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muckefuckSensation is the kind of novel I would really love to read in a single heady rush. In fact, that's what I came close to doing Saturday night when I first picked it up. But I am old and fatally practical so I forced myself to put it down and go to sleep. Same thing again last night and once more tonight. Chores, obligations, and my own distractibility and indolence have combined to strand me just at the point where things seem to be really swinging into action. And then tomorrow there's a visit to the oncologist, a bloody condo meeting, and who knows what all.
On the plus side, it helped me find my passport. I was working myself into a lather on Saturday trying to hunt it up so I could join Bigbones and Miss Cleveland at the bar. Eventually, I gave up and left it to fate, and we were there early enough that there was no ID check. Today, as I threw on a lighter coat before going out, I put my hand in the inner pocket to make sure it was roomy enough for the book and my fingers fished it out. Guess I can cancel that emergency trip downtown for a state ID. (Not that I should keep putting it off in any case.)
I was only picking up a few things from Middle East, but I decided to make an outing of it in order to give the Old Man time to finish the housecleaning. He has a new assistant, and it's none other than Skank Boy. (I haven't yet checked him for wasp stings, but perhaps I should.) My plan was to take the bus down to Foster, make my purchases, and then retire to Turkish Bakery for a leisurely lunch. But I narrowly missed the Clark bus and walked down instead, which rendered the reverse order more sensible.
It still can't explain why I ate so frigging much. In retrospect, a full breakfast would've been a wise choice. They were "out of" mücver (How exactly can you be "out of" something at 1:15 on a slow day?) so I ordered lobia instead and though I thought of choosing something else, in the end I went with my trusty mantı. Why I didn't think to save room for kazandibi, I can't explain, so even with taking home half of my appetiser and entrée, I was stuffed. I made the surprising discovery that they now serve Georgian food, but sadly you have to pre-order. Still, someplace for khachapuri which doesn't involve a trek to the out reaches of Little India is a plus.
After dinner, I returned Blondie's call. I've been meaning to chat but somehow keep putting it off, and he forced the issue by knuckling down to make reservations for his upcoming trip and calling me for advice. I'm never much help finding a hotel, so we spent most of the call talking about silly things like the gay lit he's reading and our silly encountres with boys. We can never leave the politics out entirely, but we talked more about trans* issues than Arab ones (and the intersection between the two). It's going to be a treat to see him. I just hope everything is sunny here when he comes.
On the plus side, it helped me find my passport. I was working myself into a lather on Saturday trying to hunt it up so I could join Bigbones and Miss Cleveland at the bar. Eventually, I gave up and left it to fate, and we were there early enough that there was no ID check. Today, as I threw on a lighter coat before going out, I put my hand in the inner pocket to make sure it was roomy enough for the book and my fingers fished it out. Guess I can cancel that emergency trip downtown for a state ID. (Not that I should keep putting it off in any case.)
I was only picking up a few things from Middle East, but I decided to make an outing of it in order to give the Old Man time to finish the housecleaning. He has a new assistant, and it's none other than Skank Boy. (I haven't yet checked him for wasp stings, but perhaps I should.) My plan was to take the bus down to Foster, make my purchases, and then retire to Turkish Bakery for a leisurely lunch. But I narrowly missed the Clark bus and walked down instead, which rendered the reverse order more sensible.
It still can't explain why I ate so frigging much. In retrospect, a full breakfast would've been a wise choice. They were "out of" mücver (How exactly can you be "out of" something at 1:15 on a slow day?) so I ordered lobia instead and though I thought of choosing something else, in the end I went with my trusty mantı. Why I didn't think to save room for kazandibi, I can't explain, so even with taking home half of my appetiser and entrée, I was stuffed. I made the surprising discovery that they now serve Georgian food, but sadly you have to pre-order. Still, someplace for khachapuri which doesn't involve a trek to the out reaches of Little India is a plus.
After dinner, I returned Blondie's call. I've been meaning to chat but somehow keep putting it off, and he forced the issue by knuckling down to make reservations for his upcoming trip and calling me for advice. I'm never much help finding a hotel, so we spent most of the call talking about silly things like the gay lit he's reading and our silly encountres with boys. We can never leave the politics out entirely, but we talked more about trans* issues than Arab ones (and the intersection between the two). It's going to be a treat to see him. I just hope everything is sunny here when he comes.
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His problem is wants to be as close as possible to McCormick Place, but since it's for the HIMSS convention, there's nothing left.