I’m participating, in a non participatory fashion, in Infinite Summer. I started yesterday. My housemate, who often scrolls my sites online, much like my old college roommates used to scroll blogs for me, is blogless and lives vicariously through me, provoked me to do it. It’s not like work, school, no real vacation, at least until the end of summer, a garden finally growing, and thanks to the rain finally stopping in need of daily watering, not to mention a long list of other activities aren’t keeping me busy enough. Because I wanted to share the wealth I sent the book to the only person I knew who would possibly be interested in participating, G. I sent it to him for his birthday. That birthday is today. Happy birthday G. Get cracking.
I’m out to purchase some food. I’m giving my cousin a 20th birthday dinner tonight. Her birthday was a couple of weeks ago. It’s a convenient time for our yearly commiseration. She is in town for the weekend after a weeks’ vacation she took with her mother and friends. She’s heading back to Pittsburgh, where she goes to college during the regular term and works at two jobs this summer. It’s the first “not living at home summer” for her, necessary because she got an apartment for her junior year and it needs to be paid for. The beginning of the end, as it goes, or is called, in our family. The first signal that you won’t be home again except to visit. The females in our family historically are more likely to move out earlier and more permanently than the males. I’m not sure why that is, but it is curious. From The east coast to the west it is a distinct pattern on one side of my family tree anyway.
She can’t drink legally of course, and I feel like an ogre because when she asked about going to a certain club I declined to take her, fake id or not. She didn’t seem to concerned though, and we’ll spend the evening here in mindless conversation. I’ll fill her head with advice and she’ll pretend she is listening. Ill have to hear too much about her new boyfriend, who happens to be older than her and out of college. Yes, been there done that, but whatever. The guy also lives at home still, which I have to get a handle on because things like that sound suspect to me. I call them “homeboys”, and though somewhat derogatory it isn’t really meant to be, it’s just something I can’t get a handle on. It also disturbs me some that she only dumped her old boyfriend after the new boyfriend came into the picture. My advice always is to spend some time boyfriend-less, but that is personal preference I guess. Merlot will be involved of course, she is Cuban on her father’s side, and it is not illegal in the mind of Cubans no matter where they live, to drink decent wine with dinner, even when you are 12.
I’m dallying because I dislike buying groceries as a rule. I’ll probably hit the wine shop first.
Take out Japanese food is beginning to sound good.……
peace

