Monday,
February 4, 2002
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guests enjoy the afterglow of the meal
"Riches are for spending."
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a new week In spite of getting to bed early, I'm not up early. Late in fact. I realize I have just awoken from a very odd dream. I was headed to a class, carrying a ladder. I decide to rest so I go into a friend's home. They aren't there but I leave the ladder in the garage. In my dream world, I don't make it to class, which has something to do with analyzing destruction, maybe of the WTC. I'd been reading about analyzing the beams in the scrap pile as it was processed. So, yeah, maybe. Instead, of getting to class, though, I'm on a tour bus. It is touring destruction. The destruction is a long highway bed stretching as far as the eye can see. The tour bus stops and I stay behind when they leave a building, just for a second to tell a woman I know her, that FFP spoke to her. The bus leaves me. Some man in charge and I run after it to no avail. We then see two men in white hats like nun's hats or something kill someone. In fact, one of the men removes a white strip of cloth from his odd hat and strangles the man with it. They see us and we run away. We get to a back door of the building we were in before that should be locked but my companion knows it isn't. We slip in and bolt it. Then we are trapped there because the bad men in the white hats are outside. I tell someone inside that my ladder is in their garage. Waking with that much of a dream intact, I drift thorugh the morning shower, groom and dressing, thinking about it. I look everywhere for my charcoal grey sweater, finally remembering that I put it where it belongs.
So it's back to work. With work on my paper temporarily finished (I have to finalize the draft in a month) I can work on other things. I have several projects that need work.
Work doesn't go that well. I listen to a conference call for an industry working group that I'm foolishly getting involved with. I miss another conference call because of confusion about the time on my calendar and then discuss it and other things with one of the participants. I try to concentrate on reading and planning that I have to do, but it's hard.
Lunch I take in the office because of the timing of meetings. Nachos. Oh, so, healthy.
At home, FFP is heating corn on the cob and game hens stuffed with corn soufflé. Why all the corn? His new favorite place to pick up food (Cooper's Meat Market) had only corn on the cob and green beans. He doesn't like green beans. I never knew that. How could I be married to him for 25 years and not know that? I made green beans for Thanksgiving, thinking he would like them: fresh with leeks and porcini mushrooms. Wow. You learn something every day. Our bookkeeper Gayle has stayed for dinner and watching TV. They are drinking a 2000 Ramspeck Pinot. I have some and then drink some of the leftover Burgundy from Saturday. And absolutely all I do with my evening is work the New York Times crossword (theme: Winter Olympics), read the papers (Enron, Enron, Enron) and, well, drink. I help clean up from the meal, but that's it. Gayle has her dog with her. New dog has had three names so far (Prissy, Bandit and Nikita). Nikita (as in La Femme Nikita) works for me.
I am such a slug. I am eating too much. (You may think I tell you everything I eat but, not, there are other little things. That wedge of Laughing Cow cheese out of my desk at work, those candies in the drawer of my office left over from Thanksgiving). I need exercise. I need to accomplish things. Great things. Yawn. Ho hum.
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175
JUST
TYPING