Ghosts

Beep.


Beep.


Beep.





"Sounds like that other guy you're fucking left you a message."

"Mm."

A green flash through the white fabric of my white ("Look at the snow bunny") jacket.

"You had to get the most expensive phone."
"They gave me a deal. It was cheap, actually."

You were #1 on my list. You were the first person I called. And when I came across my first cell phone tonight, the one that so vexed you, the one that died after it got shipped in the mail, after I forgot it at the hotel that you were supposed to stay at with me in Newport- (the one I planned for, and paid for, and confirmed with you, the one you left after taking me out to dinner, "I have to go to work tomorrow. I can't stay. You should relax and enjoy yourself," the one from whose window I watched you walk down the street, imperious, closed, self-absorbed) - I decided to plug it in.

Beep.
Searching...
my name.

My name. Address book. Alec. Andy. Andrea.

I have a message?

I was talking to a friend the other day about missing this phone, about how I never would have replaced it if it weren't for its untimely death.

I don't know if I can properly convey how weird it is for this phone to be "working" (it's not really connected to my account now, even though it sort of thinks it is - I tried dialing out on it and it wouldn't let me.) As I mentioned, it was my first cell phone. And as I intimated, it was perceived as a bit of a threat to my boyfriend at the time. He had a "mobile phone" starting when they were first available sometime in the 80's - as well as being huge, and attached to your car, and fucking expensive, relatively speaking. He even has an "old school" number, i.e. a phone number that has an actual "normal" prefix, one that looks like a regular old landline for this area.

Whenever my cell phone would ring, or beep because it had a message waiting, as it was doing tonight, he would make a comment similar to the one at the beginning of this post. As I sorted through other stuff in the spare room tonight, hearing the Beep of the phone was fucking with my head. The sheer volume and intensity of associations was astounding. His number, of course, was among the "last 10 dialed." Fucking weird.

In other news, I am fine. Just away from the computer a lot. Participated in the Iraq War Moratorium again tonight, that was good but a little... FUCKING COLD! I know, wimpy! Well, to be fair, it was wicked windy... I could hardly chew my pizza later on at my mom's. My muscular disorder doesn't agree with the cold, is all.

However, every part of me agreed with the several appropriately named "Dark & Stormy" drinks I consumed tonight (that's Gosling's Black Rum and Ginger Beer - effing yummy, try it!) But I'm done with all that and trying to do a tiny bit of catching up here. As usual, sorry for the lack of regular posts. I've really been playing catch up in lots of areas, and I feel like I could use, oh, about a month to myself.

*pause*

At this point last night my computer started fucking with me, so I abandoned this post temporarily. Not much to add tonight. Earlier I was fucking around with these:

I was making baby food. Tomorrow night I will make some pearsauce, for babies and adults, now that I finally have the vanilla bean (All $5.50 of it - one bean.) I'll also be making an upside down carmelized pear tart. Sounds yummy, huh? The pears were "drops" from my friend's neighbor. Some are a bit funky looking on the outside, but they are gorgeous, sweet, and perfect under the peel.

Kinda like a lot of people I know. Hope everyone is having a great weekend...