Conversations and Observations

It's the calm end of what was a calm (translation: I'm too tired to be stressed about anything) day.
I even look tired, something I detest, and my skin is mottled with pms blotches and that (just occurred to me) might be why I've been dragging all week (that and the fact that I haven't run since last Sunday. The week just ran on without me. Also, I have this foot thing that I am trying not to focus on. But I am..resting it. Next week is race week. God help me).

Talked to my friend L. last night--always uplifting, funny, and spot-on about her take on life.
We were discussing my post from yesterday and she coined the perfect phrase to sum up what I was writing about: "It's like killing off a main character and then not telling anybody why!"

We were surmising about the possibilities and using our writerly imaginations to fill in the blanks
(L. is also a blogger, see my sidebar and this link, http://blackcatbaby-imjustsayin.blogspot.ca/).
I told her my theory and she gasped. We talked (myself as a northerner and Canadian to boot, her hailing from SA) about the seemingly mystic power women in the Southern U.S. seem to have over men (could be our perception but they do seem to really know what they're doing--and my general opinion is that handling men is a skill much like writing--you are born with your gift--it can't be taught). My burgeoning theory has taken flight and I'm not convinced that we're in the final installment of this part of the book in this life we're reading about. Meaning; sometimes characters get called back on. Because not everyone has a zero-tolerance policy, and marriages are as individual as sets of keys, as snowflakes, and this may be a prologue to a reunion.  What I was saying is, she might know exactly what she's going to do. And here we are, loyal readers, hanging on every word, wincing at every veiled reference.

It was pure late-night speculation but all in all harmless musings.
Trust me; I am one who recognizes the power of a philanderer to cause psychological anguish.
And when the only justice you can rely on is the karmic backlash, you just have to be patient.


But as I was saying it was an okay Friday all in all.
When I left for work this morning, the ground was damp from last nights' rain and everything smelled like Spring. I don't care if it rains all of May. I loved being gently wakened last night by the sound of the rain starting up again, around 2 am. It's one of my favourite sensations; being absolutely sheltered, warm in bed, while rain starts to patter outside. I live on the top floor of a three-storey building so sometimes, when the rain is particularly loud, I can hear it bounce off the roof. If anything else wakes me in the night, I can get quite grumpy--but not with rain. I always love the predictable sound of it. Symmetry.
Other things today: no traffic, breakfast in the car (I never make time for breakfast. It's shameful).  Made it to the library on the way home to bring back my almost-overdue books and pick up a few more (back to the fiction again, loving it--the McCall Smith book that I looked for last time was back on the shelf, I snared it).
Had dinner with my mom at her apartment in the Beach,(chicken tacos) and then watched tv after admiring her beautiful new dining room curtains.
Was home from her place by 8:30 pm, face washed, hair up, air conditioning blasting (when I'm tired, I overheat, it's the weirdest thing).  Ipod on Sunday playlist, garbage and recycling taken out, laundry in the dryer, catching up on emails, reading Runner's World while I waited for my computer to power up, and this, blogging, writing about my day, at its very end. I'm just about to turn everything off and get ready to read in bed as the clothes tumble.
Oh, and one more thing: I fnished and submitted my contribution to Letters for our Daughters.
My concept had been rolling around my head for a few days and tonight, after a fairly peaceful day and this very calm evening, I finally typed it up.  It took more of a poetic form than that of a letter, and I welcome editing, but it's done--my first attempt. All that I really want to say to the next generation(s). My niece's generation, whom, for her sake, I hope gets the most liberated generation of men ever. With my contemporaries mothering the sons as well as the daughters of her time, it might end up being a bit of a mixed bag, I have to say.
Well, start as you mean to go I say.
Start as you mean to go on.

I have to be up early.
I have a long run planned (despite my foot, see, not focussing on it, that's my plan). I also am going to take my niece to ballet class and prior to that I have to do her hair in the requisite bun that she has now become dependent on me doing (I had a flashback to my own childhood thinking about this: my mother used to put my hair up and I remember thinking, at age seven--who will put my hair up for me when I one day leave home? Oh being a Virgo. Takes planning in advance to the next level).

Happy (calm) weekend.