Typing by lamplight

It’s so very late and I’m sitting on my bed, my tiny reading lamp on, attempting to type this while my cats climb all over me. They are such attention whores. Even when I’m sitting bolt-upright at my computer desk they still manage to hang off me like needy little children. It’s insane. You’d think they never got loved once in their entire tiny furred lives.

I spent the bulk of the day rereading both Bridget Jones’s Diary and Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. Mostly because I have lately had deep-seeded resentment towards a good many people for their better fortune in life as far as relationships go, and I really needed to steep myself in stories and characters who were just as dumpy and unlucky as I and still got to have their happy endings. While I readily steer clear of happy endings in about 95% of my literature, I still appreciate the few that strike so close to home. They help to uplift the spirits in some marginal way that makes things not seem quite so bleak and hopeless.

Of course, it all begs the question…When do I get my own Colin Firth? *sigh* I’ll take the real deal if his wife is willing to give him up. I don’t mind second-hand goods. Especially his goods.

Call me crazy, but I don’t think my friends’ parents like me. It’s just a hunch, really. Nothing like totally confirmed…nobody ringing me to say “Um…my mom says I shouldn’t hang out with you so much…” But still. That hunch. I think I am rather off-putting, as it were. A little too brash, a little too flighty, a little too potty-mouthed, a little too weird…

I’m the kind of girl your parents are afraid you’ll come home with. The one who says really stupid things in awkward conversation moments; the one who somehow manages to clog the toilet with a really huge dump or an errant tampon; the one who drops a fat f-bomb into the middle of a discussion on politics; the one who is too much of a hippie to fit in with the right-wing baby-killing warmongers; the one who is just too much to be good for their precious son or daughter. I’m perceived as this Birkie-wearing liberal dyke in sheep’s clothing. I’m pretty sure I scare the fuck out of a lot of parents. The only thing that would make me more of a parent’s worst nightmare is if I had more visible piercings and some really angry tattoos.

I’m serious though. I think they really don’t care for me much. And I’m not saying this as any kind of brag. I’m not proud of it. In fact, I’m really dismayed. But I’m not going to change who I am just to make other people like me. I will just have to focus on other things instead and finally accept that not everyone is going to think I’m A-OK. Right? Right. I think.

And you wonder why I read Bridget Jones. Some days it’s like looking into a mirror. Dude…

Went to a wine tasting last night at the Davis Co-Op. “Big Bold Reds” was the theme this time ’round. No former high school teachers in attendance. The weather was a constant downpour all day long and well into the night, and I’m pretty sure that’s what kept a bajillion people from attending the wine tasting. It was actually relaxing and relatively breathable the entire time. I didn’t feel like I was having premenopausal hot flashes every few minutes.

I was totally stoked to discover, while perusing the grocery store shelves afterwards, that the Davis Co-Op carries the Thinkorganic! bars I’ve been trying to find anywhere but online. I didn’t want to start buying something in big bulk boxes only to discover I hated them completely. Picked up all four flavors and was positively giddy the rest of the evening at the thought of finally getting to taste these mythical bars of organic goodness. I caught up with mom and Aunt Denise near the cash registers, giggling over funny liberal bumper stickers. There were a lot of great “Bushisms” and a lot of environmental snarks, including one that was so precious I couldn’t pass it up. I’ll post it later on for y’all.

We ended up at the Symposium having Greek food and wine and enjoying the hell out of the evening. I was beside myself when I saw that they proffered saganaki, one of the greatest dishes I have ever encountered in my life. It is, quite simply, flaming cheese. And it is OH SO GOOD either by itself in big gooey chunks or sopped up with crusty slices of rustic bread. Paired with the Greek red wine (with the NAKED LADIES AND THEIR NIPPLES on the label!) it was almost too perfect for words. I also partook of a lemon rice soup that may very well be the newest contender for the honorable title of Orgasm Soup. It was so delicate and creamy and perfect, I wasn’t even sure I should be eating it. I felt like maybe I should be offering myself up for sacrifice in exchange for such an amazing concoction. Ambrosia. Had to be. HAD to be.

I ended up leaving with a Greek pizza adorned with mushrooms, kalamata olives, and green peppers. Breakfast…yummy…

All in all it was another good, fun wine tasting night. Even with all the rain and the ridiculous mess my hair turned into by the close of the evening.

Oh. And the Thinkorganic! bars? They’re all tasty save for the Cashew Pecan one…it was so awful, it made me gag. Food rarely makes me gag. Hot damn I’m glad I tried them ahead of time. Now I know not to get the variety pack…