|Go Me, and The Loppet
||[Feb. 6th, 2005|05:43 pm]
|||||Touching Once is So Hard To Keep, Renaissance||]|
Got my filing cabinet put together today; got a futon frame and cover (a sassy red one, with Chinese characters all over it) and even managed to trundle the unwieldy and cumbersome thing up the elevator and down the hall without hurting myself (I "walked" it to the elevator, then slid it down the hall). The guy at the futon shop told me I "was such a babe", and gave me a hug. Kind of an aging hippy/surfer guy. Kind of funny, in a hapless sort of way. It was nice to be complimented, though. Took myself out to brunch across the street -- so-so, but I hear they've got great guacamole, and their margarita list looked fabulous. Decided that I wanted glasses that I liked, and would wear (especially while driving). Swung by my local optometrist (her name is Julie, and I like her a lot -- have spent time just talking to her before, while shopping for something else I needed... is it strange that I'm always drawn to optometrists' shops, to look at the glasses?) -- confessed I'd always loved cat-eye glasses, but could never wear them. She promptly found the only pair of cat-eye glasses I've ever looked good in. And I really did! Good enough that I didn't have to convince myself to get them -- I just got them.
Then I walked to my local organic market (god I love living here), because I wanted the exercise (down to 162 -- 25 pounds to go!), and discovered the reason traffic's been so horrible in my neighborhood: the "City of Lakes Loppet". I'd never heard of a loppet before. If someone had said "Aaaaaa! Look out for the loppet!" I would have run for cover, or grabbed a rabies pole. Turns out that a loppet is some sort of cross-country ski event... and the city officials, in their infinite wisdom, trucked tons and tons of snow into the heart of uptown to hold this event. At enormous cost -- into six digits. And then, because the weather's been unseasonably warm, it all melted, and they had to call the whole thing off. But all the people sitting in traffic on my street didn't know that. Wow -- great way to build confidence in one's local government. They were scooping the last of the dirty grey slush off the street when I walked past.
Bought more than I'd intended to at the market (but at least I didn't have another melt-down in the cheese aisle, this time); it was still possible to carry it all home. Tonight I'm going to write my necropsy report, try to make room for the futon frame so that I can put it together, put together the etagiere for the second bathroom, finish my laundry. And talk to Brent. I talked to him today, but he's like potato chips -- you can never have just one. (Really GOOD potato chips. Better than any potato chips I've ever had.)
Oh yeah! I almost forgot! There's a hand-crafted chocolatier's shop a block and a half away, which sells chocolate soup on the weekends! Chocolate soup?! I asked. I tried some -- imagine REALLY GOOD chocolate fondue, without the fondue forks. With ladyfingers and fresh strawberrries, today. I think I'm going to have to invite a friend over for chocolate soup, and soon.