Dear Diary . . . day by day

Sunday, August 26th, 2001 - These Boots Were Made for Walkin'
Over the Hill and Back Again

I should know better than to plan my entire outfit around footwear when going to a housewarming party. Last night I decided to break out the knee-high boots that I haven't worn since the night of the Burn last Burning Man (a year ago); I even spent an hour chiseling dried, cement-like playa off the soles so I wouldn't go scooting around on an inch of slick dried mud. Short black skirt, black tank with the plunging neckline and a silver sweater to keep the goosebumps away. It was one of those outfits that makes me feel like I can kick ass a la Buffy when I'm wearing it.
Ah, but people with nice carpeting like to keep it that way. Usually I love it when houses have that "no shoes" rule; I hate it when I end up wearing my shoes hours after I would've wanted to kick them off; and to his credit, Avi offered to allow an exception for me, but I hadn't gotten all the playa mud off . . . so, bye-bye kick-ass outfit.
Hm, this might sound like I was annoyed, and I wasn't; I was bemused at myself. I should know better than to bust out the boots for a nice housewarming party. Anyway, I was much more comfortable without the boots than I would've been had I allowed myself to remain a slave to my outfit. Besides, Susan and Tim both assured me I still looked good, even unshod.
Heh. It was a great party. Okay, so I drank quite a bit of wine, but Susan was there and I don't know anyone I'd rather be tipsy around than Ms. Groppi. Not to mention how a little wine takes away my party nerves, lets me enjoy conversation, take part, be social and laugh. Ahh, it's so cool, being around so many interesting, intelligent people who are into the same things I am. I feel so . . . adult, sophisticated in a way that isn't really a slave to the traditional "rules" of sophistication. Hip, but grown-up. Cool. Everyone was cool, including myself. That's a good feeling.
Today was a good day, too. Scott, who is Tim's oldest friend, came up on his way to a date in Berkeley. He was in a good mood, and it's always fun to see him and Tim riff off one another. We walked over the hill for sandwiches at the best sandwich shop in the world, then down the street for the best blended vanilla lattes (that street has many, many places that I would label "best in the world" for their particular categories: ice cream, coffee shop, sandwiches, with very good video stores, groceries, comic books, used book shop and movie theatre as complements). Anyway, we helped him pick out flowers, which around here isn't all that hard; there's so much selection here in California! We saw him off, then had a lovely lazy Sunday afternoon where we read (I finished Last Call and it was so good) and had terribly naughty fun. A questionable dinner of bread and bried (questionable in that it's not well-balanced, not questionable in yummyness) and some more Sopranos. Lovely.
There's an episode of the Sopranos where Junior breaks up with his girlfriend, who he obviously really loves and who obviously really loves him back, because she let it slip that he gives good oral sex (this, I guess, hurts your macho reputation . . . sigh). He pushes a pie in her face and tells her to get out, and she starts crying and begs him not to leave, that she loves him.
I cried so hard that Tim had to pause the tape and make sure I was ok. It was just so sad, him abandoning her over one stupid mistake like that. I couldn't take seeing two people giving up on something that's still good like that.
For the most part, I'm okay. I hardly think about it. But I'm sad underneath, and it sneaks up and bites me now and then.

Exercise log:
Walking to and from Piedmont Ave; walking up Avi's hill. Shagging with Tim.
Writing log:

Check out my article on Nalo Hopkinson's Midnight Robber in Strange Horizons. Warning: If you haven't read the book, this article will spoil all the plot twists for you; so go buy her book and read it first!
I'm currently reading:
Expiration Date by Tim Powers
Rangergirl by Tim Pratt
Okay, so I'm just reading the very rough first draft of the chapters fresh off the 'puter, but damn, it's already good!
My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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