Cloud Cover, Sun Break

Oh, yesterday it rained and rained and rained. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was while the sun was “up;” I could hardly get up out of bed and haul myself dowstairs in the direction of my breakfast. I had several fun dates with several fun girls planned, which all fell through in short succession during the day, leaving me grumpy and feeling sorry for myself, even though I had a massage scheduled…crankiness aside, I will admit there are few things nicer on a damp and drowsy Saturday than being rubbed with olive oil by a very nice girl while the rain falls and falls and falls. And I am reading a very good book right now. But still. It got dark at five, right around the time I was getting home with my groceries, and it was hard not to compare this past Saturday night with last Saturday night, with this Saturday night coming out the clear loser. I sniffled and felt sorry for myself for a while and then watched a movie and drank tea with Treasa and felt a little better and went to bed early, under my purple flannel sheets and four blankets. November, November.

Things were a little brighter this morning, the awful nightmare I had right before I woke up about being chased through the Hospital Of Horrifyingly Unethical Experiments notwithstanding. Seattle served up beautifully bright and crispy bundle-up weather and allowed me another slow and easy and ultimately satisfying day, one of many I have had since I moved to Ballard. (BALLARD!) I went to the farmers’ market and hooked myself up with the usual pluots and Gala apples…our market keeps going throughout the winter even if it’s quite contracted since the summer. I know almost all the vendors now and I can make a beeline for the pluot girl and get my delicata squash and carrots and move right along without stopping and looking at everything for minutes at a time. I bought a couple of CDs afterward, even, as I’ve been promising myself I’d do for the past couple of months. I could buy ten CDs a month with what I spend on organic carrots alone but for some reason music feels like a luxury while root vegetables feel like a necessity…it was nice to have both, for once, nestled together happily in the same tote bag.

The rest of my afternoon plans centered around checking out the Urban Craft Uprising show way the hell down by the stadium. I had big plans to finish up my Christmas shopping…my thing this year has been to try to buy presents that are locally or independently produced, which has not only vastly curtailed my mall time but also led me to some cool little companies, which is always fun. I am happy to report that I did get some shopping done but ashamed to admit that all of my shopping was, in blatant disregard of the spirit of Christmas, for myself alone. Although I did put in a custom order for things for other people. And it’s not even Thanksgiving yet so I don’t have to care about anyone else yet for a whole nother month, anyway. (But I do feel a little guilty.) (But I also look really cute in my new skirt with the koi fish on it.) (Such is life.)

Urban Craft Uprising was packed, man. I was telling Lisa that this was another one of those situations where it would really pay off to be a hip lesbian or a very hip straight man because I was literally up to my elbows in beautiful indie hipster girls, all checking out the felted donuts and the awesome purses. It was well-nigh impossible to move and I think I may have inadvertently has sex by mistake with several hipster indie girls just because we were all packed in so closely together. Craft fairs, man. That’s where the action is. It helped that I was wearing my roller derby shirt too, because the hipster indie girls loooooved that and I’m sure had I been inclined I could have got a phone number or two (Instead I just told them how deeply and permanently greatroller derby is). I saw three or four awesome hipster indie girls that I already knew, too, including my lovely friend Joy whom I hadn’t seen since my birthday…I just ran into her in line and we tried to make it through the crush of eager crafts-purchasers in one piece before decamping in favor of independently-produced coffee and lively conversation, selfishly bought presents for myself clutched in hand .

Such a gift, to be able to stay as long as I wanted and give Joy a ride back to her neighborhood if I felt like it and to linger over coffee and talk about where the past six or so months have taken each of us. Such a blessing, to spend some time dithering over which kind of brown rice to have with my black beans this evening for dinner (I chose short grain but basmati was a close second). Such ease to make my beans and rice and to talk to John and Treasa in their room about the intersection between porn names and bowling names and to play a little Dance Dance Revolution and notice that, boy, I’m still really bad at it but I don’t care, to talk to Kat and Abi on the phone about boys and the world and the future and then boys a little bit more.

I’ve been thinking all weekend about my desire for the Superpower Of Awesome Weekends, and about all the different types of amazing weekend I would like to have. (The Imaginary Ski Cabin is still figuring heavily, as is the Imaginary Chateau In Wine Country, the Imaginary All-Expenses-Paid-Trip-To-Vegas, and the Imaginary We-Didn’t-Get-Out-Of-Bed-Even-To-Eat thing). This past one, though, is hard to categorize. Did it suck because I was cold and lonely on Saturday or did it rule because I got to do all sorts of things I like today? What’s the defining feature, the endless cloud cover or the brief and brilliant sun break? How do you learn to accept and understand and live both, weekend by weekend, season by season, year by year?

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