Why Do You Have a Diary?

To keep secrets from my computer...

Oh, what would I do without Dwight to make me guffaw. It is almost painful sometimes to watch The Office because Michael is such an idiot, but if I didn't watch, I would miss lines like that. Now, what it says about my character that such humor can make me laugh like a maniac, well, I just don't know. I just wish I had a reason to use that line in conversation sometime in my life. Really. Unfortunately, my computer knows all my secrets because they are all on a computer, even the really secret ones. I guess that leaves me in a state of weakness of which Dwight would surely disapprove, but I'm not nearly as interesting as he is, so I'm not worried.

Anyway, here's the real reason I have a diary:

I still haven't gotten the photos from my California trip off the camera. It's coming though. I am determined to write about the whole trip.

I'm sad about my pal Cami moving away, but I don't want to write about her as if she is deceased or something. The depth of emotion that I feel for that girl would surely come out sounding like a eulogy, and good heavens, she's only in Utah, not on the Pitcairn Islands. Suffice it to say that I love her to pieces in every way and am grateful that the internet will keep us in touch. Can I leave it at that? OK.

Spring is surely coming because 9 days ago I was in shorts and flip-flops, then in the middle of last week, I was in full winter woollies, now I'm in a jacket and my feet are feeling claustrophobic in socks and clogs. The Daffodills are sprouted, the Bleeding Heart has come up, and the Peonies are at the red asparagus stage. (That's what peonies look like when they're just coming up, really.) I have all afternoon on Wednesday scheduled to work in the yard, cleaning out the beds, moving stuff around and figuring out where to put some new vegetable beds. This Saturday is the actual Equinox, so things will happen fast, especially if the rain continues.

We cleaned out our storage unit, and I have until April 30 to get rid of everything that we brought home because Jeff will need a place to sleep at that point. His basement bachelor pad is completely overrun. It has been both disturbing and energizing to see what was in there. Part Christmas morning, part "What was I Thinking???" The good thing about living as though I survived the great depression is that if someone needs something, I usually have it. Really. Ask me the next time you need something, as long as it's before April 30th.

And then there's the books, darn it. I have such trouble getting rid of books. They are such lovely objects, and each one holds the promise of worlds yet undiscovered. How can I get rid of a story I haven't delved into yet? Or condemn a favorite, well-worn old tome to the recycling pile just because I have a shiny new edition of it? Even if the cover is ripped off and 6 pages are missing from the middle, it has all my notes from my first college reading in the margins!

Okay, see, I am starting to sound mentally ill. It's not that bad, just 30 or so boxes left, and I'm making good progress. 3 boxes a day at least is my goal and I'm sticking to it. Dumpster day is coming soon to our neighborhood, and I'll be ready! I've been very brave about getting rid of stuff and very reluctant to keep things that I haven't thought about in 4 years.

Last week, my sister and her family came in from Kentucky. She was on her spring break from teaching at Eastern Kentucky University and came home to try to finish up her Doctoral Thesis in preparation for her defense at Gallaudet University. If getting a PhD is like a birth, then she is in transition, feeling the urge to push but they're telling her not to because she's not quite dilated all the way. She'll get there, but these last bits of the process are painful, even for me just watching. In spite of her being super-busy and not really able to visit, it was good to see her kids--my kids have definitely been suffering from cousin withdrawal.

Also last week, I looked down at my beeping phone one morning to find a text from my pal E. Those text messages are always good news because she is great about inviting me out for good fun. Half the time I'm busy and have to miss out, but that day, I could actually meet her for cocoa at Starbucks and it made my day to see her. I'd been a bit down and laughing with a kindred spirit is a sure-fire cure for that.

Saturday found me sleeping in like a lazy bum, then heading out to see a wonderful Irish Dance show. I was so inspired that I got out my fiddle for the first time in months and pretended to play all the fiddle tunes I know. It was fun for me, if not for those who had to listen. Why is it that people like me secretly wish we were Irish? Well I am a wee bit, but not really enough for authenticity. I do enjoy pretending though.

Yesterday brought an afternoon spent with a lovely woman I met 14 years ago, but have seen relatively few times since then. We met in a quilting class way back when I was pregnant with Evan, then kept up though knitting classes at the shop where I work. We always feel a kinship when we're together, but we live an hour and a half apart, and we both live normal, busy lives that revolve around family. She has been faithful about keeping in touch and as a result I always think of her as a friend, not an acquaintance. She makes handcrafted soaps, and I have a bar of her creation that I'm loathe to unwrap and use up because it is a reminder of her. I keep it on a shelf with other sentimental keepsakes from friends. Anyway, I'm so grateful that we got to spend some time together yesterday and share a bit of our lives. It was relaxing and fun to be with someone to whom I could talk so easily. Thanks friend!

In other news, all is mostly well. Late winter tends to be a time not so much to experience as to be gotten through-the world is waiting for the next big thing, and everything seems a bit paused and slow. I have my days of slogging through the mud, then my days of soaring through the blue skies, and that is about all I can ask-enough of the one to balance out the other.

So, there you have it-all my secrets-not safe from anyone, least of all my computer.