Saturday, October 7, 2000

 

12:50 a.m. Tonight I'm going to slow down a bit and try to enjoy the moment. Which moment? The one just past? The one that just slipped in between the . and the ? Yes, that one. The one between the bread and the tide that's always rolling in.

Do I hesitate? Do I grab the morsel? Do I remain rooted here, as if I'll never get wet? Does this sand make me look fat?

The universal questions, I suppose.

Tonight I got a hunk done and I got away for a few hours and had a nice dinner with friends. But the whole time I was there, I was incredibly worried and bummed and fuming and fussing because I just found out, right before I took the rollers out, that my pages still don't look perfect on that dreadful machine, the PC.

Why oh who oh why oh -- can't everyone have a Mac? A nice, cozy, graphics-friendly Mac. How can I fix what I can't see? And what does this page look like on the dreadful machine, may I ask? Is it still two columns, heavy on the white space, stretchy in the text area, you-choose-the-text?

I myself am using Lemon Verdana, and it's clean and neat -- but far be it from me to stop you from using Comic Sans or Chicago or Times Roman 14 point, if that's what you like. However ...

... but you know what? I'm not going to worry about this until tomorrow comes and the next avalanche of mail drops into my inbox. Tonight I'm going to try to reflect on the really great dinner I just had, the nice conversation I just had, the tap-dancing of Fred and Ginger, and this pretty picture of the bird.

And I'm really enjoying Memoir of a Geisha, so far -- but then, I wish I were Japanese. Nonetheless, I like tea and rice and I'm glad to be dropping into someone else's life for a few brief minutes before dropping into someone else's dreams for the remainder of the evening.

Not that I could ever have been a geisha, by the way. I love and respect men as much as the next woman, but I could no more titter and giggle and pretend to be agreeable than ... but wait ... grind ... whirr ... isn't that what I always do every waking hour of my day? I may not play the mandolin, but believe me, I can play the coy retiring type.

But let's not get into a rant. It's Saturday. We're on vacation. Looking good, at least to a small elite population.