Almost-versary

Tomorrow is Hook's and my eleven-month anniversary. To celebrate, we are running the SF Marathon's 5K (in the AM) and going to a wine and dessert bar (in the PM). I'm hypothetically excited to run, though I'm worried that my recent calf sprain will force me, at some point, to walk. I'm very concretely excited for Candybar.

***

At the Ferry Building today, I bought a jar of cmb sweets' strawberry confiture from Carolina Braunschweig herself. Why is this so exciting, you ask? Well, aside from the obvious coolness of buying food directly from the individual who produced it, Carolina appeared on an episode of "Unwrapped" (the berries one, I believe) that Hook and I saw like, three days ago. Indeed, I walked right up to C and said, "Hey! I saw you on Food Network! You were buying berries at Civic Center!" To which she responded, "Yeah! I was at Civic Center." After this initial exchange, Ms. Braunschweig smeared some jam on my finger (the stash of sample crackers had been depleted). This jam is the shit.

***

As an anniversary gift, Hook bought me a raccoon skull(!!!) He is the best boyfriend ever.

The awkward hush.

My latest obsession? Totem poles and shame poles. I spent a goodly chunk of time on Friday afternoon doing internet research, learning the basics about both types of poles, and even finding an artist who, for 1,000 Canadian dollars/foot, will custom-make totem poles.

So there you go.

I consider myself a more-or-less disciplined person: I clean the house once a week as a matter of habit, have begun flossing semi regularly, have curtailed my Dorito consumption, and so on, and so forth. Successful regulation of adult life. But there are some tasks which, despite the minimal amount of time and effort they would require, I just keep putting off. For example: I usually don't get my car's oil changed when an oil change is actually due; I invariably postpone said change until I'm afraid that the mechanic will shame me for taking such bad care of my car. (This happens about 1,000 to 2,000 miles after a scheduled oil change.) This weekend, I was cleaning my room (see? discipline) and happened to be dusting my boxes of letters when I thought, "Wow, I really should just buy one large storage box for all my letters." I've come to this realization many times since college, but never have I purchased the larger box. Is it because I prefer to store these letters in scattered, crappy-looking vessels?* No. Is it because a new box would be costly, or difficult to find? Probably not. So what's holding me back? I realize this is a trifling matter, and that I'm starting to talk at length here. It just perplexes me that there are certain tasks that, without fail, cause me to dig in my heels.

A hazy, meandering weekend. Worked a bit on a short story, but set it aside again because it's becoming an entirely different story, and I need to think about where it's going. Watched "Old School" for the first time (zow!) and a few Olympic events: women's marathon at home, Saturday night (it was awesome), equestrian stuff whilst at the gym. Oh, and men's swimming. Yes. Got some peaches at the farmers' market and am waiting for them to ripen. Rode my bike, with Ali, to Maple Farm Foods and bought some excellent grapes. Started reading Rabbit is Rich. Mailed letters.

It's starting to seem like fall.

*Most of my letters are divided among three Whitman's sampler boxes, emptied of their contents and cleaned with a damp cloth. I never especially liked Whitman's candies, but got the samplers for their boxes, which are sturdy and easily stacked.

In review: the perfect weekend.

An unexpectedly pleasant weekend. Or, I should say, a weekend I predicted would be nice (given this temporary absence of work and grading) but which then exceeded my prediction.
A run-down:

Friday, went to the job session hosted by Dara and Peter. It was really helpful; I have never (I'm ashamed to admit) been to Career Services, had no idea that they'd start files for us, send our dossiers to interested prospective employers, and so forth. (How did I not know this? I wondered later. So many things I need to learn.) Have begun jotting notes for an updated CV. Late afternoon, went to the bead store and picked up beads/wire for new projects. Spring projects in the palette of coral and turquoise. Watched "Sweet Land" with Eric. Cooked dinner, and accidentally watched, with E., the entire season one of Twin Peaks.
(We had not intended to watch the whole season, but the episodes were all run together - there was no option offered, in the root menu, of watching individual episodes.)

Saturday, went to the farmers' market and bought a mint plant, which I promptly repotted. Went to the gym for a slow, minor workout. Took a short walk with E., during which we came upon a tag sale - one of the vintage stores on Market St. is closing, and was selling most stuff for $1! (Some clothing items were $3.) Eric got two ties, and I got a miniature, forest-green teapot - it holds just one cup - and a purse fashioned after a creel. In total, we spent $4. Ate lunch, cleaned up, went to the laundromat and now all of my clothes are clean. Went grocery shopping for the week, though I bought less than normal since I'll be leaving for Minnesota on Thursday. Cooked dinner with Eric (kielbasa, tater tots, baked beans = Midwestern deliciousness), watched a rerun of the Real World. Drank a cold beer and made a necklace of 6mm turquoise colored beads with chips of coral at 1" intervals.

And today, E. and I made eggs and toast for breakfast, sat for a long time on the couch in the sunlight, looking at all the new potted plants, and talking about weddings we'd been to. I was spaced out on allergy medicine and reluctant to go to the gym, but I went anyway and felt good afterward. Had lunch (a hot dog, half a grapefruit) went to lay out in the field near my house. Had intended to start reading Lunch Poems but instead fell asleep in the sun. Went home and showered, read, cooked dinner with E. Am now reading (about halfway through) The Year of Magical Thinking and it is heartbreaking: in its accuracy and repetition.

Oh. I also read, during the course of Saturday, Meghan Daum's My Misspent Youth, which I really enjoyed, but from which few phrases/descriptions struck me. It was funny, to be sure, and poignant (the last essay, especially) (aside: I hate the word poignant), but not nearly to the level of Didion's writing. The only reason I draw this comparison is because Dan Wakefield's blurb for Daum heralds her as "A Joan Didion for the new millennium..."

What a shame that this weekend is almost over! Even in the absence of formal time constraints, I managed to get a lot accomplished, and a good variety.

If you haven't already, call your mom!