This entry is going to be the online journal equivalent of my calling you at about 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon and telling you about the dream I had last night: “And then? Okay, check it, I was totally in this house? And it was on fire? And I couldn’t find the way out, and I fell in a hole and then I woke up. Weird, right? Yeah. So, what are you up to?” This entry is going to be the equivalent of your co-worker coming and leaning on your desk and telling you about her weekend with this new guy she’s seeing, who she’s kinda into, but she doesn’t know yet, because everything’s so crazy since her breakup with Derek, and she just wants to have fun right now, and she totally isn’t looking for a committment. This entry is going to be a conversation about local politics with the tatooed barista as he foams up your foam extra foamy the way you like it and he flirts with you for an extra somethin’ somethin’ in the tip jar (the one that says “Support Counter Intelligence” ). This entry, in other words, is just me randomly talking. Unlike every single other entry I have written in this fine journal. So pay attention, okay?
Anyhoo. First things first. Big Issues. Have you ever kind of wondered what the rest of your life was going to be like? What job you’d eventually get, and what kind of car you’d drive, and who you might one day marry, and whether you’d live in a mansion, an apartment, a shack, or a house? Me too. But how in the world do you figure this all out?
Well, I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve done the neccesary calculations and I’m all set. Everything’s all planned. To wit:
**You will live in Mansion.
You will drive a orange old volvo.
You will marry Ewan McGregor and have 4 kids.
You will be a magazine columnist in Siena.**
Yeah. A mansion in Tuscany. I’m going to call my column Awwwwwwww Yeah! Look Who Lives In A Mansion In Tuscany! With Ewan McGregor! And Four Kids! And An Old School Volvo From Before Ford Bought Them! Unh! How You Like Me Now? But again, there will be a special Ampersand discount for anyone who feels like visiting and staying in the maids’ quarters (it’s a mansion, remember?). And possibly we can work out some sort of deal regarding Ewan as well, if you know what I mean, and I know you do.
In my mansion, you’ll be happy to know, you’ll be able to find the absolute coolest thing. The other day I received a quilt made by my great-grandmother. My grandmother sent it to me after she and my mom found it when they were looking through boxes during my mom’s last visit to Michigan. It’s so beautiful. It is so beautiful. It’s a patchwork pattern in all sorts of cool fabrics and it’s so gorgeously made and I just love it that there’s a little bit of family history draped over my bed. I don’t feel particularly close to most of my extended family, sadly, so it’s really cool for me to have something tangible that represents a connection I have a hard time feeling sometimes. When I was in New York visiting my dad over Thanksgiving…as I mentioned in the Great Lost Thanksgiving Entry of 2002 he pulled out all these crazy sheets and tablecloths and stuff that his mom made. I hope I get some of those someday too. Family through textiles. Whatever works, right?
Someone I will probably be inviting to the aforesaid mansion (see how I’m tying this all together? Sneaky, yes?) but probably won’t be cutting any Ewan-related deals with, as I don’t think she swings that way, is Sundry. I had lunch with her on Wednesday and immediately suggested, after laughing my guts out for the entire time, that we overturn the When Journallers Meet! convention and not write a “Squeee! Sundry is the best! She is rilly rilly funny, and I love her! Yay!” entry by either writing that we hated each other upon meeting OR that we took one look at each other and eloped to somewhere island-y. I believe I suggested Bermuda. But there really is no way around it, so a Squee! entry it is. It was that fun of a lunch, let me tell you. Let me also tell you that I was more nervous and probably worried more about my looks to meet her than I have ever been before for a date with a boy with whom smooching potential was high. I was all chekcing myself out in the rearview mirror before I went in to the restaurant. (Confidential to Sundry: No, really. My smudged glasses and stained shirt? Totally on purpose).
One more thing, one more thing! I’m going to the Korean Spa tomorrow with My Friend Michelle. I could possibly be more excited, but I haven’t figured out how. I cannot wait to put on that pink striped shower cap, and I mean that sincerely.
“So, yeah. And then I was sort of flying, you know, but not really because I couldn’t really control where I was going so I guess it was more floating instead of flying, and then all of a sudden my old boyfriend Kirk? Was totally flying there alongside me, except he was with that bitch Andrea from the third floor, that girl who I know keeps stealing my lunch from the refrigerator? Oh, you have another call? No, no, that’s fine. I’ll just hold.”