Archives for January 2005

Hey, my mailman’s back from vacation! God bless a good mailperson. He knows the days I’m up and the days I sleep (and leaves packages without knocking at the back door if I have the blinds drawn).

And he just brought me a present, from Dear Reader Sparkle, FOLK SOCKS! What a gorgeous, gorgeous book, one that I’m going to read like a novel, from cover to cover, preferably under covers. Perfect. Thanks, darlin’.

Today is my day off. I have errands to run, but nothing immediately pressing. I’m not writing today, either, as I need a day to myself with no Work or work. The space heater is running, and the cats are just now coming down off the refrigerator (dogs just left), and while Adah looks comfortable, Digit has that look on his face like I’ve hidden a couple of extra dogs under the bed to scare him with later. He’s not buying my innocent routine.

Weekend: Great. I went out drinking on Saturday night with m’girl, to a birthday party at Tango Tango, a karaoke bar in the City, and I drank a lot. Only three martinis, but apparently I am O.L.D., because they knocked me on my ass (that and the pain meds I was on for girl stuff. I am smart that way). But I sang a lot, and Lala said she was impressed. That was my main goal, anyway, so I wasn’t TOO drunk. (And she was driving, so she was sober when she said it.) But oh, the hangover yesterday. It wasn’t the sick-feeling kind, it was the vertigo kind. Way worse.

I just wrote a whole paragraph on what I ate for dinner last night (it was great, the new New Zealander in Alameda — two words: meat pies), but realized that when I start talking about food, I am truly boring. (That’s a real person, you know. Truly Boring made a report of a lost driver’s license last year. F’real.)

Also, I got a call from Kira while I was at the New Zealander, reminding me that we had planned to have dinner at THEIR house that night. I’m an asshole. Really. This is my public, embarrassed apology. Waaah. I have NO memory.  They’re coming over tonight, and I plan to…. Well, I don’t know, since I don’t cook. But I’ll think of something nice for an apology.

I’m going to knit now. Hooray!

https://rachaelherron.com/hey_my_mailmans/

This morning, when I got off work, I went running for the first time after being up all night.  There was supposed to be a huge storm coming in, winds to 50mph, and I wanted to get at least one more run in this week. So without really thinking about it (because if you think about it, then you don’t do it, you just get in bed and go to sleep), I put on my ‘fit and went out.

And it started raining.

And it was wonderful.

Really. I run inside Mills College, and it’s such a gorgeous campus that my heart is happy every time I enter the stone gates. Set in the heart of Oakland (and it’s closer to the rougher side than the gentrified), there are four trees per student, and it’s old, old, old. This is the president’s house, seen in the rainy dawn this morning:

Okay, it’s not a good shot. But it shows how many eucalyptus and redwoods are behind it, and I had to run through a little wooded area just to get the shot. Oh, the smells this morning! All rain on the trees, and the eucalyptus buds on the ground (run carefully over those, though). Em’s mom, an alumna, always talks lovingly about Mills and the smell of the trees. I rarely notice it, but this morning, I understood why she doesn’t forget it.

And y’know what else? Running in the rain is cool. Literally. I wasn’t as hot as I usually get, and the air was actually a little warmer than it’s been lately, so my lungs weren’t struggling against the cold. It was exhilarating.

I did pass a kid outside the gates waiting for the bus, huddled under a huge down hooded jacket, and his horrified face so clearly said, "You’re crazy," that I nodded and said, "I know!"

And here’s me, home from the rain. I took it to shock Lala, who has a running aversion stronger even than mine to bikes, but she was less traumatized than I thought she would be. Oh, well.

Yes, my eyes cross a little when I’m tired. Always have. I only notice it in photos, but sometimes I realize that other people must notice it all the time.

Now I’m babbling. Soon to be bubbling. Bath time, followed by last work shift this week. Happy weekend, everyone. MWAH!

My girl’s new hair:

Dude. Hot.

And I like the bleach part of the process, too.

Heh. I actually like to see the levels of crazy I went through yesterday. Today. Whatever. All I know is I just got up, and the building sinus headache (big storm coming) is not as bad as the mood swings I was having earlier.

Maybe if I push my fingers right INTO my eyeballs, it’ll make it feel better. Nope, that didn’t work. Of course, it’s always good to pet the cat you’re most allergic to (Adah, although I’m allergic to both of them) and then rub your eyes in a brisk manner. I don’t call it puffy, I call it sexy.

Barrels of fun (I typoed rum! Much better!) at Chez Yarnagogo. I’m actually not really that bad. Just enjoying a little sulk. Not enough time off — I hate getting up and then getting ready for work an hour and a half later (I go to bed as soon as I get home) — that’s barely time enough to read email and respond, let alone do any of the writing that’s really calling me. Let ALONE watch that Amazing Race episode sitting in my TiVo, singing my name.

Not. Enough. Time. In. The. Day.

And officially, I say, as I always do, I DO NOT KNOW HOW MOTHERS DO IT. Mimi Smartypants (see the introspective) says it well today. Y’all are saints, and just the fact that I can perch a cup of hot coffee on my couch while I type and worry only about the cats paws and not someone’s little hands getting burned right off is something I think about.

And THIS made me really happy today.

Evidence of PMS? Every single damn word about that last post written just a few hours ago bugs the bajayzuz out of me. Except for the two plugs at the end. Romantic? Please. I don’t know from romance. I just want my pillow and my hot water bottle and QUIET.  I’m  waiting for a co-worker to bring me hot chocolate from Peet’s which might be the only thing that prevents me from chewing off the end of my headset and blaming it on wee tiny invisible mousies, thereby getting my ass taken posthaste up to John George, the local psych ward. Growl. Pillow. Chocolate. Rain. (Well, see, we’re back at romance and I’m ready to kick the mousies myself. If I could only see them.)

I feel romantic. Do you ever feel that way? I don’t mean all mushy-in-love, although that surely plays into it these days, but romantic like rain on the windows and candles lit and soft music and all that sappy stuff.

*Okay, now I’m at work. I started this earlier, when I was curled on the sofa, all tucked into the cushions, computer propped on my knees, the blinds open just enough so I could watch the lights of cars of the freeway driving through the almost-rain, nothing but white twinkle lights on in the living room…..

I tell you what, I’m not in that mood anymore. I’m still happy, but not all romantic about it.

But the reason I started telling you about it, is that I think my house has a good spirit. Not like a ghost er nothin’, ’cause that would freak the hell out of me, but there’s a certain vibe about the place that’s interesting. I’ve always listened to a lot of bluegrass, you know that. But in this place, especially when I’m in the clawfoot tub, I am drawn to listen to mostly swing and standards, old thirties and forties stuff, something I pretty much stopped listening to when I stopped singing it. It’s not like the house wants to hear it (again, free-eeky), but it’s what sounds best in the house.

And the creaks in the floor are friendly. I like the way the wind sounds at the door. It’s COLD, though, and heater guy still isn’t calling me back.

But it’s romantic.

(Hard to remember while I’m sitting here keeping myself awake in the wee sma’s.)

In other news, go say hello to Anj, who’s finally moved her LJ over to typepad (yay!), and be sure to welcome the fabulous Janine (who designs fairisle patterns like you would NOT believe) to the blogging fold. (She’s a Feral Knitter, you might know her from Ryan comment fame….)