I lost my favorite brown dress shoes two months ago. I’ve torn up our house and even my parents’ house in Iowa looking for them. I had just resigned myself to the fact that they’d somehow gotten thrown away when, as I was getting dressed this morning, I noticed them sitting on the closet shelf. Where I’ve always stored them.
Speaking of shoes, I went to order a new pair of my running shoes this weekend so I could be springy and fresh for the marathon in two weeks. And I can’t find them anywhere in my size. ACK!
Speaking of running, Matthew and I ran eight miles on Sunday in windy, overcast, altogether perfect weather. Except I was still sore from last weekend’s 23 miles. And now my knees hurt. In a bad way.
Speaking of body parts, I went to the gym in my neighborhood on Saturday and got a pretty satisfying pump in my chest and shoulders. The place was almost empty except for two guys who just oozed A-gay beauty and arrogance through their clingy tank-tops and conspicuous tans. To my surprise, one of them smiled at me. I felt totally validated.
Speaking of gay people, my Chicago friend Marc started a blog that’s an ongoing dialogue between him and his LA friend Jamie. The whole thing’s still in its infancy, but so far it’s a good read—except for its focus on music reviews. You know I love you more than my luggage, Marc, but NOTHING puts me to sleep faster than a music review.
Speaking of Marc, he and his husband hosted a fabulous Auntie Mame brunch on Sunday. I’d (gasp!) never seen the movie, which is fabulous in some places and long in others, but it was lovely to spend a Sunday afternoon with food, friends and faggy cinema.
Speaking of surviving the Depression, how about today’s bailout fallout? I’m not worried, though; my money’s invested in shoes.