And birthday week begins! Countdown to 39!

ME
So, I got this call from Omar yesterday at 2.30p and he asked me if I wanted to...

CYNTHIA
Make out on a stranger's stoop on Boulevard East?

Well, no, that wasn't what he said, that wasn't the original idea, but that's what she saw. Actually, he called me to say that he was with his parents and they were going to eat and then go to the supermarket by me and did I want to come to the store and see him and meet them.

The parents! Meet the parents! The parents who don't speak English and whom I have been terrified of meeting for close to a year! I tried to figure out how much I could completely change myself in an hour. I showered, brushed my teeth, chewed breath gum and sprayed myself with perfume, that was really about all I was capable of. I may have still been me, but at least I was clean and smelled good.

When they were nearly there, he called me and I walked over. And met. The parents. And they were very sweet! They didn't eat me or snarl at me or slap me away from their son--not that one would have expected them to, but nothing makes one feel about thirteen years old than the prospect of meeting the parents.

I smiled and said "mucho gusto", the only thing that I knew to say, and commented that I was afraid that I was going to start speaking French, since whenever try to think of any Spanish, all I can think of is French, and they laughed, which surprised me (although Omar says that they understand a lot more English than they admit to), and then his mother asked him how to say mucho gusto in English, and then very sweetly said to me, "Nice to meet you!"

Then we left, took a walk down Boulevard East and sat on a stranger's doorstep and...cuddled and talked, mostly. I had only 45 minutes or so before I had to be in the city for the Love Creek staff meeting, which was why Cynthia and Fran saw us while running by to catch the van.

The best thing about it was it's the first time that we've seen each other properly since our big kerfuffle a couple of weeks ago, and I was worried that maybe we'd be awkward and maybe he wouldn't want to be as physical as we usually are, but that wasn't a problem at all--he even held my hand in front of his parents.

And now I can relax and not worry about Lancaster. Everything's going to be fine.

I am becoming obsessed with my nails. I stare at them constantly, marveling at how pretty they are. When did I become so vain? I suppose I have always been this vain, I just didn't have anything physical to be vain about, and now, between my nails and my tan, I am breathtaking! You know, or not. Indulge me, it's birthday week!

But my nails, my nails are beautiful. Now I understand why people have long nails, I just grew them for some pictures that I want to take, but they really do make your hands look nicer, and I had decent hands to start with.

It's getting harder to type, though. It's all click click click and missing keys and so on, and they really aren't that long, just past the ends of my fingers for about the first time in my life. I haven't played the guitar in years, but I have had guitar-player short nails since high school. Maybe all this getting girly is something having to do with turning 39. Or possibly due to being unemployed and having time.

Today's horoscope:
You're comfortable to the depths of your psyche and soul. Cynics laugh at you for being out of style, but they don't know what they're missing. Eat the food of another culture to remind you of your place in the world.

One year ago today:
What killed me, though, was Jude Law, because I gotta tell you, no matter how hard you work thinning his hair and yellowing his teeth and dirtying his nails and sallowing his skin and no matter how awkwardly he shuffles along, you know what? He's still the one to pick if you were making a sex robot.

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Last Updated Tues 19 August 17:03:09 2003