Since I haven't updated in the last several days, I'll take a sampling of freeze-frames from the week.
Leaning on an inflatable hedgehog chair, blogging and waiting for the next train (1.5 hours to go, then another hour of train and car riding... we'll probably reach home around 1:30am.)
Several hours ago
Tangy melty goat cheese with a blue vein running through it spread on Tuscan bread and washed down with cloudy Belgian wheat ale. And raspberries. Plus raw okra, heirloom tomatoes, and sparkling pink lemonade. Full belly, sprawled back on a tacky white and blue and yellow flowered blanket in the park, and a conductor is waving frantically at the orchestra which is blasting Bizet in our direction. Tank is next to me, wearing my ILXO jacket and hugging her knees; Andrew is on his back with his arms crossed up behind his head, eyes closed. Chris leans over and cuts another slice of cheese, and something fiery trails overhead. There are stars.
Eyes glazing over; I'm picking off my "JUROR" badge (first time) and reading 150 pages of Alan Greenspan before throwing myself into the corner of a train and weaving in and out of consciousness the entire ride back. My eyes have been burning lasers struggling to lipread lawyers and judges talking on the opposite side of the room (turned half away from me most of the time, some with mustaches and a habit of resting their hand in front of their mouth, thank you). The sustained concentration has drained me. When I get back into the house, I crumple into the mattress until Andrew shakes me awake for dinner; I don't want to have to try to understand English any more. Shopping for Ridiculous Picnic Food later that evening perks me right up.
Laser cutting trial 3: Chris shows me the snapped pieces of the Exploded XO, which didn't cut all the way through on the Epilog. I love this new design; he's placed rows of labeled holes on the side to hold the screws in the order you take them out when disassembling an XO, including a slot for the blasted gamepad that keeps ricocheting out when you remove the front panel. Leslie Larocca comes for dinner, and then we drive home in this amazing pouring rain that turns the streets into a soggy Impressionist painting. Dark night, blurry yellow streetlights.
Evanston. Mango-coconut-otherthingsIforgot bubble shake after my last day of speech therapy. Tank and Nikki are here; so are ample amounts of sunlight. The expansively happy feeling of fitting into a place in the world for just a second; it's enough to let my guard down later on and I drive a long loop through Buffalo Grove on the way back from Barrington that night, listening to music I don't know the words to, windows open and volume on high and trying to shake the feeling of not wanting to let go of this summer.
There's a long list on the board of things to do. We should do them. We proceed to do so.