2 Blue 2 Blog

Half-finished things from Saturday that I've been too discouraged to clean up before posting...

People, people, people: A friend was on a semi-rant the other day about the right-wing Stepford parents at her kids' school, and how difficult it was for her to make friends locally. She noted how wonderful it was when she finally went to a party at a home that wasn't perfectly cookie-cutter, with lesbians and people of color in attendance--diversity, finally! And while I agreed with her wholeheartedly, wouldn't it be in fact more "diverse" to socialize with those who are *not* similarly politically inclined people, whether of different colors, orientations, what have you, or not? It's a challenge to find those situations and be comfortable within them.

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A haiku from M:

Morning frustration
Hard river of 101
Dream change, live work

(For those of you unfamiliar with the nutty highway system here in sunny California, the 101 is the sputtering, hardening artery that seeps north from the Bay Area to our neck of the woods.)

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Didn't You Read My Blog? At dinner the other night, the friend I was with was a gracious conversationalist, asking me all about how things were, the wedding, etc. Usually, this friend and I get together with a couple of other old friends, extroverts all but me, so I have a hard time getting a word in edgewise normally, and I appreciated being drawn out. But then a horrid thought edged into my brain unbidden, and I wish I could un-think it: "Don't you read my blog?"

I do write my blog mostly for family and friends to keep up with me, but I feel guilty that I would expect anyone to read it. Especially since it's still a little weird for me to hear comments about my posts in person from people I know and love.

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It's a California morning to crow about. Days of rain have cleared the atmosphere and dashed plum blossoms to the ground in drifts of tender frost. Bright yellow fields of mustard are absolutely spectacular. The iris in my yard are raising their emerald arms sunward, Vs for victory, for peace, flower power.

I woke up today at 4 o'clock, stressing a bit about work, in a bit of a fog due to too much sauvignon blanc last night*. But there was also something very wonderful about becoming conscious in the crepuscular light. It felt for a time as if the room was completely disembodied from the rest of the world, and I was floating in a void with only bird calls, breathing, and twenty pounds of warm dog pressed against me.

*Date Night at a bar in the achingly quaint town of Healdsburg, where we heard one of M's professors play in a good cover band with other attorneys.