Backtracking

I've been reading backward lately. Backward and forward and back again. I begin New Yorker stories toward the end, read to the end and then go back the beginning. And I'm starting to do this with novels. It's completely unintentional but somehow rewarding. I'm sure the writers wouldn't approve but too bad.

I didn't update last week and I know you're all bereft. I was processing the wonderful 4-hour lunch I had with my two new buddies (from the gym). We sat outside at Bar Pitti and I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet.

And celebrating the successful outcome of C.'s scary operation. That is one strong, cool chick. I spoke to her while she was at the hospital and she sounded so... normal. In pain but truly sounding like herself. Which, of course, she is.

August in New York. Hm. No one's gonna make a song outta that one. And if I see one more girl wearing a skirt and boots in 90 degree weather, I don't know what I'll do. Nastiest trend EVER.

Okay. Counting the days until Maine on Thursday for Dad's birthday. I got him a vintage breadmaker on eBay and will pitch in for a slick automated wood-splitter. In return, I hope to get a boat ride.

Here's what sucks. Well, for me anyway. One of my few good girlfriends left in NYC just got a new job. In BEIRUT. Teaching at an American University. Good for her... "Sure, I'll visit you!" Well, you never know. If I make it back from Greece, I may have the travel bug bad. And according the fabulous Travel + Leisure, Lebanon is a cool place to visit. Most of the time...

Oh dear. My doppleganger Facebook friend, Kit Thompson in Brighton and Hove, UK, has listed her status as "is a tremendous ball of lesbian fail." That can't be good, whatever it means.