August 20, 2007 § Leave a comment
Today at lunch a stranger approached me to ask what I was reading (Persuasion by Jane Austen, under the thus-far misguided idea that it would be the book to make me finally appreciate victorian literature). He then asked me to read a poem that he had written to his “second father — I don’t really have a father, but he is the closest thing I have so he is my second father.” It was a lovely poem, but the whole thing made me uncomfortable; too much uninvited intimacy for a Monday afternoon.
Stuff like that happens to me a lot, actually. People show up out of nowhere and pour pieces of themselves out to me as I sit there without any idea of how I can escape. They must all be lonely, and I suppose it says good things about my aura or whatever you want to call it, but it’s so intense to have a stranger come to me and share these raw, naked parts with me without even offering a name.
When I got up on Saturday morning I thought Dunnigan would be my last race until the Giro or those races in Chico at the end of September, but I had so much fun and was so excited to finally not get dropped that I might just try San Ardo. Maybe.
I’ve decided to get a coach next year; I’m tired of wondering whether I’m mediocre because I don’t maximize my training or whether it’s just plain old me. Time to take one of the options out of my hands.
When making a test batch of a new cupcake recipe, you should definitely make sure to check the yield before you sift the dry ingredients together, cream the butter and sugar and put the wet ingredients into one bowl, lest two hours later you find yourself with 36 cupcakes from a recipe you weren’t even sure of to begin with.*
*Luckily it’s hard to go wrong with chocolate.