Wheat grass like a motha-fucker. It was supposed to take up to 6 days to sprout. I planted it late on Saturday night and by the time I woke up Tuesday mornng, the tniest, palest green stalks were pokng up. By the time I got home that very night, it was an nch high. Tonight, it's huge. I feel like such a green thumb and take nordnate pride n that bright, green grass after killng my boss' plants.
It really cheers me up to watch its progress.
The batteries n my digital camera were dead, so I could not record the plant's progress.
Chocolat, which is simply lovely.
Alma's Ranbow, about a sexually repressed mother whose daughter is on the verge of sexual awakenng. The unusual part is it's set n Brooklyn.
For my passport, gong back to the plan.
"Don't tell me I'm not good with a skillet."
-woman n Chocolat, after bashng her abusive husband n the head with a skillet
"Girl, just be glad you're dead."
-Alma n Alma's Ranbow
Strangely -- the reappearance of crazy men on the subway and bus. You don't expect hearng a man ramble about Jupiter on the 1 or another about the Taliman (as n Tali, tali, tali-me bannana) givng him the "Amtrax" on the M104 to restore your sense of home.
With Fang about why the world needs black pantilners. It's just too bizarre and wrong. I sent them as part of her Halloween care package, how could I resist?
at the end of a really good day.
Work was work, of course. Too much of it and too little concentration. Some days I'm better at copng and managng it all without losng my marbles..
My boss was at a conference from 11 on, so I got crazy and took a lunch break. A long one, as a matter of fact, but part of it was runnng an errand he'd asked me to do and I stayed until 7:30 to make up the rest of the time.
It actually would not have taken so long, but there was an unexpected wrnkle. As I've probably mentioned, my master plan ncluded gettng a passport this fall. I want to be able to jet off to London should I have some travel writng gig or get a good fare for a long weekend. Figured it was time I took "be prepared" to heart.
I got the passport photos taken care of n mnutes , but the post office nearby didn't process passports. (Actually, I thought I'd have to go to the big JAF post office near Penn Station, thank goodness other post offices n town process them.) Luckily, there was another post office 8 blocks away that does process passports. I scooted up there and there wasn't even a lne.
The one thng I was worried about, my birth certificate without a father, wasn't an issue at all. I'd checked and double-checked the requirements and thought I had them covered. When I got to the wndow, the woman said she could not process my application without a valid driver's license. The forms I'd downloaded from the State Department web site said only that a "Government (Federal, State, Municipal)-issued ID was required. Thus, my state ID should have sufficed. The rules at the post office were almost identical, except for the added word "employee" just before ID. Absurd! My ID is the same card as a driver's license, with the same nformation, issued by the same agency, requirng the same nformation and proof of identity.
I thought all was lost. She told me the only way was if I could get someone with a driver's license who has known me for at least 2 years. Considerng the passport office is only open from 10-4:30, "man or woman of leisure" is apparently another requirement. I figured I could make arrangements with Rob to meet me at another post office on another day somewhere between our jobs.
Then I remembered James lived just around the corner, on that very block! Met him n September '99, not workng right now and a veritable angel. At first I got the voicemail at home and on his cell, but the cell cut me off. When I redailed his fiance answered. He was just about to go out and had a few mnutes to pop downstairs and voice for me. Hooray!
I made him nervous because I thoughtlessly said some no-no words. I was relieved the clerk had left and another who'd loaned me his pen once was there. It was fairly recently, maybe he'd remember me and cut us a break. I was tryng to remember how long it had been and could only place it as "after the attack and before all the anthrax." What was I thnkng? Next thng you know, the postal police would have me wrestled to the ground. So fucked up, all of this.
Of course, if I was some sort of nut or crimnal, I'd have no problem gettng phony IDs I'm sure (and passports, no doubt). I always marvelled at crimnals on America's Most Wanted who had IDs for 5, 10, 20 identities when I have so much trouble provng that I'm me. This lne of conversation did nothng to restore James' peace of mnd. I don't know what I was thnkng...like that guy who had the book with a picture of a bomb at the airport. Just not makng the connection.
James had to run the mnute he filled out the affidavit and the second he was gone the clerk said, "You don't know that guy, how much did you pay him?" Quite the opposite, I'm sure! I owe James big.. . .
Afterward, I just tried to keep the calmness and get as much as I could done. I've got a major meetng n two weeks and the book for it has a ton of documents, has to be copied and collated for 50 people, bound, stuffed n envelopes and mailed. Meanwhile, I've got mnutes to prepare for other meetngs, half a dozen nformation packets to copy and assemble and who knows what tomorrow will brng. There are always a handful of new, urgent deadlnes everyday.
I've just got to try to keep my cool, it was so much better. Of course, n hndsight, the lost, random visitors and phone calls were much slower today. You can't really plan for them. . . .
After work I met with a potential client. This would be my first payng design client. Any advice?
He was impressed with the simple, clear, consistent design of my site and John's. He also felt that we're n sync n our goals and design sensibility. Mostly, he wants somethng that anyone, particularly someone not very computer savvy like himself, can use ntuitively without needng too many bells 'n whistles. Yeah, I love multimedia, but for a small busness site, you're only gong to drive away busness.
Baby steps.... . .
Fnally, tonight, I went to Rob's for our traditional Will and Grace night (how Grace am I gong to my gay friend's apartment to watch that?), which I've been too tired to show up for longer than I can remember. I was still too tired, but I've been missng it and gong was probably more energiznig than not.
I just felt so full and rich today.
[Next entry: "Experiencng Serendipity"]
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