QOTD: "... the readers who want fiction to be like life are considerably outnumbered by those who would like life to be like fiction." - Sarah Caudwell
Reading: Nicholas Crane, Mercator: The Man Who Mapped the Planet
Listening to: Pierre Bensusan, Wu Wei
Decluttering accomplishments: um, I took out the recycling
So the snow turned out not to be Godot-like at all. At least I was bright enough to wear hiking boots as I trudged to the metro station in the morning. The snow was falling moderately and the walk wasn't too bad. The metro ride was, however, a mess, as the train in front of mine blew a fuse and we sat for 40 minutes between West Falls Church and East Falls Church. We pushed that train to the platform, where it was off-loaded and pushed further to a side track. Then our train was taken off and we all crammed into the next one. I still got in earlier than any of the other people from my company and all but one of the people I work with. And the document we'd been waiting for on Wednesday night also proved to have shown up. It was pretty much what we expected, so didn't create a huge amount of work.
The two people I was to meet with in the morning had also made it in, so I trudged across the street to that meeting. The meeting was reasonably productive, though it lasted roughly twice as long as I'd expected it to. When I got back, pretty much everyone else who was coming in had shown up. We were told to leave about two-ish, but the things I needed to finish took a half-hour or so longer. The snow had stopped by the time and the sidewalks in Rosslyn were clear, but all the intersections were slushy and sloppy. The metro ran fine, but the walk home was somewhat treacherous over unshoveled sidewalks. In the end, we got just over six inches, which is apparently a new record of some sort for this area. I'm not sure if it's a record for that day or for all of December. It's also supposedly more snow than the region got in the entire previous two years.
By the way, I talked to my mother, and there appear to be a few complications regarding Ely's estate. Some woman from the condo complex he lived in had been helping him out and, apparently, she's turned up with a new will. Mom, who always assumes the worst, figures we won't get a cent. I kept telling her that we don't know that. It also turns out that Ely was worth a lot more money than we thought. This sounds way too likely to involve lots of lawyers before it's over with.
Anyway, the walk to the metro on Friday morning was nastier, since those unshoveled sidewalks were icy in spots. My complex had cleared the sidewalks well, but the condo complex between us and the metro station hadn't done much, if anything. The train ran fine, as did the shuttle bus to Dulles, and my flight to Oakland was right on time, too. But every time I fly into that airport, Air Bart seems to take longer. Still, I did get to San Francisco, where I checked into the hotel and went off to do some shopping before Robert arrived. Alas, every clothing manufacturer in America has decided to make blazers this season only in colors I have no use for. Salmon is a perfectly fine color if you happen to be either a fish or Phyllis Schlafly, but it doesn't work for me. I did see some astonishingly wonderful shoes, but the price tag was also astonishing and not in the wonderful direction.
I was back at the hotel before Robert arrived, even though his flight had been a bit early. We went out to dinner at a Catalan restaurant called B-44, which was excellent. He didn't even make fun of me for ordering ahi. I actually eat quite a wide range of foods, but I do really like ahi. Robert likes his food more thoroughly cooked and had paella. I also had the best dessert I've had in weeks - berries with cinammon and rice ice cream. The ice cream tasted like rice pudding and berries are my favorite category of fruit. Robert had flourless chocolate cake, which is the sort of thing that I rarely order because it's just too much. As for the rest of the time we spent together, well, that's the "running hot" part of the title of this entry.
I did do somewhat more successful shopping on Saturday, while Robert was at his conference. I found a new pocketbook (same style as I always get, this time in a paisley print) and a journal and some vanilla bubble bath. I was still unsuccessful with blazers and shoes. The only clothing I saw that I liked was all dressy and I have all the really dressy stuff I need. In general, I think my life would be far easier if I could just not be so fussy. The issue of journals is a classic one. I like them to be a particular size (5 1/2 inches by 8 1/4 inches), with lined pages, and a traditional case binding. I'll allow an extra quarter inch in height, but that's as far as I'll go. Needless to say, the bookstores abound with 6 by 9 inch spiral bound journals. It's not like I could really even come up with a reason for my compulsiveness here, except that uniformity of size makes things look better on the bookshelves. It just seems harder and harder to get precisely what I want each time. (I dread the next time I need photo albums, too, as I'm even less willing to compromise there.)
Now I'm back home, where the snow is still on the ground. Actually, it wasn't horribly cold when I got back (about 40 Fahrenheit) but it's supposed to drop into the teens tonight. Can we fast-forward to about March?
Copyright 2002 Miriam H. Nadel