monday, the thirtieth of april, two thousand one
Watching, since my last entry: Buffy. Have I told you how much
I love Spike? I love him. Like you wouldn't believe.
and
The West Wing. Have I told you
how much I love
Oliver Platt? I love him. Like you wouldn't... oh.
and
The X-Files. Really, I'm starting to hate this show now. I
hate even more the fact that I still watch it. Everyone
else in the country is off somewhere watching The Sopranos
while I sit alone in my apartment yelling "Oh, what-ever!" at the
television.
and
Ally McBeal. Two things. One, Sting is going to be hot
when he's 80. Two, damn, that show was funny.
and
Cold Feet. On Bravo. It's a British show. And apparently
not enough people know that "bloody" means "damn" and "shag" means
"screw" because there's a little graphic that slides out and translates
all those words. Frankly, I think that you're probably not watching
this show unless you already have a passing interest in British
stuff and would thus know that "queue" means "line."
Plotting: With my father. He's going to fly me home Mother's
Day weekend as a surprise for my mom. I love stuff like this.
I have capped off the craziest, insanest week at work with the
best weekend I've had in a long time.
Work is insane with transition business, and frankly I don't feel like
wasting time writing about it. Just trust me when I say I've been
running around my office like a chicken with her head cut off.
But the weekend just couldn't have been better.
It was almost too lovely to describe. First of all, the weather
was gorgeous, bright and sunny and warm but not too hot or humid.
Secondly, Elise was in town, both to do wedding things and to play
in the 40th anniversary concert of her mother's orchestra. Thirdly,
all my friends were together for several hours over the course of
the weekend and they all got along.
Fourthly, I found out that when payday is on a Monday, direct deposit
puts the money in on Saturday, so I didn't have to get through
the weekend on the six dollars I had leftover from last week's
fourteen.
Anyway, after a lovely lunch at Mary's new house on Saturday,
I headed down to the Plaza to spend some of my newly discovered
early paycheck at the MAC store. (Dark Brown Creme Liner, Taupe
lipstick, Spice lip pencil, thank you very much.)
So I was driving
down Ward Parkway, which is, I will argue, the most beautiful
street in Kansas City. It's a boulevard, really. Three lanes
in each direction separated by wide expanses of grass. There's
a traffic circle (which we used to call the Circle of Death, but
they widened it when I was in college), in the center of which
is a beautiful fountain. On either side of the Parkway are huge
houses, old-money mansions with gated driveways and intricate
landscaping and a lot of wrought iron.
Which brings me to my profound point, which, I should point out,
surfaced on tonight's Ally McBeal. But just let me remind
you, I had this revelation on Saturday.
I was happy. Right then. Driving down Ward Parkway with
the windows down, on my way to the MAC store, the "For the Feet"
CD of George Michael's Ladies & Gentlemen emanating from
my stereo at
a volume that was probably a little too loud for a 29-year-old.
I've been trying to do this lately. Instead of worrying myself
to death over the future, or moping around under a weight of regret
about the past, I've been doing what I can to recognize the
present, the right now, and how I feel about my life in the instant.
And it was good, the whole weekend. From showing up at Elise's
house at 9:30 in the morning on Friday to eating sandwiches and
looking at bridal magazines over lunch on Saturday to buying makeup
Saturday afternoon to
getting pizza and watching "Meet the Parents" with Mary on
Saturday night
to getting a little bit dressed up on Sunday morning to go sit in
the middle of the fourth row with my friends and watch Elise
and some other people
play some amazing music.
It was all good. I was happy for almost 48 hours straight.
It was all very, very good.
Reading: Protect and Defend by Richard North Patterson.
This book appeared in my mailbox one day about a month ago from
Athena, with a beautiful
postcard stuck in it saying that she thought I might like it, and
I do.