What I Was Doing When You Were in Your Leopard-Skin Print Dress

After school, S and I attended the opening day of this new croissant cafe!  Another place to write and grade.  

L, the fact that we have only two computers (one near death) and four people is a real prob.  (Also, no TV, so one of the computers serves as that.)

So, last night--no blogging.  Today, I'll blog twice.

So, I hope you read this, L.

Last night, S and I went to Cocoa Bar for the free Internet so she could watch a show on this computer.    (Our Internet was spotty.)  I wrote in the candlelit dark in a notebook.

As I wrote, I wondered if my friends in Salt Lake City were having a good time at Dennis' art show.

Shelley and I texted back and forth.  NYC to PDX.

I also wondered what it may have been like to attend my high school reunion taking place last night in this place.  I've never been to a single reunion.  Have you?

At home, I crawled into my bed.  It had been a long week, but not the longest week I've had recently.  To rest my aching, typing hands I read:  Michael Chabon's new novel about a record store in Berkeley and Jonathan Lethem's novel about a former child stare living on residuals in NYC while his astronaut girlfriend endlessly orbits the earth.

I was not wearing a leopard-skin print dress.  I was not wearing anything worth writing about at all.