Monday, Monday

What a lovely weekend. I stayed in Plymouth with my roommate, at her parents' house. They were out of town, so we were sort of house/dog sitting. Living the domestic life for a weekend. A little too domestic. On Saturday night the two of us were lying in her parents' bed with one of their dogs between us, reading before we went to sleep. The only things missing from the old married couple picture were a couple of pairs of reading glasses.

Speaking of marriage, we went to the Plymouth bars on Friday night with some other girls, and while they were busy talking to boys our own age I was having a serious conversation with 45 year old man (who is currently going through the final stages of divorce) about whether or not monogamy is possible. After I told him what my name is and he said, "the only affair I ever had was with a woman of the same name", I came to the conclusion on my own that monogamy is not, in fact, possible. At least not probable. But it was all very innocent, very "I'm-old-enough-to-be-your-father". And he wouldn't let me buy my own drinks. And I'm 100% sure it was better than talking to the clowns my friends were talking to would have been.

I went to church on Sunday. For the first time in a very long time. The last time I went to church (when it wasn't for a wedding or a funeral) was probably Christmas 2003. The sermon was about lost sheep, which I felt was pretty fitting. My favorite part, though, was when the pastor had a catch phrase at the end of his sermon. He said, "Go with God" in a very final way, sort like "Seacrest, out!" And I had never been to a Lutheran church before. They sing everything, every little response. It sort of reminded me of the talk-singing that happens in musicals.

Clearly, I am not cut out for organized religion. Too many things makes me giggle.

I spent many minutes out on the front porch this weekend in Plymouth. Drinking a glass of wine in the dark, watching a thunderstorm blow through. We watched the rain fall and sang as many lyrics as we could think of with rain mentioned in them. I think I will remember that for a very long time.

David Sedaris is doing a reading at the local Borders tonight, which I guess is supposed to be a big deal that I should be excited it about. It's supposed to be pretty huge - you have to go get a wristband early today and then come back for the reading in the evening. They must be expecting a pretty big turnout. I've read only a couple of essays by him, and I can't even remember if I liked them. It's pretty amazing that he built an entire career out of telling stories about his life. He must be pretty talented if people keep coming back for more. Obviously, any negative thoughts I have about him are rooted in magnificent jealousy.

I stayed up too late last night watching a movie I had already seen. When my alarm went off this morning, I shuffled downstairs to the shower. I was a little fuzzy around the edges. So fuzzy that I couldn't seem to control my flight path and rammed my right foot in to a wall. I think I may have actually broken the pinky toe. That makes 2 times I have stubbed my toe so hard that it actually broke. Maybe I have just have incredibly delicate, fragile toes. That would be pretty ironic, considering I have mammoth feet that belong on the body of a man about 3 inches taller than me.

There is a man who comes to the library nearly every day. He looks at pictures of women. Nothing too explicit, just pictures of women with cleavage showing, the occasional bikini shot. Because this is a public institution, I can't do anything about it. He told me he likes me hairstyle. Another library employee told me that he used to compose soft-core sexy stories on library typewriters. He looks relatively harmless in his over-sized Hard Rock Cafe Hong Kong shirt. And I guess he's just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the man I was conversing with at the bar on Friday. Let's just hope he's merely a lonely old man and not a sexual deviant.

I'm going to blink my eyes and the summer will be gone. Everyone I know will continue to spread out across the country. Everything will change. But it's exciting. Soon (well, not too soon) we'll all be homeowners and car owners, even children owners. Porch owners, yard owners, mowing lawns and tending to salad gardens. I hear tomato plants are particularly difficult to grown. It's just as well, I hate tomatoes anyway. We're all going to build up our little homes and worlds. Freaky.

Is it usually this hot in June? It's like we went from 50 degree weather in may to 80 degree weather in June with no pleasant early summer medium.

Portland on my mind. I should re-read all of the fiction of Michael Byers this summer so I can get in the right frame of mind. And relive my school-girl crush. Sigh. He was the most brilliant teacher I had in college. And ever. I actually spent a good 15 minutes lying on the throw rug in my bedroom last night after reading over the comments he made on a story I wrote during his class. I'm not sure why I was inspired to dig that out its' hiding spot. I read his comments, I believe I let out a long sigh, and entered a montage of memories from his seminar that I took. I used to hang on his every word. I almost cried a couple of times. He was really good.

Wow. I shouldn't have admitted that.