Apartment #1/2
3: Number of phone calls I received on Thursday in which the caller started off, unannounced, singing "Happy Birthday."
1: Number of these calls in which I mistook the caller for another of the callers. ("Hey, thanks! And thanks for the card too -- I got it yesterday!" Silence. "You sent me a card, right?")
4: Number of red silicone mini loaf pans from Crate & Barrel I received in the mail today from someone who called me on Thursday but did not start off, unanounced, singing "Happy Birthday."
7: Number of tapas consumed at Jaleo Friday with two good, smart, interesting friends who treated me to dinner.
2: Number of these friends I met online. I don't know what the last three years since my relationship ended would have been like without the Internet. (Is there an essay in that? Yes, certainly. Or at least another post.)
1: Number of candles on my favorite Jaleo dessert, Basque cake with semolina cream, cinnamon-vanilla sauce, and ice milk. I made a wish.
2: Number of Toad the Wet Sprocket songs on an excellent mix CD given to me on my birthday by a sweet man I work with who wanted to thank me for "all you do for me." As much as I complain about my job (not so much here, but I do), moments like this exist.
5: Number of times tonight, so far, that I've listened to Melissa Etheridge's cover of "Apartment #9" on a Tammy Wynette tribute CD.
A late-night September breeze is coming in the back door as I type at the kitchen counter and finish off the zucchini ginger cupcakes baked for me by another non-"Happy Birthday"-singing caller from Thursday. P is on patrol in the backyard, C asleep on the armchair. I think I'll make another wish.
1: Number of these calls in which I mistook the caller for another of the callers. ("Hey, thanks! And thanks for the card too -- I got it yesterday!" Silence. "You sent me a card, right?")
4: Number of red silicone mini loaf pans from Crate & Barrel I received in the mail today from someone who called me on Thursday but did not start off, unanounced, singing "Happy Birthday."
7: Number of tapas consumed at Jaleo Friday with two good, smart, interesting friends who treated me to dinner.
2: Number of these friends I met online. I don't know what the last three years since my relationship ended would have been like without the Internet. (Is there an essay in that? Yes, certainly. Or at least another post.)
1: Number of candles on my favorite Jaleo dessert, Basque cake with semolina cream, cinnamon-vanilla sauce, and ice milk. I made a wish.
2: Number of Toad the Wet Sprocket songs on an excellent mix CD given to me on my birthday by a sweet man I work with who wanted to thank me for "all you do for me." As much as I complain about my job (not so much here, but I do), moments like this exist.
5: Number of times tonight, so far, that I've listened to Melissa Etheridge's cover of "Apartment #9" on a Tammy Wynette tribute CD.
A late-night September breeze is coming in the back door as I type at the kitchen counter and finish off the zucchini ginger cupcakes baked for me by another non-"Happy Birthday"-singing caller from Thursday. P is on patrol in the backyard, C asleep on the armchair. I think I'll make another wish.
posted by Billy at 10:55 PM
1 Comments:
I love Toad the Wet Sprocket. Sorry I missed your bday -- flight cancelled, then in Milan hell, and time sort of stopped. When I looked up, it was Sept. 26...
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