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july 21, 2001.I'm in a weird, bad mood today, the kind of mood where I want to kick things apart without knowing why. It's not like the weekend has been stressful or even boring; last night Miri & J dropped by unexpectedly and stayed the evening. It was a completely typical night with Miri & J; which is to say that certain elements were similar but everything else was wildly unpredictable. We jammed for awhile on guitar, ukelele, bass, djembe & egg, then we drank tea & talked about the summer. Miri made a casual comment about gin, and we broke out the martini glasses for another round of 'crazy mixed drinks in sophistimacated glasses.' (I used to play that game with Ophelia & Lady Godiva a lot.) Eventually I kicked them out & we fell into a dreamless sleep (after we made it to bed, fortunately). Today we tidied & shopped for food & walked & talked & watched this n' that. We ate cherries on the grass until the bugs got to be too much for me & I fled to the relative haven of the study. When the sun started to fade, the Boy barbequed catfish and potatoes and corn. We ate it while watching The Big One. Tomorrow we might make it to the beach. All in all, nothing to be upset about, nothing to explain away the fact that the two of us are jumpier than a couple of long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. (I picked that up from Little House on the Prarie, I think.)
I'm homesick, I suppose. I've dreamt about Stacy for 2 nights in a row, making me miss her terribly. In the first night's dream, I was her maid of honour. When I showed up to the ceremony, however, I had forgotten to get my makeup and hair arranged. She took this development sadly, but well. After everyone scattered to the four winds and I started trying to round up gossiping nurses (pausing along the way to examine free purple lipstick), I suddenly realized that I had missed the wedding. Sure enough, there was a picture of Stacy in her pink gown & ballet slippers with the rest of the wedding party. I felt horribly guilty when I woke up. Could this be a metaphor for my frustrated desire to help her out with the movie? Perhaps. More likely I just want to go home, and my subconscious language of longing has become saturated with icons of marriage. And I worry about missing things way too much.
I also got to talk to Dirk today, which would usually be a happy thing. And it still was happy, it's just that the mood was greyer than usual because his grandmother has recently passed away. The good news is that he'll be coming back to NS in September. The bad news is obvious. We talked about food he'd like to eat while he's here, magazines he's going to bring from the land of cutting-edge feminist publications, and his hopes that one of the houses he looked at with Tym:J & St. Peter will be theirs come September. I could hear his family talking away in the background, and I was homesick for my own busy, loud family scene. They asked who was on the phone, as families will, and reacted strongly when it was said to be me. His mom said 'hi.' 'Hi mom!' I replied without thinking about it.
Sigh. I miss my family. Yesterday my boss & I ate lunch in a beautiful Italian place on Argyle Street with no-fake actual Italian men eating lunch & holding forth at the next table, which is always a good sign. Somehow I conceived of being nostalgic for my family without actually wanting to see any one member in particular. It's kind of like when the Boy leaves for work at 4:30 in the morning, and I say a heartfelt goodbye without ever waking up. Well, it's not really the same. But a little. I also miss my mom a lot right now. She's coming back today from a 2-week nursing mission to the Dominican Republic, and although she's theoretically no farther away in DR than in Toronto, I still felt like she had left town abruptly 2 Saturdays ago. The mission itself is really interesting: she and a team of other nurses and workers travel from city to city and set up one-day clinics in the villiages. The idea is that if they do this for a long enough period of time, then the general health of the area will improve. The team pays for their own travel and medical supplies, which makes it truly a mission of mercy and not just a cheap way to see Latin America. The Boy & I are incredibly proud of her. And what makes us extra proud is that this trip is so unpredictable. My mom doesn't speak Spanish, doesn't really like uncertainty, has some issues about strangers and has never been involved in a mission (even locally, like dishing out tomato soup at Thanksgiving - but to be fair neither have I). As my Aunt Ro commented 3 weeks ago, this is completely unlike her. I find it utterly amazing that my mom could just pull this out of a side pocket and surprise us all. I only wish that my dad was more than just passively supportive of the enterprise. But then, I wish a lot of things about my dad. The fact that he didn't emotionally blackmail her into forgetting about the whole thing is enough to earn my approval. She comes home tonight. I can't wait to hear all about it.
this time last year: unexpected troubadours |
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