2001:September:27
2001
It's only 8:30 (in the AM), and it's already been a day of staggering highs and middling lows. First off, I'm getting the empty stomach nauseous feeling you get when you've only had coffee (and Tanzania Peabody is NOT a great coffee) and gingko bilboa and water. Oh I'm in one of my transitions. I've been having toasted health nut bread with vermont white cheddar slices and fresh basil. I'm sick of that breakfast. I've eaten the same thing every weekday for breakfast and lunch since July. So today, it's health nut bread with f-ing Jippy peanut butter. I'll have to wait until I'm so starving I'll eat anything. I like the concept of peanut butter, but I'm rarely IN THE MOOD. It was just all I had. I wouldn't let myself buy anything else when I went to Port City Java in the Harris Teeter because I'm in a "I spend tooo much money" mode. I did steal some of their free jelly, so I could always doctor it up, but in retrospect I just wonder if orange marmalade was the best jelly to get for the job.
On the rest of the tally! Tally ho. It's one of those perfect road trip mornings (sunny, high clouds, and 67-ish degrees), and Kent is going on a road trip I would be soooo tickled to join. He's going to the mountains to visit the fascinating boys. They are having a reunion at Bob Wall's mountain cabin. The core of it is my ex-boyfriend, Chuck Dean's high school friends: Kent, Frank, Steven... along with some other Wilmington band boys: the amazing Bob Wall, Tricky Dave, Greg Walston, and some guy from Analog (the nice-seeming larger one). They're bringing their instruments and pot. For a girl who's nostalgic and likes boys, this would be a dream. Seriously, I'm not gagging to go, but it just points out to me a million things - very nostalgic and that word I always wished existed for nostalgic for things that never happened but could have but now never can. I canna wait to hear about it.
The OTHER amazing thing is that I trudge to my 8am class, and it's been canceled. Ah college. I love ya! THEN I arrive at work, and there are no messages on the machine. So now I'm listening to one of my boss' cd's (he's out of town until mundy) because NPR is a depress-fest and writing to you. Don't worry, I'm sure something shitty will happen, and I'll be all "off my high horse" soon.
