party-crashing menstrual faeries
Tuesday 12 December 2006 | someone left a cookie
As I dine tonight off the appropriately incarnadine cherry pie (deemed not pretty enough for landlords), I am relieved to be able to explain the last few posts by noting that the menstrual faeries saw fit to arrive a full four days early. This is dual cause for celebration; not only am I off the hook [was I ever on one?] for feeling so utterly downcast, but also now the Brujo and I can leave on time, Saturday morning, for…our trip to Baja. To Baja!
I don’t think I’ve posted about this excursion at all—probably from some superstitious fear, as you cover your baby’s beautiful face lest the gods covet it for their own. But your Unnarrator, having grown up scant hours from the border, has never been to Mexico; and is practically bouncing up and down with excitement about going with her beloved B. (albeit bouncing with a subdued, slightly uterine-hampered enthusiasm). And in fact I might not say much more, because I’ve cherished it as a lovely aqua-saturated daydream for months now, and as I type even this much I find myself feeling increasingly close-mouthed. But what a joy to be somewhere else, and somewhere non-American, even with all the attendant carsickness and scorpion bites and turista and Lord knows what all. If you don’t count my twice-annual drive to Texas, or Zen retreats, this would be the first thing accurately denominated “vacation” I’ve been on in years—the annual trips to Britain with the Physicist were sort of that; though they were of necessity mostly family-dominated, I usually fled for a day or two to Edinburgh or Oxford to see one of the Witches. But the last one of those for me was in 2002. And while this may be a place with gigantic scolopendra and dodgy water and so forth, it will also have palm trees and cacti, and not one but two large blue oceans, and I will wear a t-shirt without thermal underwear, and see new things, and write bits of poems and songs in my journal, and butcher the Spanish language and offend locals and eat fish tacos! Truly I cannot wait. I shall never survive the intervening days.
And we will take the laptop and the digital camera, which means I should disgorge some of the Texas fotografía from my files. And which also means I have scant days to finish my UHawaii application, due January 1—to beg referrers and request transcripts and polish critical writing samples and and and and and. Strangely, my premenstruum invariably ends with a bang as soon as the first earth-colored smudge appears; and the energy and joy return in a gush of relief. Is it so necessary for my psyche to have some kind of excuse for its shenanigans? I don’t know, haven’t known for twenty years. But for whatever godless reasons known only to them, the weevils subside and I’m grateful, because boy howdy I got a lot to do.
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Fantastico! I am so very pleased that you’re going. Have a lovely time basking in the sun and butchering the Spanish. It is so cold here in Salamanca, and still colder in the next stop, Granada, that I occasionally wonder why I didn’t go somewhere warmer to learn to butcher Spanish. Have a wonderful journey. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE