Dear Diary . . . day by day

Tuesday, March 27th, 2001 - Coming up roses

I know, I hardly write you at all anymore. No, it's not that I don't love you, it's just . . . I have so much to do and it all hurts. And so much of it requires me to be in this position in front of the computer . . .
Ah, hell, you know, forget the bitching. I do have a story.
First of all, you should all know that I'm being social with new people and just loving it. I met all sorts of writer types at Potlatch and the Nalo reading, and somehow have kept in touch with some of them! (Yes, it helps that they wrote me extremeley engaging email that I simply couldn't resist replying to. Of course, with as gabby as I sometimes get in email compounded with less time at the computer it takes me DAYS and DAYS to finish a reply. Ah, for the days of email and free time at work!) Anyway, the confidence that comes from interacting socially with new and interesting people has just made me very happy. Confidence is one of those elusive things for me sometimes.
Ah, but today was the kind of day when people were stopping me on the street to tell me I looked good today. The kind of day when homeless people compliment my style after I graciously deny them my change. (I always try to look homeless folk in the eye; I read a Street Spirit once that talked about how feeling like you don't exist was the worst part of being poor and homeless.) My head was buzzing with all the new people and stuff in my life right now (if I could think emails no one would have time to read all I would write), and I was simply content.
Yoga class sucked in many ways, but I didn't care. Ok, I cared a little. In fact, when the train was delayed on my way home, I started to feel that mood fade. I wasn't despairing or anything, but feeling a little let down that the good mood couldn't last long enough for me to get home and enjoy it while I wasn't at work or working out.
I was almost cranky when I got off the train. Almost. Thinking about being cranky, maybe. I started to walk past the flower guy, Yaz, and was wondering if tonight he wouldn't turn around and see me in time for me to have to say hi. I was almost past him when he turned and saw me. I waved hello and kept walking, but he waved me over.
"I have something for you. Here."
He walked over to where he'd already put away some of his flowers and gathered up a good handful of lovely pale lavender roses.
"These smell very good. Lavender. I thought of you; you should have some of these."
Well, I was smiling after that. I thanked him profusely and buried my nose in the heady scent of the roses. So few roses carry a good scent these days, but these were the buttery, rich, old-fashioned rose smell. Delicate, but tasty. I was grinning like a fool all the way home. How great is that? The flower guy I'm friendly with just handed me a bunch of wonderful roses. Sure, some of them were open already and he was closing, so it was no great loss to him, but he didn't have to do that.
I came in the door at home carrying the flowers, and I thrust them towards Jen and Jeannine. "Smell!" Jeannine gave me a good, tall vase (so I wouldn't have to cut the long stems) and we all gathered around the bouquet, each of us with our nose in a lavender rose, inhaling deeply.
Ahhh.

Exercise log:
Some precor (15 min). Yoga, after 3 weeks w/out yoga. Crick crack. Sigh.
Writing log:
No new writing, but I did get the note that said my Clarion ap was received safe and sound. Now, nail biting for another month or so.
I'm currently reading:
Whispers from the Cotton Tree Root edited by Nalo Hopkinson

Reading off and on:
Unlocking the Air and other stories by Ursula K. LeGuin
Starlight 2 anthology edited by Patrick Nielsen Hayden

My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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