rudigersmooch

A dash of snow came down around two thirty and again around six. Not enough to stick around, but enough to notice it wasn't rain. It was one of the more exciting moments of a day brought low by a cold. The ENT doctor yesterday and two rapid tests this morning are decent enough confirmation I can accept that's all it is, which is as cold a comfort as I can get these days.

I can't remember when I bought them, but the tonics I got from the herb farm at the farmer's market seem to be doing a better job of calming my throat down than anything else I've tried. As that's all I want them for, I'll stick with what seems to be working. Anything for a good night's sleep. There's only so many pots of tea you can drink in a day.

Despite bad sleep last night, I got up and got going this morning. I ran just over 2.3 miles in 30 minutes as a new personal record, and took the stairs up to the gym also. I visited an ear-nose-throat specialist and was told I don't need to panic, and hearing it from a professional makes that a good deal easier. I went to a coffee shop on Madison Avenue that was fancy by Madison Avenue standards, got a vanilla latte and a glass of orange juice that were unfortunately both worth the high price tag, wrote some in my notebook, deliberately overtipped, and rode a bike back through Central Park.

I cooked monster sauce for the first time in a long time - so called because it's doctored up out of spare parts. A can of this, half a can of that. Some of this, more of that. It's always tomato based and it's about the only thing I make entirely on vibes. I ate it a lot in grad school, but haven't for years. The timing seemed right to do it tonight.

I did some editing and managed to get my stuff together enough to send out a query letter. I'm gearing up to wait for the rejection while also reminding myself any submission is a good one to stay in practice for the task.

I've gotten lovely notes and great cards, and all that would make it a good birthday. But all that could have gone aside and it'd still be a wonderful birthday. Because some weeks ago, I preordered an album and it arrived today. An album I'd waited weeks for, and months, and an album I could say I waited years for without knowing it. Because for well over a decade, I'd specify the difference between my favorite band presently making music and my favorite band no longer making music. And now I can't make that distinction quite so easily anymore.

Because after 19 years, Voxtrot released their second album.

19 years ago, I was in college. I was looking out towards the Pacific Ocean, drinking a jack and coke because that's what I'd been able to get the courage to buy for myself. I hadn't written any novels, or any fics of substantial length, either. I'd barely learned how to finish what I'd started.

19 years ago, I'd only seen the world end once.

This isn't an album the band could've made back then. They didn't have the broader maturity or experience on display here. It's still Voxtrot, beautifully so, and it's as rich and tasty and filling as ever. I don't know how I'd have taken it if they'd released it 17 years ago, 15, 10. Nineteen years. I've traveled the world and seen it end and seen it come back. I've said goodbye to people without knowing it was the last time, and welcomed more into my life. I've gone dancing and singing and been kissed a few times. There's things I'd change about the last 19 years, and few of them are about my life and what I've been doing.

It took Voxtrot 19 years to make another finely cut gem of an album that I think is better than their first.

I hope it doesn't take them another 19 years.

I got invited to my dad's book group meeting tonight in the capacity of caterer. I brought the cake and I helped the host's wife in the kitchen, where she and I ate while the book group sat around the larger table in the dining room. There's no hard feelings - they're friends that wanted to see each other, and I liked catching up with her. We talked about daytime talk shows, MASH and its laugh track, women by themselves, bad books recently read, and a little bit of poetry. She said that the skin on my chest - the dress I wore was modestly low cut and still well below my neck - was an amazing white, pale, smooth, like something in an old poem about describing beautiful women.

She also suggested I'd be good as a special education teacher, and when I said I didn't have the patience for more than one kid, she said I could do one-on-one. I know how hard that work is, and found it deeply touching she thinks so highly of me. It's not something I think I'll actively pursue, and it's still quite touching.

Everyone loved the cake I brought. Two people asked for slices to take home and share, one person asked for a second slice to eat right there, and two more asked for slices for their breakfasts. I was told it was sublime and that I outdid myself; I replied that next time I'd simply have to do myself, which got a chuckle. One of the other members drove there instead of walking or using public transit, so my dad and I got a lift back to our place. A gentle end to a nice night.