I do love beer

If I weren't so lazy, I'd probably be an alcoholic. I just don't have it in me to chase that feeling everyday. I feel like a kid again when I'm soundly buzzed. Easy, light, and free with few cares in the world. I do what I want without wondering or perhaps not caring what everyone else thinks. I feel no pain and tonight, even my eyelids felt numb. It was the best buzz I've had in a while now and it might have been Lost Abbey but then again it might have been long day, long drive, empty stomach, and salad for dinner. Baloo and I had such a great walk on this wonderful fall night. My hips were loose and my gait was light. I did fear falling over when picking up Baloo's offering but it worked out okay. I did my cute cameo and weaved my way back home.

Making and Taking

Relative to my normal couture which ranges from shapeless selections from the middle age catalogue to homeless chic, I looked cute today. I walked the dog and then decided I would go to the bar and not turn on the computer or watch 48 Hours Hard Evidence or Mystery or any other spouse murdering dramas that seem to be standard Saturday night fare. You feel better watching relationships that really didn't work out when you are are all dressed up with no place to go on a Saturday night, I guess.

It's a lovely night, the humidity is low and my hair is cute. For all the time I am out looking less than stellar, I could stand some cameos out and about looking cute. But I'm here instead. I'm out of my dress and into my jammies and a little annoyed that I have to be "out there" to find someone to stay inside with.

I ran into a neighbor yesterday. They have a 1 year old daughter and many great reasons/excuses for not having people over or going on vacations but they do both. I don't have it harder than anyone else, I just insist on things other people don't. Like perfection. More to come on this when I have the words for it.

Completely and totally random

Because I'm here, I'm not trolling okcupid looking for something that isn't there. This week I drafted my resignation e-mail to friends and finally noticed that my boobs may have shrunk a bit even though it appears every other place of storage on my body remains ready for a long winter. I'm not one of those girls that gets upset with shrinking boobs, I'm just annoyed with the exercise of figuring out when to break down and buy new bras.

Every time the seasons change, I grow restless.

It is important to me that people trust me and consider me dependable when it matters. I value my father's trust most of all because he has it in so few people. I like winning the trust of wary people. I think it is because wary people (such as myself) just want to feel safe and when someone feels safe they rest with confidence, without worry or care like a baby. When a creature feels safe, they can rest.

Sometimes I just want to freak out on the street. Really rock it out to something I'm listening to on my iPod. Sometimes I want to bother strangers or tell a random person something nice I noticed about them. Sometimes I just want to tell someone, 'you look interesting, I want to know more about you.'

I need to start looking nice on purpose more so I don't feel so self-conscious when I do.

I want to get cracking on the Philly bucket list.

My Weekend: A Photo Blog

Birds at Central Park



Philadelphia Blight

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More Blight (yes, the word depression IS spray painted on that wall)



Brief Respite



Back to Blight



Home

Thank you Earl

Lovin this weather. Getting back into the swing of things with the trainer after a work/injury hiatus in August. Have that great feeling that comes with getting your sweat on. Still lumpy and oddly shaped in places but those places are strong underneath-way underneath-but whatever. If I ever have to revisit any of my previous ass kickings for a rematch, they will notice how much more it hurts the second time around on account of my increased strength and stamina.

Hope everyone is enjoying the beautiful weather!

TBD...

I took the day off today. I didn't know what to do with myself. Work is easy. Leisure is hard because leisure is optional. I decided I would go see a girlfriend in NYC this weekend to give some structure to this time off, give me a task to concentrate on and a sense of urgency about laundry. This girlfriend maintains a pace of living I don't understand or relate to on any level. She has plans for the start of this long weekend that already take place in 2 states. While I understand New York and New Jersey aren't the same as New York and Nebraska, the itinerary is dynamic, ambitious, and chaotic to me. It's her pace of social activity that made me curious about her motives when we were in the preliminary stages of our friendship. She always seemed to have more than enough things to do and people to do them with and I a: wondered where I fit into all of that and why she even wanted one more friend and b: didn't really want the challenge of trying to fit in to all of that. I resisted in ways that in light of what a good friend she is to me now, I cringe at. But for better or worse (for her), she has me for a friend now. So when she told me on what I thought was an otherwise unstructured day during my planned visit that she and her husband are going to the US Open and asked me if I wanted her to buy me a ticket, I was inclined to just visit another weekend. If I was there and they suggested the same thing, I would probably be fine. As it stands, I think I will just plan to leave before they need to head out for the Open. I love her because I can tell her I have no interest in watching tennis and she will love that I have the nerve to tell her that. It's not really nerve. It's the honesty in our relationship that allows her to make it clear she has no interest in the Amish even though my soul twin (and mutual friend) wants desperately to make a weekend of all things rural Pennsylvania.

I wonder why she schedules so heavily and she probably wonders why it is so hard for me to commit to something as simple as coming up to visit. I have to think that for people like her and my best friend my reluctance to commit to things annoys them greatly and maybe even hurts their feelings from time to time. I don't know why I feel this way, why it is so stressful to commit, to plan, but it is. It just is. I make very few commitments, even to myself. It's difficult for me to make a hair appointment. I've been thinking about a massage appointment all day. Didn't call. It's hard to commit to even watching a movie. Most things get done eventually but I'm much better at spontaneous decisions and I've never really had a strong desire to plan fun things to do. I devote a lot of energy to just getting myself somewhere. Once I'm there, I evaluate my entertainment options. Usually I'm just giddy to have actually escaped the trajectory of my home orbit. The only thing I know about this evening is I will feed and walk Baloo. The rest is TBD and trying not to think about my appointment with the trainer tomorrow morning. Wish we had waited till Saturday to confirm the time.

The whole aimless day, thinking about work and knowing I have plenty to do there coupled with my internal frustration at not being able to enjoy time off or plan to be away so I can enjoy time off got me wondering again why I do things the way I do even though they often lead to discontent (and really long run-on sentences). I hate to disappoint people. Over the years it just became easier to promise them nothing. I am a now person. I make appointments with my trainer no more than 2 days in advance and more often than not, mere hours before our session. I was shopping with a coupon that expired at midnight on Sunday and I couldn't figure out if I really wanted the pants until 11:55. I was typing my credit card information like the wind trying to get the purchase in under the wire. I had been browsing the site and filling my shopping cart since 9 pm that night. I usually cancel appointments that I make more than a week in advance because something almost always comes up that trumps it. When I call, I know I have the time and do my darndest to sneak into a cancellation. Tues at 1:45 three weeks from now, I have no idea what I might be doing but I'll bet having that time spoken for will put a wrinkle in something.

Part of my world view accepts there is very little I can do to actually make things happen. I can put things out there with my purest intentions (for good or bad), but what happens next is completely out of my control. I think this philosophy is tangentially related to my resistance to planning things in that everything feels more out of my control when I plan ahead. I have no idea what will be going on in October so when I plan I give the universe something to fuck with. To fill with conflicting obligations, with stresses that compound as the time draws near. I have to try to mitigate all the life in-between the time I made a plan and the life that followed. When I do something now there's less time to consider the decision and all the ways it may conflict with yet unrealized future plans.

All the dense chewy explanatory prose aside, at the end of the day, I don't make plans because I don't want to. I want to do things, I enjoy them when I do. But I'm always miserable long before I feel good and I let that drive my behavior. Call it lack of discipline, call it uptight, call it you-are-lucky-to-have-any-friends, everyone I love knows this about me. I want to be better for me and for them but this is what we're working with right now. Maybe this quirk is fundamental Ava and unlikely to change. Maybe my would-be partner in crime will be the yin to my yang and we'll see the world and all my friends. Maybe I'll have my baby and write my book as Lodo suggested and though I'll have more reasons not to plan, I'll do it anyway because I'll want my child to feel a season is incomplete without a getaway of some sort. I guess we will see...

Can't get good help anymore

The cleaning guy is eyeing me lasciviously and apologized repeatedly for not letting me know he was going to be on vacation last week. Going to have to figure out a way to return the gift card. As classy and graciously as one can return a gift directly to the person who gave it to them. I'm sure it won't be painfully awkward. I'm sure I won't put it off for weeks. This morning he scoffed at a remark I made about needing a vacation. I thought he was being playful but I failed until now to grasp the irony of saying that to a man who worked two jobs; at his first one before I even leave for mine and at his second one long after I return home from my day of non-manual labor. Whatever dude. Fine, you win. I still need a fucking vacation.

Yesterday Baloo ran to greet the same cleaning guy and I noticed she was limping. I love her furry butt and I'm confident she will break my heart. She's my reason for coming home. She's my reason for going out. She's my joy and sorrow and wonder at being outside. I like to watch her sniff the breeze. I love the way she literally looks down her nose at other dogs with a dominant stare and erect tail. So much attitude in that petite lab package. Gotta keep her healthy. Things wear down and wear out but I want as graceful an aging for her as possible. That's my girl.

I was putting away stuff at work today and realized I've probably already written a novel's worth of words in just this last two years. Writing a book is far different than work writing but the thought made writing seem more possible.

My sister is horrible wear and tear on all things. She rolls hard, son. She rolls hard. So many broken and prematurely worn things in such a short time.