(no subject)
Make that with a side of head cold. Home today. Me and the couch, we're bonding.
2007-07-16
Pre-head-cold weekend highlights
1) Someone demanded that I put out a chapbook.
2) Salted fish fried rice!
3) [data embargo]
4) Carol Queen's 50th birthday party was inspirational *and* fun. And lots of neat folks were there.
5) Zeitgeist's grill was closed :( I must have my hamburger soon!
6) Pizza is love.
7) Snuggling.
8) Fritzi is finally learning how to be a nurse cat. It's very cute.
9) I didn't go to the chocolate event, but I still got some chocolate. Yum.
10) Many naps. I am a nap monster.
2) Salted fish fried rice!
3) [data embargo]
4) Carol Queen's 50th birthday party was inspirational *and* fun. And lots of neat folks were there.
5) Zeitgeist's grill was closed :( I must have my hamburger soon!
6) Pizza is love.
7) Snuggling.
8) Fritzi is finally learning how to be a nurse cat. It's very cute.
9) I didn't go to the chocolate event, but I still got some chocolate. Yum.
10) Many naps. I am a nap monster.
Also on Friday
G. sang "Under the Cherry Moon" a capella at the open mic.
I knew he had something planned, but I had no idea what, and I didn't pry or try to speculate. I just let it unfold. This is hard for me :) But I'm learning.
"I hope you like it," he said when the open mic began. And that was my clue that something might be up. Something different than just extemporizing at the microphone.
So I joked, "If you're going to propose, I say yes." And he laughed.
He looked straight at me the entire time. I covered my mouth so he wouldn't see my smile -- not to disguise it, because you could see it in my eyes. But so as not to distract him. I didn't want to throw him off. I wanted to give him something to concentrate on. My gaze. His gaze. My gaze.
"Under the Cherry Moon," as a song, can be interpreted in a lot of ways. It can be sung campy -- as in, "I know this sentiment is overblown, and I'm kinda sincere about it and kinda not." It can be sung straight, as in, "I know this sentiment is overblown, but it's still how I feel." G. sung it straight.
I am not the kind of girl people sing to.
So I sat there, holding his gaze, and I told myself, "this song isn't just for you. It is, and it isn't. There's a whole roomful of people here. It's a performance. It's not just about you." That's what I told myself in my head, over and over. I told myself that because I had to. I told myself that to keep from crying. I succeeded.
And you know, that song wasn't just for me. The song is about a certain sort of longing, and a certain kind of fear, and I know all this is on G.'s mind because he's told me. And now, not just me, but a whole roomful of people we know.
I didn't cry. I beamed. I am so proud of you, G., for opening your heart like that, for taking that risk, for being that vulnerable in front of everyone.
I knew he had something planned, but I had no idea what, and I didn't pry or try to speculate. I just let it unfold. This is hard for me :) But I'm learning.
"I hope you like it," he said when the open mic began. And that was my clue that something might be up. Something different than just extemporizing at the microphone.
So I joked, "If you're going to propose, I say yes." And he laughed.
He looked straight at me the entire time. I covered my mouth so he wouldn't see my smile -- not to disguise it, because you could see it in my eyes. But so as not to distract him. I didn't want to throw him off. I wanted to give him something to concentrate on. My gaze. His gaze. My gaze.
"Under the Cherry Moon," as a song, can be interpreted in a lot of ways. It can be sung campy -- as in, "I know this sentiment is overblown, and I'm kinda sincere about it and kinda not." It can be sung straight, as in, "I know this sentiment is overblown, but it's still how I feel." G. sung it straight.
I am not the kind of girl people sing to.
So I sat there, holding his gaze, and I told myself, "this song isn't just for you. It is, and it isn't. There's a whole roomful of people here. It's a performance. It's not just about you." That's what I told myself in my head, over and over. I told myself that because I had to. I told myself that to keep from crying. I succeeded.
And you know, that song wasn't just for me. The song is about a certain sort of longing, and a certain kind of fear, and I know all this is on G.'s mind because he's told me. And now, not just me, but a whole roomful of people we know.
I didn't cry. I beamed. I am so proud of you, G., for opening your heart like that, for taking that risk, for being that vulnerable in front of everyone.
Entry tags:
this is how preoccupied with food I can be, or, meal planning in my sleep
You know the famous stories of people solving difficult problems in their sleep, like how the periodic table came to Mendeleyev in a dream?
Saturday, I had a dream. I was dreaming of fattoush (tomato salad with pita bread). "But that seems too light to serve as a meal in itself," I dreamed, just as I had been thinking when I was awake for a few days. "Oh! I know!" I answered myself, still in my dream. "I can serve it with fried potatoes with garlic and lemon. That will round it out."
And then I woke up.
(Guess what we're having for dinner tonight?)
Saturday, I had a dream. I was dreaming of fattoush (tomato salad with pita bread). "But that seems too light to serve as a meal in itself," I dreamed, just as I had been thinking when I was awake for a few days. "Oh! I know!" I answered myself, still in my dream. "I can serve it with fried potatoes with garlic and lemon. That will round it out."
And then I woke up.
(Guess what we're having for dinner tonight?)