Stars

And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
~ Anais Nin

Misty's leaving on Saturday for New York for her great adventure. She has an apartment, and she has friends there, and she has work, and soon school will start.

Bob and I went to dinner with her last night, and she gave me a little book of aphorisms (I don't have it with me, so I don't remember the name--oh--something about "thoughts to keep your soul alive," I think, and a couple of candy suckers on long, long plastic sticks that look like fairy wands, and this mirrored star with a string of mirrors falling down from it, strung on fishing line so the line disappears and the mirrors look like they're suspended in air, which I guess, actually, they are.

I'm not exactly sure why I should have gotten a gift, since she is the one leaving, but I did! I gave her an address book, which wasn't nearly as much fun as the string of stars.

She said it was for my office, since I don't have any windows. I think that's a feng shui thing, to bring light into a closed room. I hung them on the wall beside the door so that they're right in front of me.

It's not a very good picture, though.

Bob was the first one at the restaurant, and I got there about fifteen minutes before the appointed time and met him in the bar. I dumped my purse next to him and went to the restroom, and by the time I got back, he had ordered me a Bloody Mary--I was starving, and immediately ate the celery.

He was having a beer, or an ale or something, and we sat and talked and told each other about our respective days, and after awhile he looked at his watch and said, "Where's Misty, do you think she went to the wrong place?" And I thought surely not, we'd confirmed during the day, and I kept watching the door, and a little while later I suddenly saw her walk through the door to the bar, but I hadn't seen her come in the front door. Well, she'd been early, too, but had assumed we weren't there yet and had been sitting on a bench in front.

Exactly the same thing I'd done a year or more ago when I had met her and some other friends at the same restaurant, so I know how easy it is to do. I always remember that, though, and walk in and scan before I settle in to wait . . .

Anyway, we finally hooked up, and had appetizers (spinach dip and stuffed mushrooms), and ordered dinner (mahi-mahi for Misty, ribs for Bob, and HUGE butterfly shrimp for me--honestly, they weren't all that huge, but HUGE butterfly shrimp was how they were listed on the menu, so we kept the joke rolling). Then the waiter brought the dessert menu and explained that they'd changed the menu, and that the desserts--five of them--were pretty small, which I thought was a good idea, since they used to be HUGE (like the shrimp), and no one could eat all of one.

So Bob said, "Bring us one of everything!"

There was cappucino cake, and Snickers ice cream on a chocolate cookie, and an apple/blueberry cobbler thing with ice cream on top, and strawberry cheesecake, and something else . . . oh, a hot fudge sundae. And we ate pretty much all of it, pushing the dishes around on the table from one to the other.

Then, we went back to the bar and had shots. Well, Bob and Misty had shots, I had a Diet Coke. I'm a lightweight.

Then we went home and I passed out. Well, I didn't pass out, I fell asleep. Is that the same thing? I just laid down on the bed, on top of the covers, in my shorts and t-shirt, and dozed fitfully; I kept waking up and feeling cold, but I guess not cold enough that I would actually get up and either get underneath the covers or get a blanket . . . I hate that. It's like I'm just asleep enough that my brain isn't really working right, but there's something wrong (being cold) that prevents me from actually falling deeply asleep.

And then of course Pyewacket was grumpy because Bob must have shut her out of the office, so she was walking around on the bed and the nightstands, and then jumped up on Bob's dresser, which is something that I can't ignore because she'll either start knocking things off or try to climb up on the bookcase, which could be a disaster. So I had to get up to haul her off the dresser, and used that opportunity to drag my clothes off and get back in bed, this time underneath the covers, and Pyewacket curled up on Bob's pillow.

At some point Bob came to bed, and he said he would have come to bed sooner, but Dinah had wanted cuddling, and whatever Dinah wants, Dinah gets . . .

She simply demands to be held, and she really is hard to resist, because it's so obvious what she wants. So he sat back down in his chair and she curled up on his chest, and they both dozed off for a half hour or so, then she woke up and jumped off, and he came in to bed with Pyewacket and me.