I Need to Stop Swishing My Coffee

While packing up my kitchen just now (the contents of which shall not be discussed here, as they are quite disgusting and random), I found half a bag of old Starbucks... still tastes like coffee, though. Nothing like a cup of almost-coffee to start the day.

The big move (across town) is happening in two days. Tom and Ann are making the trip down to help, as is E, but he and I will not be officially pronounced side-kick and side-kick (roommate and roommate) for another week or two-- gulp. Here goes nothing, kids. I dare say I'm excited.

I miss lots of people today.

I met Veg in German Village yesterday (she leaves for Chicago on Monday! Craziness), and now I'm experiencing best-friend-separation-syndrome. We laughed hysterically at a poster of an aged Fabio (selling life insurance?) in downtown C-bus, and we BOTH laughed right in our server's face at a restaurant (she called me "Neb" or "Deb," depending on which one of us you ask, but it was definitely not "Jen"). We are kindred spirits, she and I.

Missy Chrissy just called and left me a brief message-- "nooks and crannies!"-- so I don't miss her at all.

Marci also came for a short visit last week. We have decided that she should tell everyone at her upcoming Women Poets Conference that their poems "need more balls." The whole thing sounds a little hellish to me, but she'll get some good stories out of it, at least.

Chris and Karen are officially gone from Oxford. I've got a cat and a box of spices (and hey, an empty apartment) to show for it. This is a drag (in that selfish but-I-want-to-keep-friends-around-forever! way). Sofi and I are doing swimmingly, but she was a little depressed for a while after they parted (better now-- very spry and cute-- her normal self). Is that what it feels like for parents when they drop their kids off at college? Sigh. They've raised a healthy, well-adjusted cat (I just hope I don't screw it up over the next year-- they'll come back and she'll have three tattoos, pierced nipples, and a boyfriend named Beefstick who listens to Gwar).

Other than that, mostly just been packing, running, and doing shoddy French translations. Listening to "Gold" a lot recently-- a good summer album. A little Whiskeytown here and there, some Beth Orton ("Daybreaker"-- also a brilliant album) as well.

Peace out.

When Cheekbone Meets Eyeball

--(fingers crossed)--
everything will work out
just fine, but Eye
is a bitch on Sundays
prone to slipped discs &
temper tantrums while Cheek-
bone suffers fits of seasonal
allergies (ragweed, dust mites
& the like): itchy knee-
caps & swollen
glands, but the worst
will come when Cheek & Eye
(Bone & Ball, in certain circles),
having settled into their
stomachy little dwelling with
a satisfying pop & fizz,
watch Eye's belly swell, ready
to burst with a bundle (sack,
really) of the sweetest little
creature ever born--
as sharp & bouncy
as a superball shard:
they shall call him
Emilio & he will have
his father's eyebrows,
his mother's lips
& a flippered left arm.

If You're Gonna Spew, Spew Into This

So I've decided not to bother calling any of my friends who might otherwise be subjected to this mindless babble-- instead, I shall blah-blah-blah here (captive audience??)-- hi, Vanessa-- the only person who reads this. :)

Went home this weekend. E theme: various schtuff with E (the man whose name rhymes with JELIOT, despite the fact that he protests the naming of this entity)-- including "Superman" and dinner with Tom & Ann, coffeE with LindsEy, and breakfast with Grandma Eileen. These were the high points. The in-between/weird points were as follows: 1. while running con mi madre, Ana, I had the distinct sensation of being mirrored-- she was wearing some of my old running clothes-- and as it turns out, we have the same damn form-- mother & daughter or cousins-- identical cousins (Kathy & Patty Duke, if you will)?? 2. The bad news: I bit it (hard) on another run-- surprise! The good news: Grandma E was quite impressed by E (of JELIOT)'s concern over the state of my hands/knees upon my return home (as I had tried not to bleed all over my car while driving and eagerly awaited the profane--yes, profane-- sympathy of The Family).

That's about all I have for the time being. Hamish is still a bastard (but precious nonetheless)-- although I did not let him lick my wounds as dogs' tongues ARE NOT ANTISEPTIC, much to the disbelief of certain members of JELIOT. Kittay pawed at my face while I tried to sleep, but she also participated in a wonderful call-and-response song with me. Satisfied, all in all.