Indecisive Peach

I haven’t even particularly digested the fact that school is out for the summer. It’s not to say that I’m not taking classes over the summer, Hello Summer Session II, or not working, Hello Archives!

I’m just still hyper aware. I still am carrying the need to tote around a phantom day planner, even if the plan for the day only consists of lunch and dinner. Gloriously, I can finally pick up my dusty reading list, and/or the random books lying around under my nightstand, and lose myself in a healthy way. [See the brand spanking new reading list! And yes, I’ve been trying to read The Historian for nearly a semester now.]

I can also now officially say that I am halfway done with grad school, which is weird. (Now debating whether or not that is a fallacy [since there are speculations with getting some sort of PhD] is not even something I want to begin with.) I just want to get my summer swim pass and use my awesome tie-dye bikini to get some brilliantly, bad-for-you sun.

Later this week: Why I hated the movie Annie Hall, A Conversation with My Descendents, and Unveiling the Summer Blog Collaboration/Madness.

Earlier this week, at noon, in the kitchen:

“Did you use any of the milk? It’s bad. I was going to leave note this morning.”

Thinking back to a bowl of Trix and milk, “I…What now?”

“I said, the milk is bad.”

“The milk? I ate…That can’t be.” Turns to the fridge with a blank stare, grabs handle and shakily pulls out the milk jug.

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I have had it. I refuse to eat out anymore. I refuse to buy food that is usually more unhealthy than what I can concoct in my gold-speckled and teal kitchen. I refuse to buy food that You Wonder About that I know I could have bought at Wal-Mart. (Here’s looking at you Lorenzo’s Italian Restaurant and your suspiciously cheap-tasting noodles.)

It starts today, May 8, 2007. One month of No Eating Out. Subtitled: The money I will save…the knowledge I will gain.

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I had to get to the campus early this morning. I walked through the parking lot, weaving through the cars and making sure that frantic drivers hoping to snag a spot noticed me. I fiddled with my iPod and looked up to see a familiar, sloping walk coming down in the other direction from the lot.

We never came within 50 yards within one another and I don’t think that he saw me. The first feeling that I got when I recognized all the pieces and pulled it together to something so dear, yet something so hideously painful, was a dull wash of tightness in the pit of my stomach. For a split second, it cascaded to the area barely beneath my ribs and swung back down and was gone. The small reaction surprised me.

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You know what I haven’t done in a while? Photoblog! [Don't I usually preface my photoblogs like that? Yes. But also, I thought to myself - shouldn't I put up some more pictures of moi so that people will recognize me at Blogher? Wee!]

These were pictures from when Sarah was here last week. There is a little trail a ways outside town, up toward the mountains, named Dripping Springs. Very pretty – and a lot harder on my weak-ass self than I remembered when I climbed it with Martina about a year ago. Maybe I was in better shape. Being an academic is making me doughy; especially when reviewing these pictures.

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[Ed. Note: I found this rummaging through my computer and try as I might, I could not find the original author for this. And if this offends you in any way, go have some cake.]

Protestantism – You can have your cake and eat it too.

Taoism – The way to have cake is to eat cake.

Catholicism – Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s cake.

Judaism – Eat, eat already!

Atheism – There is no such thing as cake.

TV Evangelism – You can have all the cake; just send money.

Buddhism – Cake is.

Zen Buddhism – What is the sound of cake baking?

Hinduism – Have your cake. Just don’t have a cow.

Scroll down the side of my blog? See that button there? Yes, the BlogHer one? I’m going to Chicago at the end of July on my very own to see if I can hang out with some alpha bloggers without curling into a fetal position after admitting, “Yes, I still use a WordPress template.”

I’m terrified. This will be the first piece of live-action travel that I have ever planned by myself.

[Okay. That’s a lie. There was an ill-advised train trip to California that I won’t really talk about because people should have told me that I should have used a damn plane. I will say though that it is a fine place to study some of the lower echelons of the human condition. E.g., You there – 35 year-old man named Jeb, get off the phone with your mother. What can more can you tell her at 1 AM when you’re on a train? Oh wait – I know! Because I can HEAR YOU!]

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