Wednesday, March 27, 2013


Ater C left for work this morning, I spent a little while calling restaurants in New Orleans to get a reservation for next Saturday. (We're going for the weekend to a family wedding -- C's family, duh -- which is on Friday, so we have Saturday to do whatever we want. I haven't been to New Orleans since before the flood, and when we went we always stayed with our friends in the Lower Ninth Ward and spent most of our time in that neighborhood. Their house was washed away and they moved to Wichita. It'll be a very different experience this time.) I couldn't get through to any of the restaurants I was trying to call, maybe it was too early. I fell asleep and dreamed I was on a boat somewhere drifting along an ocean beach and then I was walking on the beach. I fished a small piece of driftwood out of the water. I noticed that it was the top part of a broken wooden spoon, and I put it in my mouth and started chewing but then thought to myself “I’m eating garbage,” and I spit it out and kept spitting but couldn’t get all the wood pieces and the taste out of my mouth. I woke up.

C and I are on a 3-day juice fast. Today is the last day. Everyone said I would miss chewing, which I haven’t (consciously) noticed. What I miss are things that taste good. We get six bottles of juice a day and three of them taste foul. One is a combination of spinach, kale, parsley, celery, lettuce, lemon, and apple, the other beet and a bunch of other stuff, also including apple (the spinach one is twice a day). The other three are pineapple and mint (not bad, would be better with rum), lemonade with cayenne (also not bad, maybe vodka?) and the last juice of the day is cashew with vanilla and cinnamon (delicious, like an horchata).

The point, you ask? Well, it’s called a cleanse, so I guess it’s like spring cleaning for the digestive system. Kind of a reset button. C and I both have trouble telling ourselves no to the pleasures of food and wine and we have to be careful about overindulging. Three days of nasty-tasting juice is making an arugula salad with grilled chicken -- that’s what I’m planning to make for dinner tomorrow -- seem the height of indulgence.

I’m not so much hungry as I just miss food and eating and cooking. I can’t stop thinking about how that spinach juice, if you took out the apple, heated it up and added a little salt and pepper, maybe some leeks and a splash of cream, would make a delicious soup.

What else?

This morning I typed, “CURTAIN. END OF ACT ONE.” I came to the end of the first act of the first draft of my first play. I hope the second act is not as long as the first because the first is 75 pages. It’s a first draft, so I’m almost certain it’ll get shorter, but still. It’s slow-going at an hour and a half of writing time a day. I wonder if the second act might go a little quicker -- I spent a lot of time on the first act just figuring out the mechanics of the stage, the set, and how to move the action from place to place.

We had our second home study visit from the social workers at the adoption agency last night. They were only here for about half an hour, asked a few questions, and left. Now they will write a report based on their visits and an extensive questionnaire we filled out months ago and they file it with the state (I think? it’s all very Byzantine to me) and we get approved as prospective adoptive parents. That’s when we start the nationwide dragnet to find a baby. Also, last Saturday we had our first of seven classes at the agency, which is way out on Long Island. They say it’s Queens, but I know Long Island when I see it. As I understand it (and you should take that clause as a serious qualifier), we could get approved before we finish the classes, which is to say it could be soon.

It’s a little (a lot) nerve-wracking that once we’re approved we could get a call any time saying, “We’ve got a baby for you!.” Like, it could be in 2 days, or we could be waiting for a year. (We’ve sort of decided that if it doesn’t happen in a year, we’ll give up.) We have a lot to do to get ready. Besides acquiring all the stuff (oh my lord, the stuff), the big project is to convert our little office into a bedroom. Do we really want to do that now, if we’re not going to need it for another year or possibly -- let’s be honest -- not at all? On the other hand, do we want to do it while we’re also taking care of a brand new baby?

I had my teeth cleaned today. (I love how technology has made our lives simpler. In the last 3 days I've gotten two emails, two voicemail messages, and a text all confirming my appointment today and asking me to please reply. Jesus, people, relax. I made the appointment, I wrote it down, I'll be there. Good lord.) On my way home I stopped at Staples for paper. We’ve been out of paper for, well, I don’t know if we ever had any paper, and every time I’ve wanted to print something I’ve had to use some old bond that C had around for resumes or something. Being out of a thing that I need regularly, and never remembering to buy it except at times when I can’t, really brings me down. I was also going to stop at the Container Store and get some kind of drawer organizer for our bathroom. Even more so than being out of essential office supplies, having to excavate for dental floss every night because the drawer is full of undifferentiated chaos all crammed into the back of the drawer farther and farther every time you open and shut it makes me feel like I have literally failed at life. (I’m not worried about how I use the word “literally” anymore. The dictionary doesn’t give a shit anymore so why should I?)

But I didn’t get the drawer organizer because I had forgotten to write down the drawer dimensions.

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