march 24

lovely weekend

I don't want this weekend to end. It's not that I did anything so fabulous-- or so horrible--that I can't face the week. It's just that this weekend has been the perfect balance between productivity and relaxation and I just want to keep going--more productivity and more relaxation. Truth be told, I didn't get as much done today as I wanted to, but I at least got some things done that I hadn't planned to do.

uh, we're on the list

Friday night Lisa, her beau, A* and I met down in the bar for an end of week margaritas. We greeted the new bartender with a "Who are you?" which we always do to new people at the bar, just so they know that we're regulars and they need to take care of us. We're annoying and demanding patrons like that. He didn't seem to catch on, even after he went through a lengthy explanation, which we listened to with great interest, of the fact that Stephanie, the usual Friday night bartender for the last three years, is moving to San Diego and he'll be taking her place. I mean, do you ask people who are clearly bar regulars if they're 21? I was doing some neck rolls, trying to relieve what is becoming chronic pain in my neck and forehead from bad posture in front of my laptop and didn't even hear him ask for my ID. Lisa shook me back to the world and tried to make it sound like we were flattered. Whatever. I suppose he was just trying to be careful at his new job, but please. We do not look younger than 21. And I am a big bitch for being so petty about not having my bar patron status recognized.

After we finished our drinks and our fried ravioli it was only 8 or so but there was no way I was up for more drinking. However, I was up for grocery shopping. I've been feeling fed up with our lack of decent food, and our lack of money to go out to eat, so I talked A* into going to Trader Joe's to buy fancy food stuffs, like simmering sauces and pad thai kits and frozen potstickers. Whatever we bought had to be gourmet and easy and fast. We also bought a lot of cheap wine, one we tried a few weeks ago and thought was surprisingly drinkable, given that it was only $2.99. We bought seven bottles.

party in the pasta aisle

The funny thing about shopping at Trader Joe's on a Friday night was that the store was packed with 20- and 30-somethings who appeared to be doing the same thing we were doing--doing something domestically productive because they were too tired (too old?) to go out and party on a Friday night. They store was even playing groovy 80s and 90s songs and we were all singing along as we browsed pasta sauces and flavored boxed rice. It was almost a dance party. Almost. I even saw the super-cute indie rock boy who used to be my barista at Starbucks. The one I used to call My Boyfriend. We kept making eye contact and quickly looking away. He was the one who asked me how I liked my laptop one day when I was working in the cafe, and specifically asked me how I liked the DVD player. I, cluelessly, said the thing didn't have a DVD player. Because I forgot that it did. Really. Even though it has a huge DVD logo on the site. Shortly after that he quit working at that Starbucks, apparently to work at Trader Joe's, and I missed him.

first spring saturday

Saturday I got up and managed to both make one of my usual fancy weekend breakfasts--Italian sausage and pancakes--and still make it to the usability test I had to observe and tape by 10:05 AM. (I was supposed to be there at 10 AM, but oh, well.) It was a good test. Not much more to say than that. Then I dropped off the videotapes to this guy that I haven't worked with in years so he could make VHS dubs. The studio I usually use apparently went out of business and I had to scramble to find someone who could make dubs over the weekend without gouging me. This guy, who goes by V (that's not a made-up journal name), has his own screening room/bar with an edit suite in the back. I've heard he has wild parties that start out like your usual ad biz party early in the evening then transform into BDSM fests when you get into the wee hours. I haven't been invited to one for a couple of years, and I've never been. I'm hoping now that I've reconnected with this guy I'll get an invitation. I really want to see what I've only heard about.

The rest of Saturday was supposed to be about gardening. Oh, the plans I had. It was the one of the first days in weeks where we've seen the sun and it's been above 60 degrees. And on a Saturday! I should have been working on client stuff but I couldn't pass this luck up. I checked on my seedlings (they're sprouting! yay!) and filled my watering cans with fertilizer for my front shrubs. As soon as I started fussing over the shrubs my neighbor, Jen, came by with her three kids and it was all over. That's how it is in my neighborhood. Over the winter we don't see much of each other because it's cold and we're all inside. But come March we're all outside, working on our individual house and yard projects, and catching up. I love this aspect of our street. Enough distance that you have your privacy, but friendly enough that you feel part of a community.

Jen and I chattered for the better part of an hour about what we're planting, she oohed and aahed over our bedroom-in-progress (even though it was only primed at that point) and told me all about her backyard overhaul. We gossiped about our former neighbor (I'll get around to that story sometime) and she told me catty stories about the female half of our new neighbors. And I got virtually no gardening done.

Later, A*, who had been working on the bedroom, joined me on the front porch for wine and cheese and we watched the robins eat the berries on the spireas while the sun set. It was a lovely first Saturday of Spring.

weepy sunday

Sunday was altogether different and I can't say why. I slept fine, but woke up unrested, probably due to my continuing reliance on the codeine cough syrup to keep me down throughout the night. I made cheese and sausage stuffed French toast, a rip-off recipe from our favorite breakfast place, and a fruit smoothie. A* criticized the smoothie as being too acidic (I added orange juice to my usual recipe) and said he didn't like this type of sausage in the French toast. He quickly added that it was "still good" but I felt deflated after having high expectations for a fabulous breakfast. It took me the rest of the day to recover from this. A small thing, I know, but it was one small thing piled on top of a lot of other small things.

Later we had a stupid fight over something ridiculous. I spiraled down into the weepy, needy dark hole that took us a good three or four "talks" to get me out of. Actually I think it was the Hershey bar and St. John's Wort tea that finally got me out of it, but whatever. It was all somewhat related to what I've been whining about in the last few entries, about how I don't feel like A* wants me around for anything other than to cook dinner and take care of him. I don't know what it's going to take for me to get over this completely, or where this insecurity comes from in the first place, but I think we've got it worked out for now.

Now that I'm home more in the evenings and not putting in such long hours at work I've been afraid of getting sucked into this married, middle class existence of dinner at 6, clean the kitchen at 7, TV at 8, bed at 11. I can't do that. Except on Tuesdays and Wednesdays when I watch 24 and The West Wing, respectively. And I want the TV out of our bedroom. I think it's interfering with our sex life.

If I'm going to be home in the evenings I want to do all the things I complained about not having time to do when I was working my ass off. Like reading, or taking a cooking class, or working on my house, or writing. A* agreed that this is the life he wants, too, and we're going to work on finding things to do together and still give each other enough space to do things on our own.

I can't ask for more than that. And he told me how fabulous I am and how I'm his best friend and sometimes he just wants me near because he loves me so much. So then I was fine.

is this really my house?

Besides the relief of finally having that shit worked out with A*, there was more goodness on Sunday: our bedroom is starting to look...like it was always meant to look. We have a 1912 Craftsman that hasn't been ruined, in fact the kitchen has already been remodeled to modern standards and it has great bones. But cosmetically, it needs a lot of work. All the built-ins (except the china cabinet in the dining room), crown moldings and picture hanging moldings were removed long ago. As I've said before, the whole house is rental cream. Well, this weekend A* and I replaced the picturing hanging and crown moldings in this room, and even though the wood is still raw and there's still only primer on the walls, the room looks completely different. It looks regal, authentic, complete. I can't believe this is our house. With crown moldings! Rails to hang the pictures on! Woo hoo! When we were finished I surveyed our work and jumped up and down, clapping, squealing.

A* just called me to come look at the room from the outside. We are such domestic geeks. I love it.

- march 24