A "Real" Weekend

I need more creative post titles, I know.

It's Saturday afternoon, the furry creatures dozing in the heat, breeze roughing up the oak leaves and making the screen door squeeeeeak back and forth like a haunted house. M and I are on our respective laptops, surfing, I'm doing a little work, trying to pull the trigger on my airline tickets to New York next month. (What restaurant shall I try with my friend on my last night there, btw? We weren't able to snag reservations at Babbo, unfortunately.) We've just come back from a very dear hunting and gathering trip to Whole Foods--M-made marinara is simmering, white Dry Creek peaches and fromage d'Affinois soften on the counter, attracted by culinary magnetism towards the sourdough batard beside it. Thank god my stomach is finally back to normal, I've got some good eatin' to do tonight.

It feels like years since I've had a weekend day like this. M and I have actually had a few conversations! We may go for a row around the teensy local lake tomorrow! I signed up for another glass fusing class for the fall! We listened to much of the Obama-Biden announcement on the radio together! It was just strange and wonderful that neither of us has run off to work or study, and the stress around M not having a full time job yet or knowing the Bar exam results is staying neatly in a dark corner--for now.

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M had an excellent camping experience, he reports, particularly after the guys who had the loud gas generator running til midnight (he suspects they were watching porn in their tent) packed up and left. He caught fish, they ate well, and the water temperature in the reservoir was pleasant enough to float in for hours. It did sprinkle one night and rain the next, but luckily they had the rain fly handy. He said there was a day or two when they were the only campers and suggested that we definitely plan a trip next summer, midweek so we could have the place to ourselves, hopefully. I'm all for that.

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This week marks ten years exactly since I moved from New York to California, and I've been thinking about that moving experience specifically and living in New York generally lately. Also spurred, I'm sure by the trip East I've got coming up in a few weeks, and by the songs I've been humming from "Enchanted" all week. I mentioned this anniversary to a friend at work and she gushed, "And look how much has happened to you! You bought a house, you got married, you have a wonderful career!" (She's also my boss.) And she's right, the past decade has had its share of milestones--like the decades before. Does a life ever run out of milestones? (I just felt like Carrie Bradshaw typing that question on my Mac.)

Another milestone I hit this decade--I'm fairly used to being incredibly nearsighted and wearing contact lenses (it's hard for me to wear glasses regularly since the difference in my peripheral vision that the glasses don't cover is disconcerting), but it was a bummer in my eye exam yesterday when my optometrist recommended that I get reading glasses AND driving glasses. To wear over my contact lenses!

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So my campaign to bring back the term "foxy" never took off (though I'm still trying), but I'm toying with another word from the '70s--"primo." What do you think?