condolences

A close friend has just lost her grandmother. I've been wracking my head and bookshelf for some comforting phrase. I don't know why, but Elizabeth Barrett Brownings Insufficiency seems to work...

I.

There is no one beside thee, and no one above thee;

Thou standst alone, as the nightingale sings!

Yet my words that would praise thee are impotent things,

For none can express thee though all should approve thee!

I love thee so, Dear, that I can only love thee.

II.

Say, what can I do for thee?. . . weary thee . . . grieve thee?

Lean on my shoulder . . . new burdens to add?

Weep my tears over thee . . . making thee sad?

Oh, hold me not -- love me not? let me retrieve thee!

I love thee so, Dear, that I only can leave thee.

I'm so sorry, A. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

time is nothing

Books are the quickest and cheapest form of escape. Sometimes the vacations are the fluffy rum runner variety, such as Bergdorf Blondes. And sometimes they are the breath-taking-gut-wrenching variety, such as The Time Traveler's Wife.

The story is not told in the standard order; it flits back and forth and turns the concept of time travel completely on its head. The characters are decidedly imperfect but still likeable. There are bonafide literary references while time is being bent.

The ending breaks your heart. I can remember the last time I cried after finishing a book (if you didn't cry when Dumbledore died then you need a soul transplant), but this one made me sob. (And I am not a crybaby.)

I sleep all day. Noises flit around the house - garbage truck in the alley, rain, tree rapping against the bedroom window. I sleep. I inhabit sleep firmly, willing it, wielding it, pushing away dreams, refusing, refusing. Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion. The phone rings and rings. I have turned off the machine that answers with Henry's voice. It is afternoon, it is night, it is morning. Everything is reduced to this bed, this endless slumber that makes the days into one day, makes time stop, stretches and compacts time until it is meaningless.

houseguest

The Alabama Slama is staying with me for a couple days - she is in town for some training. Now, if I had the same amount of energy as she did, this would not be such a big deal. But the woman has the energy of 10 kindergartners and I do not. She seems to think I suffer from chronic fatigue (actually, at the moment, sinus headaches and my period, thankyouverymuch). What she doesn't know is that my family thinks that I have the energy of 10 kindergartners, so they'd probably suspect she has a little nose candy problem since they don't know her as well as I do.

I've considered ways to chill her out a bit... Apparently benadryl just winds her up so that is out. I have one very good bottle of wine on hand, but it should be savored instead of used as a sleeping potion. Also, it appears that whisky can affect her the same way it affects me; it makes us friskier. So, again, not a possibility.

Seriously, it's nearly 11:30 p.m. and she's hauling out today's papers to read. She says she didn't sleep well last night, had a long day of training today, we went to see a John Woo flick at the Freer Gallery tonight (The Killer, in case you're interested), and then I had her stuffed full of Chinese food. And she's still going strong. Is she human? I'm no longer sure. Ideas?

the only good thing about high school was the music...

... But keep in mind that I went to high school in the '80's.

In any case, color me happy! Echo and the Bunnymen have a new album coming out! (You can listen to new song clips from their website.) Oh, I almost fondly recall being one of those awkward ninth graders who wanted so badly be a part of the quasi-anti-social-honors-classes-punkrock-new wave-crowd and scribbling the names of Echo and Cure and Violent Femmes and Suicidal Tendencies all over my notebooks. Alas, I was too perky and was forced to hang out with the lower to middle tier popular kids (on the positive side, dating was easier if you weren't anti-social). It was a large high school. Kinda like the one in Heathers. Yep - that was my high school and those were my friends.

I found this joyous musical news while perusing a highly informative music-based DC site. Generally, I'm just trying to keep up with kids today. I'm just barely hanging on, too, but have found a couple interesting groups here and there. The Alabama Slama and I might try to catch Snowden at the Black Cat this weekend... They do a beguiling version of the Zombies' "Time of the Season"...

indulging the estrogen

Generally, I enjoy being a woman. I like being in touch with my feelings. I have an affinity for girly things (perfume, cosmetics, jewelry). I embrace having a rack...

... except for a few days each month. Like today, for example. I'm restless, a little anxious, and too sensitive. I'm thinking too much and crying over shows such as Extreme Makeover Home Edition. (Actually, that show always makes me a little teary.) And most of you know how much I hate to cry. I find a reason to laugh in the most awkward of situations. It's what you call a "defense mechanism". I get it from my father. He's hilarious.

What I'd like to know is whether I should just give into the dark side completely? Haul out Indiscreet or Breakfast at Tiffany's or Four Weddings and a Funeral, bring out the Puffs and have a good cry? Does fighting it just prolong the agony? I mean, I'm all out of chocolate ferchrissakes!

[Please send me some chocolate. I like Milka. Or anything Belgian.]

sobriquet search

Considering my limited readership, this may not be the best idea...

Oyez! Oyez! B2 needs a nickname (it has been a month and we still like each other - it is time). A nom de plume. A sobriquet. An alias.

I've thrown out a few at the man to see how they feel, and none have yet stuck. I've tried:

• The Freshmaker (he bought me some Mentos),
• Mr. Fixit (he's pretty handy around the house but it is too cable tv showish),
• Papi (he's so not Latino), &
• Cowboy (don't even ask).

He's very cool, so I don't want to saddle him with something embarrassing or banal. Now, it might help if you knew a little more about him so I shall list some descriptive factors:

• Fantastic eyelashes around big blue eyes (I covet his eyelashes)
• Likes pro football
• Does yoga (very bendy)
• Kind to a fault
• Has a fondness for Asian culture and spicy foods
• Thinks Whiskypants has a fantastic rack (he's so right, too)

So, if you have any ideas then I'm all ears. Or all eyes. Whatever. Good ideas will be posted for your mirth and comment. Thanks for your support!

weekends should be longer

Working is entirely overrated. I've totally had it with the Protestant Work Ethic and am ready to apply for citizenship in Australia since I hear they get 6 months per year after a certain number of years.

[Sigh.]

Okay, it's probably just the heat.

And I really ought to be in a better mood about having to go back to work tomorrow since I spent the majority of the weekend in the company of B2. He is delightful company! We did some bargain hunting, caught The Aristocrats, and his mad skeeball skills won me a stuffed animal. Also, still experiencing no fear on the weekends (and occasionally some week nights). Which is totally nice. I should let you all know that he now knows about the blog, and I'm pretty damn sure that, by now, he's read each and every post dating back to July 2004 (I left his house right before 2 pm today so he's had time). If you're reading this now, B2, welcome. And perhaps I should apologize in advance...

Tonight, The Alabama Slama is staying at Chez Whiskypants as she has some training in town tomorrow. She treated me to a lovely dinner at City Lights of China, where they have the most delicious vegetarian egg rolls and shrimp with cashews.

trouble

I had a fantastic weekend, spending the majority of it with B2 (I think he needs a nickname). It was so good, that I felt a little depressed after I got home yesterday afternoon. You know how children get about 5 minutes after they have too much cotton candy? That was me: cranky and jonesing for more. And, no, I'm not ovulating.

B2 was incredibly sweet and fun. After waking on Saturday he tentatively asked if we were going steady. Then he blushed and felt embarrassed for sounding so "high school". It's been too long since a man was so open with me, and I loved it. He's emotionally available without being needy.

The only thing I hate is coming down from spending time with him. Last night, this god-awful movie called Deep Impact was playing. Cinematic manure. And I watched it anyway. And, I cried. I freaking cried at the end while making fun of the dialogue. And then I cried because I was angry for watching such a waste of time.

I'm in big big trouble...

a complete lack of fear

Hello to all three of my readers out there. Sorry for the lack of posting but I was visiting family in the midwest, and my lovelife has been more interesting of late.

For those interested: my niece is the sweetest most gorgeous baby ever! The nephew is going through some growing pains now that he is no longer center of the universe, but he's still my little pal. He was picked on at a cousin's birthday party by this atrocious 10 year old and I got to put the smackdown on the bully. FYI, scaring 10 year olds is way more satisfying than you might think. I finished Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, and it made me cry. (Mock me if you will, but those books are a fantastic form of escape.) And I started Bergdorf Blondes on the plane ride home - it is rather entertaining.

The tour de whiskypants may have a winner... B2 pulled way ahead of B1 before I departed for the Children of the Corn Family Reunion, and maintained excellent email contact throughout my trip. What a darling man. He brought Thai takeout over upon my return Tuesday, and, well, let's just say that my usual happy demeanor has been even happier of late. This boy gives the Maestro a run for his money. (I don't know who taught B2 how to do that but thank you.)

And on that note, Nerve.com posted an interesting interview with a Dutch scientist who led a study on how the brain reacts to orgasm. The study indicates that orgasm deactivates a person's fear center, and causes a certain lower level of activity (a shutting down of sorts). While abstinence doesn't make you smarter, however, it will make you think/fear/feel anxious. Which is bad.

If I got the "moral" of that story right (and I think we all know that I did), then I really oughta be making use of B2's talents for the majority of the weekend. Since the goal will be to reduce fear and anxiety, I don't think he'll mind.