duck-shaped pain

Tan cover. Tan metal spiral holding it together. Smooth tan paper mottled with dark brown spots here and there.

For someone so hung up on the austerity of black notebooks with white paper inside, someone like me, a brown notebook is quite a change. But I couldn't help it. It's the one that I noticed in the stack of notebooks at the store. When I picked it up, it just felt right. Like when you find the right blue shirt at the thrift store or something similar to that.

I didn't really need a new notebook, not really. I thought it would be a good idea to buy one, though, because of the other notebook and the problems it presents.

I've been writing in the enormous bound book I bought in San Francisco in March. 9 1/2 inches by 12 inches. 800 pages. Big. Important. A perfect home for Serious Thoughts, if I were to ever have any. I was allured by the challenge of such a tome.

Using it presented some problems. It was hard to hold. I set up the desk in my office just for this book, since I couldn't easily use it just sitting in a chair -- there was more wrangling than writing going on. It didn't come close to fitting in my bag, so I couldn't have it with me at most times like I'd been able to do with previous notebooks. While I could carry it around with me in my arms, I had to plan ahead whenever I left the house -- am I going to use this today? It was like I had to plan dates with the notebook, which usually went similar to dates with real humans I've had -- I would sit there, looking at it, and it would just lay there, unopened and silent. Plus, lugging it around was a real bitch -- it didn't conform to the shape of my inner arm well. And I felt the need to explain it every time I took it in a store. "No, really, I didn't buy this here. See inside? I've written in it. Which means I didn't steal it." Of course, the ladies in the grocery store just stared at me, thinking, Maybe I should call security. Just so she'll go away.

Then I just stopped paying attention to it. Days, then weeks went by and I didn't open it. I dreaded opening it up to find that after three months of use, I hadn't even filled up half of it. I imagined myself still smacking it around in September, and realized that this had to top.

Now I have a brown notebook. It fits in my bag. I can spend 30 or 40 minutes writing and find that I've actually made a dent in the thing. It doesn't look like I'm lugging a favorite coffee-table book everywhere with me. I actually look forward to using it. Things are looking up.

Went out with Z. and D. last night. D. is a friend of ours from high school who turns up sort of sporadically whenever Z. comes home to visit. He used to be kind of an idiot, but now he's a systems administrator. Occasionally, a glimpse of his past shines through, though.

I got there and it was LOUD. Unbearably loud. The army of tank top girls and their pursuers crowded around the bar made enough ambient noise for the whole town. I could barely hear anything that was going on within a one-foot radius of my head.

They were joined by this guy J., who I sort of know. I don't want to know him any more than I presently do, because he's one of those people that just annoys me by merely existing. I'm not sure what it is -- his confrontational manner (you can't tell him your name without him arguing with you about it), his body language, biochemical problems, something -- but his presence just set me on edge. That plus the noise plus the fact that I wasn't drinking anything made me Not Fun To Be Around.

Since my trip to the doctor last month didn't help much, I've been following the smattering of advice that I was given. Keep track of everything you eat. See how it makes you feel. See if there are any patterns in food and mood. Get more exercise. Oh yeah, don't have more than one beer or glass of wine a day.

I could care less about sweets. I'll eat them if they're around, but I never really crave them. Chips and salty snacks are more of a problem. But my big problem in the Things That Screw With Your Blood Sugar department is alcohol. So we're trying the one drink a day thing for now to see what happens. Most days this isn't a problem. It never has been. But when I go out with people, it is, since we're usually gone for hours and hours. Four hours divided by one beer equals lots of tiny sips and a drink that is much too warm for most of the time you're drinking it. Bleah.

So last night, I wasn't expecting to go out, so I had my one drink sitting in quiet comfort at home. Then, about 10:30, they came by, knocking at the door and yelling things. So I went with them. And I didn't have anything to drink. I suppose I could have been more lenient and had something, but you know you are when you first start a regimen -- a total hard-ass on yourself. It's only when you've lived with it for awhile that you find where you can go easy and when to be strict.

We also went out on Friday night, but without D. I decided to try getting a glass of wine instead of a beer, because I find it easier to slowly sip wine. It's more expensive, so I try to make it last a long time. But a good rule to follow is never order wine in a microbrewery. They just have them on hand for people who hate beer, and the scorn shows. I already knew that I didn't like their red wine selections, so I looked at the whites. Chardonnay Chardonnay Chardonnay Chardonnay. Nothing else. I really dislike most Chard. I'm not sure why, but it just doesn't feel right in my mouth. But, on unimaginative wine lists, that's all the white you're going to get.

I ordered the one Colorado Chard they had, thinking that at least I could support the local economy. It arrived, much too cold. Icy frosty glass. Couldn't taste a thing. Still, I drank it. Beer it is next time, though. [1]

It was supposed to be 103 degrees today. I prepared for it, watering all the plants and giving the lawn a good soaking last night. I went for a long walk last night, thinking it might be too hot today. I planned to just stay at home under the cooler, which is all anyone should do on a day that hot.

Then a big cloud cover rolled into the valley and now it's just muggy. 85 degrees, maybe. Nice.

[1] I've gone out the winery where this wine came from, and the people who run it are really unpleasant. Half of the time they claim to be open, they're closed, and the other times, they visitors in with a frown. The atmosphere in the tasting room just screams How Could You Waste Our Time By Coming Here? You're Not Even Going To Buy Anything! No wonder their wines taste bad. There are much better local wines available, so I have no idea why this one had been chosen.

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