Marathons, Monuments, and Mattresses: Indy takes on D.C.

One of the greatest weekends in memory: Washington D.C. with Jules, Lauren, Abs, and Jen (and company)...

While I am still attempting to catch up on sleep and desperately hoping that I can soon recover my voice, I am afloat on the high of a weekend of nothing but good things. Yep, take that as a Martha Stewart reference... because it was.

Also, let it be noted that this weekend (Sunday, specifically) was witness to the birth of a new WLU slogan... the brilliance, genius, and true inspiration of one Ms. Julie Arnold:

"WE LOVE US
SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO."

Expect tshirts, billboards, drunken text messages, a few handmade sharpie tattoos, and perhaps even the revival of the political button... we're definitely taking this one global.

Homecomingpalooza... the aftermath

1. my laptop has gone to complete shit and finally refuses to turn on... AT ALL. motherfucker.
2. several new bruises. origin unknown.
3. I wanna borrow that top.
4. my feet still ache from imitating a marathon runner in stiletto heels on Saturday night in downtown Bloomington... and shortening my skirt to barely-ass-grazing-length to extend leg stride... which is a fantastic way to meet middle-aged, pleated-Dockers-wearing, stumbling-down-drunk, I-think-I'm-still-as-sexually-viable-as-I-was-in-college, I'll-hit-on-you-by-mentioning-that-my-daughter-is-your-age-too male alumni... oh and one older gent actually asked for a ride to Indy. Classy, sir. If I might suggest next time you omit the detail that your wife doesn't know where you went for the weekend. It doesn't arouse much sympathy and certainly weakens your potential hook-up factor. Just saying.
5. have taken to wearing my glasses as part of general protest against putting effort into my appearance. now remember why I don't like wearing glasses: they get so damn dirty, you know... constantly. who has time for that? plus I miss sunglasses. Sayonara, Team Dorothy Parker.
6. laundry.
7. continued disgust at all things involving, featuring, approaching or concerning Nancy Grace.
8. NPR pledge drive week means I'm listening to XM.
9. new addition to house furnishings now increases my seating capacity from 6 to 15. This is good news as the long-awaited Boob-Tube-a-Palooza is now officially on the horizon. Start preparing costumes.
10. purchase of the week: $6 hardcover Cole Porter songbook. So in love, indeed.
11. 'What has two thumbs and doesn't give a crap? Bob Kelso.' [Scrubs is the greatest thing to hit the insomniac television lineup in years.]
12. YEAH COLTS.
13. Washington D.C. in t-minus 3 days.

journey's end

Home from watching the wolverines trounce the shit out of the boilermakers. It was all kinds of ugly and depressing, and I didn't even attend Purdue... and quite frankly I have been known to support Michigan, you know, a lot... but there is still something in me that feels the need to defend a poor little cluster of 19 yr old boys in tights who (while shamefully losing) are being screamed at and taunted by 110,000 screaming Michigan fans. Really. It wasn't pretty.

Like my grandfather's best man at his wedding famously reminded everyone (not at the wedding but on multiple other occasions), "Remember, it's just a group of undergrads playing a game in the grass on a Saturday afternoon."

Lake Michigan is beautiful, tranquil, and awash with some of the most soothing landscapes imaginable. Mostly I just wanted to sit alone and read Anne Morrow Lindbergh and chew on a pencil and take long, contemplative walks along the beach.

So, you know, I went to the Big House for my dose of serenity and inner calm.

I have just woken up from a solid 5 hour nap, am still at home, and am stuck in that post-nap lethargic limbo of not feeling awake but hating myself for desiring more sleep... I guess I had a lot to catch up on from these past several weeks.

Oh, and I really wish we had some apple butter. That would be great.

Spent the entirety of the road trip listening to Tony Dungee read his memoir. Several thoughts:
1. His voice is absolute magic... it is velvety and calm and well-articulated and always filled with that mild thunder of conviction and strength. I wish I could install a permanent version to read to me nightly as I struggle to sleep. I would listen to him read the phone book, microwave oven manuals, advanced physics formulas, binary code, whatever... and it would be beautiful.
2. I am becoming rather well versed in football names, figures, plays, and team locations. This is a good start and has given me a miniature sense of hope that I may one day become one of those really cool girls who isn't such a complete sports-trivia dumbass.
3. Everything in his life, as detailed in the book, manages to become glory and education made manifest. Something to work on.
4. Becoming extraordinary in Coach Dungee's mind is simply being the best at what is ordinary. A simple philosophy and perhaps the best new approach for one overly-analytical-o'erarching-dreamer-lost-soul-wanderer such as myself. Like we always learned in high school - 'keep it simple, stupid.' Also something to work on.

Fuck

Today:

1. Lafayette - car finally spiffed up and soon to be liberated from lifelong muteness and given his first horn. woot woot.
2. Shopping with Diana... including the "Sportsman's Warehouse," a testosterone mecca with the apparent motto of "You either shoot it, stuff it, or marry it." Shudder.
3. "Cirque Dream" at Clowes Hall with Diana, etc. Basically it's a cirque show with a jungle theme... or as I like to think of it, contortionist jungle teletubbies on crack. I had an anxiety attack, Diana was beside herself with delight. Fucking serious, I feel like someone beat me with a steel pipe (physically and emotionally). damn shit damn damn damn damn.
4. one gloriously large and strong Old Fashioned... I do love coming home to the Mitchell liquor cabinet... crown royal as far as the eye can see... and I so desperately (desperately) needed a drink.
5. no sleep for the past few nights + uber-strong cocktail = sleep of the innocent tonight. is going to be magnificent.
6. drive to michigan tomorrow. when I feel actually like myself (free of residual stress and kentucky bourbon) and definitely going to tally up the number of hours/miles spent in a car during these 4 days... because shit, it's a lot.
7. call me tomorrow.

town crier

Currently find myself in a situation not unlike that of my high school years: sitting in the basement of my childhood home delaying the inevitable insomnia by diddling away the evening hours while my family slumbers two floors above.

I was admiring the stars from my backyard and drinking in the fresh breezes of autumn, now (it seems) at last upon us... it is so peaceful here, so green and spacious, and the country air is sweet with the promise of harvest and drifting leaves... my absolute favorite time of year. It's nice to be able to sit alone and appreciate the serenity of the blue-green darkness, bask in the 'silence' of the nocturnal creatures, "so loud, so loud the million cricket's choir..."

my thoughts are compressing with recent events, the speed with which life can change... for better or worse. these next few months look to be laden with heaviness, speckled with trials... we have seen and survived worse, I know. I know. And this too shall pass.

But for now perhaps it is easier to sit in the starlight and just be... the acceptance will come, it will come, it will come... "if I fall, let it be from a high place..."

Plateau?

I feel like I'm riding the tail end of a bright and sparkling comet, hair blowing in the space-wind (there is such a thing, right?) and face alive with the future ahead of me and the recent triumphs of the past few weeks behind in the stars...

Except this feeling is so fragile, so sensitive... a house of cards (to switch metaphors) leveled by the slightest touch. Such is my life that I know to expect not only the unexpected but also the bitch-slap of reality and daily trifles.

To quote Elise, "I've hit a plateau." I could perhaps be headed toward greater heights, merely settling for a moment to enjoy the view, or I could be seated atop what is to become the peak of the mountain, about to slip, tumble, or descend with caution, who knows?

I suppose this is just classic anxiety kicking in or maybe some deeply-ingrained WASP sense of guilt for having been so happy and blessed of late... my friends are incomparably wonderful, my family has even reached some sort of stasis, my days have been filled with events and memories and I feel loved and appreciated...

So what could possibly be coming around the corner to tear it down? Is it completely terrible that I'm so terrified? I'm just not accustomed to long spans of general happiness... or really any span of general bliss... the past decade of my life has been certainly positive in many ways but oh so incredibly dark, "so dark, so dark and deep... the secrets that you keep..." [apologies for the Les Mis. reference]

It's just that... my life is a lovely and precious thing at the moment, certainly far from 'perfect' or 'ideal' or 'well-planned' but remarkable in the way everything is seeming to appear... even the weather is better and brighter than it has been in years... aside from the fact that it's mid-October and the record-shattering heat is a most alarming environmental issue... but it's sunlit and embracingly warm. One of my neighbors* (one I actually don't know and don't think I've ever seen in my life before) decided to take a little siesta in a chaise lounge outdoors this afternoon... wearing nothing more than a speedo!! SPEEDO! As in man bikini!

*For the record, he was at least quite attractive... and kudos to a fellow uninhibited spirit... but this is certainly uncharacteristic of Indiana autumn behavior. IE: Von Maur has already transformed itself into Santa-Snowflake-Holly-Jolly-Christmas-Land and there are roadside stands selling pumpkins.

Anyway, perhaps this is just life as it should be always?

From Blossoms

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

- Li-Young Lee

la chouffe

1. I love brunch at Hoaglin's. Best hangover relief ever... and some damn good coffee.

2. Wedding-stravaganza Saturday has begun and I have T-minus 46 minutes to pull myself together, pack anything I might need for tonight, the wedding, a bar, a sleepover, work at 7 am tomorrow (am quite delighted, really), and the Colts game afterwards. Sometimes I wonder why I pay rent at all and don't just start living out of my car.

3. It is 90 degrees outside... and it's mid-October. But global warming is still a conspiracy theory concocted by a set of crazy left-wing fundamentalists, right?

4. I just had the greatest shower imaginable... hurrah for rinsing all that bar-scum down the drain and scrubbing off last night's slutty leftover makeup... sweet blessed relief.

5. No sleep last night and no sleep tonight pretty much guarantee a forecast of Mitch the Bitch appearing in full glory tomorrow. Those damn Colts better win.

Gen XYZ

In order to keep up with our lives, we have taken to sending intricately and painstakingly detailed emails to each other daily. We not only describe daily events but have also taken to including full verbatim excerpts of our own text message conversations. Is this pathetic, we often wonder? Survey says: nah. We'd do the same damn thing in person if we didn't live an hour apart so we are merely taking advantage of this glorious technology-filled era we live in.

Example, excerpt from this morning's email of last night's Retro Rewind:

Had a blast with Wes at the V... natch. We got there around 10:40 or so and the dance floor was... empty. Except for us (duh). Hilarious - a whole lotta awkward kids hanging around the perimeter waiting for somebody else to be ballsy enough to start the party. Pshhhh. Wes and Patsy promptly took full advantage of our time in the spotlight. You would have loved it - it was like the luau all over again (only this time instead of a table full of SMUMs and SMUBS - that's right, Smug Married Undesirable BITCHES - it was just a bunch of 22 yr olds hovering around without purpose). LOVE IT. Now that I'm thinking about it... perhaps we should just change it to SMUB... really, the 'B' could stand for either BITCHES or BASTARDS quite interchangeably. I think I'm on to something here. Unisex insult. Go Team AbFab! - P

I must admit, some of our most brilliant life wisdom has resulted:

Wouldn't it be nice if it worked in a way that we could just call up
someone and say "Hi, I'm really interested in you" in both a "I find
you interesting and intelligent" and "i really want to get into your
pants" kind of way. "Would you like to go out and have interesting
conversation and top off the night by sleeping (this may or may not
mean sex) with me?" Things would be so easy.....if only. - E

This brings up a point I have been discussing with Julie of late. Jules was saying how she wished somehow the world could reinstate the Victorian practice of 'stating one's intentions.' As in announcing that one would like to begin courting... for the record, I love that word, "courting." Puts such a refreshingly elegant spin on what we now commonly refer to as "hooking up" or (ugh) "hanging out." No messy decoding of body language or online profiles or ambiguous remarks, just a good solid "I LIKE YOU, LET'S GO OUT" kind of thing.

This is in keeping with our motto or rather description of self, romantically speaking: "forward but old-fashioned." As in I have no hesitation about initiating romantic exchanges of any level - communication, invite, asking for phone numbers, seduction scenes, what have you... but despite my bit of Gloria Steinem sparkle, I often wish someone else would do the job for me. Sometimes it can be the most wonderful thing to actually be pursued and wanted without all the effort, tu sais?

The Parallel Lives of Patsy and Edina

As usual, Pats and Eddie are living in twin universes, one in Indianapolis and one in the City of Firsts. Thankfully, things are going well for both of us on some counts.

Most recent email excerpt from the fabulous Elise Shrock:

score for the AbFabs.

Pats and Eddie: 2 Skinny fake bitches of the world: -2

The scores are looking good, as we are ahead.

1 2 3 4 FIRST DOWN

I feel as though I have traveled the Indiana interstate incessantly for 5 days and am soon to arrive upon the start of another such week of travel, trailing brake lights, and destinations unknown... this whirlwind of journeying back and forth between my ever-growing circle of families and evolving friendships certainly has taken its toll upon me physically over the past two days and I've slept as soundly as one who has never known the loneliness of restless nights... too soundly, it turns out, as I hauled myself a breakneck speed to work this morning (late, oh so desperately late).

This is the life I lead, one in limbo between my multitude of obligations and my desires. I feel like a moth drawn to the flame of family and was so gratified by the weekend and its exchanges, so purely joyful for the sake of it, basking in the glory of high-spirited games and get-togethers, the ambrosia of love that is created in such a closely connected group, my original set...

Many of us had not been together since the memorial service (and Hawaii before that), and therefore to see everyone at the game on such a miraculously beautiful afternoon was a very sweet privilege... you can see the change, certainly, but mostly it is a sensed loss, an unspoken collective missing of someone as everyone settles around this newly diminished family structure. I was so glad we made it to that end of the campus at last. Such wonderful family.

And today itself was the occasion for not one but THREE best friend high-fives. THAT is progress.

...

In theory I was an existentialist, a creator of meaning and value, but in reality of course I was a seeker. I couldn't help trying to read the world like a book of signs: the cadet, the receding lights of the train, the American women, the beaming face of the man with the umbrella and now the circus posters. Who would catch me as I somersaulted through space?

- Robert Hellenga, The Sixteen Pleasures