The Pirate was out of pocket and not due in until Saturday afternoon, so I was a driven woman. I cleaned my room, moved furniture, threw out stuff with both hands. The resulting order feels incredibly satisfying and right.
I had a spiritual discussion with someone close to me that is sticking in my mind as troublesome. My religion is not something that I discuss much, mostly because I abhor proselytizing and I have a hard time talking about my faith without sounding like I'm trying to sell something. This person and I talked about their beliefs, then about mine. They told me flat out that they couldn't accept some of my beliefs that are really fundamental to my life. It sort of scared me. It never occured to me that those I care about might not reach their enlightenment in this lifetime. Now that I'm confronted with it, it seems obvious. Of course we all progress at different rates and I have no way of knowing what lessons someone else needs to learn. On the other hand, no one likes to think of people they care about suffering.
On a lighter note, the Pirate and I did a little shopping. I had been looking for a replacement for a pair of black pants I had whose zipper had systematically ripped a hole in the side that wouldn't be easily fixed. I found a wealth of lovely things that were not only perfect, but ON SALE. I had to laugh because I had seen a black skirt that I really admired, but wasn't willing to pay $80 for (who in their right mind pays that much for a plain black jersey elastic-waist skirt that any 7th grade home ec student could run up?). My plan had been to run it up myself, but first I had two other sewing projects to finish, and second, my machine dates back to the 1930s and doesn't have zigzag or anything else that would be handy when sewing knits. But the skirt of my dreams was right there on the rack, and was only $14 - less then it would have cost me for the fabric alone. And to top it off, the Pirate bought me a new sewing machine anyway. He sat across from me as I unpacked it and looked over the instructions and all the little gewgaws that came with it and he said "I wish you could see yourself. You look so happy that already I know it's money well spent." How can you not love someone like that?
I got my hair cut. Before I got into work this morning I was not just unhappy, but keenly embarrassed by it. My hair had been getting pretty long and shaggy, but I only wanted the last crunchy half inch cut off. She took off two and a half inches off the top alone. I told her I wanted to keep the length in the back, but she did this stupid scissors thing, going in and snipping out little pieces of it leaving me with this bizarre Florence Henderson fringe in the back that I immediately demanded be taken OFF. So...now my hair's really short. And then she blow-dried it into this horrible '70s mom-helmet. ACK!! I came home and immediately dyed it black cherry (it looks pleasantly claret right now) and combed it down. In my dreams I look kinda cool, maybe sort of early Janine Page (when she was first in Northern Exposure). In reality, I know that I look like Helen Crump. What can you do?
Between this and the new clothing purchases (which are all black), the Pirate says that I'm denying my inner Goth. I threatened to wipe out all the really cool music on my iPod and replace it with Sisters of Mercy and Sarah MacLachlan. (Well, that's not technically accurate...Sisters of Mercy is already there.) And I'm working on my sense of tragic self-importance.
And speaking of my iPod, I found this little tidbit on the BBC this morning and it immediately reminded me of being at OVC yesterday and seeing everyone else at the table plugged into their various devices. You have no idea what a relief it is, at this stage in my life, to have an entire community of people just like me! My family would be horrified.
And, while at OVC, I finally and completely finished the first part of my novel. Orfeo is now as perfect as I can make it. Tomorrow, I appear in Petaluma at Zebulon's Lounge reading selections from Orfeo at the LiveWire literary salon. Wish me luck!