you don't own me... except for right now...

Since when does work get to own my life, day and night, for two weeks every August?

Oh right. Since the beginning of last week. Until the end of next week.

oh, and it was awesome

Last night I finally tried the other Thai restaurant in Brattleboro (not the one downtown; the other one. The good one.). Some friends were on their way through from Hartford to vacation in Montreal, and as we saw this past weekend, having visitors causes me to accomplish my little local goals that I am otherwise apparently incapable of getting off my butt and doing.

And the name of my dish?

"Green Awesome."

don't go stealing my houseguest; i don't think this is always part of the deal

I'm sitting at work and my cousin calls me. She's staying with me off and on for a few weeks. In fact, amusingly, she's staying at my house without me next week, while I housesit in the woods.

VERY IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE: I want my cousin to actually move in with me at the end of August when one or both of my roommates is leaving. I'm in the thick of sorting through emails from total strangers responding to my craigslist ad who think the house sounds perfect and are just sure we'd get along great. I hate every minute of it and want to live with people I already know and love. So, if you know my cousin and might interact with her sometime soon, please take every opportunity to matter-of-factly say such things as "so, I hear you're moving in with your cousin in Brattleboro! That's so great!" All assistance is greatly appreciated.

Anyway, she calls me (and yes - I know this will shock some of you - I answer my phone). She's looking at my overflowing dirty laundry basket and wonders aloud how many pairs of underwear I own (i.e. how long it's been since I washed clothes), and asks if there are any special instructions for anything in the basket or if she can just throw it all in with her laundry.

Someone else is doing my laundry.

I've done my own laundry since I was about 7 years old. It's really good that very early-on my parents got me used to the idea that it's just one of those things you have to do. Because after 19 years of doing it, it's still a chore I hate and delay as long as possible (answer: I own a LOT of underwear). BUT. Today. Someone else is doing my laundry.

Today is a Good Day.

cool

The New York Times agrees with me.

golden

Is five days too long to go without posting? Is that rude to the people who check my blog on a regular basis? Am I being totally full of myself to think people care that much if they don't hear about my life for a few days? My guess is "yes," but while you ponder that for a few minutes, I'm going to tell you about my day.

Today was about as close as you can get to a Perfect Day. Not The Perfect Day, because luckily there are many kinds of perfection and therefore many opportunities to experience it. The Perfect Day would be depressing in a way, because its end would suggest nothing but downhillness to come. But I digress.

The perfection of the day sort of began yesterday. A wonderful friend and former coworker came to visit on his way to a indie-Jews-hanging-out-in-the-woods thing in New Hampshire. I drove down to Hartford to pick him up and we enjoyed the intermittent and unfortunate lack of air-conditioning in my car (for which I will hopefully be on Car Talk soon; stay tuned) all the way back to Brattleboro.

We went to the People's Pint in Greenfield, a lovely local institution famous for excellent beer and slooooow service, for a great dinner, took a walk around town in the cooling twilight, and then went to the contra dance. It was my friend's first time, and of course he loved it (not because everyone loves it, but because I was pretty sure he would, and YAY! he did). (Quote after Friend's first contra dance: "I don't remember the last time I was in a room with so many people who were all smiling.") Then we came home and slept really really well because that is what dancing does to you.

Today, the official Perfect part, we awoke to insanely beautiful weather and walked downtown for brunch at a place I've wanted to try ever since I moved here (and it was as good as everyone says it is). Then we walked around, wandered into the few open galleries we could find, browsed in the used bookstores, walked across the river in order to experience the magic that is walking to another state, and then got hooked on the idea of renting a canoe and paddling on the Connecticut for a while before we had to leave to drive him to New Hampshire.

So we came home to gather things, Friend managed to resolve (in about 45 seconds) my lack of wireless internet access that's been driving me nuts for months, and then we went and rented a canoe and spent a fabulous hour and a half paddling up the Connecticut River and back down again. This was the first time I've actually gone to the canoe rental place and figured out what the deal is, and oh boy will I be back there. (Kayaks, here I come.)

After all that and a snack stop at the food coop, we drove down the little state route in New Hampshire toward the indie Jews, stopping at a roadside produce stand to buy fresh-picked peaches and green beans for a whole $3. And on the way back I stopped and went blueberry picking, because this is the height of the season and it was still a cloudless gorgeous day and a little voice said, go pick lots of blueberries and share them with your friends.

And THEN, as if all that weren't enough, I went to Greenfield (yet again) to learn a song with my friend the Renaissance Man, because we are going to surprise someone with it as his wedding next weekend, and instead of just learning a song and sharing some blueberries I was fed a delicious dinner and nourished by food and friendship and Ireland photos and general wonderfulness. Then I played blueberry fairy to some other friends who were apparently asleep already by the time I dropped by, and now I'm home again, up way too late because a) I now have wireless internet again, which means being able to be online in bed, b) I wanted to share this story, and c) if I go to sleep, the day will end.

Which brings to mind a lovely quote I heard recently, that "You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by. Yes, but some of them are golden only because we let them slip."*

I guess I'm writing this post mostly for me, so that I can let these hours slip, give in and go to bed, but look back to them later in the week when things are crazy and busy and stressful again, as they are wont to be these days. But I'm also writing it for you, so that you'll have more than enough to read even if I don't post for a few more days because of said busyness and stress.

(And if you live around here, ask me how to find the blueberry place.)

*J.M. Barrie, best known for writing Peter Pan