duck-shaped pain

People were actually downtown tonight, for a change. Usually, once darkness hits, the downtown area here is completely empty, save for a few people scurrying from restaurants to their cars and the odd person here and there walking home from the grocery story or just wandering around aimlessly. Doing the latter, however, tends to get you stared at � the streets here are not crowded enough to allow one to wander with any sort of anonymity.

Some things are hard to find where I live � decent comics, Indian food, Green Party members � but the rarest thing of all is complete anonymity. Even though my town has grown quite a bit in the last decade or so, it still feels tiny in many ways. There's still a sense that your business is everyone's business, and whatever you do, someone's going to notice it and remember it at opportune times in the future. People elsewhere may decry the loss of "community" in their own particular locales, but speaking as a resident of a place where no one minds their own business, those people don't know how lucky they are at times.

But, that's beside the point, sort of. Downtown was full of people because there was some sort of big Christmas wingding going on. I'm not sure of the specifics (this is some recent tradition that started after I thought I was gone from here for good), but basically, all the stores downtown are open late and everyone serves refreshments and there's live entertainment. Which means that the bagel shop was open much later than usual. Which means that I needed to take full advantage of this, you see. So I was sitting there drinking my drink and reading my book, watching people come in or walk around in the dark.

I usually sit at the same table whenever I go there � one right in the front, in the window. I like it because I can see out while I'm there and it's far enough away from the counter that I don't have to deal with the people standing in line. But this also means that those outside can see what I'm doing. Especially at night, with the store lit up behind me. So I kept wondering what those outside were thinking if they saw me. Were they feeling bad for me? I mean, it was Friday night and here I was, by myself, sitting at a tiny table, relating only to the book in front of me? Were they feeling jealous? Here I am, with the kind of free time [1] to sit around drinking coffee and reading in public, instead of being hassled by Xmas shopping or parties or family or whatever. I have no idea what anyone would be thinking, but I'm sure it probably went more along the lines of Hey, time for a beer than anything else. Still, someone as self-conscious as me can't help but wonder.

Still, it was nice to have people out and about at night downtown. It almost felt like a real place for while.

Good things: Negra Modelo � my favorite Mexican beer. Tomatillo salsa. Driving around randomly at night, listening to My Bloody Valentine. After ten years, listening to Loveless still makes me feel like a goddam astronaut. The last time I drove around listening to it late at night, I was driving north on the Boulder Turnpike. I started playing it at the Federal exit, and then sort of zoned out for awhile, floating around, listening to it. Then it was over, and I realized that I was nearly in Estes Park, 30 miles past where I needed to be. Dangerous, really.

Tonight:

I went to a Christmas party tonight. My coworker, E. was having one to show off her new house. I usually try to avoid work-related events if possible, but I like E., so I went.

I wore my new shirt I bought this afternoon. It's dark purple velvet with pearly shell buttons � I've wanted it for awhile, and I figured this was as good an excuse as any. I am seriously lacking in fancy clothing these days. So I got all semi-gussied up: I wore the velvet shirt, my short black skirt and heels � the first time (and maybe the last, judging by how I feel several hours later) I've worn heels since I broke my leg. I even wore mascara, and the time did not stand still and the Earth did not crash into the sun.

The orders were to bring some food. I originally planned to bring coffee pecan squares, but they a) require too much effort and b) E. warned me that everyone else she knew was afflicted with feverish Pecan Madness, so it was best to make another selection. I went for tapenade � the ingredients can be pricey, but it only takes 5 or so minutes of quality time with the blender to make. And it keeps forever. And it's good on bread or as a pasta sauce. My recipe is adapted slightly from the tapenade recipe in Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone�

Tapenade

• 1/2 lb. olives (I use a mixture of half standard black olives, half Spanish green olives, pimentos removed), rinsed

• 1/4 cup capers, rinsed

• 4 cloves garlic, sliced

• 1/4 cup olive oil

• Zest and juice of one lemon

• 1 tsp. ground black pepper

• 1 tsp. red pepper flakes

Combine in blender. Blend until a pleasing paste forms. Devour.

The party was okay. E. has a really nice house � it's an enormous log house on top of a hill � that she and her husband built themselves. So it was nice to finally see it and look around. Still, I didn't know anyone there but her and everyone else there was about 20 years older than me. This usually doesn't bother me, but I was having a hard time getting a conversation going with anyone. I kept mentally comparing this party to the last major holiday party I went to (or remember going to), where the main attraction was that someone brought a bong shaped like a chicken. Quite a difference.

I mingled and I ate sheep dip and chicken pate. I drank wine and talked to people about their golf games. I admired the pellet heater. And then it was time to go.

On my way home, I stopped by the record/book/video store. Dunno why, just felt like it. I wandered around aimlessly for awhile. I sat down to look at a book, and there was this older guy sitting in the chair next to me. He said hi � I said hi back. I was hoping this was the end of it � I was all conversed out, really. Then he started talking at me, asking me what people like me do for fun in this town. I could have answered any number of possibly disturbing answers, but I didn't. He asked me all sorts of questions, all of which I either dodged or answered with complete lies. Who was this guy, and why was he asking me these things?

I got up to go. I said I needed to go home in a hurry. He thanked me for the conversation (what conversation), saying he needed to "talk to a real live adult thinking female once in awhile to keep in his memory." Whatever that means.

On my way out of the parking lot, I noticed that one of my headlights went out. You know where this goes � I got pulled over on my way home (actually, only a quarter mile from my home) for having only one light. I didn't get a ticket � the officer was very polite, but I could have. I have Oregon plates and a Colorado driver's license. My proof of insurance expired three days ago and I haven't received the new one. I didn't have my registration with me. And the headlight. Telling him, "I haven't registered my car here because the state of Oregon lost my title" felt like a completely lame excuse, but it's the complete truth.

[1] Ha ha. I wish.

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