| june
9
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Been a rough week or so, fighting off a major
sore throat, which always, with me, devolves into a lot of bodily fluids
sitting around in my pharynx, hanging out, getting to know one another,
and me trying to evict them. I've had to call in my old buddies Mr. A.
Seltzer and Ms. Tussin and we're moving along, but slowly.
There's a whole vacation to describe, and describe it I've done. Here 'tis part one, here 'tis part two. Picture heavy, though. Anyway, the sore throat put a big damper on the vacation-return-hurry-and-catch-up week I had post-Memorial Day. I whipped around three articles which I couldn't have wrapped up before I left for the Reporter (and guess what, Diane Sawyer ain't in them!), the stress of which may have been the cause of the sore throat, or it may not have been. The sore throat, which I've gotten a lot of in my time (though usually not so severe) came with it something strange I got for the first time a month or so ago: major joint aches and soreness, shooting pains mostly in my shoulders that would come upon me even when I wasn't moving. But it wasn't like when a fever comes -- I had no fever, no chills. Just this weird joint ache, plus the evil sore throat. I tried to get out of the house the Saturday after getting back and ended up having to call to the Girls' Club and opt out of the museum mentor thing. I felt terrible about it -- on top of feeling terrible -- since it was our last Museum Mentor program and I don't know if my mentee, Grace, is going to be around next year or not. There's some hazy deal about their maybe moving back to Virginia, maybe not. This is a family which seems to change phone numbers on a monthly basis, so chaos is not unusual, but I find it hard to imagine not knowing where you're going to actually be living and raising your kids. Anywhere is better than that horrid apartment they're in now. When the elevators smell like piss, it's time to go. But, I know, not everyone can go. So I'm going to call and see if they want to get together before they leave, but this weekend was out. Had the Greenspeakers (Toastmasters) over on Tuesday. It's nice having lots of people in the apartment. Makes me feel popular for a few minutes. We use this place, so far, as the Queens segment of the rotating-borough locations, and I have the space for it, so why not. We voted in officers now that we're becoming an official Toastmaster group. I'm secretary, mainly because I felt I should take on some kind of duty, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm well over my brief interest in The Candidate (who isn't any more, so I can just call him Jerry) and he comes to the Toastmasters most of the time, so it's nice to see him. I think it would be fun to go and hang out and just do things together but I'm not sure how to organize that. He's a lot more frayed at the edges than even I realized. And he keeps himself very, very involved in civic duty type meetings and Green things. It's hard to know if that's by choice or just to fill up the hours. I get the sense it's a bit of both. But I'm not sure how to operate this. And the other thing is I'm friends with his onetime campaign manager, Cheryl (that's a hard "Ch"), and she let me know (before I ever let on that I thought he was interesting) that they'd briefly (and weirdly, she said) dated. After hearing her stories I was definitely over him, but now I feel awkward if I want to make better friends with him, because then she'll want to know what's up ... it's a drama, but probably a lot less than I make it out to be. Cheryl got some free tickets to an off-Broadway show called Capitol Steps -- yeah, quick satiric sketches of Our Government And Politicians so we went Thursday night. And all of the rain in the world fell that night -- as we crossed 8th Avenue to 9th, there was this huge lake-like puddle (Cheryl swore she saw tides) and we got our legs soaked. Still, it was kind of funny and unexpected and spontaneously joyous. I have found that spontaneity and joy are harder to come by as I get older. Not that I'm not up for new things which are fun -- but it seems the people I have surrounded myself with as friends in this city don't get themselves together in that way. And speaking of friends in the city, it's been months since I heard from Jenny. We had a bit of an unspoken falling out over my birthday dinner (first she was coming, then she couldn't afford to come -- despite my telling her it would be pricey -- and then she said she'd come for dessert only, which seemed silly, and then she said she'd take me out special, and I finally said she shouldn't feel obligated to do anything and since then, although we've exchanged the occasional email, she's pretty much faded out. That's a sad thing. I'm not sure how to get it back, and frankly, I'm not sure that I want to after that behavior. But I do miss having her around here and there. Gah. Talk about stream of conscious ramblings. I guess the thing is that friends seem harder to come by: Nadine: Married to Matt, travel a lot, available when
I call but rarely calls to initiate.
Well, frick, that's a sad list. Maybe I'm missing someone. Offhand, in terms of people being local, I don't think I am. Ergo, I keep myself busy. But it'd be fun to have more people to do things with who were local. I want to hang with Lynda. Or Rebecca. Or Alexis. But they're all out of reach, living in Maryland. Time to get out and do more social things. I guess. But! This weekend I filled the empty void -- achem, no.
Actually before I left for California I had my eye on this end table at
a flea market/antique sale that runs every weekend on 26th and 6th, and
I went back on Saturday to get it, but the guy wasn't there, so I went
back Sunday and voila! It was mine. He's an older guy who lives in Woodstock
and makes these tables and other furniture out of the wood of old barns,
so it's appropriately distressed and ragged looking. It's exactly what
I had in mind -- one drawer, and a low-down shelf. A little pricey, but
when you find It, you should grab It. I had to hump it back to Queens myself,
since he doesn't deliver, but it wasn't too bad. I'm thinking of commissioning
an entertainment center/armoire from him. He says he'll quote me a price
if I bring specifics, so I'll do that next. Maybe I'll call him with those
specifics -- it costs $1 to get into this flea market every time I go,
which is not a huge amount, but to find out he wasn't there on Saturday
and then to pick up the item on Sunday I had to pay it! I wasn't even shopping!
The real bonus, though, is there's a stand just outside which sells divine
peanut butter cookies. (Can you believe I recently sent out resumes which,
under the "Interests" section includes the phrase "craven in the presence
of peanut butter"? Well, it does. I am. But I don't know if that'll
get me a new job. Not that there's anything wrong with the old one. But
it's time to find a way to move on. Next year will be five years. The industry
is dying a slow bubonic death. Yeah. Time to hitch my wagon to a new star.
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