Went to Cade and Shellie's goodbye party Saturday night. Sigh. Lots and lots of people I have been missing these past few months. Per our usual routine we got ridiculously lost going home. This was partly my fault as I was the sober driver who left less-than-sober Peter in charge of navigating. Yeeeah. He was super-helpful. At one point he was convinced we were in Kalamazoo. After many left and right turns we found ourselves in Byron Center with an on ramp to 131. People always complain Vermont doesn't have any road signs. You know where else doesn't have any road signs? HASTINGS!!! I found myself wishing I'd get pulled over just so I could ask for directions.
Sunday after sleeping in far too late I picked up me mates Christina and Michael for viewing # 2 of SITC (red dress with polka dots, my "new" secondhand Calvin Kleins, and black heels) and then drinks downtown. In Holland. We felt deliciously naughty which makes sense given that the three of us together are deliciously naughty. It had been way too long since we'd gotten together. I suspect Sunday was a tame intro to our summer which may include any of the following: bike rides to Saugatuck, shopping expeditions, potential day trips to Chicago, porch, patio, and deck sitting, and hitting up the gay bars in GR.
The tomatoes are in! Yay! This is really my first year trying to do anything more adventurous than herbs and I'm giddy with anticipation. Every day I inspect and water and tend. I'm definitely not my mother's daughter when it comes to plants. That woman has plants everywhere and I swear most of them have been alive and well for years. I? I have trouble remembering to feed my cat some days.
This week is shaping up to be busy already. Tomorrow is a much needed market and natural food store day before work. I need to get in 3 runs and at least one longish ride this week. I'd like to finish this book I started last night before the weekend. Saturday night I think we're going to a Whitecaps game with the Berghoefs. Sunday I'm hopefully shopping and sushi-ing with Christina and Joleen.
And Monday I start all over again.
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Breakfast is the only meal of the day that I tend to view with the same kind of traditionalized reverence that most people associate with Lunch and Dinner. I like to eat breakfast alone, and almost never before noon; anybody with a terminally jangled lifestyle needs at least one psychic anchor every twenty-four hours, and mine is breakfast. In Hong Kong, Dallas or at home — and regardless of whether or not I have been to bed — breakfast is a personal ritual that can only be properly observed alone, and in a spirit of genuine excess. The food factor should always be massive: four Bloody Marys, two grapefruits, a pot of coffee, Rangoon crepes, a half-pound of either sausage, bacon, or corned beef hash with diced chiles, a Spanish omelette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, a chopped lemon for random seasoning, and something like a slice of Key lime pie, two margaritas, and six lines of the best cocaine for dessert…. Right, and there should also be two or three newspapers, all mail and messages, a telephone, a notebook for planning the next twenty-four hours and at least one source of good music…. All of which should be dealt with outside, in the warmth of a hot sun, and preferably stone naked. -hunter s thompson
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