somewhere without bounds

I plied this weekend.  But I have no pictures for you - the new yarn is not dry and the light sucked anyway and both for the same reason, which is that it was so humid the air felt wet.  One of my neighbors was on her way out for a run when I saw her Saturday, mad creature. 
Of course, I saw her on my way home from a hour at the gym, so I might be mad too.

It was so damp that the sky above the lights - I went to a minor league ball game Friday night - was hazy like the bathroom after a shower, so damp I felt like my eyes were fogging over, no matter how furiously I blinked, so damp I walked in a dream forest rather than a parking lot with my plate of funnel cake, cake that J and I ate so fast it didn't have time to cool, though the powdered sugar vanished into the heat under our fingers far faster even than we could consume it.

Funnel Cake is actually a little bit disgusting.  Despite the number of festivals I have been to in recent years, I haven't eaten much fair food and my childhood self did not find the funnel cake nearly as greasy as my adult self did.  It would be better for a few minutes on a draining rack, I think.  Not that that is going to stop me.  If you assign moral value to food - which I don't anymore, though I was raised to - then funnel cake is delicious sin, kissing an old boyfriend you know you ought not touch but do, do, do, have to.  The sweetness lingers on your lips, un-regretted.

All summer each weekend has slipped past with no activity.  Monday meant a guilty sink full of dishes and a disgruntled feeling of having failed to meet my own expectations and leaving the house on a weekend became a bit noteworthy.    This weekend I stayed in on Sunday as a heat avoidance technique - see misty water colored air of Friday and Saturday - rather than an act of passive drift, but I also did my dishes as I cooked and washed the slipcover on the couch and put away the clean laundry the same day I folded it which was also the same day it was washed.  Nothing is molding in the washer.  I shaved my legs.  I read a book.  I scrubbed the tub.  I made eye contact with people when I went to the market Saturday.

There is still cat hair collecting in the corners of the stairs.   Not too much at once, you understand.  But still.  I feel awake.

Comments

[Diane]

Mmmm, funnel cake. I haven't had any in ages and always loved the stuff. I've even been known to make it at home.

[lanea]

I'm recovering from a mad weekend of organization and cleaning--wait, no--a few mad weeks of cleaning and organizing. Just in time for Bill and Shirley, keepers of the llamas-in-law, to come stay with us. If only the weather would cooperate and allow me to do a similar number on the garden.

You want guilt food? Someone asked me for a copy of my Mexican chocolate cake recipe, which means I have to finalize and test my favorite cake. I am not this strong! And carrying a cake in to work on the Metro is less than ideal. I need teenagers to eat this stuff, stat.

[charli]

I dream of days as productive as your Sunday. You owe yourself a reward for such a day.

Every time I read your blog I wish I could write as well as you!

[Adrienne]

... funnel cake ... now want.

At least the gym has AC, unlike the crazy outdoors.

[strickbar]

beautiful post! I know what you mean by awakening and starting to make eye contact to others on the market again.. Take your time.

[Anne]

The wet weather finally made it to you? We had it in Minnesota a week ago - everything was always damp. My towels felt wet before I dried off (although I never did get 'dry'), paint stayed wet for an entire day, and the AIR smelled like mildew. It will dry out, but I hope you don't get the floods we had when all that water came down out of the air. And on fair food - I am working at the environmental education part of our state fair (a little oxymoron considering how un-environmental the fair is, but we are trying) and while I had plans to share lots of tasty things, the smells of all of the pronto pups, mini-donuts, french fries, and everything else mingling turned me off at the gate. I will enjoy my memory of what funnel cake (and corn dogs) tastes like and live through your tastebuds.

[anne]

i never ate funnel cake, but pizza fritte . . yeah, baby. same snack, but different.

[Mel]

Funnel cake is one of those things about which there should never be guilt, if only because it's something that most of us don't eat more than once or twice a year, if that.

[tsocktsarina]

You go, girl. Those are achievements to emulate.

[Dr. Steph]

I want funnel cake.

And my weekend was a mix of mad productiveness (back to school shoes shopping, ikea) and total laziness so while the house painting isn't finished I'm content and rested.

[claire]

Whenever I fold my freshly laundered clothes, it feels like a huge accomplishment!

I think I moved to Toronto the same day you arrived for your visit. And, while it occurred to me to email you to see if you were free for coffee, I opted to unpack and find a grocery store. And I didn't want to be a weird internet stalker person...

hope the blisters have healed!

[melissa]

Sounds like a very productive day to me. And I'm so happy to hear that someone else washes a load and forgets about it. I aways feel so guilty about the rewash.

[Laurie]

Lovely, evocative writing. I could feel the air, the mist, the blink.

[Gina]

I hate that feeling that I've somehow wasted the summer -- no trips to the local wineries, all of those unread books, etc. It's not as if we're falling off the face of the earth and some of these things can't be done. However, I always feel that great sadness as the summer passes. Baby steps on the cleaning!

[seizuresalad]

Wow. That second last paragraph describes my summer weekends(too many other weekends as well) pretty succinctly. And the accompanying lassitude/guilt feelings...I'm glad I'm not alone!

Been lurking for a while, I really enjoy your blog.