8,760 Little Hours

A film came out a while back, I’m not sure how long ago, entitled Things We Lost in the Fire.
I never saw it, I think I may have seen a preview, but I’m not sure.
In any case, I have the impression the film is about more than the material goods that burned.
It deals with the “everything now is different” experience. Life was X it is now Y and it is Y because of Z; the fire in this case being Z and providing a line of demarcation between X and Y.

I am, given my general personality, inclined to view lines of demarcation in a negative way. Before I got sick. After my grandmother died. After I crashed my car. Rarely do I highlight the positive changes. After I moved to London. After I redid my apartment.

This summer was, of course, filled with change. For that matter, so has this year. It’s puerile, I think, to mark this change as “new job” or “family death.” It doesn’t capture exactly how different my life feels in now from before, the exciting and (mostly) positive ways in which it is different. Today though, I think I stumbled upon it.

It’s Thursday. The Thursday before pay day. I asked my assistant if she was going out for lunch and rolled her eyes and said, “nope, brought.” Then it dawned on me. Of COURSE she brought her lunch. Tomorrow’s payday who has lunch money today?

So that’s it. I’m now living AFTER I stopped worrying about having enough money to buy lunch.

This feels good.

Extemporanious

In 4th grade my mother gave me a book of poetry by Judith Voirst (she of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day fame). If I Were in Charge of the World was the title and my mother inscribed it with the message, "Don't you wish you were!"

What can I say? I like to hear myself talk. I also like to tell people what to do. That I am the eldest daughter of 4 children is not unrelated. But, I digress.

I especially like to hold court as it were (ed., perhaps that's why I have a blog). Give me a drink or two and well, my usually loose lips come unhinged.

Fortunately for me, my roommate adores these ramblings and calls them my “Dr. Seuss’s Guides.” As in “Doctor Seuss’s Guide to Having an Affair and Managing a Business,” the title of one of my more recent monologues (ed., I am neither having an affair nor running a business). I make pronouncements, give advice and make commentary on a variety of subjects. Monday’s subject was, predictably, relationships. The details of these lectures are always fuzzy for me, but apparently the phrase “corn-fed thighs” came up, several times.


Corn fed thighs. Just the phrase makes me laugh.

Tune in Tokyo

Hi hi hi!
How are you?
Sorry for the radio silence.

Things have been....I don't know, nutty? I hate to use work as an excuse because, really, do you want to know how much time I spend goofing off? So, yes, while I am working harder and longer and more diligently in my new position, I still have plenty of time to write goofy emails.

I'm kinda pre-occupied. Still trying to find my place during a time of upheaval. Whereas I spent last summer jetting off each weekend to the beach and loving every minute of it, this summer I'm just trying to get through it. Not in a bad way, really, but more in a, "if I put my head down can I just wake up at Thanksgiving?" kind of way. There's still so much left to learn, so much about which I am unsure, I just want this part of the job over and done.

Make sense?

Soon enough,though, it will be fall and I'll have 3 months under my belt. Don't know why that sticks in my head, it's just, well, 90 days is long enough to not be the newbie.

It's more than the job, though. I feel like I spent the past year or so preparing for a big change. I don't know what it is, but I feel something coming. Not in a scary way, in a good way. Like I'm being carried along by the tide and I'm not exactly sure where I'm going but I know it's somewhere good. At the same time, however, I'm in a stream of moving water so it's, you know, a good idea to be braced for things like rocks and driftwood and the occasional beer bottle.

Bye Bye Birdie

All morning I've had "One Last Kiss" running through my head.

It's been a week of "lasts." That bittersweet time in which one takes a moment to look around and say, "hey, this has been my life for the past 2.5 years and now it's over."

This is a good thing. I worked very hard to bring about this change and I'm excited for the future. But still, it's never fun to say good bye.

--
Apologies for the melancholy tone. I promise that I'll be back in top form soon. I'll regale you all (all 3 of you) with witty tales after the weekend.

Cent

For Nina, because she speaks for the tress that have no tongues.

This is my 100th post. I feel unprepared. Would that I had a special post waiting to go. Alas and alack, I do not. Instead, I'll have to make do with this snippet:

Me: Ah, summer dinner parties, they'll be the death of me.
Him: You gotta die of something. May as well be summer dinner parties.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

It's too darn hot.
And last night I was too darn stupid.

It's easy to forget, when you live in a walking city, that much of your daily activity is actually exercise. It doesn't feel like exercise, it feels like going to work or the grocery store. It is indeed exercise, especially when the temperature is 95 degrees.

Which brings me to last night.

I left the office at the normal time and had a leisurely walk home-- popped into a few shops along the way and chatted with friends. When I reached the park, I called my mom and chatted with her for a while. As we talked, I walked the perimeter of the park. 3 times. Or, roughly, 1.5 miles.

So, to recap, between walking home and walking around the park, I logged roughly 3 miles in 95 degree heat. Except! It didn't feel like exercise! And since it didn't feel like exercise and I wasn't thirsty, I didn't drink any water when I got home.

Then, because I am a gluten for punishment, I decided to go for a run. A nice 2.5 mile stretch of the legs along the Hudson River. Sounds great, right? Yeah, it was great until about 1.5 miles into it when I realized, quite dramatically, that I had not drunk enough water.

My right leg cramped up and down I went. Slapt on concrete sidewalk of the West Side Highway, right in front of the delightfully good-looking gentleman running behind me.

Because of course, if you're going to fall down in fit of dehydration and muscle cramps, you want to make sure you do it in front of the most handsome man around. It's just common sense. Or a complete lack there of.

Oy vey.

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

Mo Dowd. I heart you. Muchly.

I still have the articles I cut out of the New York Times during the whole Monica Lewinsky affair. I have the piece you wrote about your mother after her death. It contained one of the greatest pieces of advice ever. When I'm feeling sad or scared, I buy something red and wear it as my badge of courage. This has worked far better than anything else I've tried.

And so, thank you once again. Thank you for writing, in the paper of record, just what I needed to hear:

"She didn’t lose because she was a woman. She didn’t lose because America isn’t ready for a woman as president. She lost because of her own — and her husband’s and Mark Penn’s — fatal missteps."