ChrisCam

Went for a walk in the graveyard with Bright yesterday, as the sun was setting and sending pretty light through the trees. The oldest grave I remember seeing was from 1779 (and it was the college's founder's), and the coolest few had been placed too close to a tree, which in the hundreds of years since the burials had expanded its own size and partly grown over the gravestones. One is entirely swallowed, with only a small bit of the writing viewable, while the other, though firmly ensconsed, looks precariously about to topple.

Bright and I stood there taking pictures that are not likely to come out, and she said, "I'm sure whatever's left of them has been sucked into the tree by now." An interesting thought.

So I'm considering taking tae kwon do and pilates this term to force me to stay in shape. I'll be discussing other unrealistic goals soon, once i've decided what they are. Like I told Mich, I left all my non-cute-ish clothes at home, so I'd be forced to not look like a slob. Which means the three non-cute shirts I did slip in will be reworn into oblivion, as the likelihood of me dressing up almost every day, with all 10am classes, is just NOT GOOD.

Classes start tomorrow! Here we go...

Went for a walk in the graveyard with Bright yesterday, as the sun was setting and sending pretty light through the trees. The oldest grave I remember seeing was from 1779 (and it was the college's founder's), and the coolest few had been placed too close to a tree, which in the hundreds of years since the burials had expanded its own size and partly grown over the gravestones. One is entirely swallowed, with only a small bit of the writing viewable, while the other, though firmly ensconsed, looks precariously about to topple.

Bright and I stood there taking pictures that are not likely to come out, and she said, "I'm sure whatever's left of them has been sucked into the tree by now." An interesting thought.

So I'm considering taking tae kwon do and pilates this term to force me to stay in shape. I'll be discussing other unrealistic goals soon, once i've decided what they are. Like I told Mich, I left all my non-cute-ish clothes at home, so I'd be forced to not look like a slob. Which means the three non-cute shirts I did slip in will be reworn into oblivion, as the likelihood of me dressing up almost every day, with all 10am classes, is just NOT GOOD.

Classes start tomorrow! Here we go...

So living in the sorority may be less fun than I was expecting...my double bed is gone! The college just changed the rules to say no renting beds, so I'm stuck with a single bed. Which makes my room, instead of an awesomely huge crib with a giant bed in it, a large room with a puke colored couch, a parking lot view, and sound-bombarded by the frat next door. Sweet.

No naked pillow fights for me...

Dear Bright: Resident Evil was not allowed to have random red flying monsters just because the video game had them. It had to have a REASON.

Another lemonade sale, this one right on our street. The newborn I babysat for in highschool sat there, grown big, with three school chums grinning at my car. No one drives up our street; as I was the only customer of course I had to stop.
(His mom has me come over at first while she's there, practicing holding Chris and changing diapers. Then she stays downstairs while I watch him upstairs. A few weeks later, they leave me with the three wonderful kids. I enlist their help, beautiful smiling Michaela and adorable quiet Rob, and she confidently directs me as to how Chris' bedtime routine usually goes. Michaela heats up the milk while Rob grabs Chris' blanky, and they get ready for bed, so good, while I sit in the rocking chair in Chris' room and rock back and forth, using just the tips of my toes, holding him against me and watching his lips on the bottle and his eyes look straight at mine, fingers curling around mine. A moment of, "Ohh...this is why we love babies and want them and protect them and adore them. Someday I'll want this baby on my lap to be mine. I see." And his eyelids fluttering slowly, closing, curtains drawn but waving in the wind, and I gingerly lay him in his crib. After all the bedtime stories are read and the other two sweethearts are quiet, I sit downstairs staring at the monitor, listening to every breath. Even this isn't good enough and I slip upstairs every ten minutes to check them all, listen to all of their quiet nighttime breaths, Rob in spiderman PJs and hot sweaty limbs flung outside the covers, Kayla still in her canopied bed, and Chris restless and beautiful. I sit in his rocking chair alertly listening to him breathe, fascinated by it all, terrified he'll stop breathing, until the rumble of the garage door tells me his parents are home.)
They beam at me while I get out. Bright yellow lemonade, filled with sugar and probably no lemons, in a pitcher. One pours while the other holds the cup with two hands, staring intently to make sure nothing spills. I contemplate this 50 cent purchase, and gravely order two cookies at 25 cents apiece, but as I'm late to a tennis lesson and they have no napkins I say I'll get them later. As I get in the car, Chris holds up the bill and squeals, "We have a WHOLE DOLLAR!!!" (We all know how much more fun a dollar is than fifty cents, right?) I know I'm an old fogey, but they grow up too fast!!!

I am having a tennis themed week, what with watching the Open (no Americans in the final, a tragedy), taking some lessons (there are occasional glimpses of how I used to play, although it's mostly just me wildly swinging at anything I have to move my feet for), and finally hanging out with my tennis pro, a cool 29 year old Romanian dude, with whom I saw Resident Evil, bringing this post to a satisfying full circle.

I have contacts in my eyes!!

This is huge, as I am and have always been terrified of anything near my eyes. Just scary. (Did y'all have those dreams when you were younger that your eyes fell out and you had to go looking for them? Nooot coooool.) So I'm really excited, although I'm not sure I'll be able to stick with them because it still feels like there is something in my eye. Dust, an eyelash--well it doesn't hurt like an eyelash but I can still feel it, which is CREEPY. And I am Miss No Depth Perception, which gets old really fast: I'm walking funny and haven't tried driving yet. But I'm sitting out ont he porch right now and SEEING all the leaves on the trees, and every petal of every flower, and the expression on the cats face from out behind the pool. So I'm not giving up yet.

And Sharapova lost today, which is too bad, although it was a nice match and I've liked Mary Pierce since she signed an autograph for me years and years ago. We were at the Open, on the Grandstand Court, on which you can sneak down into the rich people's boxes when no one's looking. And I am sneaky, and my mom made me dress nicely so we'd fit in when we snuck down, and I do wide-eyed innocent very well. So I sneak down, and Mary is playing mixed doubles with Murphy Jensen, who I had a huge crush on at the time. He and his brother Luke were a fun doubles team, using signals back and forth to each other, wearing costumes, and having FUN out there all the time. (They wore colored sunglasses and football jerseys and lauughed and played flashy points and hit balls between their legs and dove for shots and did all manner of things that made it probably tougher for them to win but won lots of fans' hearts.) So anyway, Luke hits a gorgeous serve that just misses deep, and I say, "Ooh, nice serve." He turns around and says, "Thanks!" and flashes a smile. A few points later, he looks back at me again and says, "Mary! Look at that girl, she looks just like you!" Ok, so I didn't, but I was blond and blue eyed and ponytailed and so was she, so good enough. He kept up a little dialogue with me every time he was on that side, saying hi and smiling. Afterward, as I howl for his autograph, he comes and finds me and autographs my hat as I swoon. Mary had been working the other side of the crowd, but wasn't in a happy mood and left before walking my direction. I sprinted around the court, ducking under grownups and posts, and hurl the upper half of my body over the railing as she disappears into the tunnel. "MARY!!!!!" I yell into the gloom as she walks away, "MURPHY SAYS I LOOK LIKE YOU!" This amused her enough that she came over, back out of the tunnel, although in the shuffle I'd lost my marker and stood there, stricken, as my chance looked like it was gone...until an elderly man who worked there and was escorting her away smiled at me and tossed me a pen. And I got my autograph. And dressed up as long haired Luke Jensen that Halloween. Yay tennis. And Agassi won today, so it is a good day.