Thirty-year-old Secretary

I Can See Russia From Alaska (When I Look in Your Eyes)

2008-09-29T10:00:00.001-04:00

Gentle Readers,

I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. I've been working on other projects (see below), but I miss you desperately.

Christmas Plans

2007-12-07T15:28:00.000-05:00

Sigrid insists that I come back to San Francisco for Christmas. A chilly breeze is whistling through windows of office and see lonely flakes of snow flying around leaden skies, so readily agree. Call Dave to tell him of plan. He says that he's just gotten of the phone with his mother and that she is insisting that we come to her house and he would like to go see her. Am shocked and ask him Why? (Last trip included awkward dinner with Dave's mother and her new beau, Dave's 9th grade math teacher. Both Dave's mother and math teacher drinkers and dinner--at nice Little Rock restaurant--loud voiced, spilly, and argumentative--or rather, dinner not those things, but Dave's mom and beau. I sat silent throughout meal practicing Tibetan meditation technique of Being with the exhalation of the breath--not very successfully.) Try to gently remind Dave of this, but he says that he Loves his mother's cookies. Cookies are made not by mother but by housekeeper, but let this detail slide. Dave says stiffly that we will talk about this later. Agree. Spend rest of afternoon thinking about one's attachment to family. Sigrid certainly not easiest person to get along with, not to mention husband, but do desperately want to go see her and it isn't just because Elizabeth is growing up quickly. Ask Oliver if he is going home (to Oregon) to see his family and he says brightly O yes. He has 4 brothers and 3 sisters and their kids, and his parents, and they all meet at the family farm. Ask him if his girlfriend is going too. No, he says sadly, she doesn't like clog dancing. (!!)

Winter

2007-12-06T13:56:00.000-05:00

Cope with extremely chilly weather today by ordering, picking up from diner, and then eating at desk: cheeseburger, chocolate milkshake, and side of fries. Meal delicious, but turns to sand in mouth when against better judgement click on link on news blog that takes me to alarming story about Sumatran forests being chopped down and burned. Panic eat, and am busy shoving fries into mouth full of burger when the Contessa enters my office wrapped up as though getting ready to take horse drawn sleigh ride. Ask her if it is still cold outside. She ignores this, surveying the greasy pile in front of me. Whoa, she says, you really went whole hog! Fries too! Become very angry and ask her coldly if that is all she came by to say. She replies, No, not at all. I actually came by because I haven't seen you in forever and I miss you. Feel extraordinarily guilty and can only say, O. Also, the Contessa adds, I was wondering why you never write your blog anymore. Tell her that I have been very busy. She waves this--clearly idiotic in her view--excuse away. Feel self becoming angry again. I have been busy, I tell her, which sounds weak. Besides, I didn't even know you read the blog. She says, Yes I do. It Is Funny. Ego properly stroked, I admit to her that I've been feeling a bit at sea vis-a-vis the blog. I am no longer a secretary and I am no longer thirty-years-old nor have I been either of those things for quite some time. So it feels weird to post on a blog called TYOS. That doesn't matter she says, look at The Jesus and Mary Chain, look at Maroon 5--do those band names have anything to do with the content of the songs? Tell her that a blog is not a band and posts are not songs (certainly not, she says, shaking her head in horror, that's not what I meant at all) and that I would like to come up with a new, more apt and inspiring title. She says she will Think About It.

When it Rains

2007-11-15T12:47:00.000-05:00

On way in to work, skies very dark and rain, though not torrential is brisk enough to warrant use of umbrella. Umbrella exhibits unhelpful tendency to turn itself inside out , which turns it into a bowl, then wind pushes edges down, dumping collected water on very angry self. Feel that this bodes ill for the day and tell same to Oliver who says when I enter that it looks like I just Went for a Jog. Go immediately to bathroom to try to neaten self up. Return from bathroom in worse shape--not improved by Oliver taking one look at hair and saying, OOH, Woah. Have sharp reply being formulated in head which will probably not be ready until am preparing to go to sleep. But before can stutter out placeholder, Oliver flaps phone message in my face. It is from a literary agent--friend of friend of the Contessa's who was encouraged to send manuscript to and did, on Friday. Call. Agent says he would like to meet for coffee, and that he thinks the manuscript is Magnificent (he must be exaggerating) and he can't wait to meet me in person. Am, naturally, stunned. Call Dave, who says that he is not at all surprised. Not at all? No, and he is very proud. Experience strange but mostly pleasant mixture of emotions.

Pleasant Weekend

2007-11-05T16:43:00.000-05:00

Weekend spent blissfully quietly. Have long been leery of squash, possibly because side dish served during childhood consisting of halved acorn squash broiled with a bit of butter and brown sugar. This dish not inherently awful, but can't think of it without stomach giving a quick turn. But for past three weeks have been seeing winter squash at the farmer's market and have become curious about what might be missing. Last night make delicious salad of bitter greens; roasted squash; toasted, salted, chilied pepitas and dressing of shallot, mustard, red wine vinegar and olive oil and serve with roasted pork loin. Dave happy with meal and Jenny extremely jealous, licking her chops throughout. Am cozy and full, and for once have no trouble falling asleep nor staying asleep nor waking up too early, except last dream is set at a lake and involves the Vice-Boss and needing to read confusing spreadsheet that can't because contacts have become the size of dinner plates and won't fit in eyes. (This detail certainly frighteningly Freudian.) Get the Contessa to help me. She has a small monkey clinging to her arm and one sitting on top of her head. Am very scared of both of the monkeys but pretend not to be. The Vice-Boss claps her hands and says Now I need those documents for that meeting in Midtown! Only then do I think--despite much other alarming evidence--Wait a Minute--this is a dream! When do wake up, feel that would much prefer to plan, cook, and eat meal again as day's sole activity.

Oliver Helps Out

2007-11-02T16:01:00.000-04:00

Oliver tells me--unprovoked--that he can tell that Cindy Stevens's departure had been difficult for all of us, especially me. Do not want to ask him how he knows it's been difficult for me, but nevertheless hear self asking. Sighs, he says. You've been sighing a lot. Also, it looks like you haven't been sleeping--my girlfriend says that if you don't sleep enough it makes you look gray and it makes you snappish. Am not sure whether or not he is talking about me being gray and snappish--could well believe that he is--though feel that he is taking a far too personal tone--so ask him, Girlfriend? He replies, Don't tell the Contessa--I don't want to hurt her feelings--but I decided to get back with my girlfriend--she promised that she wouldn't cheat on me again. This exchange opens up a deep well of emotion in Oliver and as he tells me of their problems (the gist of which is that, in his view, the girlfriend has Trust issues and that's what makes her Push Him Away) feel myself becoming grayer and more snappish as the minutes progress. At the end of the conversation he produces half of what he says he thinks is an Ambien, which he is giving to me so that I can get a good night's rest. He says in parting, We need you bright eyed and bushy tailed on Monday, Dude! As days of taking unidentified pills have long past, promptly throw partial pill in trash once he leaves office. Indulge idle fantasy in which Oliver is maimed badly enough to force him to take a medical leave, but not badly enough to kill him. Better nature intervenes and tell self that what really wish (not really) is that he decides to move to Berlin and had no other option but to quit.

Halloween

2007-11-01T14:44:00.000-04:00

Would like to say, first off, that am terrified of people in masks, even children. School very close to Sixth Avenue, site of annual parade at which even the spectators wear costumes. Should revise: wear uniforms and become very drunk, discover when leave office late after day of meetings (more some other time, but loss of Cindy Stevens is very sorely felt). Make way to Union Square to subway, passing scary assortment of creatures, i.e. a young man wearing dark sunglasses and tapping sidewalk with stick, evidently a Blind Man--costume which personally think would be very bad luck and might draw the attention of the evil eye--also two men wearing masks made of tin foil but otherwise not dressed up, lots of pirates, bloody doctors (people wearing scrubs smeared with red stuff), a pudgy Little Bo Peep, Brett Michaels and participants in The Rock of Love; also, entire cast of the Facts of Life--am fairly certain Blair and Mrs. Garret are men. Finally achieve subway station. Train comes right away. Settle self down into seat though see out of corner of eye that on other side of woman I am sitting next to is man whose head has been completely wrapped up in flesh colored gauze, except for eyes, which are covered by sunglasses. Determine to Pretend he isn't there. This tactic unsuccessful as hear him say to my neighbor in an low, affectless voice, I Want Your Shoes. Am 1) terrified on behalf of my neighbor 2) scared that she will get up and that the man will say something as frightening to me 3) in a general panic. Panic subsides slightly when realize that neighbor and the creepy gentleman are friends and are having a conversation. Am still suspicious and hairs on back of neck still tingling. Thankfully, during walk home meet with no further incident, except pass very small dinosaur--design of costume renders mask unnecessary and face sensibly visible--a good 20 yards ahead of his trick-or-treating group. He seems very upset, arms crossed in front of chest, face in scowl, and is making frustrated huffing noise. Feel kinship with the T-Rex.

Night of 1,000 Trials

2007-10-31T15:52:00.000-04:00

Am extremely tired last night, so go to bed early, 10 p.m., read new Domino magazine --which makes me anxious and covetous--eyes start to droop, and throw magazine to floor, turn out lights, roll over on side and expect to be asleep in mere seconds. Am hot. Kick off covers. Dave turns his light off and hear him breathing deeply. Jenny does the same on her little bed on floor. Feel icy breeze up leg and back. Roll over and cover self up again. Become hot. Pee. When get back, Dave asks, What's wrong? Tell him tensely, I am trying to sleep. Attempt deep yogic breathing and arrange limbs in Sivasana. Think that the English term is Corpse Pose. Thoughts follow dark path. Recall self and attempt to breath evenly and deeply again. Begin to calm down and feel meditative. Hear distant yet piercing alarm sounding in regular rhythm of beep-beep-beep! (pause) beep-beep-beep! (pause) etc. Sometimes it sounds like the alarm has been shut off. Enter strangely exhausting and thrilling exercise during which and strain ears to hear if it will come back on again. It always does. Cover ears with pillow. Become hot. Roll over, kick off covers, huff out air and open eyes to stare at ceiling. Roll over, close eyes. Mosquito whines in ear. This morning, tell self firmly that next time am similarly struck, I will Get Up.

Elevator Etiquitte

2007-10-30T15:48:00.000-04:00

After retrieving mail from box, get on elevator last night with unfamiliar neighbor holding familiar dog on leash. Dog familiar because only has three legs and is a honey colored pit bull, seems friendly though feel irrational fear at sight of breed. Don't like to be prejudiced, so am overly forward with dog, putting out hand to be sniffed and hopefully licked instead of mauled (which is what unhelpfully occurs in bloody detail in head). What happens instead is that Dolly--learn name of dog because of owner's cries, Down Dolly, be nice, down Dolly!--jumps up and licks my face, balancing on her one hind leg. Am impressed and charmed, Dolly calms down, and feel glad that all has worked out for the best. Unfortunately, elevator seems to be taking inordinately long time ascending, and to fill the silence Dolly's owner observes, You got your New Yorker today! I never get mine until Tuesday! This would be perfect time to ask for her name, but then I would have to say my name in return, and only thing that want to do is get off elevator immediately, so instead say, meaning to tell joke--You must be being punished for something. Joke--if it could even be called that--naturally falls flat. Elevator creeps up. Am so mortified that can't even apologize. Do say Goodnight brightly, but Goodnight given in return decidedly and deservedly chilly.

Cindy Stevens

2007-10-17T15:32:00.000-04:00

Am dealt severe shock when Cindy Stevens calls me into her office to say that her husband got a job in San Francisco and that she and the rest of the family are moving there in two weeks time. She will look for work once she's there. While there is a Search for her job, would I be willing to Step In for her? Do not wish to step in for her, in fact, do not want to be working in development at all, so ignore question and congratulate her on her good fortune in moving to San Francisco. It is not humid at all! Also tell her tell her that she won't have any trouble finding work--once you know how to do development work there is always work to be found (privately panic that will only ever do development work for rest of work-life)--also tell her that my sister Sigrid is in San Francisco though she can be a bit abrupt and prickly and not the easiest person to know, she does like San Francisco quite a bit and her young daughter Elizabeth seems to be adjusting very well to life in general and to live in San Francisco--though she is only two-and-a-half, but still it suits her. Also, there are lots of restaurants that serve inexpensive and fresh food There is a pause. Cindy Stevens asks, So what do you think? Tell self that should be very firm about terms. Instead, say Yes, sure, for however long it takes to find a new person.

Fall

2007-10-12T15:35:00.000-04:00

Jenny and I go for actual run this morning after long hiatus, probably because this is the first day that actually have to work up a sweat. Have recently discovered that one lap around park is 0.8 miles, which round up to one mile, so that after 4 laps feel very well worked out indeed. So does Jenny, who right when we get home laps up entire contents of bowl, eats dry food with gusto, and then jumps up on top of bed, where Dave is still sleeping. As have chugged coffee and bowl of organic bran flakes, am equally enthusiastic (though hope did not make same alarming snuffling and chomping noises as Jenny made during her repast) and when Jenny jumps on bed, I say in bright voice, Up and Adam, lazybones! Dave pulls pillow over his head. Jenny thinks this is a game. She takes corner of pillow in her mouth and then tosses her head, growling, but her tail wagging friskily. Dave is not pleased. Thankfully, leave soon after, and day continues to be breezy, brain free from usual clutter of worry, unfounded fantasies, tiresome songs of the earworm variety, calculations of future financial disaster (or opposite) and so on. Am in such a good mood, even feel that have banished difficult thoughts forever.

Rain Outside Window

2007-10-11T15:33:00.000-04:00

Am wearing Cardigan purchased on sweltering day a couple of weeks ago in anticipation of and fervent hope for cooler weather to come. Dramatic and decorative clouds race across sky and rain falls diagonally, pours really, and congratulate self for having the sense to be inside. (Later, when have to go to Library and rain soaks entire right side, find reason to regret cockiness.) Cozy calm (hideous overhead lights are extinguished and thought have to squint a bit to see, much prefer 2 rickety area lamps which Dave begged me to take out of the apartment) is interrupted by entrance of Oliver, who sits in chair opposite desk, sets his chin in his hands and asks in worried tone if I think the Contessa is going to call him back or not, ever. Was very relieved to hear from the Contessa herself that the date was a dud, and that they didn't even kiss, and at one point she'd asked herself very seriously how much she'd have to sleep with Oliver--but this was a bit of a paradox--she said to me--if she drank that much she'd have long passed out. Was relieved in a way when she told me this, but now that Oliver is sitting in front of me, see that her impulsive behavior has consequences, not only for her, but for me. Am very angry at her. Oliver says brightly, I know what happened! She lost my telephone number. Gently suggest that his feelings are not returned--point to rather obvious fact that she has my number and Oliver and I work in the same office. Oliver pauses, thinking about this. I'm very persistent, he says. Have never witnessed this quality in him, but am afraid that now will.

Meetings

2007-10-03T16:11:00.000-04:00

Have been in what feels like 3 month succession of meetings. When return to office from most recent meeting, hear self telling Oliver that my brain is mashy. Think, but am not positive, that was trying to say that brain was mush. Not sure if this is much better, or better at all--am trying to figure out if it is better, yes it is, no it isn't, boy I'd like some chocolate! etc. when perceive that Olive is smiling at me unblinkingly, and in fact, hasn't blinked in a long time. Say, Did I miss something? He says, I just said that the Contessa and I are going on a date. Go into office and Call the Contessa, who does not answer. Neither does she answer her cell phone. Send text: ???! She writes back: I'm desperate, don't judge. Contrary to her instructions, Do judge very severely. Am very certain, and yet also afraid, that will be forced to hear the details. Perhaps from two sides. Brain mashy.

Starlet

2007-09-28T16:11:00.000-04:00

Evening takes a strange turn after Matthew Brookshire show. Am sitting in front of Caffe Vivaldi drinking beer with the Contessa and Dave, when very thin, blond girl--hair back in tight ponytail and held back in headband, wearing white dress and clutching Blackberry--seats herself at our table. Or rather she falls into seat, tossing large portion of wine in her glass into Dave's lap. She takes napkin from purse and pats his thigh, apologizing in a slurring way. She give up the job and looks up at Dave. You're beautiful, she says. (Feel that this tactic--if judiciously used--could come in handy when find self in tough inter-personal fix.) You're not just beautiful, you're Hot, she continues. Girl--we find out her name is Alix--next turns her attention to the Contessa who she also declares is Beautiful. Alix says, If you were a Lesbian I'd sleep with you. Even if I wasn't a lesbian. Feel that it is my turn next, so am very surprised when she turns toward me and says, why are you looking at me that way. I can see the look you gave your beautiful friend. You hate me, don't you? Tell her that I don't even know her. In fact, do hate her, but she has a lunatic glint in her eye and feel like don't want to be hit with Blackberry. She tells us that she is a TV actress, so she knows what hot is. What show? Dave asks. She replies, I was nominated for an Emmy--then she corrects herself--No, not an Emmy, the other one. The Golden Globe? the Contessa offers. No, Alex replies firmly, the Teen Choice Award. After much slurring, and another moment when she a) angrily accuses the Contessa of drinking her wine--glass is empty and she says, I don't remember drinking it. b) Hitches her dress up high enough so that her underpants show--am terrified of being attacked again, so don't say anything. (Am also, am ashamed to admit, extremely fascinated by her behavior.) c) she tells us that her TV show is actually an internet show. Do you know Michael Eisner? she asks mysteriously. She is finally retrieved by friends, one of whom apologizes for her. Have distinct sense that this is not the first time he's had to do the same. We get up and leave before she decides to come back outside again. Note to the others that She's what is known as a mean drunk. She's what is known as a crazy person, the Contessa amends, shuddering--Imagine if we lived in LA and everybody was like that. Think this is an extreme exaggeration.

For Heather Moore

2007-09-27T16:40:00.000-04:00

3 hour meeting today provides plenty of time to draw:

Lady's leg and shoe--rest obscured by tablecloth. Also, plastic coffee mug.

Sandwich with one bite taken out--drawing of actual sandwich. No chips provided at meeting but excited by salami--unfortunately salami tasted exactly like sliced Spam.

Did not feel up to drawing a unicorn at this meeting, also, sitting right next to Cindy Stevens and felt her glancing over at notebook several times. Did not care to have to explain unicorn drawing.

Oliver

2007-09-26T15:42:00.000-04:00

Oliver comes into my office today to tell me that he is a) the mailing for the board reception is in the mailroom now (do not like to point out to him that it should have gone out on Friday--but do congratulate self on new method with Oliver--i.e. to change due date back so that things actually get done on time b) he is hungry and is thinking about going to Gray's Papaya (am repulsed and can't think why he'd want to share this with me) and c) Your friend who visited yesterday is fi-ine. With sick feeling (made worse by concurrent image of brain of ends of Gray's Papaya's hot dogs, bright red, slick, and looking like they've been tied off by hand) realize that he is talking about the Contessa. Decide to take opposite tack from yesterday and feign deafness so as not to accidentally encourage behavior. Oliver asks, Is she dating? Look sidelong at phone , willing it to ring. It maddeningly does not. Oliver and I stare at each other. I heard she got dumped by her fiance, he says. Tell him that this is true. He asks, Does she like smart guys? He is talking about himself. Conversation continues in this vein for much too long, as Oliver--as has been proven before--can't pick up on cues which a normal person would know meant that the conversation was not being enjoyed by all parties: curtness, the checking and typing of email, going to the bathroom (he follows me in and talks to me while I pee).

The Contessa's Bad Taste

2007-09-25T15:36:00.000-04:00

The Contessa calls to say that she has news about the Vice-Boss and that she (the Contessa) is coming over Right Away. Am very impressed and excited by this news, and can do absolutely no work waiting for her arrival. On her way in, she is waylaid by Oliver. Can't hear what they are talking about and am sufficiently annoyed by having to wait that finally get up out of chair to see what the chit chat is about. What are you talking about? I ask. Oh Nothing, the Contessa says, turning me around and leading me into my office, where she shuts the door. She says, I never realized that Oliver was Cute before. Am shocked and horrified and appalled say so. The Contessa asks if I look down on him because he is a secretary. Certainly not. Try to change subject back to the Vice-Boss. The Contessa says she really doesn't have any news, only this: The Vice-Boss wearing black today and she has Dandruff (check shoulders--shirt light, so results fortunately inconclusive). That's all? The Contessa puts her chin in her hands. Does Oliver have a girlfriend? Reply in chilly tone, I don't think so, but I don't really keep up on his social life. She asks, How much younger than me is he? I tell her. Six years? she asks, sounding more interested rather than less. Tell her that Oliver is a very difficult person. She says that she likes difficult. Now feel she is just being perverse and tell her sourly that I have a Meeting to go to. She replies, Well la-di-da and your meeting! Draw me a unicorn! she adds, which I consider very low indeed.

Batman Curtains

2007-09-24T16:09:00.000-04:00

The batman curtains across the street have been replaced with a heavy forest green blanket draped over top of window (window is sort that can slide either up or down.) Feel that this is a sinister development. Morning is spent alternately a) taking care of tedious filing, emailing, and phone calls that have to force self to make after dreading for weeks, and b)remembering about the blanket and excitedly whipping head around to stare at it. Excitement is unfortunately not justified, but feeling that blanket bodes ill for the apartment's inhabitants grows by the minute.

Trash Chute

2007-09-21T12:37:00.000-04:00

Last night gather up garbage bag to take to chute. Am wearing pajama bottoms and t-shirt, but don't like to be barefoot in public hallway, so stop by coat closet (not accurate name, also houses cake pans, vacuum cleaner, Champagne glasses which have used exactly once, half-filled paint cans, liquor, including bottle of grappa with half an inch of liquid in it, Christmas ornaments, and on the floor and on top of air purifier, shoes. This storage method for shoes makes for a hot and tense time of finding a proper pair of shoes, so to save wear and tear on self, take the first pair that see--one clog and one flip flop. Unfortunately, on way to trash chute, run into neighbor who is wearing baggy boxer briefs, a t-shirt, and slippers. Somehow, stifle impulse to make joke about what we are wearing--joke not so much a joke, as something like, I always put on funny outfits to take out the trash! Which would have only made it sound like I had some sort of bizarre fetish. Instead we are hideously polite to each other and even, I'm afraid, a bit cool. Would not swear that the word Man wasn't used by me, as in Hey man, you doin' ok. Yeah man, you? he replies. However mortifying this becomes in retrospect (very) do at least glad that we both were properly socialized enough to ignore reality.

Kid Nation

2007-09-20T12:45:00.000-04:00

Watch very interesting show on television last night called Kid Nation. Had previously read about reality show, which puts 30 kids in the desert for a month, where they are expected to organize their own society. Articles about show mostly dealt with the aftermath of the show--parents have complained that the the show violated child labor laws and the children were put in dangerous situations (think, but am not certain that there was a bleach drinking incident.) These all valid reasons to be upset, but do feel that the parents might have considered what they were doing before they sent their kids off to the desert--not that children should be blamed for their parents' greed/lust for fame. So watch show with some measure of guilt, but since guilt is nearly constant companion, we sit very companionably on sofa with Dave and Jenny and watch the kids compete to see who will be in the Upper Class, and who will be a member of the Merchant Class, the Cooks, and the Laborers. Show not entirely unlike something called Endurance--a Survivor rip off that showed (shows?) on Saturday mornings. Redhead host JD Roth--as the title suggests--had kids compete in various tasks, i.e. hanging on to greased pole for as long as possible, or perhaps solving riddle. In episodes that I saw, this took place in gorgeous tropical places, which would have loved to go to when that age, living with the other kids, and making friends with the girls--could very easily imagine self making alliances (a la Survivor) with fellow contestants. Kid Nation also appeals because the kids are to remake a Frontier Town. Can only say that had very involved fantasies based on the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, so this is naturally very appealing as well. Own parents never would have allowed me to go, but can only too well imagine myself begging. Kids are actually like kids--there are two rowdy older boys, 15, who terrorize the younger kids, one girl when she sees the bunk house says, Everything is in disarray! And one kid, named Jimmy, spends most of episode sobbing and telling everybody who will listen that he is Too Young. I'm only in third grade, he says, wiping the tears from his eyes as more tears fall. At the end of the episode, Jimmy is thankfully allowed to go home, which means that I get to watch again next week. (It really would have been too cruel to keep him on.) Somehow the competitive spirit invades dreams, and when see Dave nonchalantly catching football and joining touch football game in park, despite extreme trepidation, don't want to be left out, so I too join in game despite proven lack of aptitude for catching, probably because am and always will be Afraid of ball. Fear does not evaporate even though am dreaming, just as it didn't go away when any number of coaches urged me to put myself in harm's way. In dream, successfully manage to not have anybody Pass me the ball, but do identify opportunity to help team when see opponent holding ball and charging toward goal line. Put out hands and lunge toward him, and make contact! Wake up to see that have hit wall with hands and on the way, clipped the non-football playing, until seconds ago sleeping, Dave on the side of the head. He is naturally confused and upset. I was playing touch football in my dream, I say, as he frowns in a worried way and then rolls over and away from me. Have talked aloud while sleeping, but think this is the first instance in which have ever moved while dreaming. Sincerely hope that it doesn't foretell new penchant for sleep walking, sleep eating, etc. Have any readers ever sleep walked or eaten?

Day to day

2007-09-19T16:01:00.000-04:00

After licking wounds about bad news about book this summer, put aside and (in July) start brand new book about a carrot growing family that gets into the processing of carrots and about the grinding of the carrots down into those repulsive little nubs (the carrots only a background to a murder investigation--a rival carrot grower is found dead in the fields.) This is just to say that have been typing away busily and now have over 400 pages--speed totally unprecedented and probably never to be experienced again, but am trying to appreciate it while it is here. This morning as am typing, up pops window that reads You have too many spelling mistakes and grammar problems for Microsoft Word to mark any longer. Do not at all care for the unnecessary scolding tone. Close computer in disgust (it is time to leave for work anyway) and as am going into Manhattan on train, compose sharply worded note to Microsoft (Question: perhaps better to send directly to Bill Gates?). When get into work, decide note is very silly, despite (or perhaps because of?) brief but pointed dissertation about the delicate relationship between the Computer and the Artist...then forget note entirely as find Oliver on hands and knees under desk. Susan explains that He is looking for a staple remover. Feel it best not to ask any follow up questions, but neither can I help self from lingering, waiting to see if Oliver is successful in his hunt. Oliver emerges from under desk looking a bit dusty and rumpled, and holding ruler. No mention is made of staple remover. We start conversation about the Biggest Loser, which Oliver and Susan profess to Love. I've never seen show, but am fascinated and horrified by their description of how show goes--seems to mostly consist of larger humans taking off their shirts and then standing on scales. Oliver says excitedly, Some of the men have three sets of breasts! Make mental note to see what he is talking about.

Meeting

2007-09-17T15:36:00.000-04:00

Am busily doodling away during meeting--doodles are abstract rather than figurative, filling most of bottom of page with firm diagonal lines, feel that lines clearly indicate dangerously obsessive behavior, but grimly draw to goal of covering all white space on page--when pen leaks in major way, spilling ink on page, quickly traveling down table to lap. Try to sop up ink as best as can with notebook, but this only succeeds in smearing it on table, and it is only then that notice that have spilled ink on taupe pants of the Director of Publicity. She, unfortunately, notices at exactly the same time and shrieks, which brings the meeting to a halt. Have often wished for disasters to end meetings, but do not at all care for all eyes disapprovingly on me--fantasies usually end in similar way, but disapproval replaced with admiration as have just successfully executed the Heimlich maneuver and a nut has flown across the room. The pen exploded, say by way of explanation, showing my hands, which are covered in ink. Say brightly and insanely, I swear this isn't from one of those exploding thingamajiggerss that bank tellers put in bags of stolen money! (Use of word Thingamajiggers haunts me later) Am met with blank stares except by Director of publicity who says angrily that Clearly the ink came from your pen. Excuse self to go to bathroom to wash hands and am told that everyone else will take a quick break so that I don't miss any of meeting. Am thoroughly discouraged.

Delightful Message

2007-09-13T19:29:00.000-04:00

Receive message from Heather Moore (www.skinnylaminx.com sorry I can't do the proper kind of link, am doing this at home and the little icon doesn't show up) takes matters into her own hands and draws the avocado cake.

Avocado Cake

2007-09-11T14:58:00.000-04:00

Go back to office yesterday in state of semi-shock at awkward spectacle just witnessed. Thankfully, promptly receive call from the Contessa who says Oh My God. Agree heartily and we rehash experience for much much longer than actual experience took. Finally get off phone and begin train of thought about Time and how time is experienced. i.e. how a meeting can seem to last several weeks, how have very clear memory of going to see the Contessa read at series in Harlem and thinking that if asked, would say that went about a year ago when in actual fact it is three years in the past. Thoughts continue in similar vein. Unfortunately Cindy Stevens comes into office as I am still thinking and disconcerts me by asking if I am feeling all right. Am very glad--must appreciate things to be glad for whenever they present themselves--that am not on reality TV show and thus subject to having all facial expressions recorded for future reference.

Office Birthday Party

2007-09-10T14:02:00.000-04:00

On way to train this morning, pass Presbyterian church on the corner. There are 5 Cadillac stretch limos and several large black Mercedes Benzes, but what really catches my attention is that the last limo in the row is blasting Biggie, loud enough to make windows hum. Can only hope that funeral is for a rapper, otherwise, think extremely inappropriate. On platform, sit on bench to wait for train. Read until see gray shape out of corner of eye. Stand up quickly and move away from bench, telling self (not for the first time) that I will Never sit on that bench again. Once up, notice man holding bag containing darling, young, trim, well-behaved Beagle. Jenny darling, but still not anorexic, and would not want to test her ability to stay in bag without barking. (Imagine very dramatic scene involving a chase down the train platform, Jenny running ahead of me just out of reach, baying, wagging tail, and then jumping down to tracks which necessitates heroic rescue and picture in the Post.) When at work call the Contessa to tell her about the rapper funeral and the Cute Dog. She rudely interrupts and says We have a Situation here to deal with. It turns out that the vice-boss has just come in and told the Contessa that it is her (the vice-boss's) birthday, but that the Contessa is NOT to do anything. Does she mean I should do something? The Contessa asks me. Reply that I'm afraid it does. Ask what the vice-boss is eating these days. What she's not eating, the Contessa says, is refined sugar, Wheat, dairy, meat, or nuts. I tell her I will find something and bring it over so we can sing the vice-boss happy birthday. Shockingly awkward moment follows as the Contessa, her secretary, and I sing happy birthday around one lit candle jammed into avocado half. (Remember at last minute in store that avocados a favorite of the vice-boss and never on the forbidden list.) Singing is not as vigorous or as in tune as one might like and the Contessa is deputized to blow the candle out for the vice-boss who says that she has Asthma. This is so nice, she says as we pass around avocado pieces.

Excelsior!

2007-09-07T16:20:00.000-04:00

Watch very unusual and fascinating show on the Science Fiction channel (doubt could find again if tried) last night. Show called Who Wants to Be a Superhero? reality show in which Grown-ups wear superhero suits and compete to see--in the words of Stan Lee who is the host--who has the heart and soul to be a superhero. The contestants live in a Lair. At mention of word Lair, and the behavior of the contestants, which is strangely serious given that the men are wearing full-body spandex suits and the lone woman looks like she is wearing a cheap Halloween costume, Dave says Oh Mah Laawrd, and we both sit up on edge of couch. During the episode (the second to last--there are only three contestants left) a flat panel TV screen periodically fires up and Stan Lee gives instructions to the Superheros. Am both wistful and yet somewhat glad that come to the show as late as have come. For example, have missed episode in which the three remaining contestants have had to battle attack dogs (superheroes naturally do not have any real superpowers so are intelligently wearing big suits and helmets) to disable fake looking giant electroshock machine or some such device that throws off sparks. One contestant, Hygena--who when not wearing her dog proof suit wields a magic feather duster and wears a modified French maid outfit--offers to be Bait so that the other two contestants--Hyper-Strike and The Defuser--can complete Mission. Am very sad to only see this exciting sequence in flashback as Stan Lee critiques the superheroes' actions. Do get to see--in Media challenge--the superheroes being interviewed by Kennedy (of last century's MTV fame). Favorite part is when she asks Hyper-Strike if he can do a handstand on the interview couch. Yes he can, and he does. In final episode, which conveniently follows the first we see, the superheros Learn to Fight from a person who says his name is Balls Mahoney. Feel certain that this is a pseudonym. The superheroes are fitted into harnesses and then they fly around in front of green screen, executing flips and shouting out their tag lines. The Defuser's line is Excelsior! which do not very much care for because of woeful moment in mid-childhood when threw up in lobby of the Excelsior hotel in Venice--but this, naturally, did not enter into his calculations. After the fighting, the superheros have private conversations with Stan Lee, who makes them talk about their personal traumas which have lead them to superherodom. Hyper-Strike--whose real last name is Stork--says that he was a weird kid who didn't have very many friends--and (he continues) if you have a name that rhymes with something, forget about it, he was Stork the Dork forever. Hygena had a late term miscarriage which made her very afraid of many things, but the show has given her the courage to Try Again. The Defuser watched his older sister get caught up in a bad crowd and turn to drugs, and when he was young he wished that a hero could walk off the pages of a comic book and come help out his family. Are you crying? Dave asks. Tell him no, but neither do I turn my face to his. Dave notes that this is the only reality show he's ever seen in which everybody is Good. Agree, emotionally, but later worry about how much of own time on earth is spent wondering about the lives of others.

Swimsuit

2007-09-07T14:44:00.000-04:00

Whitney Smith kindly writes to ask about the swimsuit requirement for the audition a few days ago. Can only say that left that that piece out of post not intentionally, but rather out of mild amnesia borne out of shame and horror associated with having to disrobe in front of director and sundry others while they whisper to each other and--in one--case snicker. Before coming in, noticed that other men in line were not the lithest bunch, and was very angry at Betsey for putting me in same category--but by end of audition feel that have aged and grown fatter and fit in quite nicely.

Joy Williams

2007-09-06T16:33:00.001-04:00

Per suggestion by the Contessa have been reading book of short stories by Joy Williams, writer of extremely dark wit. Stories very good, and funny, but subject matter--suicide, debilitating illness, heroin addition, death--not exactly sunshine and rainbows. Not that particularly care for sunshine and rainbow writing, but have noticed, not for the first time, that am deeply affected by what read. i.e. when read Strangers on the Train spent a solid three days convinced--not in a delusional, paranoid way, but in an anxiously resigned way--that I'd committed a murder and was soon to be scooped up by the police. Explain the same to the Contessa who says that she knows what I mean. When she was reading the book she kept thinking that she a) had cancer and b) that something Very Good was going to happen.

Audition Contd.

2007-09-05T16:10:00.001-04:00

Receive call early this morning that audition is back on for today. In horror, hear self speaking in clipped tones and asking if she is absolutely sure because I don't want to waste my time (note: should adopt this attitude more often--would snip out much needless tedium and own tendency toward sloth). Betsey is is brisk in return, says of course. You need to be there by 11. This presents small problem as have meeting with publicity department at 11. Problem quickly solved by typing email to Cindy Stevens telling her that I have a Bug and don't feel well today, then in inspired finish, say that have an appointment with Doctor. Only after press send do I feel guilty, but see no way of rescinding email. Guilt builds as take Jenny for walk and feel certain that am going to run into Cindy Stevens or other person from school, so hurry home, forgetting that Jenny has not yet done her business. Am reminded of this fact when Jenny stops at front door, digs in her heels, and lays enormous dump for all to see. Neighbor from the 10th floor gives me a hateful look as I clean up what Jenny has wrought. Upstairs, Dave says not to feel guilty--think of it as a mental health day! In mental health day of own choosing would not find self in grimy hallway of casting office in the flower district drinking badly scalded coffee which serves to only make me more nervous. Audition turns out to be for a fast food commercial, which feel should have moral objections to, but don't, perhaps because am by now mentally exhuasted from morning of guilt. Sides indicate that am to pretend french fry is an airplane and to fly it into mouth of small child, son of french fry pilot. Role of small child is played by surly looking production assistant wearing extremely tight pants, thin rocker t-shirt, and who has apparently given up his acquaintance with soap and water. Draw on feeble acting skills to overcome flourescent lighting and other earlier mentioned obstacles to success. As leave, am not even rewarded by usual fantasies of riches and fame.

Fall

2007-09-04T16:27:00.000-04:00

Subway car smells exactly like a public toilet this morning. Can't decide whether it is better to breath through nose or mouth, so compromise by taking very shallow breaths through both. This perhaps responsible for feelings of lightheadedness as subway comes to screaming stop at W 4th St. and have barely recovered and am thus when arrive at office, am unprepared for Oliver's energetic gesturings and exhortations about something that seems to be an emergency feel sure to core is not. Eventually figure out that he is talking about the copy machine--it is broken (and why not?) and feel that am being revisited by old ghosts. Oliver says he need my help in talking to accounting to get us a new one. He asks me rhetorically if I haven't seen the copy repair man come every day for the past month??? Realize with a pleased shock that have not been aware of repairman and if called to identify him in a lineup, would have to recuse self. (Unfruitful train of thought follows about what crime the copy repair man has committed .) Tell Oliver that I will Do What I Can with the accounting office, but have pessimistic faith in my powers. Can see that Oliver senses the same, and forsee trouble.

Audition

2007-08-31T14:01:00.000-04:00

Audition canceled because it is the friday before labor day. Receive call from Betsey this morning telling me of same. Attempt joke: It's too bad we didn't know about Labor Day until yesterday! Betsey's response: ... Me: Well, er, I guess... Betsey: I'll call you when I hear what the new schedule is. Betsey is apparently not of the opinion that it is absolutely necessary to say goodbye, or take care, or have a nice weekend before hanging up. Blush and am angry about blushing. Am at work and have on swimming trunks under clothes in what seemed before like good planning, but in light of new circumstances,see that rest of day is going to be spent wishing had just worn proper underwear.

Betsey

2007-08-30T16:00:00.001-04:00

Over ginger tea (stomach not all it could be today) tell the Contessa about tomorrow's audition. The Contessa becomes red and says as though spitting out tacks that Betsey is a snake, a weasel, and a shrew and the Contessa wouldn't trust her as far as she could throw her which isn't far because Betsey has a big A. Heartily agree, but ask, Porquoi the sudden hostility? Why all the Zoo animals? The Contessa replies that she Betsey went out and at the end of the evening she let slip that she thought that the Contessa was to blame for the New Man's behavior. The Contessa was not actually interested in a serious relationship and so he strayed because he knew that she was going to wig out on him at some point anyway. Ask her if she threw her drink in Betsey's face. I did not, the Contessa says, I took it and I agreed with her and it wasn't until I woke up the next morning--after a horrible night's sleep--very bad dreams about a swamp, ugh--that I realized what she'd done. But congratulations on getting the audition and good luck, the Contessa adds magnanimously.

Acting Career

2007-08-29T15:19:00.000-04:00

Revive forgotten plan to be movie star this morning when receive call from Betsey (feel that in previous postings referred to this person as Hilary, but can't be positive and am too lazy to check, so henceforth, she who is the casting director will be called Betsey). Betsey says that she has an ad she wants me to audition for. Ask her what it is--she says she can't say, but to bring swimming trunks to the audition on Friday. (!?)

Muffin

2007-08-28T13:59:00.001-04:00

This morning on train am seized by craving for chocolate chocolate chip muffin. (Specifically the gigantic kind from Costco, which several times a week after junior high school before was driven to orchestra practice--was, very very popular and cool child--pulled muffin out of freezer, popped into microwave and heated until chips started to melt a bit and then would gobble down with a tall glass of milk. Can only imagine now what eating of one of those muffins would do to spare tire. Do not care to dwell on memory of glass of milk.) At deli, see that there is only one chocolate chocolate chip muffin left and am under firm delusion that muffin is meant for me. Muffin is not, it turns out, meant for me, because am instead given vile marshmallow, chocolate chip, and yellow cake muffin, but do not discover this until go back to office, because Betsey--trying friend of the Contessa's--is buying a cup of coffee. She pretends to be happy to see me, and I her, and then ask in joking tone whether she has any roles coming up for me. Betsey looks me up and down and then up and down again with a ball bearing eye and says she'll Have to think about it. We kiss cheeks and say goodbye. Feel chilled by the experience and as mentioned above was not at all consoled by eventual meeting with muffin. Can't think why anybody would put marshmallows in a muffin.

New Kids

2007-08-27T14:43:00.000-04:00

This morning, get on elevator in lobby with the Contessa (have snuck off for quick coffee and when it comes time to return to own office, feel severe and unrelenting allergy to idea of returning to own office, so quickly accept the Contessa's offer to Come visit the old homestead.) In elevator, we are joined by 4 young girls--first thought is that they are tweens--but then realize that they are 18 year olds. One girl who appears to be the ringleader has on a very short skirt, expensive large purse, lots of makeup, and her hair has been blown out, second girl is a bit mousy, hair untouched by product or hairdryer, third girl had dreads and is wearing track suit, fourth girl looks like ringleader except she is blond and far too thin. Feel that would save everyone some time if I told them that by the end of the week they will all have a completely new set of friends, but naturally, don't say anything. The ringleader turns to the Contessa and says, What dorm do you live in? The Contessa is breezy and says that she lives in the dorm on 13th St. The Are you a graduate student? the girl asks with visible horror. After we get off, the Contessa says that it was fun to be 18 before she was cruelly aged. She said it made her feel excited and sick--intimidated by the ringleader, wishing the ringleader ill, and feeling fatter, poorer, and yet quite a bit smarter. Ask her how that is different than what she feels like now. She replies that now she had a bit of perspective and can see that superficial things don't matter. There is a pause and then she asks me how the hell a girl that age could afford a purse like that. It isn't fair. Tell her sagely that life isn't fair. The Contessa returns that I would be singing a different tune if a group of 18-year-old boys with skateboards and baseball caps had gotten on the elevator instead. Tell her that I have no idea what she means. (Inwardly feel very uneasy, though even to self can't say why.)

Bad Dog

2007-08-24T14:44:00.000-04:00

Am very shocked and disturbed this morning by Jenny's murderous behavior in park which results in one dead squirrel. Feel that squirrel must have been on it's last legs anyway, because Jenny on best of days not especially fleet of foot. She is, however always hopeful, and today she takes off after squirrel like all other days. Instead of the squirrel blithely running up nearby tree, squirrel keels over, allowing Jenny to pounce. Jenny brings the squirrel to me and drops it at my feet. The murder victim stares up at me with beady eye, little claws folded back against it's chest, but is bloodless--think--must be in shock, She would make a good bird dog--has a soft mouth. Jenny barks and wags her tail, looking up at me. Wonder--not for the first time--what could be going through her head. What is going through my head is, What am I going to do with this thing? Thankfully (?) have plastic bags in pocket, meant to be used for poop removal. One bag instead becomes body bag. Jenny holds head high on walk home and when door to apartment is opened, she races in to kitchen, where Dave scoops her up. and before can say anything, she is licking him all over his face. Feel that am closing the barn door after the horse has left when brush Jenny's mouth and teeth with baking soda (she is very upset by the process.) But Dave approves heartily after tell him where her mouth has been.

Magical Realism

2007-08-21T13:29:00.000-04:00

A large blue parrot on a man's shoulder on the subway platform becomes an unfurled golf umbrella; in the new Grey Dog cafe, an otherwise normal looking young man bends down over his muffin as though praying. His nose touches the muffin and then he kisses it. When get to office, immediately call the Contessa to tell her about what seems to be (though can't say why) depraved behavior. Can hear the Contessa shudder on other end of line--Ugh, I've probably dated him, she says.

Shade

2007-08-20T15:17:00.000-04:00

Receive solar shade ordered for kitchen window on Friday and tell Dave, We can put this up tomorrow! He is not nearly as excited about the shade as I am, which find disappointing. Day begins with early morning making of coffee in kitchen during which tell self that Soon there will be a shade to block that sun! Jenny and I go on walk. In park, see Serena and somehow refrain from telling her about shade. (Question: why is it that at any point during the day that Jenny and I go to the park, we almost always find Serena there too? Is she having trouble at home? Train of thought proceeds quickly, saddling poor Serena and her partner with--variously--physical and or mental abuse, drug addiction, homelessness, severe restless leg syndrome which makes it impossible for her to comfortably sit in one place. Do not care to think about restless leg syndrome or even have phrase uttered or read as it inevitably causes own legs to crawl up spine to neck.) Serena, despite worrisome behavior appears in excellent health. When get home, have brief but hot struggle retrieving drill and toolbox from hall closet and then set about installing shade. Feel self to be some sort of engineering savant--shade goes up without a hitch in 10 minutes flat. Trouble only comes when tear strip of paper around roll off and pull on chain to bring shade down. Even fully extended, shade is a good 13 inches short of sill. Am very angry at online shade manufacturer. (Shades naturally not made online.) Look at confirmation email from company which hope will prove that a mistake has been made. Discover that a mistake has been made, and that the mistake is mine as apparently typed in 36 inches instead of 66. Finding blame with others much more satisfying than finding blame with self, but engage in out of long term habit.

Secrets

2007-08-17T15:01:00.000-04:00

Do not know if anybody else has had a chance to check out the Real Estalker yet(after this last note promise never to mention site again and to keep brand new obsession in private box with all of others), yesterday Your Mama said that she'd be on VH1. Sit through 20 minutes of insipid show about extremely large and expensive houses (i.e. house modeled on Versaille, with (naturally) a Hall of Mirrors--actually a theme among the tackiest of the large houses--do these people not know what happened to the former owners of the real Versailles? Am sure that tempt fate in many ways, but would not like to have the specter of the guillotine at play too.) When the Real Estalker is finally revealed, see that she is a Man. Am shocked. Dave turns to me and says, You couldn't tell from the writing that she was a big queen? To my ear his voice is dripping with scorn, which do not care for at all. Tell him I feel betrayed and confused--I had a clear picture of a woman in my head. He says, You make things up on your blog all the time. I ask, Like what? Dave replies, Like your name. I don't even feel that this is a real answer. Of course I don't use my own name. Ask, What else have I made up? He lists several examples. Reply frostily that it is all emotionally truthful, and walk out of room feeling dignified, artistic, and hurt at Dave's tone with me. Jenny and I rendezvous in the kitchen where we both have secret treats--me 3 chocolate chocolate chip cookies from the stash brought from grandmother's house, and Jenny, 2 Newman's Own Organic Dog treats (cheese flavor--do not recommend taking even a small nibble Just to See what they taste like, even if extremely tempted--will leave it at that). When go back into living room, it dawns on me that Dave is unaware that Jenny and I have been eating fun things without him and that he isn't mad at me at all. I have made up the whole trouble just because my feelings got hurt. (Note: try to remember this for future--will save lots of wear and tear.)

Turning Point

2007-08-16T15:27:00.000-04:00

Can't say why or how, but feel that today is a Turning Point. (A good turning point wish to hastily add.) Hair for once looks neither dull nor greasy, pants are correct length, and am perfectly comfortable with shoes that have on. Have new sunglasses which make me feel both unsquinty and rich. Train comes right away, Oliver and Susan both smile at me when I come in, and Oliver even says, Have you been working out? I think you've lost a lot of weight this summer. Know that it is difficult for Oliver to dish out anything like a compliment so do not even get mad about prase Lot of Weight. (Had not previously know that needed to lose A Lot--a few pounds off of tummy, sure, but not A Lot...worrisome train of thought that recrudesces later in the afternoon.) In middle of day call Dave and tell him about feeling of Turning the corner/point. He says that is called A Good Mood.

The Real Estalker

2007-08-15T17:05:00.000-04:00

Would like to draw your attention to blog which the leg model in LA originally pointed out to me in June, but which didn't take until just now. The Lady who writes the blog is funny and just mean enough. Check out the blog roll to the right.

Work

2007-08-15T15:55:00.000-04:00

Attend meeting this morning with people from all around the school and am very pleasantly shocked that the Contessa is there too. We sit next to each other. Tables are set up in big square around which we sit. But before we sit, we are invited by the President's secretary to serve ourselves breakfast. Thankfully, have already eaten delicious breakfast of greek yogurt, golden raisins, walnuts, and peach, and thus am not even remotely tempted by evil looking tray of pastries. Do pour myself a cup of coffee from the industrial sized spigot. Coffee somehow both very weak and very nasty, but as have already poured the stuff into a plastic cup, feel that should punish self for wasting resources and adding to plastic pollution by drinking whole cup. The Contessa has loaded a cheese Danish, a small bunch of grapes, 2 slices of cantolupe, and a bran muffin on her plate, which she grimly plows through, though know from personjal experience that the fruit is musty and that the carbohydrates taste like they've been sitting out for several decades. Ask her if something is the matter. She replies that life is completely unbearable today. The meeting is started and she are welcomed back for the beginning of another school year--do not think that speech is meant cynically, but the Contessa's ennui is infectious. Feel very angry with her and blame her for the world's ills. Meeting over, we walk outside, back to our respective buildings. It is breezy and sunny. The Contessa says, Do you want take a drawing class with me in the fall? I DO and tell her so. Am so excited that the world is fixed.

Trimphant Return

2007-08-14T14:05:00.000-04:00

Wish to apologize for long absence, only partially explained by trip to the west coast. In San Francisco, Elizabeth delightful, Sigrid difficult but loving, and Sigrid's husband in dire need of Lexapro. After visit to San Francisco, take flight up to Seattle to see grandmother, accompanied by Sigrid and Elizabeth, when find out that husband is not go to with us, hear self say in lying tone, Can't he just get off work? It won't be any fun without him! Sigrid naturally sees right through this and we have a brief by nasty fight about why I don't like her husband. Thankfully, nobody but Elizabeth witnesses spat--fight ends when Sigrid says that I don't want her to be happy and then attempts to leave room and slam door, but instead slips on tile in kitchen and falls on face. Thankfully, she laughs first and hardest, and we have a very pleasant time together for rest of vacation. Dave and Jenny join us in Seattle. Jenny very traumatized by her flight, and spends all of first afternoon under grandmother's bed and night in grandmother's bed with grandmother. The next day Jenny ventures down to the beach with me and Dave. She immediately runs briskly across the pebbly beach, stops at water's edge, and barks her head off. Sigrid, joining us a half hour later--a half hour of which is mostly filled by Jenny's barks, says that she must be reliving her traumatic time in New Orleans. She MUST be remembering the flood. For the sake of family peace, let this idiotic comment pass. Rest of afternoon is spent at beach (drizzly and we are all wearing light rain coats) digging for clams with Elizabeth and Jenny. At end of afternoon, Sigrid dares me to jump in the water. Tell her that I will if she will, and begin to psyche self up for inevitable dip. Sigrid say we should all go in--we can take Elizabeth back up to the house. David looks horrified at the suggestion and hurriedly interjects that there is no need to invite him, he will watch Elizabeth. Water is cold, but invigorating, and skin stops being blue after hot shower. The weather turns better and have a good stretch of days of tanning, swimming, kayaking, shoving cookies and pies in mouth throughout day and when the clock strikes five, guzzling wine and trying not to scream at Sigrid when she is irritating during the Scrabble game. Leave Whidbey Island tanned, chunky, and feeling tearful--Elizabeth wails when we leave (later find out that she was crying because we got to take cookies with us and she couldn't have a cookie). Flight massively delayed and feel extremely worried about Jenny's state. Finally board plane and selfishly begin to worry less about Jenny and more about self as we sit on runway for 2 hours. Couple and small children behind us speak in crystal clear voices about how irritated they are in snively, sarcastic voices, which makes me feel righteously un-irritated and patient except with them because they are the devil, the devil's wife, and their child. The child, who is about two-and-a-half, actually is the most sensible of the three. She precociously notes that She probably can't have any ginger ale because she doesn't see the cart. Her mother replies, That's true, we have to wait until we get up in the air, but do you want some Mommy Milk instead? Yes, please! answers the small person. Feel ill for the rest of the flight. Jenny is also ill during flight (presumably for other reasons) and when pick her up at odd sized baggage window, find that travel crate is besmeared with dog vomit. (Apparently Jenny has a secret taste for cherries as find 3 pits stuck in puke.) Dave thankfully takes over while I take Jenny out to curb so that we can both breath Fresh Air. When get home, Jenny immediately retreats under the bed and feel like beast to have dragged her across country twice in steerage. But the next day she is good at new at the park, very likely having forgotten her trip completely. Have said before and will say again now that the memory of a dog is often something to be admired.

Homonyms

2007-07-12T16:13:00.000-04:00

See man on train this morning--he is heavy set, wearing shirt that says Phrack Magazine, and baseball cap that says I Read Your Email. Feel that if he has read my email he has undoubtedly met with disappointment. Brain then has fun with word Read. Meaning of hat changes slightly depending on whether Read is pronounced Reed (I continually read your email) or Red (I have read your email). Finally decide that I Red Your Email is more sinister because it is more specific and might be referring to a particular email. Suffer extreme pangs of nonspecific guilt. Thankfully, brain--for once--rescues me from pitfalls of guilty, depressive thoughts and reminds me of similar homonym pair, Polish. Am always filled with delight when see word on sign, i.e. Professional Car Polish and read Poh-lish (of Poland)instead of Paw-lish (to shine).

Checking In

2007-07-11T15:15:00.000-04:00

Due to holiday schedules and the friday closing, last week was basically a bust and after this week will be on vacation for 2 weeks, but did wish to make brief report of how have spent time. Have very clear picture of self last week telling the Contessa that one thing nice about the summer and the heat is that I don't feel like eating much and thus have to exercise less. This theory soundly disproved on Sunday when find (in Brooklyn backyard of Dave's former salon co-owner) that have gobbled down 1 chicken thigh, 1 burger, 2 hotdogs, an ice cream sundae, and about 10 two bite brownies from Whole Foods--all this washed down with more or less a gallon of beer. Later at home, tell Dave that my stomach hurts. He raises an eyebrow at me in a way that I think means, No wonder you big pig. When accuse him of same, he vociferously disagrees, and would have taken him to task for it, but had to go lie down flat on back. This week could hardly keep mind focussed on work, but yesterday did become extremely involved in rumor about mouse infestation in the office. Susan says that Jesus, the maintenance worker, found three dead mice underneath the big recycling bin in the copy room. Cindy Stevens says that she heard something in the walls. Susan firmly that she thinks she saw a tail disappearing under her desk the other day. Oliver says that he left a banana on his desk on Monday and now it is Gone. Oliver's contribution absolutely ridiculous, but manage to hold tongue. Spend next couple of hours in office very jumpy and feel more than a little ridiculous when Jesus comes in and I breathlessly ask him about the mice--How does he think they died? He tells me that he was just joking with Susan. Am oddly disappointed.

Too Hot

2007-06-28T16:37:00.001-04:00

Brain has shut itself down and is thinking only of naps.

Run in

2007-06-27T15:23:00.000-04:00

Have lunch with the Contessa at diner today. Am not at all hungry because of heat, so order only glass of ice water and navy bean soup--the Contessa says she's not hungry either, so she gets a milkshake and a side of fries--try to tell her that that combo will lead to a sugar and fat rush and subsequent crash, which causes her to give me a murderous look and then to shove fistful of fries into her mouth all at once. I, she tells me in unhinged voice, am very upset about running into the New Man on the train this morning. Apologize and ask what happened. Nothing, she says, except that she met his new fiancee. !!? Yes, she says, and then I spit on them. Don't believe that for a second and she is then forced to admit that she wished she'd spat on them. Conversation takes strange turn and we discuss what would have happened if she had. Very dramatic and exciting scene is conjured up and at end of conversation the Contessa says the strange thing is that she isn't really that upset. Ask, not at all? Not at all, she firmly replies.

Kind Words

2007-06-26T15:34:00.000-04:00

In park this morning, see Serena. Make assiduous attempt to avoid her as have had for the past few weeks because don't want to tell her bad news, but Jenny (dogs may be off leash before 9 a.m.) runs toward her a speed never before exhibited. Tell self that this is nothing wrong with facing the Truth. Walk toward Serena at extremely slow pace. Tell her that her editor friend didn't like book. She replies briskly that she never liked friend much and that she always thought friend was a bit dumb. This makes me feel much better in the moment, but unfortunately does not hold up well on further examination.

The Zoo

2007-06-25T15:25:00.000-04:00

Susan and Oliver are both pleased to discover this morning (I am less pleased) that they are both ferret owners. Try to escape conversation, but don't want to be rude and now brain is crammed with uselss knowledge about Tootie (Susan's ferret--is this racist?) and Big Jim (Oliver's). Also learn that: 1. Ferrets like to eat chicken soup or gravy when sick. 2. Ferrets can be trained to use a litter box. Am not shocked to learn that Oliver's ferret hasn't mastered chore, while Susan's has. 3. A female is called a Jill, a male a Hob, and a youngster a Kit. Don't know why can't pull self away from conversation, but stand riveted in front of Oliver's desk and listen him and Susan trade cute ferret stories, most involving being surprised by a ferret that suddenly jumps out from a hiding place to play--also learn that can tell a ferret wants to play when it jumps around and hisses. (Question, Doesn't that mean it's mad? is met with derision.) Ask Oliver how Bridget gets along with Big Jim. Oliver claims that Bridget Likes Big Jim, and besides, there's lots of other animals around, so they all have to get along. What kind of other animals? The fish, the iguana. The tarantulas. They used to have a baby alligator, but then... Begin to think that Oliver's apartment must be exactly like a small version of the Central Park Zoo, and hope never to be invited over. Like animals, but not in cages, and do not think it is amusing to be surprised by weasel. Naturally, keep thoughts to self as am glad that Oliver and Susan have finally found common ground.

Dreams

2007-06-21T15:10:00.000-04:00

Have trying night of dreams featuring the Vice-Boss, at one point having to tell her (I am once again her assistant) that I can't turn in an expense report for sailboat rental. Why not? she asks. Shouldn't we at least try? When get to work, call to tell her about. She gasps--she hasn't turned in an expense report for it yet, but the Vice-Boss did just take off for a sail on a friend's boat in the Mediterranean. Feel extremely satisfied and admit to the Contessa that have always felt self a little bit psychic. The Contessa has hysterics at other end of phone. Fit lasts so long that seriously consider hanging up. She finally collects herself enough to say that she was kidding about the boat, but that she would like to test me on my psychic abilities. With quiet dignity, tell her that I don't want to play games. She asks, What color shirt am I wearing? Blue, I say, and it's not a shirt, it's a dress. The Contessa says that the hairs on the back of her neck are standing up and that I must have seen her on the street before. Don't wish to be caught up in Joke again, so say goodbye.

Discouraging Morning

2007-06-20T15:33:00.000-04:00

Yesterday on whim purchase white low-rise Converse sneakers and am very pleased. Less pleased this morning when discover that feet look exactly like yachts. Ask Dave if he thinks shoes look long and pointy. There is a long pause. Then he says, They just look a little too clean--they just need to get messed up a bit. In moment accept this as truth. It is raining when leave apartment for work and am glad for opportunity to muddy up shoes. Rest of body also gets wet. On way to work, reward self with iced coffee (because have brought lunch), and then stop by bank to get quarters--laundry situation even more dire than usual. There is no line at bank and get quarters without hitch. As am leaving, juggling rolls or quarters, iced coffee, wallet, bag, notice that linoleum is very slippery and then in next second find self on the ground. Guard asks, Are you all right sir? Attempt to get up and also gather belongings at same time--task made much more difficult because one roll of quarters has split open. Am helped by guard and anonymous others, anonymous because am blushing furiously and fix eyes on stray quarters so as not to meet anyone's eye. It is only when leave bank that notice that right shoe squishy with coffee. Stop by J. Crew to look in mirror to see if shoe looks smaller. It doesn't and go to office feeling dejected. Susan is more or less understanding. The same can not be said for Oliver says he's been thinking about the Constitution, What were you two talking about? Now feel frivolous and damp.

Air Sickness

2007-06-19T15:30:00.000-04:00

Wedding fun and while swimming in ocean am shocked and delighted to see three dolphins swimming only 20 yards away. Fun comes to crashing halt as plane is landing, doing lots of vigorous banking and dropping. Ascertain location of barf bag and then have to look quickly away. Try usual anti-airsickness methods--fixing attention on SkyMall, pretending that legs reach all the way to the ground (this makes things worse), Deep Breathing. While am waiting for luggage in the baggage return, Dave says, It's too bad you have to start and end every trip feeling terrible. Am afraid if talk will puke, so can only nod miserably and think privately to self that metaphor could be easily extended to all other parts of life. Have only recently become aware that not everybody has trouble with beginnings and endings.

Wedding

2007-06-14T11:21:00.000-04:00

Am going away today for wedding. Will know hardly anybody at wedding, but am very interested in big Southern wedding (being held on small island off coast of South Carolina at family manse), especially since this is the third this friend has had and she is only one year older than me.

eBay

2007-06-13T15:50:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, console self by fixing attention on eBay. Lose out on Ib-Kofod Larsen chair, flame Le Creuset saucepan, large peppermill, and (thankfully) pea green Heywood-Wakefield lounge chair, but win pair of Dux danish modern chairs, sleek and low, and perfect for our living room. (Will not be sad to see the last of hideously slipcovered wing chair found on the street 5 years ago.) Dave less certain. He doesn't think that the chairs will fit. I assure him they will. He says We'll have to Wait and See. At this, become undone. There is a very trying period of about 20 minutes during which snuffle and Dave tries to comfort me and Jenny licks my hand, but I am very unhappy nevertheless. Afterward, though, Dave says he's sure we can find room for the chairs and that I am a very good shopper. This complement (?) strangely makes me feel all better. Later on, when am lying in bed trying to go to sleep, have long thought process about moods--how they change so quickly and how one should remember that this is true but one never does.

Passing

2007-06-12T16:41:00.001-04:00

Receive unexpected email from editor--have not mentioned it here, but sent her newest draft several months ago and since didn't hear back, somehow had fixed in head that would hear back at some future date, i.e. never today, but maybe tomorrow. So when see email pop up on screen, feel that have taken time machine to tomorrow. Click on message. Have salty taste in mouth. The Editor writes (more or less) that she is sorry, but she has to Pass. (Suffer moment of confusion as to what the passing refers to--brain only suggests unhelpfully, pass the salt! pass gas! pass out!) She is sure that book will find a home. Wish shared her confidence.

Cats and Dogs

2007-06-11T16:23:00.000-04:00

Oliver shares revelation he had over the weekend that Cats are creepy because they have smaller heads compared to their bodies than dogs, he was stoned when he came to this conclusion, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. Susan makes vociferous counter argument, mostly resting on mere existence of her 2 cats, one named Tybalt and the other Maid Marian. (Feel that there is a Renaissance fair in her past.) She has pictures. Aren't they cute? she asks? No, Oliver says, they have small heads too. Susan counters that dogs may have bigger heads, but that their brains obviously don't fill up the whole space. This goes on long enough that begin to wonder if there is flirting going on. Shut door to office so that don't get distracted and too interested in the affairs of others.

Calm

2007-06-08T12:47:00.000-04:00

Next week begins summer schedule of Fridays off, but Cindy Stevens away today and again in charge. Yesterday had stern talk with Oliver, telling him that no matter what his girlfriend said, he was not to bring Bridget to work again. He asked, But what if I don't have time to go back to Brooklyn before I go to the train. Remind him what happened last week. Oliver rolls his eyes. Susan and I got over that. She doesn't care if I bring Bridget. Find this highly unlikely, but later hear Susan telling Oliver a joke: Did you hear about the fire at the circus? What circus? Oliver asks. Was it an Animal Circus? My girlfriend says they abuse the animals. Susan says, I'm telling a joke. Oliver laughs, I knew that. Start over. Did you hear about the fire at the circus? Oliver replies, um, no. Hear Susan exhale sharply--you're supposed to ask, no, what fire? No, what fire? Oliver asks. It was in tents, Susan replies triumphantly. Hear both laughing. Can't say am similarly moved.

Money Changes Everything II

2007-06-07T15:47:00.000-04:00

Have strange, upside-down universe lunch with the Contessa during which she complains about how broke she is. Her investments took a hit yesterday. Ask sourly whether or not she finally has her inheritance, whether or not she is now in possession of a one bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side, and whether or not she just got a promotion and thus makes more money. That is all true, she says, but she doesn't feel like she has any money at all. Ask her if she'd like me to take up a collection. She throws a soggy french fry at me, which the waitress sees, giving us both a look, and feel guilty by association. (Question: When don't I feel guilty?) The Contessa apologizes and then grandly offers to buy my lunch, which is an absolute first--actually first time that she offers and has the money, not first time she offers. Neither of us want to go back to work and it is a fantastically beautiful day, so we walk toward the river and the Contessa says that if she ever complains about money again, I have her heartfelt permission to stab her with a fork. Tell her that don't care to do such a thing, but she insists. Think, as am standing on West 11th and Bleeker, that will probably never again in life stand on this corner and promise to (the punishment has been made more extreme by the Contessa) stab the fork in her eyeballs if she ever cries poor again. Whence gratitude?! she asks. After promise, we buy each other ice cream cones from the Magnolia Bakery, and privately practice gratitude on walk back to work.

Elevator

2007-06-06T15:41:00.000-04:00

Ride elevator with Jenny and new neighbor Stephen who complained about howling. Stephen very frosty, even when Jenny sits down in front of him, cocks one ear and offers her paw to shake with him. When he doesn't accept her paw, Jenny--to my mind--very dejectedly draws it down to the ground. Know that Jenny's feelings are dog feelings and dogs don't feel rejection in the same way that we do, so feel rejected for her. Thankfully, in park, see Serena and tell her story of elevator. She gasps and then leans down to say, You deserve better, don't you, you sweet pooch. Jenny wriggles. You deserve better too, she says to me. Feel that this is the nicest thing anybody has said to me for a very long time, and perhaps ever.

Superiority

2007-06-05T17:01:00.000-04:00

Have meeting with Susan, Oliver, and Cindy Stevens to Smooth things over. Progress seems to be being made until Susan shares story about how she once threw a tape dispenser at a co-worker. He Had it Coming. There is an tense moment of quiet before Cindy Stevens says, well, Susan I'm sure that won't happen ever again, right? Cover up awkwardness by taking orders for trip to the Donut Pub. (Oliver wants a cream filled donut, Susan, surprisingly, wants sprinkles, and Cindy Stevens says that she likes any and all kind of donuts and to please not tell her when the donuts arrive.) On walk over, see darling 2 year old sitting on young father's shoulders, picture of sweetness. Do not really mean to listen to conversation, but while waiting for light hear father ask, You know how you have ballet class later? Yes, the little girl does remember. Well, the father continues, You have to promise not to get pissy with daddy, or you won't be able to go to ballet. Do you promise? Little girl makes vague noises of assent but does not commit one way or the other. (Why should she? Best to keep one's options open.) Feel, piously, that there is bad behavior all around one today. Good thing one is pretty perfect.

Showdown

2007-06-04T16:53:00.000-04:00

Oliver--don't know why--decides to play joke on Susan. While I am in a meeting, he lets himself into my office and, calls her, 3 times, pretending to be Head of Security for the school. He says that there has been a rash of purse burglaries in the school. Could she please check to see if she has her purse. She does not have her purse. She does not have her purse because Oliver took it with him into my office. Susan files a report over the phone. The second time Oliver says that a purse, minus the wallet, was found in a trash can. Could she identify the purse over the phone? She does so. There is a pause and then Oliver tells her, I'm sorry ma'am, I guess we found somebody else's purse. The third time he calls, he tells her that her purse has been found--identified by her earlier description--but that there were also Marijuana cigarettes found in it. Susan says, those aren't mine, I don't even smoke pot. Tell it to the judge, lady, at which Susan finally becomes suspicious. I arrive on the scene as Susan is yelling at Oliver and clutching pen in violent manner. Story is related to me by both parties. Susan very red in the face while she tells her part and Oliver seems to be attempting to be attempting to keep a straight face, but can't. Feel that he should know that the periodic fits of snorting a wheezing are not helping his case. Subject of union representative recrudesces.

Sigrid

2007-06-01T17:15:00.000-04:00

Sigrid calls me at work to say that she is worried that Elizabeth doesn't know who I am and if I don't make more of an effort to see my one and only niece, and if her in-laws are a bigger part of Elizabeth's life because they happen to live closer, and if because of proximity they manage to turn her into an uptight little socialite, it won't be her fault. Why don't I come visit San Francisco? Don't I want to come? And why don't I bring Dave, too? Elizabeth will need a haircut by then. Think this is a very odd way of making a person feel welcome, but book a flight for late July anyway.

Serena

2007-05-31T14:38:00.000-04:00

In park this morning, ask Serena if she knows of any cure for howling. She asks, Is it you, Dave, or Jenny who as the problem, ha ha. Jenny cavorts with Serena's Great Dane and a three-legged Standard Poodle. That one's a biter, says Serena, pointing at the poodle. Ask, Other dogs? No, Serena says, she bit the turkey sausage vendor at the farmer's market. She adds, Biting is much worse than howling. This is true and try to console self with fact while Jenny and I walk back to apartment building. Doorman, who evidentally has not heard or does not care about Jenny's howling, gives her a treat. Jenny wriggles around and receives another. Ask doorman if he's heard complaints about any howling dogs in the building. No, he says. Go upstairs feeling triumphant. Open door and Jenny runs into kitchen, trailing leash. Follow her, and too late, see that Dave has given her a treat too. Tell him what heard from doorman. He gets a funny look on face and points at kitchen table. There is a note. Pick it up. The (new) next door neighbor--his name is Steven--writes, Your dog howled twice yesterday and once the day before. I work at home and I'm afraid I'm going to have to complain to the management company if this keeps up. Do not care for his tone. Neither does Dave. We decide to ignore the note for now (howled twice? what does that even mean?) and to buckle down to find ourselves an apartment to buy.

Age

2007-05-30T15:50:00.001-04:00

While trying to gather thoughts before composing fund raising letter to Fashion Design alums, idly click on link that promises to tell one's Real Age. Feel irritated that have to answer so many questions, but am sure that results will render title of blog more accurate than it has been for the past year and a half, and may, indeed, need to change name of blog to 25-year-old secretary. When get to end of questionnaire, am told by computer that results will be sent to my email address. Ebb and flow of office carries me away to a meeting, back to finish my letter, out for an iced coffee, back to ask Oliver for third time today to Please call the mail room. During these other events, keep remembering that am soon to find out my real age, so when finally sit down to check email, for once am expecting only good news. I am 42. Am very, very angry, especially since lied a bit in answer to some of the questions. Call Contessa and complain to her. She says that she'll take the test and see what happens. Hear back 5 minutes later. She asks in worried tone, she doesn't look 48.5, does she? Assure her she does not. Am ashamed to admit to relief that she fared worse than I did.

Long Weekend

2007-05-29T16:48:00.000-04:00

Over weekend completely forget about work and very quickly become person of leisure. Dave and Jenny always prepared to lounge and walk, and we do quite a bit of both. Do not feel like seeing anybody else, so don't. On Sunday night, Dave and I decide to take ourselves for a burger (each) and beers. When we are getting ready to go, Jenny sits by the door, evidently under the mistaken conclusion that she is to go to dinner with us. Face even more mournful than usual. Shut door, feeling like cold hearted murderer. When achieve elevator, hear howl from end of hall. Stranger is also waiting for elevator. In horror, hear self say, I wonder whose dog that is? I don't know, stranger says, but that dog howls all the time. (Memo: If true, something must be done before we are evicted. Howl not pleasant.) Get to bar of restaurant and sit on stools. It take some time--eye beer taps and lick lips--before bartender comes over to ask, Can I help you with something? Think this a very odd form of address in a bar. Wonder what might he think we'd want? Order 2 beers, 2 glasses of water and tell self that there is no need to get huffy--bartender is demonstrably off--is wearing odd combination of short gray shorts, sort of like flannel dress pants, but bottom only hits upper thigh, also wearing a rumpled dress shirt and long black dress socks, more or less like hose, which would go very high up leg if hadn't been pushed down to just above knee. Can't say that will immediately begin wearing similar outfits, but perhaps waiter is merely far, far ahead of the curve and next year I'll be wishing I thought up the outfit myself. Ask for menus. Bartender asks, You want to eat??? Can feel Dave seething beside me. Yes, he replies curtly. Want to try to lighten mood--mine and Dave's, and as the bartender meanders to where the menus are kept, say quietly, Why would we want to eat or drink in a restaurant, Mr. Longsocks. Dave brightens, carrying my joke a step further, whispering to me, Carry on, Pippi! Pippi's bar tending performance does not improve as the night goes on: water is never brought, our burgers though ordered medium rare are like old shoes, the bill he brings is wrong and it takes some time to convince Pippi that we did not have a bottle of Prosecco and a cheese plate. You didn't? he asks suspiciously. But we don't care, because poor Pippy has to work and we don't. Know that this is a cruel state of affairs, but am glad that am on the nonworking side for the evening. Truth of this becomes very evident when am in meeting this morning with Susan, Oliver, and the union representative. Meetings with union representatives are, naturally, confidential, but can write that in retrospect, Pippi's disinterest in work receives new understanding.

Bridget

2007-05-25T11:07:00.001-04:00

Oliver red faced when come in today. Susan, who sits at desk just across from Oliver is briskly typing. Say, Bon jour! (Have had best sleep in long time--only woke up once during night and downstairs neighbor who smokes at 6 a.m. every morning either didn't smoke, was out of town, or died--don't care which.) Oliver whispers, Can I talk to you?...In your office? Open door. Office smells strongly of urine. Find Bridget (Oliver's girlfriend's whippet) under desk, shivering, looking like coming down from speed. Oliver shuts the door behind himself as try to coax Bridget out. She snarls. Oliver says, I didn't know what else to do. Ask why he brought Bridget to work in the first place? His girlfriend made him. (Would very much like to meet this girlfriend who is able to make Oliver do exactly what she asks--must be very forceful personality.) Ask him if there was some trouble with Susan. Oliver takes a very long time to tell story, but the gist of it is that Susan was nipped (her skin wasn't broken), that she (Susan) kicked Bridget with her pointy shoe, and that she called Animal Control. This turn of events very different than fantasy of day in which breeze in and out of work by noon in honor of holiday weekend. Send Oliver and Bridget away--tell him that don't care where he goes, as long as away. Cindy Stevens has taken today off, so attempt to soothe Susan's feelings. Susan is not to be calmed. She has not only called Animal Control, she has called her Union Representative. After long and difficult conversation, finally convince her to go home too and for us to look at the Situation on tuesday with clearer heads. Susan replies that her head is perfectly clear, but that fine, she'll go home.

Susan

2007-05-24T14:26:00.001-04:00

When come into work today, hear voice full of shrill precision and deduce that Libby has come to visit. Feel strange mixture of terror and affection. Am surprised to see that Libby has grown tall, has dyed her hair black, and wears glasses. Ascertain that it is not Libby, but--we are introduced--Susan. Susan is Cindy Stevens's new executive assistant. (Executive assistant is her phrase.) Oliver appears, seeming stunned and slightly awed, and appears to have brought her a cup of water from the cooler to her. Would pay good money to know if he was ordered to bring water or if he took the task upon himself. Still thinking of Libby, Say, well, it looks like you'll whip us into shape. Yes, Susan replies. Notice for the first time that she is the sort of person who doesn't blink.

Time

2007-05-23T15:02:00.000-04:00

Long hiatus is to be blamed on death of Dave's grandmother, subsequent trip to Tennessee for funeral, followed by work trip to fund raising conference in Orlando (of which will not write). Dave sad about grandmother's death and his mother's behavior during the ordeal very draining--at one point at the end, Dave's mother was banned from the hospital--self, thankfully in New York during this and only present for funeral and for a few days after funeral during which found out that first installment of Dave's trust is now in his control. We are sitting next to pool at his grandmother's house and he tells me how much he now has. Immediately quit job, purchase around-the-world plane tickets and am busy checking on passports, visas, and making sure we have nicer luggage, when Dave puts his legs into the pool and says, Why don't we buy an apartment? See that he is right, and that this is the more responsible thing to do with the money. Privately keep open option of quitting job. (Very nearly exercise option in Orlando after promised coffee arrives at meeting late and is, when tasted, discovered to be both weak and hazelnut--this wretched experience merely tip of proverbial Iceberg.) When get back to New York, am very grateful, but again raise possibility of taking very very long trip. Dave says he's started to look at apartments. Ask him how long he thinks it will take for us to more into a new apartment and what kind of place we can have. Dave says that we can afford a one bedroom in Brooklyn and from what he's gathered he thinks it'll take about six months from start to finish. At this, become dejected (plane delayed from Orlando, was given Havarti cheese product and crackers as a snack on plane, and as finally settled self into back of taxi, feeling that NOW would get home very quickly, the taxi driver turned around to face me and asked, Do you know which direction Brooklyn is in) and ask, Why does everything take so long? Dave says, We can't do things all at once. See the wisdom in this statement, but tell him that am Tired of waiting for everything. Dave very kindly doesn't say that I am being dramatic and instead has the excellent idea to call the cable company to order ourselves HBO and Showtime. He hangs up phone with a pleased look on his face. How long until it works? I ask. Two minutes, he says.

manners

2007-05-16T15:40:00.000-04:00

Do not think it is appropriate to open small paper packet and sprinkle pepper over barbecued chicken salad--iceberg lettuce, chicken bits, barbecue sauce in a Styrofoam container--on train. Much less attempt to eat.

Luch at the Diner

2007-05-02T15:37:00.000-04:00

Have lunch with the Contessa today at Joe Jr's diner. She says that she is woefully hungover and can't eat a thing, but then when waiter appears she recants and orders French Toast, side of bacon, cup of coffee and a grapefruit juice. Order usual cheeseburger deluxe and diet coke. The Contessa says she went out with her friend Betsey last night and woke up in bed--alone, Thank God, she says drowning French toast in syrup--but wearing all of her clothes and lights blazing throughout apartment. (Side note: she has decided to move into the Boss's old apartment and take it as part of her inheritance--settling the furniture, paintings--some apparently worth quite a bit--and silver on the Boss's brother and sister--apartment is already filthy and woefully underfurnished.) If that wasn't bad enough, the Contessa adds, she discovered in her purse a dirty dishrag she'd playfully snatched from the bartender she'd been flirting with. Said bartender tall, from Hawaii, and about eighteen years old--what could he have thought of me asks the Contessa? Don't answer that, she interjects, wagging a piece of bacon. Bite into last quarter of burger and hit Bone--noise very alarming. The Contessa asks, Did you Break a Tooth? Feel around in mouth and find all intact. Inwardly, am much more worried that have eaten bone of the spine and also nerve matter--brain takes brisk trip to Mad Cow Disease--from there, thoughts become more grim and turn to the plight of the bees and ends with picture of rapidly shrinking ice caps and certain violence and death. Shove rest of burger in mouth and order chocolate Milkshake. We move on to topic of the Vice-Boss. At end of conversation--which is long and covers usual themes of shoplifting (no new incidents, but we rehash the old) and her lies--the Contessa tells shocking story about baldfaced lie told by the Vice-Boss to the Dean--when caught out, the Vice-Boss merely laughed and changed topic to the Mideast. We shake our heads, agreeing to the Vice-Boss's general unfitness for human contact and then the Contessa says she doesn't know why we waste so much breath on such a creature. Don't know either. There is a brief pause before we reopen topic with gusto.

LA

2007-05-01T16:22:00.000-04:00

Have very involved dream last night in which am in succession: 1) baking a turkey 2) planting garden 2) Decide to Get Back Into Acting and Move to LA. Have conversation (in dream) with Dave in which tell him that After all, I was a child actor--doesn't he remember I played the young Judd Nelson in a TV show? Am excited to move to LA in dream and have feeling of fulfillment. Needless to say that feeling vanishes precipitously when wake up. Hardly know who Judd Nelson is and express wonderment to real Dave that sub-conscious provided name. Ask, Was Judd Nelson in Sixteen Candles (which have never seen)? Dave scoffs and says, No, the Breakfast Club and St. Elmo's Fire, which thrusts me back to frequent and trying moments in child and teenage hood when had to pretend that knew what everyone else was talking about. Drink coffee and glare at Dave. He apologizes and says, what else happened in your dream? Tell him that we moved to LA. He gets a funny look on his face.

New Home for Unpleasant Emotions

2007-04-25T16:40:00.000-04:00

Am struck with thought that former panic, rage, frustration, and existential trauma caused by association with the copy machine has not disappeared, but rather found new home--meetings. Feel that have already been Broken Record on this topic, but, unfortunately, am compelled to go to many meetings and am thus unable to break unhealthful obsession with topic. Psychological studies have proven (am sure read brief article in Utne Reader citing real study) that meetings have extremely detrimental mental effects on attendees who do not care for meetings. Those who do care for meetings (first shock when reading article is realization that there are people who actually enjoy meetings) experience beneficial and lasting psychological effects. As look around room (These thoughts originally composed in head during meetin on Outreach), am alarmed that those who enjoy meetings seem to be the clear majority in this room--this based on theory enjoyment of meetings is in clear relation to amount of food brought. Last week the Contessa observed in stunned voice that sometimes when she goes to meetings she feels that people are getting ready to settle in to a bomb shelter. Woman next to me beings to peel a boiled egg. Egg smells strongly of sulphur and yolk is a bilious green. Man across the table begins to eat sandwich of peanut butter, bacon, and sliced apple. Gentleman leading the meeting is condescending toward the egg eater, who shakes salt out of paper packet onto her egg and says, Of course, she may be wrong (tone suggests she thinks nothing of the sort) but in her experience--close to fifteen years at this school--she's--actually what it reminds her of is when Jim Wexler was the president--who else remembers when the faculty went into revolt? Am excited by prospect of revolt of any sort, but egg eater drops topic for more prosaic line of discussion on Past Trends in fundraising. Draw passable Hedgehog.

Updates

2007-04-23T17:14:00.000-04:00

Spend all last week avoiding working on book--this takes enormous amounts of energy. Crisis precipitated by email a week ago from editor who asks how edits are coming along and why don't I send her what I have on the 24th (today). Edits come to a screeching halt and every time think about book--also have severe pain in stomach, buzzing in ears, urge to stand up, and almost pathological fascination with window across street from office where grown man with batman curtain lives. All is brought to a head on Saturday when spring bursts gloriously forth. Take draft of book to the park--Jenny comes too. Do not put on any sunscreen because tell self that have been so long without sun that want to have sunburn (Wish granted.) Enjoy time in park very much (except, naturally, for unfortunate interlude when am crapped on by Bird). Sunday spend indoors madly changing words, sentences, paragraphs, and even font. Today send draft back to editor and feel have reentered world. Why does one procrastinate?

Another Fantasy

2007-04-13T16:10:00.000-04:00

Cindy Stevens is away and as office is very quiet, decide to go to yoga at noon. Tell Oliver who says he hopes I have fun--he's got to wait for the copy machine repair man to come. Try to commiserate with Oliver. Say, The Xerox machine used to be the bane of my existence! Oliver gives me a blank look, Why? he asks. Why indeed. Walk briskly to yoga studio. After checking in and changing, put mat down at front of room, where through large windows can see building across the street. Have very clear mental image of Law & Order episode which starts in exactly the same way--people drifting in to large brightly painted room with wood floors, putting down mats, some people talking, some people stretching, some people (me) sitting and thinking, and then, Bang! the glass of the window shatters and some poor model has a sniper bullet in her head. Hairs on back of neck stand up and have to remind self that this scenario very unlikely and that, furthermore, should not be having such violent thoughts. Should instead Calm Mind. Class progresses very nicely, culminating in the lying down portion at end during which have conversation with Jenny--think that it is odd that she's been able to talk all along and hasn't ever bothered--Oh, she says, she was traumatized from the flooding--wake up with a jolt. Fervently hope that have not been snoring--nose still not all that it could be, allergy-wise. Only recount dull personal thoughts to show that was so self-involved all through class that did not notice owner of Sam the Goldendoodle sitting not two rows behind me. When get back to office, call the Contessa--feel that story best served by starting with detail about Oliver and the copy machine--the Contessa says to hurry it along, which do not care for and which makes me stretch out story even more, but eventually get to the sighting of the new dog owner. Tell her that it is a Sign. She says caustically that it is a sign he isn't straight.

Good Attitude

2007-04-12T18:21:00.000-04:00

Work becomes intolerable and decide to leave before ending up sending snippy email or worse. Tell Oliver that I am Taking a Walk Around the Block. He asks if I'm walking past the coffee place. No, I tell him, I'm not. He looks slightly stunned and am glad. But by time leave building, start to feel slight twinge of guilt and then don't pay attention while crossing street and end up stepping in large puddle of frigid dirty water. Suffer low point of day but as with all low points, this one signals that all else is on the upswing. Squashy walk takes me to Barney's, where purchase new socks, tell clerk the sad story of the puddle. He is very sympathetic and shows me the shoes. Try on three and end up buying boots that tell self will pay of out of tax refund. (Tax refund has, by now, taken on quality of the fishes and loaves.) Newly shod, walk back to office, do pass a coffee place, and buy Oliver the horrendous concoction he likes to drink. The woman making the drink give me a funny look as am ordering drink, but instead of taking it personally as normally would, put dollar bill in tip jar, which earns me a smile. Decide to have a good attitude all the time.

Spring has Sprung?

2007-04-11T13:55:00.000-04:00

This morning the Contessa calls and apologizes for being a (she uses the "b" word) yesterday. She says it is an explanation and not an excuse, but the Vice-Boss was in rare form yesterday, compelling the Contessa to make awkward phone calls to artists who had already been asked to come to an event to tell them that the event had been canceled for lack of funds. Lack of Funds, the Contessa explained, meaning the Vice-Boss forgot she had plans to go visit friends in Miami. Anyway, the Contessa says briskly, she's a miserable wretch who I should feel sorry for and should not let . Say did see Golden Doodle and owner in park this morning, but we didn't talk. Does the dog shed. Tell her emphatically, no--they are bred not to shed. She says that's good to know. Oh, she almost forgot the reason she called--do I want to go to the Matthew Brookshire concert at the Bitter End? Reply that do and hang up. Quick call to Dave secures his participation in outing As long as he the shoot (anti-smoking campaign) doesn't last too long and he hopes it won't. Am excited about evening, but can't stand waiting for satisfaction, so get two-tone from City Bakery Can't help saying Mm! out loud to self every time take sip.

Morning in the Park

2007-04-10T16:49:00.000-04:00

In park this morning, Jenny makes friends with extremely large standard poodle, very drooly and galoomphy. Jenny and poodle chase each other around, bark, and seem to invite me to join in the fun. Do so for a bit, running around with both dogs. Jenny eventually sits down to scratch at what am going to pretend is not a flea, poodle sits at my feet and lets out a distinct burp. Have never heard a dog burp and astonished. Owner of poodle appears and says Oh Ace say excuse me. Owner is stylishly disheveled, wearing jeans, the kind of plaid shirt that have seen at Steven Alan and coveted--am not interested in man for self, naturally, even if he didn't seem straight. Look for clues to confirm straightness: wears no wedding ring, and has air of bachelorhood, though not of caddishness, so think immediately of the Contessa. (Later see with horror that have based all favorable impressions on his dog.) As is customary, names of dogs are exchanged, but not names of humans. Poodle--who turns out to be a mix of Golden Retriever and poodle, and who is still less than a year old--is named Sam. When get to work call up the Contessa and tell her that have met very nice man. What do you know about him? Tell her that he has a golden doodle. The Contessa says she is not in the mood for jokes this morning. Explain that Sam is a very nice dog and has she ever heard a dog burp? No she hasn't, she says frostily. Do not at all care for her attitude and say that have meeting to go to. So do I, replies the Contessa.

Spring

2007-04-09T15:40:00.000-04:00

This weekend experience very odd mixture of ocurrences, namely: 3 mosquito bites (or spider, but do not wish to think about any other possibility), snow flurries, and the onset of spring allergies. This morning bites less itchy, sun is out, and have become sufficiently used to weepy eyes, scratchy throat and clogged nose that feel almost excited about going out into the world and (less happily) on to work. Peek at mirror before leaving deflates previous high spirits and feel that one would be best served to be like friend the leg model who doesn't have any mirrors in her house, not even in the bathroom. (Admirable position does lead to one Question: how would one manage to shave one's face? This naturally not a problem for the leg model...) Philosophical thoughts about mirrors carry self down elevator and outside and then are replaced by long train of thought involving renovation of facade of church cater corner from apartment building. Workers are very high up on turret using saws that produce a prodigious number of sparks, noise and a burning smell. Take care not to pass under scaffolding and tell self for the millionth time that should thank lucky stars for how lucky I am, job-wise. Gratefulness barely lasts until five minutes after arrival at work. Oliver comes into my office, frantic for once and become worried that somebody has died, but no, he has only sent the wrong letter to the duplicating department to be printed. All 3,000 copies have already been sent out, what are we going to do?! he asks. You must hate me. Do you hate me? Through tiresomely gritted teeth, tell him that do not hate him at all, we will find a solution. And we do find a solution--too tedious to put down here (even).

Break in Meetings

2007-04-06T11:47:00.000-04:00

Yesterday take short break from marathon meeting schedule to go to dentist. Am actually looking forward to visit--receptionist very nice and calls one honey, hyegenist professional and not interested in chatting, gets right down to business, looking around mouth with little mirror. She says, You've done a very good job with brushing. Take opportunity to brag to her that I've been very good about flossing. We'll see, she said, plucking up a nasty looking hook off her tray. Further conversation hindered by unpleasant sounding scraping. Otherwise, am fairly comfortable. In fact, chair very comfortable and would have no trouble falling asleep. Close eyes to try it out. Original thought gives way to terrifying fantasy that fall asleep, mouth closes on tool and hook punctures tongue. Open eyes. After the scraping, hyegenist uses a tool with a thin, sharp stream of water that she shoots at the base of the teeth. When she is done, know what is coming next and look forward to getting teeth polished. Love word "polish" when used in connection with teeth, or actually in connection to anything. The hygenist says I don't know if you've had this done before--prepare to say that certainly have had my teeth polished...what is she trying to imply--but she produces a new attachment that she says contains baking powder and Is like a sandblaster for your teeth. She is not lying--sensation very odd and baking soda salty--but also feel that with all the coffee and wine, a good sandblasting is in order. When done, we finally return to the topic of flossing. She says, You are doing pretty well, but you could still do better. Reply in philosophical tone, Couldn't we all do better. The makes the hyegenist looked alarmed. She says she will send in the doctor.

Activity Across the Street

2007-03-30T11:48:00.000-04:00

See maid wielding wet rag on top of broom leaning out of window in very dangerous way to wash window. Imagine her falling, and get scared excited feeling. Imagine calling 911. Make up speech to be given to the Emergency Operator. Maid withdraws indoors without incident. Am mostly relieved, but her return to safety leaves me nothing to do but to turn back to unsavory task started yesterday--cause of many unhappy and angry feelings--producing fundraising database reports. This is, apparently, to make up a large part of my job. Cindy Stevens is understanding but firm on this point as she shows me how said reports are produced. On the one hand, see that process is relatively simple. On the other hand--this hand much larger--feel exact mixture of panic, dread, and helplessness first experienced when learning how to do Algebra in 7th grade.

Difficult Day

2007-03-29T17:02:00.000-04:00

Often wish that had a better attitude.

Spring

2007-03-28T16:45:00.000-04:00

Have difficulty concentrating today. Blame absentmindedness on weather--spend much of day in office staring at building across street--see several interesting sights: what look like and am 85% positive are pot plants; extremely large carpeted cat play structure--attempt to estimate square foot cost of floor space, but Stop looking when grown man, naked except for boxer shorts--is alarmingly skinny, face scrunched up like prune, has long, hairy arms, and is hanging on window sash looking exactly like a monkey in the zoo. Notice that he has Batman curtains, and when he reappears in window, again hanging on sash, he is gnawing on large turkey bone. Am for some reason petrified. Tell self with a shudder that will Never look at building again. This absolutely untrue as not longer than a minute later have eyes fixed on window with Batman curtains--ape man is no longer in evidence. Become concerned and interested. Get up out of chair and lean near window. Hear, Fritz, do you know... Gasp extremely dramatically and loudly. It is only Cindy Stevens, who also gasps, asking, What is it?! Tell her that she surprised me. Cindy Stevens says she knows all about that--the other day she was carrying her cat from the bedroom into the kitchen (don't ask why) and when she got into the kitchen she wasn't expecting to see a man there--her husband--so she screamed and threw the cat. The cat got in a good scratch before being flung to the floor. Cindy Stevens shows me the scratch. Tell her she should watch out for cat scratch fever, sometimes deadly. She says she will. Feel so warmly toward Cindy Stevens that want to tell her about the building across the street, but become shy and talk instead about dreaded Board of Governors dinner coming up in a month.

Changes

2007-03-27T16:00:00.000-04:00

Have first iced tea of the season today with the Contessa, who tells me that the New Man has quit and that Jackie is gone too...to parts unknown, she adds sinisterly. Alarmed, ask, I hope she's OK. The Contessa replies that all she meant was that Jackie moved to Accounts Payable. Ask the Contessa how she feels. She replies, The one I really feel sorry for is Jackie. I should have know how this would turn out, the Contessa says. She has two bright splotches of red on her cheeks and she takes a very vigorous suck through her straw. Ask, How should you have known? She answers, Remember the Fart Machine? Do remember the fart machine, but tell the Contessa that unpleasant though the experience with the machine was, do not think it even in the same ballpark (surprise self by using sports metaphor) as cheating on your fiancee. The Contessa says She Guesses Not. She has other news. Because the New Man has left, she, the Contessa, has been asked to take his place, at least temporarily. Tell her congratulations--she'll do an excellent job. You know, she says, I'm afraid I'm becoming the Vice-Boss--I've lost the love of my life and now I'm getting the Vice-Boss's old job. Fear that the Contessa is having an emotional setback. Ask her when she starts. She says right away. She looks worried, but in a less heart-broken way, and asks Do I think she's going to have to wear suits now? Remind her about the lady who used to work at the school who had tattoos all over her face.

Writing Weekend

2007-03-26T16:09:00.000-04:00

Intend to spend entire weekend, (naturally minus time for sleeping and eating and time in bathroom) working on revision, and at end of both days reward self with hearty dinners: Saturday, spicy turkey sausages, aesthetically unsuccessful Rosti--do not understand how one is to flip large pancake made of grated potatoes--feel that there must be a trick--and pea shoot salad--all from neighborhood Greenmarket--and beers, from deli; on Sunday, roast a chicken, carve, and then serve on bed of croutons, currants, pine nuts and greens, a la the Zuni Cafe of San Francisco--eat with sufficient amounts of white wine. But today, suffer painful realization that rewards perhaps larger than efforts demanded as audit of time actually spent writing yields distressing results. For example, on Sunday wear Jenny out with all the walking and in the afternoon Dave finds me underneath bed with rag scrubbing away all dust even in the little grooves between the floorboards. What are you doing? He asks. Writing, I say testily. On Sunday, spend five solid hours staring out window at scaffolding around church before realize what am doing. Thus, when go into work today, am secretly glad to be leaving the so-called writing behind. Arrive before Oliver. When he comes, have written up list of tasks. Remember from own recent life as secretary that one doesn't like to have this kind of a list sprung on one, especially the first thing on Monday morning, so get busy on own portion of tasks and decide to wait for Oliver to ask what there is that needs to be done. Watch through open office dooras Oliver put his head down on his arms. He yawns and picks up the phone. He has an exhausted sounding conversation in which he uses the word Dude a lot. Remind self that other people aren't mind readers and that one must ask for what one wants. Leave office and ask--very nicely, much nicer than the Boss ever asked, not to mention the Vice-Boss--Oliver to do mail merge for letter to potential donors interested in The Arts. He nods in a distracted way. Go back to office. He plays a game of solitaire. He finally bestirs himself enough to folds a piece of paper into an airplane. Start to become angry, but then brain splits and am able to see both sides clearly. Can well remember the panicked existential dread that having to do mail merges gave me. Wonder, not for the first time, why it is that humans bother to work in offices. What are we doing with ourselves? Best not to let one's mind wander into those woods, though and get up out of chair. Tell Oliver that am going to get us both coffees so we can concentrate. Generous impulse ruined by Oliver's bilious request for a chai with two shots of decaf espresso in it and whipped cream on top plus some nutmeg if they have any.

Bad Omens

2007-03-23T16:27:00.000-04:00

Am waiting for train this morning when see out of corner of eye mouse making its way toward me. Scoot sideways and crash into woman applying lipstick. See too late that it is not a mouse, but instead a giant black hairball being scooted down platform by wind coming from tunnel. Woman with lipstick not pleased and explanation about hairball meets with unfeeling shake of head. Feel that this is a discouraging beginning to day and spend morning and afternoon waiting for disaster that never comes. (But still may.)

Unreasonable Expectations

2007-03-22T16:00:00.000-04:00

Coffee with editor utterly pleasant (except for tricky moment in conversation when claim shared Love of Henry James--not a complete lie--did like Portrait of a Lady very much even though couldn't on pain of death recall even barest bones of plot--but trouble comes when topic of Wings of the Dove is raised and hear self saying sentence, It is always the end that gets me.) Gist of coffee meeting is that Editor says books is charming and original and she'd like to see a few changes (feel that her definition of few and mine alarmingly different), but that we should talk when I've got the next draft. Pea sized portion of brain that is rational sees that this is a completely respectable and forward-moving development. Rest of brain is very very disappointed to not be walking away with a large check.

Editor

2007-03-21T16:43:00.000-04:00

Hear back from Editor today via email. Says that she'd like to meet for a coffee. Write back right away and suggest to tomorrow, which she agrees to--also via email--and then panic and wonder how will recognize her, so write back: What will you be wearing, I will be wearing a fedora. This joke neither funny nor helpful since do not (nor wish to) own a fedora. Do not hear back for 3 very very difficult hours during which am unable to reach anybody rational who could talk to. Unfortunately do mention exchange to Oliver who says, Dude, I think you blew it. Editor writes back to say why don't we meet at my office and then we'll go downstairs. Feel that this is very sensible suggestion. We are not, after all, spies. Finally get Dave on the phone. Say: Do you think she thinks I'm weird? Why do you think she wants to meet with me? Can't imagine why she'd want to take so much time with me. Dave replies, Maybe she likes your book, did you think about that? Reply to him that had not thought about that possibility and now that do, have distinct salty taste in mouth.

Spring Break

2007-03-20T15:57:00.000-04:00

Last week was spring break--development business oblivious to academic schedule, but nevertheless feel that deserve some sort of treat. Try dropping hints to Dave...Did he remember how much fun we had in Mexico last year? Has his grandmother said anything about sending any new influxes of cash? I've heard Vieques is nice this time of year. You want to hear something funny?: I've been having a hard time remembering what it's like to go outside without a coat. Aren't seasons strange?! How quickly we get used to our circumstances! Dave says, Yes, it would be nice to get away, but it's hard for him to plan trips right now because of his job. Can only admit that he is very responsible. In cruel twist of fate, however, Dave is given job with Coors photo shoot that compels him to go away for a week to the Dominican Republic. In light of this, when he leaves, suffer minor mental collapse and give self much needed rest anything resembling discipline: Jenny and I stroll in the morning rather than run. If she wants to sniff at one tree for ten minutes, I let her. If I want a glazed donut from the Donut Pub, I get myself one and also add a cruller to the order. If the next day I develop a hankering for a Two-Tone from City Bakery (half coffee, half very thick dark chocolate milk), I do not analyze or squelch this impulse, I merely tell Oliver I am Stepping Out for Some Air and then walk briskly to 18th Street, where I order a two-tone and also purchase and consume very large chocolate cookie and half a tuna sandwich. In the evening, go to yoga several times, but only because feel like it, and when go home in the evening, do not let self feel guilty when drink several or four large glasses of wine. One night, make tapioca pudding--which don't like, and which haven't had for decades, but am curious about why don't like it. Eat all four servings and decide, licking spoon, that don't care for the texture. Jenny sleeps under the covers every night. Apartment becomes disastrously filthy--though strangely see no sign of mice--and day of Dave's return have panicked regretful cleaning frenzy. Do laundry, mop, dust, vacuum. Feel grimy, pudgy and wan. Dave comes back tanned and thin and claims (kindly, if perhaps not especially truthfully) that he didn't have any fun because he missed me too much.

Dog in Office

2007-03-09T14:46:00.000-05:00

Oliver asks, actually very nicely for once, including pleases and thank yous in his speech, if he might bring in his girlfriend's dog to work, just this once, please, she is at a friend's place in Beacon and he needs to bring the dog with him so that they can both meet the girlfriend, please. Thank you. Am so excited by prospect of dog in office that forget to ask what kind of dog it is--if it goes well, why couldn't Jenny come too? She could lie down right under my desk and if I felt myself getting anxious or upset I could give her a little scratch behind the ears. Have pleasant fantasies involving Jenny at the office for the rest of the day, the evening, and the morning. When come into work this morning, however, come face-to-face with quivering Whippet, dressed in voluminous black fleece If it wore sunglasses, would look exactly like Mary-Kate Olsen. Am horrified, but do not want to be breedist, so reach down to give her a pat on the head. She snarls in in a high-pitched tone and then pees on the carpet. Oliver says, Bridgett, no! He shakes his head. She already went in your office too, he says, I don't know how you're going to get the smell out. Fantasies so rarely come true.

Self-Doubt

2007-03-08T17:01:00.000-05:00

Conversation in whole when see Serena at park this morning.

Serena: Have you heard from My Friend the Editor?

Self: Nope not yet!

(Inwardly, conversation goes on for the rest of the day.)

Snow Day

2007-03-07T16:50:00.000-05:00

Cindy Stevens usually wears black clothes, nicely made suits and well cut coats, and the she never wears anything that might be considered colorful, so am a bit surprised when after lunch she comes into my office to show me new purchase. Suppose that this is a new milestone in our relationship, and ought to feel touched, but can only gape when she shows me floor length padded coat made out of (fake) hot pink leopard skin. I found this Dolce & Gabanna jacket at Lohman's! she says, What do you think? Can well understand excitement of the hunt and the find, but can also--from vantage point of momentarily relative sanity, and from hard-earned experience--see that severe regret will soon set in. Want to say that hope she still has the receipt, but instead, hear self say, I LOVE it!!! Cindy Stevens replies, Oh, good, I was hoping it wasn't too much. Oh no, I assure her, color is just what we need during these last few months of winter. Thankfully, stop self before say that like animal prints--don't, and never have, and wouldn't respect self if professed admiration for Zebra. Do, however, unfortunately, hand Cindy Stevens the scissors when she asks for them. Watch as she cuts off tags and throws them in my trash can. We all make our own mistakes and learn our own lessons.

2007-03-06T16:42:00.000-05:00

Have dim memory of waking up in middle of night to smell of breakfast being made, but am tired and confused and return to dream of being given job of person in charge of the care and feeding of bat rays at an aquarium--feed the bat rays bacon and eggs, which feel is wrong and only one of a myriad of ways am unqualified for job. Attempt, several times, to explain that can't think how got the job--am not marine biologist, nor am at all certain what aquarium director is talking about when she says I need to clean out the Filter--finally perceive that I am to put on odd plastic suit and am to hold breath while scrubbing car-sized grate with toothbrush. And so on. All is explained (sort of) when wake up this morning and see that the Contessa has fixed herself a midnight (figuratively--true hour probably closer to 3 a.m.) snack, of eggs, bacon, and cinnamon toast--evidence of fixings on counter (bowl of cinnamon sugar, plus sprinklings of same in toaster over and on top of refrigerator), in sink (egg shells), on stove (greasy pan) Dave not pleased. Cleans kitchen with tense look on face, help him and make cup of coffee. The Contessa stays asleep throughout. Take Jenny for a walk. When come back, Dave is asking the Contessa if she needs help finding an apartment while the Contessa smokes a cigarette and says, no, thank you, she has some strong Leads. Oh, what neighborhoods? Dave asks. Cowardly hide in bathroom and wait until conversation is over. When come out, am hearty and make fresh pot of coffee, and the Contessa and Dave become hearty too. But see that situation can't last forever.

Monday

2007-03-05T15:57:00.000-05:00

When I come back from meeting, am surprised and pleased to see the Contessa waiting in my office. Ask how she is. She says that the gossip mill at the other building is in fine form. (Experience brief bitter moment of feeling left out of all gossip). She says that she was bearing up until the Vice-Boss came in and asked to Speak to Her in her office. Once in the office, door shut behind her, she was wrapped up in a hug--the vice-boss is anorexic again--and the Contessa says that she could hear bone scraping on bone. Then the Vice-Boss talked about her failed marriage. And then she cried, and asked the Contessa if she had any Kleenex, and if not, then maybe she could go buy some for the office??? The Contessa says she took the money offered--three crumpled up ones fished out from bag--and hasn't been back yet. The Contessa looks like she is about to cry herself. Ask tentatively, Did the New Man come into work today? She replies, He wouldn't dare. Judging from the look on the Contessa's face, can well believe it, but wonder why she didn't call in sick today too. Ask how she is doing otherwise. She shakes her head no, gathers up her coat and says that she is going for a walk and she might end up back at my apartment if that is OK, but that she isn't going to cry anymore. Tell her yes, of course, and no, of course she won't.

The Contessa's Bad News

2007-03-02T15:41:00.000-05:00

Receive phone call late last night and am awakened from dream in which have just had fried fish and tea with Sarah Silverman (why?) It is the Contessa on the phone. The wedding is off, she says in exhausted sort of voice. Can she come stay at my place--she'll tell me all about it when she gets here. Say yes, of course. Am glad that she has called, but her approach starts a tense and initially unproductive search for clean sheets. Dave is helping in search and he puts in his monthly bid for a cleaning lady to come and do our laundry. Before have chance to retort, remember box of sheets on top shelf of most inaccessable closet. Sheets, when found, are, technically clean, but perhaps not the freshest, and consist of one gingham sheet and one a sort of lurid chintz that can't imagine me or Dave buying or accepting (where then did it come from?) and two unmatched pillow cases, scratchy things from Ikea. But when the Contessa comes, sheets are not what she is worried about. The New Man has cheated on her with Jackie. Ask, shocked, Jackie from school? The Contessa nods grimly, the very one. The only bright side she can see is that the New Man's sister is going to be very, very upset and bigoted about Jackie. Tell the Contessa that she is being very strong--how is she doing it? At this she begins to sob. Rub her back. Dave, who has been in the other room, hears the proceedings, and with great presence of mind makes everyone cocoa which we spike with whiskey and drink once the Contessa catches her breath. Why, she asks, very late in the evening, why do things have to be ruined right when they seem to be going so well? Do not have an answer for her, and can only suggest that we make ourselves quesadillas.

Oliver's Black Eye

2007-03-01T17:29:00.000-05:00

Oliver's right eye is swollen practically shut and is bruised. Eye itself--what can be seen of it is a grisly red color, presumably from broken blood vessel. Have thought that it might be funny if ignored eye and pretended like all was normal--Oliver has taken small mirror out of his desk and is examining his eye, looking pretty pleased with himself and also shooting side-long glances at me. Feel that ignoring the eye will involve battle of wills which do not have the energy for, so ask, How did that happen? Oliver puts down his mirror. He replies, How did what happen? He looks even more pleased than before. Half an hour later, wish had paid attention to original impulse to ignore wound, as have been treated to convoluted and self-aggrandizing tale, the gist of which is that he was punched in the face by a friend on a dare. Do not understand and do not approve and when free self from story, go into office, shut door, and call up the Contessa, who says firmly that if any so-called friend ever punched her in the face, That Would be That. And, she adds, she would be shocked if Drugs and Alcohol weren't involved and then just as we are going down the road of our own previous shocking behavior, she says, The New Man says he wants to talk to me. Let me call you back.

Busy Day

2007-02-26T16:17:00.001-05:00

Run into Serena at the park this morning--ground slushy, boots seem to have sprung a leak, Jenny being extremely pokey, and can't say that slept well at all last night--late to bed (after watching the oscars--eyes glued to tv set even though hadn't seen most of movies and didn't much care who won)--so late to bed, early to rise makes one maybe a wee bit grumpy and don't want to share feeling of grumpiness, so when see Serena standing in middle of field waving vigorously at me with throw toy, and when wave turns into a beckon, want to avoid conversation. Wave at Serena firmly and try to climb hill. Jenny sits down. Serena runs through snow, which looks dangerous--want to call over to her to be careful she doesn't slip, but don't, and she doesn't. She says she hasn't seen me for a long time. Say, No, and then can't think of another thing to say, and feel very rude. Serena kind as always, gives Jenny a treat, and thankfully ignores my lack of social graces. What follows is very quick sequence of events: Serena says she just saw her friend the editor the night before and was talking about me and the editor is expecting me to email her today. When get into work, do write the editor, including thumbnail sketch of book--brother and sister traveling together on archeological dig tourist trip to Cuzco, Peru, the poisoning by curare of Professor, the subsequent poisoning of Judy Maloney, and how the sister solves the mystery at the end. Within minutes receive email from editor who says why don't I send her what I have. I do send her what I have, not seeing any hitch in the plan until the messenger is well out of the building, carrying my manuscript through the slush. Alternate between visions of glory and excitement (this is why I was so interested in the Oscars last night! I am being prepared to win!--though this thought obviously delusional as have not written script, but instead murder mystery) and what tell self is the sober truth of the matter--book very poor and editor will certainly tell me so in regretful but firm tones. Invent speeches for the editor. Do not at all care for editor's tone and tell her so. Also, alternately, see self in minds eye receiving editor's rejection email with stoicism and resignation. Also see self responding to email with screaming and running through the halls, which am very impressed by, and think up many other equally shocking responses. Fantasies--both negative and positive are very consuming and am, for once, impervious to meetings, not needing to draw, pee, eat, or even leave. Am very busy living out alternate lives in head.

Busy Day

2007-02-26T16:17:00.000-05:00

Winter Sloth

2007-02-23T15:30:00.000-05:00

Because of cold (tell self), morning runs with Jenny have been a bit perfunctory--do not feel like staying out of doors too long and Jenny is all too willing to come back as soon as possible. We have developed a new routine of going straight to the kitchen to have our breakfasts after the run. Jenny has a small bowl of dry dog food. I have a large bowl of Greek yogurt (full fat) with almonds, raisins, and touch of honey. When I'm through with my bowl--have been known to use finger to get off as much of yogurt as can--place bowl on floor so that Jenny can finish the job. Or sometimes fry 2 eggs in large knob of butter--Jenny looks on in steely concentration. After eat eggs, Jenny licks plate. On very cold mornings, sometimes have appetizer of yogurt bowl (Jenny licks bowl) followed by 3 fried eggs (Jenny licks plate). Have been enjoying this routine--though perhaps enjoy not quite the right word when on several occasions notice Pants a bit tight or unfortunate time last week during yoga class when new fat roll on stomach gets pinched during twist--but put these bad moments out of mind when am in the middle of eating breakfast. All good things must come to an end. This morning, Jenny and I are caught. I have put breakfast bowl on kitchen floor she is mid lick when Dave walks in to the kitchen. He is not supposed to be up this early in morning. He asks, What's going on here? Jenny, very, very unhelpfully, makes snorting noise as she pushes bowl across floor with her snout, licking all the way. Say, lightly, that Jenny was just helping me with the dishes. Dave does not find this funny. Nor does he find it hygienic. Tell him that Dogs' mouths are cleaner than ours. He replies that this is an Old Wives Tale. Dog's mouths are full of bacteria, he says, Jenny should have her dishes and we should have ours. See that he is right, but do not know how I will explain this to Jenny tomorrow morning.

Wall to Wall Meetings

2007-02-22T15:03:00.000-05:00

Have left poor blog unattended--as have left much else unattended--because of mandatory and debilitating schedule of meetings. But no (one thinks in the meeting) it does one no good to wish that one was not sitting in chair listening to people speak about budgets. It is a struggle to keep one's eyes open and also a struggle not to jump up on chair and hoot like an owl. This sets of fantastical and diverting train of thought featuring question of What would happen if...What would happen if I fainted? What would happen if I just got up and left the room and didn't come back? What if I passed a Funny note to the New Man (also sitting at the meeting and looking less than fully alert, have seen him attempt to take sip of coffee from his empty cup many times)? Thoughts revert to grimness of situation. On some level, tedium is probably good for one--suffering is good. Scold self sharply. This is not suffering. What if one was in Iraq? What if one had a tumor? (One begins to wonder if one does have a tumor. It is likely.) Lunch is provided at last meeting, no chips, which am very disappointed by, cookies are always to be avoided (Would wager money that if subject were blindfolded and tasted oatmeal, chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies, subject could not tell the difference between them--not even by texture.) Settle on ham and brie sandwich on rye and take 4 packets of mustard to try and kill taste of sandwich. Mustard sadly not up to the task: ham is bilious, brie tastes like Vaseline, and rye bread--the less said of the rye bread the better. Half way through sandwich, am utterly revolted and push plate away. Decide to draw. From mustard packet copy sketch of Heinz mustard jar. Own version of mustard jar extremely professional looking. Feel that a Hot Dog would go well with mustard, and attempt. Result very very phallic. Become afraid that neighbor has seen drawing, and briskly turn page of notebook, while turning hot and embarrassed. Mortification for once serves helpful purpose. Sit up straight and alert for rest of meeting.

Winter Low Point

2007-02-16T15:57:00.000-05:00

Am walking down street on way to work today when see strange looking baby in stroller--sworl of black hair on top of head, very blue eyes, and is staring at me as though am strangest thing it has seen in its short life. Being stared at so intensely a bit disconcerting, and forget to pay attention to what is going on underfoot. Before know it, find self on dirty, icy sidewalk. Hip and left hand have taken brunt of fall. Baby cranes head around side of stroller and continues to stare. Get up quickly before anybody can offer to help, in fact, make vigorous effort to not notice anybody else around me. Hand muddy, but otherwise unhurt. Shove hand in pocket while walking quickly away. Once immediate feeling of extreme mortification passes, feel almost pleasurably embarrassed. While am at Murray's to get fortifying bagel and coffee (avoid l" (or variation, "ate it"; question: as in ate the ground?) Am sharply reminded that it is not socially acceptable to giggle to oneself in public--tee-hee a bit and woman wearing earmuffs, leg warmers, and purple down coat edges away. Do not care about her, though. Feel that--this probably unoriginal and stolen from elsewhere--feel that once have fallen, there is no lower to go. All else is up.