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Thursday, Jun. 27, 2002 / 11:43 a.m. ~This Is Now, So Be It~ It�s a spectacularly beautiful day. I drove to work with my sunroof open for the first time ever, I believe, in almost 4 1/2 years. The air is clean and clear, the sky is blue but for some stormy looking clouds that could really just be puffs of smoke they are so low and wispy. All the trees look greener from the little rain we had, and I found myself daydreaming all the way here, remembering being in the North Georgia mountains, riding along curvy mountain roads, making fun of those squiggly arrow road signs, my brother joking that it was a representation of my figure, and me telling him to shut up. Driving down unfamiliar roads, looking for places to pitch a tent, or hiking trails that would hopefully lead to waterfalls. Buying taffy from a little shop in a small town, or Grape Nehi from a soda machine on the side of the road. Hot boiled peanuts from a small mom and pop owned stand, eating them in the car, a separate bag just for the shells. Listening to music, loud, singing along, with windows open, fresh mountain air blowing my hair all out of proportion. This day, it�s past the chicken abattoir with its familiar unpleasant odor, and nothing fazes me, up on this hill looking back over the highway, the clouds on the horizon, the sunlight new and low, I could be a tourist passing through, not just someone going to work in the morning. It was good enough. It was a fine way to start. And now I�m here, I can see out through mini blinds, some sky beyond us turning white with clouds, and in my head I�m canoeing, we�re seeing blue herons on the river bank, and the only sounds are birds and frogs and insects and the sounds of our paddles pushing the water behind us. Lulu is talking about �answering only to him� (�him� being god), and I�m instantly bothered, I instantly cringe inside, I�m tensing, I feel a headache coming on, and I want, no, need to tune her out. This is what this is. The musical selections for today? We have The Smiths� �Singles�, �Dead Man Walking� (didn�t finish it yesterday), �MobySongs� (this is first, and it is beautiful), and Meshell Ndegeocello�s �Bitter�. The rash under my arms has gotten worse. It was very itchy first thing this morning, and red, and bumpy. It�s rather frightening to look upon, but I simply washed with my lavendar soap and skipped the underarm product application altogether. I have no idea what the repercussions will be, but surely it will be more pleasant than what is currently going on under there. This has never happened to me before, this rash thing. Mark assured me it would go away as quickly as it arrived, but he is so often wrong, yet I always expect him to be right because he sounds so assuring. Sorry, but you�re wrong this time too. It may take a day or two, or more. Mark and I are considering attending a Film Festival Saturday, in the mountains, and this morning I felt it was the last thing I wanted to do, but now I�m re-thinking, as I am wont to do, and I know it would be fun. We�ll see. My underarms are sort of burning, and I wish I could simply lie outside looking up at the sky, my arms spread wide, away from my body, or soak in a cool stream for hours. This is not a day to be inside, and I find myself aching to be in Nature, but this is what must be, for now, so be it. (I taped a picture of Ann Margret and Elvis Presley, in a pose from �Viva Las Vegas�, cut out from the free weekly, on my PC yesterday. I love it! Elvis looks like a rooster, back arched, chest out, and Ann has on her skin tight pants/leggings, her spiky heels, it�s so campy and fun!) It�s later, maybe two hours later� Computer Dude just said hello to me, called me by my name. It was startling, and nice. I have never heard him say my name before. Usually he is busy running around, addressing everyone�s computer problems, and when I see him I look for his eyes, if we make contact, eye to eye, I smile and say, �Hey�, or �Hello�. He has always reminded me of someone I used to date. Too much, he reminds me. The voice, the height, the demeanor. Every time I hear him speak I think of that other person, and I wonder where he is now, and I hope he is happy. We had no animosity between us, we merely drifted apart. I�ve been reading Comfort Me With Apples, as it is very slow and quiet today. Ruth is in Thailand now, avoiding her life, tasting adventures instead. She has to choose between her husband (from whom she has finally separated) and her lover, and she�s just had her palm read by an old Thai woman who told her to go back to her husband, that he is her destiny. No, NO!, I�m shouting to myself, Michael has everything you want, passion, intensity, a meeting of the minds, comfort, he is what you need, and he wants you, wants you to have his children, your children, together. Listen to what he said to her: �When we make love I feel that I�ve come home. I feel that we are in this dance that�s been going on for thousands of years. It feels right. I want to have children with you. Leave Doug. Marry me. Why are you so frightened?� Jesus! They talk for hours, they share interests, ideas, passions, it�s all anyone could want, why does she want to be with the man who showed her no respect? The one who doesn�t want children, when it�s what she wants so badly? Okay, okay, I�m getting all wrapped up. This is an account of what happened years ago. She�s in her 50s now, so this has all been resolved, but I don�t know how, not yet. I�ll keep reading. This was her description of eating Thai food for the first time, in Berkeley: I hadn�t expected much from this little Berkeley joint. When the first course turned out to be a bright magenta soup, I sneered down into the bowl and said, �Food coloring� in my most disparaging restaurant-critic voice. Then I deigned to take a spoonful. My head flew off. I felt my cheeks getting hot and my eyes getting moist. My palms prickled. Shivers swooped down my spine. Suddenly I was so attuned to sensation that I could feel my watch ticking against my wrist. No food had ever done this to me before. So she finds an editor at Cuisine magazine (to which I once subscribed, but I believe it no longer exists?) who�ll send her to Bangkok to write a story about the floating market there. Lucky, lucky woman. It�s so quiet I don�t need music to distract me right now. I�m getting lost in Thailand, and I�m hoping Ruth chooses Michael, but I feel she�ll go back to Doug. I already read the Author Bio at the end, so I know she had a child eventually, but with whom??? This is so good. On eating marinated raw crabs in Thailand, she writes: Jacques showed me how to scrape the roe from the crab and chew on the shells, which were so soft they melted away, leaving only flavor. In my mouth was the cool of the sea, the sunshine in the chili, the taste of rice growing in paddies. My head was swimming. I had another shot of whiskey. Another crab. And then my eyes were closing. I found the first typo in this book whilst transcribing that just now, in the book is printed: �Jacques showed me how to the scrape the roe from the crab��, but that�s okay. It�s the first I�ve noticed, in 185 pages, so that�s not too bad. Normally I hate typos in books or magazines. That�s something I love about Entertainment Weekly, it�s extremely rare to find a typo, or even grammatical error. I�d better end this now, at three pages it�s plenty. Until later. Cost of the War in Iraq
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