Another day; no dollar, though
Feb. 11th, 2003 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanMy trusty Minnesota Weatherguide Calendar says that today sunset will be at 5:35. It's 4:53. The southwestern sky looks amazingly not unlike the picture of the Dumbbell Nebula featured in the Astronomy Picture of the Day. No darkness with wisps of red on the right, but a dense yellow, white, and orange cloud with some blue, you bet. No bright young stars either. And the clouds are moving very fast. The wind rattles the window, which is very likely not a problem in the Dumbbell Nebula. Things will be oranger later.
Oh, one bright not-so-young star, beaming through the cloud. Hello, star.
A year ago today, Eric and I decided to try -- I can hardly say what. Having a romantic relationship, I suppose. I almost said, an overtly rather a covertly romantic relationship, but that implies that somebody somewhere had not been told about something already ongoing. That may be true, but it was ourselves we maybe did not quite tell.
It was warmer last year at this time. And we didn't go out for dinner, which is what we are planning.
I'm trying to remember what David and I did for our first anniversary. We were living in Massachusetts; it was December of 1983. I am actually tolerably sure that we went to our favorite Japanese restaurant in the area, which was called something like Shindo.
Raphael and I have a series of anniversaries, but celebrate one preferentially because of the behavior of a hummingbird. This April we will celebrate our eighth.
This weather also reminds me of the time that Elise and I were going to have tea for my birthday, but the wind chill was sixty below, so we each made our own tea at home and had it together over the telephone.
I have not been very productive of late. The news and the weather oppress me and I am demonstrating a truly remarkable ability to get sidetracked. I'm lucky to get from my bedroom to my office still remembering what I came for. I am quite sure I did not come in here to write a Live Journal entry.
Pamela
Oh, one bright not-so-young star, beaming through the cloud. Hello, star.
A year ago today, Eric and I decided to try -- I can hardly say what. Having a romantic relationship, I suppose. I almost said, an overtly rather a covertly romantic relationship, but that implies that somebody somewhere had not been told about something already ongoing. That may be true, but it was ourselves we maybe did not quite tell.
It was warmer last year at this time. And we didn't go out for dinner, which is what we are planning.
I'm trying to remember what David and I did for our first anniversary. We were living in Massachusetts; it was December of 1983. I am actually tolerably sure that we went to our favorite Japanese restaurant in the area, which was called something like Shindo.
Raphael and I have a series of anniversaries, but celebrate one preferentially because of the behavior of a hummingbird. This April we will celebrate our eighth.
This weather also reminds me of the time that Elise and I were going to have tea for my birthday, but the wind chill was sixty below, so we each made our own tea at home and had it together over the telephone.
I have not been very productive of late. The news and the weather oppress me and I am demonstrating a truly remarkable ability to get sidetracked. I'm lucky to get from my bedroom to my office still remembering what I came for. I am quite sure I did not come in here to write a Live Journal entry.
Pamela
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Not a reply
<invisible>That help?</invisible>
Re: Not a reply
Date: 2003-02-12 12:39 pm (UTC)What the heck am I doing here?
P.
Cheers!
Date: 2003-02-11 10:55 pm (UTC)K.
Re: Cheers!
Date: 2003-02-12 12:40 pm (UTC)It was quite the deal when we did go out for dinner. Our default had been to sit on a couch and talk about books.
Pamela
*hug*
Date: 2003-02-12 06:54 am (UTC)Re: *hug*
Date: 2003-02-12 12:41 pm (UTC)The people involved may think I'm a titch sentimental, but they indulge me.
P.