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Fingers graze the keys, softly, softly
Aug. 6th, 2005 02:23 amK.'s parents are asleep in our living room. I'm a little twitchy about it, because there is nothing between my loft and their bed but open air; with a running leap I could jump down on them. I'm being considerate, lurking up here with the lights off and my headphones on, but I do need to work, and they do go to sleep early. They brought an amazingly jingly toy for Gus—it's sort of a pink frog on a string with bells for feet—and I think they were regretting it as they tried to fall asleep. (POUNCE! *jinglejinglejingle* Stalk, stalk. Pause. POUNCE! ...and so on.) They will be here until Monday; we'll see if we can keep them entertained, though both K. and I were a bit sad and tired today. Perhaps we should get more jingly frogs.
This is the second parental visit of the week: my mother was here on Monday, stopping by on her way home from Glimmerglass. Saratoga is very much a mom kind of town; she loves expensive touristy kitsch, which dribbles from the open shop doors and clogs the streets here. We had $8 sandwiches downtown, where I saw an honest-to-God Lamborghini stopped at a light, and was disappointed to see it putt away sedately at the green. Lot of money here in the summer. Maybe I should busk.
I finally cornered Our Friend (Who Is No Longer) In Hawaii on the phone today—she was fresh out of the shower, which has become a tradition for us; glad I haven't lost the knack. She had to run off to dinner, but she actually called me back later on, and we had a lovely chat for an hour or two. Our friendship has weathered a lot over the last five years, but today it is the very model of easy comfort; I would like to see her more often, and we could be closer than we are, but all the angst and doubt and worry has sloughed off, like snakeskin. It's reassuring to think of her when doubts and angst arise in other friendships. (Not that that ever happens.) To paraphrase the Fields, I'm crazy for her (but not that crazy).
I've been so introspective, lately, all my lights turned inward—like one of those nocturnal baby-alligator hunts you see on nature shows, with spotlights and dark water and slow-moving boats. I wonder if I'm doing things right, if I'm doing anything right. Faith slips.
This is the second parental visit of the week: my mother was here on Monday, stopping by on her way home from Glimmerglass. Saratoga is very much a mom kind of town; she loves expensive touristy kitsch, which dribbles from the open shop doors and clogs the streets here. We had $8 sandwiches downtown, where I saw an honest-to-God Lamborghini stopped at a light, and was disappointed to see it putt away sedately at the green. Lot of money here in the summer. Maybe I should busk.
I finally cornered Our Friend (Who Is No Longer) In Hawaii on the phone today—she was fresh out of the shower, which has become a tradition for us; glad I haven't lost the knack. She had to run off to dinner, but she actually called me back later on, and we had a lovely chat for an hour or two. Our friendship has weathered a lot over the last five years, but today it is the very model of easy comfort; I would like to see her more often, and we could be closer than we are, but all the angst and doubt and worry has sloughed off, like snakeskin. It's reassuring to think of her when doubts and angst arise in other friendships. (Not that that ever happens.) To paraphrase the Fields, I'm crazy for her (but not that crazy).
I've been so introspective, lately, all my lights turned inward—like one of those nocturnal baby-alligator hunts you see on nature shows, with spotlights and dark water and slow-moving boats. I wonder if I'm doing things right, if I'm doing anything right. Faith slips.
