Monday, August 20, 2007
of virii, family and the land of eternal summer
sorry about the blog death. it's not final. i'm just having a hard time making it not be a chore, these days. there's a lot to do, and when it's finally over for the day it's beyond me to make the catalogue-ing of it interesting.
i'm in the burbank airport, waiting to see how the stand-by goes for the replacement for my delayed flight. it's the first hassle of the california trip, so maybe i should count myself lucky. we'd found three yucky apartments and one nice, do-able one when the folks from the housing office finally returned my call. they have something nice for us, but we can't move in until october. it's a nice apartment for way less than we'd pay normally, but i really was looking forward to this being handled when i left town, not jumping into a new stew of decisions about changing our exit strategy. anyone know where we can housesit for the last two weeks of september?
also, we got here late because i had an amazing, technicolor food poisoning experience the day before my supposed departure. days later, either my stomach has shrunk or the bug is still working some mojo, because i can't seem to eat more than half a cup of food at a time. yesterday i ate half a scrambled egg, a third of a green salad with lemon, and half a clif bar. this cannot be right. cross fingers.
you know what else? when i wake up every morning, the first thing my brain turns to--and i mean immediately, like someone un-muting a television--is a re-hash of the wedding. and i hate this about myself, but i'm examining it to see if it passes muster in hindsight. the answer is always yes, and after a few hours awake, there's never even a question, but still: like clockwork, it makes the wake up call every time. it's a bad recipe.
for the record, the ceremony i had was the best getting married i could imagine, so i'm not sure what this is about. and if the party was different than i'd hoped or imagined, it was so full of good things that Awake Me finds the anxiety silly. maybe part of the insistent re-counting is an effort not to forget, to make it present even though it's happened and is no longer yet-to-come, to reassure: it happened, you were there.
my mom and i had a pretty good time together out here. she's aging, and sometimes it's a real shock. without the distraction of the wedding, it was particularly noticeable. the sadness it induces has to do with nostalgia and fear of eventual decline, but also that the querilousness (that's not spelled right), the argumentative bent and the tendency toward social posturing are enhanced, elevated. older mom is less fun. this is sad. i suppose like anything else, you make a superhuman effort to hold on to the good stuff.
i'm in the burbank airport, waiting to see how the stand-by goes for the replacement for my delayed flight. it's the first hassle of the california trip, so maybe i should count myself lucky. we'd found three yucky apartments and one nice, do-able one when the folks from the housing office finally returned my call. they have something nice for us, but we can't move in until october. it's a nice apartment for way less than we'd pay normally, but i really was looking forward to this being handled when i left town, not jumping into a new stew of decisions about changing our exit strategy. anyone know where we can housesit for the last two weeks of september?
also, we got here late because i had an amazing, technicolor food poisoning experience the day before my supposed departure. days later, either my stomach has shrunk or the bug is still working some mojo, because i can't seem to eat more than half a cup of food at a time. yesterday i ate half a scrambled egg, a third of a green salad with lemon, and half a clif bar. this cannot be right. cross fingers.
you know what else? when i wake up every morning, the first thing my brain turns to--and i mean immediately, like someone un-muting a television--is a re-hash of the wedding. and i hate this about myself, but i'm examining it to see if it passes muster in hindsight. the answer is always yes, and after a few hours awake, there's never even a question, but still: like clockwork, it makes the wake up call every time. it's a bad recipe.
for the record, the ceremony i had was the best getting married i could imagine, so i'm not sure what this is about. and if the party was different than i'd hoped or imagined, it was so full of good things that Awake Me finds the anxiety silly. maybe part of the insistent re-counting is an effort not to forget, to make it present even though it's happened and is no longer yet-to-come, to reassure: it happened, you were there.
my mom and i had a pretty good time together out here. she's aging, and sometimes it's a real shock. without the distraction of the wedding, it was particularly noticeable. the sadness it induces has to do with nostalgia and fear of eventual decline, but also that the querilousness (that's not spelled right), the argumentative bent and the tendency toward social posturing are enhanced, elevated. older mom is less fun. this is sad. i suppose like anything else, you make a superhuman effort to hold on to the good stuff.
