I’m lonely.  And not just for the Canadian, for he seems almost a distant memory, but for the collective men I’ve lost.  It makes me want to listen to Joni Mitchell.  I’m back; I just put Morning Morgantown on.  It soothes and feeds my mood, all at the same time.

People act like I’m overly suspicious.  They say I’m too picky.  I think it’s that I consistently attract men, I won’t say cads, but men who are adept at meeting their needs in business and in pleasure, who play by their own rules.  And I’m all for being savvy in business, I just don’t like trickery.

And I’m not saying I was tricked, though it feels like it.  All I know is that after a brief disappearing act, while he supposedly was weighing the pros and cons of sleeping with me (I told him to ask his analyst) I got this email:

1. Are you currently studying, or working, or others? If a student, what major, if working, what as? If others, what are you doing?   I trade stocks
   
2. What is one of your short-term goals – such as saving money to travel/ get a new camera/ buy a house, get married, indulge in a new hobby, etc.?      The kinds of goals I have are things like learn Spanish, be a better trader, be a better dancer.  I just want to hone my skills
3. What nationality are you? What languages can you speak?   I’m 1/8th everything.  I speak English and a little Spanish. 
4. What’s your favourite choice of drink in the mornings?   Black tea called Toucha.  If I’ve been out drinking the night before I’ll go through the drive-through window at Dutch Bros and order a 12 oz soy latte. 
5. If you could do one thing tomorrow, something that you never thought you’d be able to do (such as bungee-jumping, modelling, etc.), what would it be?  Take a trip to Greece or Italy and spend a couple weeks where they don’t speak English.  I am working on being more open to less control.
6. What does your Xanga name mean?  It’s my name spelled backwards.
7. Why do you have a Xanga?   So I can practice writing.  I wanted to become adept at first person.  But now it’s become so much more.  It’s therapy.  It’s friendship.  It helps keep me honest.  It’s become an integral tool for processing what I see, what I say, what happens around me.  I’ve tried to leave it but I always come back, needing it more.
8. What is one characteristic you love, and hate, about yourself?  That I’m so transparent
9. What is one of your long-term goals? Say, 10 years down the road.   That I will have found a partner
10. Tell me one thing (an object) that you simply cannot live without.  My computer.

I got this from BoureeMusique

My family are all at the beach for the annual, fourth-of-July bash that started yesterday and will go through Sunday.  Right about now they (the girls and their fifteen friends) will be getting in costume, while the grownups take the chairs downtown.  The kids will be checking in after the parade.  They love to tell me what a bitch the new wife is and how different the deck is and how weird her kids are.  The new wife’s mother will be there but Henry’s mother has opted out this year, a first.  I should call her so we can commiserate.

Being diligent about trying to focus on what I have and not what I have lost, I went down my front steps, down to the river, in the heat.  I admired my neighbor’s gardens, stopping to let the pale, yellow petals brush my lips, being grateful that these old houses still have roses with scent.  Even better was the house with no flowers.  They had a sprinkler like the ones my kids ran through.  I waited for the cold spray to shock my knees and remembered when I was eight and all I needed was a popsickle. 

Enjoy your holiday,

Prudy

I saw the Canadian.  We strolled through the woods, holding Starbucks instead of cocktails.  He showed me where their dog swam.  I followed him in the brilliant sun in a new kind of dance, not sure how close to stand.  We moved carefully, along the river’s edge, picking our way through the reeds and his story. 

Remember the Black sax player and how his bride had breast cancer?  I ran into them at the hospital yesterday.  She was in a wheelchair.  I walked with them down to the basement for her MRI, and we made plans for me to join them on the 4th.  I’ll sit with her while he plays.  We have a big, four-day blues festival every 4th of July, and I’m pleased he was chosen to play that night.

When I was leaving the hospital parking lot I saw three people holding hands across the street.  In the middle was the mother, flanked by her two boys in their early 60s.  When I was telling the oldest just now (she and the middle one are driving to the beach house), my voice broke as I lamented, ”You just don’t see that.”  She says they are taking me for a walk when they get home.