pop quiz


What do you say when you have been idiotic enough to mention in passing to a casual friend the fact that you had a dream about him last night — and you are naturally very careful not to mention the fact that in this dream, he was primarily and enthusiastically engaged in some very unwholesome, but don’t get me wrong very enjoyable behavior involving really just the two of you and perhaps also a rocking chair and also a terrific amount of sweat and panting and exertion — and really this was probably the most porntastic dream you have had in years, and it was sort of great and sort of mystifying, because you don’t have even the faintest glimmer of a crush on the guy, which makes it even worse and much much better, somehow — so anyway through some cruel happenstance you see him at a gathering that very night when the taut, tensing muscles of his dream-shoulders are still rippling ecstatically under your fluttering dream-fingertips, as it were, and because you are a nitwit of the highest order you cannot restrain yourself from saying something like:

 oh ha ha I had a funny dream about you last night

and he, quite reasonably, replies:

Oh?  What was I doing?

What, then, O Sage, do you say? 


Apparently, you stammer something remarkably like the following:

You were… uh… hugging… muh… PEOPLE… a lot!  All over! 

You were… uh… very… HAPPY!

And then maybe you sort of run.

oh harry

Spoilers lurk behind the link.

You would think I had nothing better to do than stay up all night until four am reading a whole 700-odd page book.

That is what you would think, given the evidence.

On the other hand, things are not always what they seem!

Sometimes staying up until four am with a good old-fashioned page turner is the most refreshing, revitalizing, and rejuvenating thing one can do.

Sometimes a break in the weather from Holy Fucking Humidity to Is It Labor Day Already? is all that is needed to fluff up the feathers of one’s soul.

Sometimes, only very rarely, the satisfying knowledge that you were right all along (all along!) about keeping faith with someone you trusted despite all evidence to the contrary is more than enough to restore one’s faith in the rightness of things and the truth about your intuition and the awesomeness of being alive when really good books are being written and mailed right to your doorstep when you need them the most.

july, july, july (never seemed so strange)

So yesterday my boss asked me how old I would be turning today and I said 36.  She seemed honestly surprised, so I said yeah that’s because I’m so freakin’ immature.

I waited patiently for her to say no no no you are wicked mature!

And waited.

She finally responded that maybe THIS year will be the year I finally grow up. And start acting my age.

I am her best and favorite employee!  She was only mostly kidding.

So yeah!  Thirty-six!  Which seems a lot older and perhaps a trifle less saucy than 35!  But whatever — happy to have made it this far!

For the first time in my life, I am a little bit put out by the timing of my birthday.  I have always loved that it fell on a national holiday — the fact that it is France’s national holiday only serves to convince me that I am destined to one day spend my birthday in Paris.

When I was a kid growing up on the Cape, I developed a mild resentment that I didn’t get the same attention the other kids did on their birthdays — in the lower grades when we would actually celebrate each little munchkin’s birthday with cupcakes and a rousing game of 7-Up (which I can remember LOVING, even though I can’t remember how it was played — something about putting your heads down on your desk, and one kid up at the blackboard… doing… something?  I don’t know, but I just managed to make it sound pretty sinister, didn’t I? Awesome!).

I always figured I got my revenge by having a summertime birthday because that meant I could always have a beach party, always have strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries, and always celebrate my birthday with my summertime friends at the children’s theater, all of whom I liked far far better than anybody at stupid school anyway.

But now I find myself with a job whose main feature is working like a dog in the summer in preparation for a huge event, and the crunch time happens to fall right on my birthday.  And I LOVE my job, I love this intense time of year, I love the payoff that comes from having carried it all off without a (visible) hitch, and the relaxation that I am then justly entitled to come September.

But as a result I find myself kind of swatting away my birthday with impatience, wishing I could reschedule it for after Labor Day like everything else.  In fact, I also have a pretty major anniversary that falls every year ON THE DAY of the big work-related annual event, and I DO reschedule the celebration of that every year to a more convenient date about a week or two later.

It’s a good thing I don’t have kids. 

I do so love my job.

And this busy time is only for a couple of badly placed months!

But luckily I have friends and family who won’t let me get away with this nonsense, making my birthday weekend quite as jam-packed as if I had to work after all.  Starting today, I am going out to:

  1. lunch with Dad
  2. dinner with Saucy
  3. dinner with husband
  4. a baseball game with the boss who thinks I am immature (not really).

Sigh.  If I must, I must!