Sunday, May 2, 2010

Okay, let's just allow one small moment of emo-ness: I woke up this morning and spent a whole bunch of time silently moping to myself about how what I really would have wanted for my birthday would be for none of this sadness to have happened between me and David, and to have been able to spend today with him.

I am sorry to keep talking about it. It isn't as though my every waking moment is absorbed with it. But it's still an issue.


Today has been pretty nice thus far. After dragging myself out of bed, I came out into the dining room to find that my mom had picked a vase of wildflowers for me, and decorated "the birthday chair" for me as well. We talked while I ate breakfast and then I went to church, and she stayed back to get lunch ready because Chloe would have to leave again shortly after coming home.

Church (Northstar, for those who know what I am talking about) was nice--one of those where Theresa talked more about neurochemistry and learning to live in community than she talked about God, though she still always speaks through a God-lens. But then, of course, after everything was over I started to help put chairs back (they use folding chairs on Sundays), and I rediscovered that men do not like to let women put folding chairs away. I know they're trying to be polite or do the right thing or whatever, but it is really difficult for me not to get angry when this happens. I stand, I pick up about three folding chairs (the number that my hands are big enough to comfortably hold), and I walk over to the trolley that holds the folding chairs. There are almost always a bunch of people around it, so I wait for a space to open. While I'm waiting, almost inevitably, some guy comes up and offers to take the chairs from me. If I can (i.e. if he gives me a chance), I tell him that I'm fine and I do not need his help. Unfortunately, as soon as I get him to go away, some other guy comes up and literally grabs the chairs that I am holding. LOOK. I am not standing here because I want you to take these. I am standing here because I am waiting for you to get out of the way so I can put these away and grab some more.
So I relinquish the chairs. I go get some more. This time I am only able to pick up two before another guy (or the same one? I didn't look in their faces because I probably would have had a hard time not looking murderous) takes (again, not offers to take, but grabs) the chairs I am collecting. This happens one more time before I just let the last guy grab the one chair from me, and walk out without even glancing at him and without looking back. I could not handle it any more. I mean, really--would I be picking up chairs if I didn't want to help put them away? In case that question is a difficult one, let me help answer it: NO. No, I would not. I would be having a conversation with someone, or I could be gone. I don't walk up to you, Well-Intentioned-Christian-Man, and take your chairs, do I? No, I do not, because that would be belittling and rude. So why is it alright for you to do it to me? This skirt doesn't diminish my ability to lift ten--of even fifteen or twenty!--pounds of plastic and aluminum. Really, I am okay. No, really, if you try to take this out of my hands again, I might accidentally beat you with it.

No big deal.

At home we watched some old movie on TCM (it was fine, but I am really looking forward to the day that I never have to hear about that channel again) and ate a lunch of steak and pasta and vegetables. Our oven is broken, so apparently Mom mixed up a cake here last night and sent it with Jack back to his apartment, where he baked it. So nice! Coconut cake, with coconut frosting and shavings. I took some (read: a lot of) pictures. I forgot to tell my parents or siblings what I wanted for my birthday, so my dad bought me some books, which look pretty good.

I think in a little while my mom and I will go to the museum, as this is its grand re-opening weekend, and then on to Chloe's concert at 4. I am glad to go hear her sing, but selfishly I wish the concert weren't today. I really just want to paint, or sculpt, as I said last night. But I'm sure it will be nice.

And then maybe afterwards I can paint! Or do state taxes because they're due tomorrow! Yesss.


  1. So did you find time to paint?

  2. Ew. More taxes, really??

  3. No, and yes. I had only done my Federal Taxes before.