Eight Nine Ten

It's been a while since I've been at such a loss for words. For so long. Is it because I'm knitting? Summer ennui? Summer that is shuffling softly into fall, escorted by the honking of geese that seem to pass south at exactly 9:50 every morning. People are complaining about our cool summer and the morning fog. I'm not complaining. I think it's great. But every day starts out darker and damper and with less of the usual summer verve. So yeah. Maybe that's it.

But I'm at a Starbucks in Petaluma with the other Pointy Pals, so I'm compelled to at least pen a post if nothing else, so here goes.

A week ago Saturday, M and I attended our first political fundraiser. The dean of his law school is running for judge, so combined his 50th birthday party with a request for donations. It was very interesting, going to the candidate's 1950s suburban home (located in our dream neighborhood--O ranch house, how could I ever have scorned thee in my youth?), hearing people get up to speak and flat out ask for money in a such a jolly setting. It is a bit of a shame that judges even have to run. But the speakers were good and not too long and there was a country-western band made up of other judges, which was also entertaining. I'm still in the habit of thinking that 50-year-olds are quite a bit older than me, and of course that's simply not the case anymore. I had a very pleasant chat with a woman at my table, who couldn't remember momentarily if she had just been at her 30th or 40th high school reunion. She seemed a little older to me, so I reinforced the 40th thought. And then--of course--she mentioned that she graduated the same year I did. I'm having a hard time getting used to the middle aged thing, I confess, and recognizing "older" people as actually being my contemporaries. But, as with all other ages, this is the youngest I'm ever going to be, so I should enjoy it while I can and not brood too much about getting older if I can help it.

Last weekend was pleasant and quiet. I went to a clothing swap on Saturday and brought back about as much as I contributed, which is contrary to my clothing swap tenets, but I'm happy with my "new" duds. (When I sat down this evening, Rebecca recognized my shirt, which was awfully close to a shirt I had brought, so we suspect we did a mutual swap which is always a pleasant realization.)

On the way to the swap, I stopped off to have a mug of tea and a chat with friends. I was, like, totally visiting! That never happens! I was very proud of myself. On the way home from the swap I stopped at a yarn store and dropped $50 on yarn for a shrug for myself. I have observed that I often cheap-out on yarn for my projects and end up with sub-par objects as a result, so I've resolved to try to break this habit. However, I'm nervous I'm not going to like it once it's done and will have spent much more on a sweater than I ever would have a Ross, not to mention the time involved and the ruining of the lovely gray superwash wool, but there it is. Nothing ventured and all that.

More visiting ensued on Sunday. I spent more than an hour on the phone with a friend, just catching up. Then as M and I were doing some chores, my brother-in-law came by to drop off some vegetables grown by brother Jay. I realized I hadn't bought tomatoes yet this season, and it was a joy eating them yesterday and today and sharing a few with friends at work. I think I'm spoiled for the home grown ones.

Time to head for husband and home.