I'll be in therapy for five years more.
I like it, I love it, I like it, I love it.

My two favorite things in life
Are big afros and riding bikes!
With you!

Yeah, sex, shrinks, bikes, and afros. Rock.

This, this, and that. Oh, and that, too.

I need a damn belt.

I need more sleep.

I need to eat better.

Right now, I need coffee.

I have a lot of needs.

Best music for biking through 5pm city traffic?

Bikini Kill, The Singles.

Fo' sho.

Avast, wenches!

Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Apathy gets you nowhere good

Are you voting in the Massachusetts primary today? I am. You should, too.

Find your election information here.

Veggie magnet

I was a work the other day, and I was chatting with someone about food and whether I eat meat. You know, as you do.

I said yes, I do eat meat, but not all that much, partly because so many of my friends are vegetarians.

"You look like you'd have a lot of vegetarian friends," she said.

I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I still found it kind of funny.

Things to do in Pittsburgh when you're not dead

Drink beers on the porch and hang out with a gaggle of B-school students (who are pretty awesome when they're not talking about schooly stuff).

Go to a flea market and buy cheap sunglasses and gawk at a penis-shaped pacifier and flip through old records and paw through rhinestone-studded accessories.

Eat a delicious Turkey Lurkey sandwich and salad and some french fries and drink a couple of good beers on a lovely restaurant patio and pay only $20 (including tip) for everything.

Go to a fancy brunch and pay only $24 for everything (mimosa and tip included).

Visit the National Aviary and 1) try not to get pooped on and 2) let African birds eat worms and grapes out of your hand.

Sit in the park and watch a bunch of happy dogs playing and one very happy dog in particular repeatedly try to hump Ginger, an overweight Brittany Spaniel.

Shop at a succession of ghetto grocery stores and for some reason experience incredible cravings for strange junk food. ("Crunch 'n Munch! I haven't had that for AGES!")

Drive through the cemetery and get creeped out by the cave that's tucked into the hillside and gaze at the amazing (and amazingly still intact) stained glass on the doors of the fancy crypts.

Write this while delicious smells waft out from the kitchen. (Mmm, spicy shrimp creole.)

Subtle

I'm working on a book about "drug math" (how to figure out dosages). And I keep getting to this section:

"Suppose the physician gives you an order for a rectal suppository. You will calculate the appropriate amount in the same manner as you would a tablet. There the similarity ends; the suppository will be administered rectally."

And I start giggling, and I have to stop and think about why I find that so damn funny.

If you say so

Favorite search term of the month: inflate my labia.

I'm off to Pittsburgh today for a visit with the poopyhead. I saw her last in January, which is far too long. (Though I know we could not see each other for 8 years, never mind 8 months, and we would just pick up where we left off.) Guffaws and cackles and inventive cocktails await. I know it will be refreshing and revievifying -- it always is.

I think there is some perverse law of the universe that dictates I feel like shit every time I have to fly somewhere. Though I suspect it might have something to do with the law of averages, since I seem to feel like shit an awful lot.