Busy, bzz bzz. Wednesday I dashed into the city to meet Sei for a drink. I was horribly late, a very bad habit I've gotten into since realizing I have no judgment at all about how long it will take me to drive anywhere in Bay Area traffic. We tucked into some eggplant, meatballs, and rice at a noodle bar in Japantown, and I solicited her opinion on my various experiences in Japan. We talked a lot about college, and I'm totally inspired to try once more for my undergrad degree. She looked cute as a bug (another insect metaphor!) and very fashionable. It reminded me to go shopping for something appropriate to wear to the opera on Sunday - we've got good seats for Don Giovanni, and I prefer not to be underdressed for the San Francisco Opera. Sure, I used to go wearing jeans and a sweater, but now I'm a grownup, and also I have a much better budget, and with Sei looking so fashionable it wouldn't do to turn up wearing any old thing.

So that's what I did Thursday night after work. I hit the ground running at Hillsdale Mall, feeling the shopping vibe strongly, knowing I was going to score. And I did! One slinky, jersey black shirt that magically removes pounds from my figure, one black and rose chiffon skirt that hits exactly the current fashionable hemline just below the knee (just like the girls all wore in the Ginza), and a small, funky, beaded purse to give the outfit a little pizazz. I also got something I swore I'd never buy: pants hemmed at just below the calf, high enough to not remind me of the year I grew so fast my pants legs were perpetually dorkily short, but not so high that they looked like beachwear. These pants are made of black stretch denim, and have black beaded fringe, so I'm convinced I look "hip" and "cool" and I don't want anyone telling me otherwise.

But the real score was getting three new bras. Don't laugh, bwana. I think most women go through life with the wrong bra size because looking for undergarments is such a monumental and potentially humiliating hassle. You find something that fits, and you stick with it, by gum, even years after you've outgrown that size or that style because trying on bras makes you feel like there's something wrong with your body. Manufacturers have very odd ideas about women's breast shapes. It's much, much worse than trying on clothes, believe me. I perservered (it was a very good sale) and found the right size, and a style I can live with -- I won't wear lace, or garments that make me look like I have twin torpedos, which leaves sports bras. Unfortunately, there aren't lots of sports bras made for women my size.

So that was great. Bras that fit, clothes for the opera, a couple of new hair scrunchies, and a buoyant feeling. The only thing I didn't find was new shoes to go with the outfit, but there's always Saturday. Only Saturday I'm promised to Denise and Michael. Denise and I are going to work on her web page so she can start selling her photos to a wider audience. She's taking her photography business to the Internet and I'm going to help her make it look professional. Michael and I are going to meet up at Borrone's Cafe in the evening and catch up on our respective travels. No time for shoe shopping, I'm afraid.

Tonight, Friday night, John and I went to dinner at our local Italian eatery in lieu of having beers with the gang. I've been massively busy at work, and running around after work every night, so it was a nice break to simply eat together without anyone else around. I'm getting used to having lots to do every day. To my surprise, I'm actually enjoying it. My usual torpor hasn't been as much fun. The problem is when I have too much of anything, busyness or sloth, I stop enjoying it. I really need the contrast of work and play, social life and cocooning. I get dizzy at how hard Sei works with grad school and full time job and the occasional giant bottle of beer with a friend, but I think I could stand a bit more structure and socializing than I've been allowing.

In fact, I'm entranced at the information that San Francisco State University doesn't require several math courses in order to get an undergraduate degree. Apparently, once I pass this thrice damned high school level Algebra II class I would only need a college Statistics course to meet their math requirements. Can I tell you how much that fills me with hope? MTSU was far more stringent, and I truly despaired of ever achieving a BA there. But now, well!

I can surely pass one stupid math class if I don't take anything else. It won't be very much fun. I tend to cry a lot while doing my homework, yes, even as an adult. Trying to work through math formulas is just about the most boring and simultaneously frustrating thing I know of. It's like trying to speak a language where you're missing the important verbs and you only know present tense, and it's no good speaking English because no one else does. There's no fudging, no bullshitting, no excuses, no escape. It's purely awful. And I have to pass this class or I will never, ever have my degree. And I need a degree because, as I've said many times, I'm convinced a degree will prove I'm smart. You may not try to disabuse me of this notion. It's practically a religious conviction. A degree will validate my intellect.

If I did pass it, though, then what would my major be? I have equal numbers of credits in Music and English literature, and I'm a junior so I have to declare a major the minute I'm admitted. The degree isn't related to my job or career. I'm inclined towards English, but it would fulfill a long time dream to actually finish it in music. Since I haven't sung professionally or in a choir for the better part of 20 years I'm not sure that's a practical goal. And really, what I most want to do is write a biography some day, telling the story of an influential female writer who has been left out of the canon. There's a vast number to choose from, not surprisingly. So I suspect an English lit. major is probably in my future.

Good news on the Dixie health front: her blood pressure is down from 185 to 120, and our vet is as happy as we are about it. A huge sigh of relief is heard from the Huntelt household as we stop holding our breaths. We've bought some time.

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