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Another Single-Sentence Post through which to Slog June 7, 2009

Posted by indigobunting in Uncategorized.
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Wednesday afternoon I went to Aaron’s Pilates class, most of which he did on the exercise ball, and it completely kicked my ass, to the point that I could not face his ultimate conditioning class on Thursday morning, which I felt horribly guilty about because sometimes I’m the only one there, but instead I took a powerwalk on the rail trail with my next-door neighbor Lynda, and we ran into Leo and Bev, which made me aware of just how long it’s been since I’ve set foot in their restaurant because I spend my entire eating allowance in Portland and their place is wonderful but expensive, and I mentioned how I’d like to just drop in for a glass of wine at the bar, but it used to be that you couldn’t do that because the place is so small that the whole bar was reserved for dinner, but Leo says it’s different now, in part because of the added outdoor space, and I could come get a glass of wine and some mussels and it wouldn’t be too much money, I wouldn’t have to order dinner, so I figured I should do that soon, and they mentioned that Yoshi, whom I work with and who just moved up our way, was a regular now, so on Friday when I went to the office, I talked to Yoshi about it, and he said he goes there at least once a week and has a standing 6:30 reservation at the bar on Friday night, and as it happened, it was Friday, so Tim and I decided to go and try out the wine-and-mussels theory, and I called and reserved two spots at the bar right by Yoshi, and on my way out the door I put on a ring and some earrings that Nance made, because I love them and because I’ve had trouble with one of the earrings coming apart and I thought, fleetingly, you never know, I could run into her, and Tim and I drove up to the restaurant just as Yoshi was walking in, and we ordered a glass of wine each and mussels to split but also a salad appetizer and then two more glasses of wine, so we quickly escalated past the reasonable-cost zone, which was entirely predictable and one reason we stay away (we know how we are), and then we ran into Andrew, who said maybe he’d go to Aaron’s Pilates class on Saturday morning and also that no one had showed up for Aaron’s class on Thursday and Aaron was bummed out about it, which bubbled my guilt right up to the surface again, and I wondered if I could make one of Aaron’s classes on Saturday or not, and Andrew said maybe he’d be there, but maybe not, and I figured not as Andrew’s job is so physical and anyway who could predict if I’d get to either ultimate conditioning at 8:00 or Pilates at 9:00, what with the drinking I was in the midst of, and I’d love to be in a class with Andrew again but he’s unreliable so I shouldn’t base my decision as to which class on the possibility of his company, and after Andrew moved on, Tim and Yoshi and I continued to have a great time, and then in walked Nance, maker of my jewelry, who happened to be manning the art gallery across the street and who had come over for dinner so she could eat well as she watched the door for customers, and I showed her the earring and she took it with her to solder, and when I turned around Yoshi had bought another round, which was wonderful and generous but pushed me over the edge rather, and I needed Tim to drive home and deposit me on the couch where I could watch the end of Twin Peaks then stumble into bed, and on Saturday morning I knew I wouldn’t make the 8:00 class but maybe the 9:00, and in fact I did make the 9:00 Pilates and was able to tell Aaron that I wasn’t at the Thursday class cuz he’d kicked my ass on Wednesday, and he said he suspected as much, as I am not a Wednesday regular, and I warned him I wouldn’t be at this Thursday’s class either because I’m going out of town but did reiterate my devotion to him, and we talked about Andrew and how I’d run into him the night before and how—big surprise—he’s not taking Pilates today, after which Aaron proceeded to kick my ass again, this time on the mat and off the ball, and after I got home, Nance called and said I have your earring and could you meet me at the gallery, and I could and I did, and my earring was all fixed and Matt, whose turn it was to man the gallery, offered me a swig of vodka tonic, and I had a most delightful and unexpected visit with Denise the milliner, and once again I am kind of in awe of where I live and life in general and how one thing leads to another.

Comments»

1. Mali - June 7, 2009

I think I want to live where you live.

2. helen - June 8, 2009

You are the master of the very long one-sentence post. So much so that it’s not a slog in the least.

3. Joya - June 8, 2009

Ditto Mali.

4. Craig (Maito Sewa Yoleme) - June 8, 2009

I am in utter awe of you.

5. Eulalia (Lali) Benejam Cobb - June 8, 2009

Whew! (I tend to hold my breath when I read these one-sentence posts.)

6. Adam Byrn Tritt - June 8, 2009

I agree with Mali, though I don’t actually want to move to accomplish this.

7. indigobunting - June 8, 2009

I think you should all move here. Pronto.

Lali, I think I must be channeling Eloise. I love love love Eloise.

8. Adam Byrn Tritt - June 8, 2009

Life like this is what we had in Gainesville, Florida. Always running into people we knew, often people we liked, finding them at cafes and park and the trails.

Such places are great for artists and such folk who work at home, telecommute, create. For the rest of us, Gainesville becomes a stop and a place to look back to, but not a place one can stay.

Not if one has made a habit of food and clothing. Or a roof.

9. helen - June 9, 2009

I tried to comment yesterday, but sometimes your blog snubs me. Anyways, you are master of the long single-sentence post. So much so that it wasn’t a slog at all to get through.

10. indigobunting - June 9, 2009

Helen: Sometimes Lali’s blog snubs me. I wonder what’s up with that. It is highly frustrating.

11. Cedar Waxwing - June 9, 2009

Jealous. Again.

12. indigobunting - June 10, 2009

Helen: I just found it in my spam folder! Crazy filter.

13. helen - June 10, 2009

Harumph.


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