nina turns 40

junkie

I finally had the yummalicious coffee drinking experience that I'd been craving.  I just made some for myself.  Dug out the French press, and even with beans that had been sitting around since I was a regular imbiber (it's all about proper storage, people: NO freezer, NO fridge, just airtight, baby) I managed to make a fabulous cup of rich, cocoa infused, joe--strong and complex and sweet.  And just like it's supposed to, it made me mighty happy.  And kinda jazzed.  Pretty much all day.  Bed time rolled around, and I wasn't tired.  Even with the time change.  This morning, I went back to decaf.  I like the fact that I'm drinking it for fun now, on the weekends, instead of just to drag myself through my work day.  Of course, I understand the nature of addiction, and know it's just a matter of time before I'm drinking it daily again.  Until then, I'm just going to enjoy playing around with my brain chemistry.

gratuitous kidlet cuteness

This must be Thanksgiving 2000 or thereabouts.  Hard to believe it's the same boy I'm hanging out with now.

culebra de piedras

I haven't been back to the river (the Dungeness) since I took this foto about a year ago.  I still don't know who put these stones here, or why, but I love it that they did.  My mother and I--and sometimes my sister--have a ritual that we perform here for the new year.  We go to the old railroad bridge over the river and we take little slips of paper on which we have written all the things that we want to let go of during the coming year, and we toss them into the water for the river to take away.  We watch them flutter down to the surface, shivering in the cold, and we keep an eye on them for as long as we can. We walk away laughing, lighter, watching our breath in the cold morning air.

it's been awhile

I was just flipping through the channels looking for "It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" and I was treated to the sight of a woman clad in black lingerie and a Halloween mask getting her throat cut. WTF?  I am so fucking sick of watching women get killed, especially ones displayed in their underwear.  What if the kidlet had been the one looking through the channels?  Isn't 8pm supposed to still be somewhat family oriented?  Even so, do we really have to be relentlessly subjected to this stuff? Isn't everyone tired of getting off on watching women be killed?  It's really been too long since I've said it, so here goes:  fuck the patriarchy.

el cambio

I was just going to write about how much I hate this time of year.  That after the fun of my birthday wears off, there is that long, dark stretch that starts with Daylight Savings Time ending and goes through the end of the year, and that always drags me down.  But just as I started typing it, three leaves came floating and twirling up here by my 23rd floor window, and I was held transfixed and delighted, both my their movements and by wondering what eddies and flows conspired to get them up so high.

guess what!

my boyfriend's back

[Thanks to M, who always keeps me apprised of these things.]

el ganso

Canadian Geese are pretty much considered a scourge around here.  Every park and beach in the city is covered in their voluminous shit.  They take over golf courses, open meadows, any stretch of grass that is near water.  Meetings are convened and the problem discussed.  Different solutions have been talked about and tried, including my favorite, which involved killing them and serving them to homeless people.  Not much has worked.  They thrive here, and are almost universally loathed.  But I defy anyone not to stop and look, catching their breath, as a long V of them goes flying overhead, honking in the still misty sunlight.

stuff I'm a little behind on

Thanking Karen for sending me a book for no reason as a part of Buy a Friend a Book Week. It's the wonderful Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, written my Michael Chabon, who just happens to be married to Ayelet Waldman who has received a fair amount of snark (here, and in other venues) for going on and on about how much hot sex the two of them have all the time.  It's a wonder the man had time to finish his book.

Telling you how funny this is.

Thanking Bluepoppy for sending me a copy of the documentary The Corporation.  It is now my turn to pass it on to someone else.  It's a rather depressing look at how corporations became the dominant institution of our time.  It's not completely disheartening, there is the story of the carpet manufacturer who had an epiphany and is planning to make his business sustainable by 2010, and the seed advocate actually gave me hope, but I was truly chilled by the woman who works for the marketing firm that targets kids.  She paused, oh so breifly, to contemplate the ethics of marketing so aggressively to kids and finally concluded, without even bothering to look embarassed about it, that the only thing that matters is moving product.  If you'd like your turn at this movie, drop me a line with your address, and I'll pass it on.

el café

One of my birthday presents to myself yesterday was to treat myself to my first cup--since September 2nd-- of real, caffeinated coffee (the other one was the new Herbie Hancock album, which, despite featuring "I Just Called to Say I Love You" on it, is quite good).  The anticipation of said coffee was much better than the actual enjoyment of drinking this coffee, which considering my huge expectations thereof, isn't too much of a surprise.  The coffee shop vibe, as always, brings joy to my heart, and a bunch of silly young do-gooders were handing out flowers to everyone in some strange random-acts-of-kindess officially sponsored tour thang, but was I infused with an overwhelming sense of well-being?  Nope.  Did I get a nice little buzz?  Nuh-uh.  My heart rate just went up noticeably.  Hrmph.

The inevitable question is of course: have I fallen completely of the decaf wagon?  I don't think so.  But I am headed out to the coffee shop right this very minute to have another.  Hey!  It's my birthday, people.