Spell Check Goes from "Shakes" to "Kazoos"

when it finds "khakis", fyi, but that has nothing to do with the subject of this post

So it's another exciting Saturday in Iowa. Approximately 36 minutes ago some fellow nerdballs and I were all gathered outside the University main library waiting for the doors to open so we could get online, do research, beat the heat, hang in the stacks or finish up course work for the summer session. I was in the nut hut (aka Psych Ward) a little over 2 years ago for depression and one of the many hilarious/astute observations was made by a guy named Dave. He was wandering through the social area (i.e. a few chairs with a big ass television in the middle of it) and I asked him what was up. Without breaking his haldol-esque stroll or missing a beat he replied, "Oh, just another day before tomorrow." I admit this is how I have began to see the passage of time in relation to my current state of affairs.

I'm not necessarily bothered by this. Sure I'd like a little financial security and some semblance of a social life. I wouldn't mind it if my mother or father were not the only people I ever got regular phone calls from (God bless them for still calling and helping me out after all the grief I've put them through over the years.) Sometimes I miss living in the fast lane -- dashing around from place to place, being the "it" girl with a closet full of shoes and skirts, and squeezing in time to get $100 hair cuts. I can even become nostalgic about worrying what time was best to show up at which club and who you most wanted to be seen with (or sometimes even more important without.) Christ, what a superficial and ridiculous way to live one's life. I'll admit to being ashamed I ever lived like this.

Most people I know are still rushing around all the time. They may not be living the high life but plans are always being made at the last minute and everyone seems to be in a rush. I consider myself in recovery from this lifestyle. I slip on occasion but generally I'm in a rush to make it to a free computer lab before they close so I can write and have access to the free research tools on the internet. I've attempted to make new friends who have adopted a more settled lifestyle as most of my old friends have moved out of state. I'll ask them out for coffee once or twice and then ask them to call me. Mostly they never do or I get the, "Hey I have 30 minutes free in about an hour so I could meet you then if you want" return invitation. I may be in search of companionship but I'd appreciate it if others would show the respect for my time (such as it is) in the same manner I have demonstrated respect for theirs.

One thing that has been especially irksome in the quest for settled friends in middle-age is the arrogant and presumptuous attitude among men in my age bracket. I am a mature and capable woman who has traditionally had two or three very close female friends and a large number of guys with which I hung but it seems after you reach a certain age, most men presume a suggestion of getting together is no doubt a desperate plea on your part to be spared a life of bitter spinsterhood. That you believe you are more likely to be hit in the head by a wayward piece of the Sputnik satellite, hurled into an alternate universe and find yourself in a deserted Siberian labor camp with Dr. Spock-- only in this world Spock has a moustache and the climate in Siberia is tropical. These guys decide on your behalf they'd better pass or humor you with one quick "date" lest you become so enchanted with them you end up being forever wounded at their behest. Good grief.

My friend, Erica, with whom I used to have a weekly breakfast club just stopped by and said "hi." Once upon a blue moon, my often quoted pal, Laura, Erica and I met for breakfast at Lou Henri's on Thursday mornings. Erica has finished up grad school and is moving to Maine with her new beau, Eric. That's almost too cute, isn't it? Eric & Erica. I'm happy for her. Laura moved to the suburbs of Chicago last year but thankfully comes back to visit a few times a year. I'm still here, man. Maybe I've gotten a little too settled. Who knows? I do like hanging out here in the library with my fellow nerdballs. It sure beats having a 2 hour long "clothing crisis"before going out, worrying if your date is wordly enough to know not to fawn over any of the "bright and shiny" (or in those days "dark and dingy") famous club kids you've come hoping to strategically ignore, and then waking up the next afternoon with a small white rock lodged in your nose, an empty bottle of Absolut next to the bed and your Chrissie Hynde kohl eyeliner smeared half way down your face.

It's another exciting afternoon in Iowa but it sure beats the "wild life". Speaking of wild, can it really be true that Gwenyth Paltrow and her rocker husband actually named their child "Apple"? And some other celebrity recently named a child "Coco"? So my guess would be Apple is after Fiona and Coco is an homage to Coco Chanel? I could certainly be wrong. I'm rather pleased with the traditional, unexciting names my siblings chose for their kids. My brother has an Emma and a Sam; my sister an Isabel and a Grace.

I'll sign off now, I've actually got plans for dinner and only 4 plus hours to fret about what to wear. Should I go with the khakis or the Levis? Which ones have the least amount of stains on them? Do I have time for a nap? Oh dear, so much time and so little to actually worry about. Thank Goddess!