Gray day in Vermont

Today I am in Burlington, VT. It's getting to be that time of year when it stops being such a favorite place. Or maybe I would love it more if I had brought a jacket. It's windy and cold. I walked the mile and a half down to Church Street. The sky and air are gray, but some of the trees are still bright colors. Everyone is hurrying, holding their scarves around their necks. Girls have on boots and hats.

I wasn't sure where I was going. I just had to get out of my room. I'm always drawn to shops with cards, stationery, and blank books for writing. I should probably spend more time writing than looking for books to write in. I can't help it though. I love them. I went to a consignment store where I almost tried on two pairs of jeans until I remembered I already had enough jeans and not enough money. The sales girls were chatting about wallets and belts one of them was pricing. An older man came in asking for an appointment to consign things. A young couple was digging through marked down sale boxes in the back. He liked the vest but she wasn't sure about it.

I went to the end of the street and started my way back. I was surprised by how young the kids on the street were. I always think of Burlington as a college town, but I guess regular people live here too. There were a lot of skateboards, hoodies, and piercings. Girls in short skirts reminded me of cold days in my youth when appearance was more important than comfort. They were cold for different reasons than I was, but it's cold all the same.

I stopped in a chocolate store. They had truffles. Lots and lots of truffles. And hot chocolate. The girls recommended the New World hot chocolate, which was 74% chocolate, as opposed to the Old World one which was only 53%. I got a champagne truffle and an organic Aztec one. The Aztec one had cayenne pepper, cinnamon, and lime. I sat at the bar along the wall, drank my hot chocolate, ate my truffles one crumb at a time, read my book, and listened to people come and go. The little girl told her father quite certainly that she wanted the apricot one. The guy who held the door for me was hoping to get hired. It sounded good for him since he was always available and could work over the holidays.

I waited 30 minutes for the van to pick me up. I was waiting on the corner of Main and Church. The wind was blowing from both directions so I stood inside a little glass alcove and watched for the van. I think people thought I was spying on them. I was just really cold.

A group of three boys walked by. One had a caramel colored afro. One had long, wavy black hair. One hair shoulder length hair with bangs that fell across his forehead. The wavy haired one had dimples and at first I thought he was a girl. Honestly, they could've all passed for girls.

A lady sat at the corner with a sign asking for change. She had clean jeans and a jacket and cleanest edge on the back of her hair. After she left another girl came to the same spot. She went to the trash can, picked up the previous ladies sign, read it, then rooted through for another piece of cardboard. She had clean hair and clothes, a backpack, and according to the guys standing next to me, a cell phone.

A girl walked past me dressed completely in black with a downward hook shaped scar at the corner of her mouth that made me curious.

I ate tuna salad and celery for supper just now. My life is so glamourous. I'm not particularly hungry though. Tomorrow I go to Atlanta and then to White Plains for the night.

Caffeine, pasta, and pelicans

One of the beautiful things about having a barista who is also your brother (or is it a brother who is also a barista?) is waking up to the biggest Starbucks iced espresso you've ever had. My veins are tingling and my feet are twitching. What a way to start the day.

And as I type (still lounging on my bed) he comes back upstairs with two bowls of cereal, peanut butter apples, and orange juice... What a host.

Yesterday I walked 2.5 miles (possibly more since I had to backtrack thanks to a huge fence) to pick up a rental car. Peter and I usually slum it on public transportation, but figured for $13/day we could take a trip off the trolley path. Then I drove to downtown SD to pick him and his friend Francesco from class. I have never driven a car in San Diego. Neither of them have either. It was like the blind leading the blind. Peter gave me a street name which I would then find only to have him tell me he was wrong and did I see a big building - or were they condos - and a store on my right or left. Eventually I found them standing on a street corner (hmmm) and we went to lunch. I had a California burrito (complete with french fries) nearly the size of my head. Peter had to go back to school to work on a project so I went back to his house to sit on the back deck, watch airplanes, listen to the traffic, give myself a pedicure, and enjoy the sunshine.

Later I picked him up again and we drove to Shelter Island. It's really a peninsula with a lot of pelicans on it. Small fishing boats were coming and going and we'd watch as the pelicans spotted the boats they knew dropped stuff for them and they'd swarm around the boat. There was also a sea lion who barked and flipped around and seemed to rule the area. We discussed how humans seem to be the only species where the female is more attractive, which then led to a discussion about male/female roles in relationships (all the while breathing through our mouths to avoid the stench of a place inhabited by birds.)

Then it was off to get groceries. We debated the merits of giving your product the most unappealing name possible (Flax-Plus). Do people feel like they're eating something healthy if it sounds gross? At home we listened to more music and made spaghetti with pesto, Italian sausage, and tomatoes. It was tasty and I ate too much. We were both tired from either getting up early being from a different time zone, or just being so fabulous.

Let's have some fun this beat is sick

I'm sitting in Peter's room. We closed the deck door to shut out the sounds of Rosecrans. We couldn't hear each other talk - or all the rocking tunes Peter's gotten since we last hung out. Whenever I feel like I'm out of touch with pop culture I talk to Peter.

It took a really long time to get here today. I made it to the airport early. That in itself is a day's worth of accomplishment for me. I was there at 1:53pm. Our flight took off at about 8pm.

I waited for the plane to get to Atlanta. I waited to get a seat on it. I waited at the end of the runway while the plane got hot. I waited back at the gate while the mechanic came on to fix the problem. I waited again at the end of the runway while the plane got hot again. I had a suspicion we were in trouble when we went past the take-off line for the second time. I waited back inside the airport for an hour and a half for another plane. I waited for the new pilots to get all their stuff in order. I waited for ramp congestion. I felt like I was at work. But then I had some wine and remembered I wasn't. Everyone was in good spirits and I had good traveling company. I didn't even get a chance to finish my crossword.

Now I'm on Madrid Street without the jacket or slippers I left in Atlanta this morning. San Diego looks and feels good from here. I'm looking forward to a few days of amusement Peter style.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

This is the last night of just Trish and me hanging out at our apartment. We're both pretending it isn't though. It's sad. I have to work tomorrow night, leave for San Diego on Wednesday, and when I come home my new roommate will have moved in. Now "All By Myself" is playing (following "Ain't No Sunshine.") It's like they have a sad and lonely option for the random button. It's kind of fitting for a roommate leaving night.

This morning I was off work before the sun came up. I flew in from Chattanooga and our flight landed at 6:43 am. One of the unexpected bonuses of being a flight attendant is that I experience moods and times of living I would never see otherwise. I come to work and go home at all times of day and night. Sometimes I go with traffic. Sometimes I'm against it. Sometimes the roads are empty. Some people say good morning. Others say good night. I've probably seen more sunrises since becoming a flight attendant than the rest of my life combined. I like it.

After work I went to the foot doctor and found out that the pain in my foot is, in fact, the pin in my foot wiggling out of the bone. He said 99% of the time this does not happen. With that kind of luck maybe I should play the lottery tonight. I'll probably have the surgery in November. He said it should be minor. Seems like the only recovery will be the cut from where he has to take it out. Just what I wanted to do with my time. I'm wondering if his surgeries are by one get one free.

This afternoon I ran on Peachtree Street. I love running there because it's busy enough to distract me from the pain of running. The weather was perfect for running. It was just cold enough to subtract heat from the list of things deterring me from running, but not so cold that my throat hurt when I breathe. I even ran farther than I originally planned. It felt good.

Sunny Sunday

It is officially fall. I've worn a scarf and jeans several times this week, and even turned the heat on yesterday. It's been raining a lot. The other night I thought it was almost Christmas. It's strange that I associate driving home from work on empty roads in the cold rain with Christmas. Thankfully it isn't Christmas yet. Today, as I had to go back to work the rain left and it's a beautiful, clear, cold day.

I realized this week that I had completely lost steam on a lot of the things I was dedicated to doing as recently as a few weeks ago. I don't understand why humans are this way. We are so gung-ho one day and then forget the next.

I just started reading "Writing Down the Bones - Freeing the Writer Within." So far it's a good book. That and the sermon I heard this morning are helping me realize that one of my reasons for not doing things I should do, or want to do, is because I want the finished product and don't want to start if I think it won't come out right. If I can't get the first sentence right or develop a complete idea I don't even start writing. If I'm too tired to run as far as I'd like I don't go at all. Identifying a problem is a good start, right?

I cooked pasta today. I had high hopes and a good idea but ended up in too much of a hurry to make it happen. I used the last good leaves off my basil plants (they're dying for some reason), onions, garlic, turkey sausage, and diced tomatoes. I always have a hard time with the balance between pasta and whatever I'm mixing with it. This time it was too much pasta and too little other stuff. I'm also having a hard time finding whole wheat pasta that doesn't feel grainy. Oh well. For dessert I have a piece of the birthday cake Trish made for me since she won't be here in 3 months for the real day.

I normally hate working on Sundays. I miss too much family and rest time. The trip I picked up today was too good to pass up though. I do one 47 min flight and get paid for 7.5 hours of flying. Way to work the system. Scheduling has been infuriating me lately and made me miss some nice family time, but I'm trying to get over it since I've been angry for hours now.

Now I'm going to relax and enjoy a quiet evening in my hotel room in Chattanooga.

Currently reading: Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg