I awoke at dawn with a blindingly painful neckache. My god, how many times have I written that same sentence about a Saturday morning over the past six years? It dismays me. My week hasn't been stressful at all, so I can only blame it on my last minute decision to sleep with two pillows instead of one. It must have kept my head and neck at a bad angle all night.
For some reason, my usual routine to cure the muscle cramps didn't work. By the time Trish Homis called to confirm our plans for the afternoon I still wasn't feeling at all well. We revised our schedule, cutting out the plan to go into the city to get custom-made jeans before going to a big dinner party with a bunch of Bay Area diarists. My head was as cloudy as the weather, thick grey clouds drifting over the dark bulk of the hills behind our house. The heavy overcast suited my mood. I slept most of the day away, rising occasionally to take more Advil or a long, hot shower, unable to do anything but tend to my body's weakness.
At five o'clock I finally felt well enough to be up and about. It was growing dark. I wasn't in pain any more, but on the other hand I hadn't done a blessed thing all day. So much for grocery shopping, housecleaning, or piano practice. John and I treated ourselves to dinner at Joe's, watching Celebrity Justice with utter fascination on the diner's tv; we had not previously known it existed. You can have your reality shows, give me celebrity lawsuits any time.
Trish showed up after dinner and we had ourselves a wild Saturday night installing more memory in my iBook, eating fresh, hot gingerbread with whipped cream, exchanging gifts (silver earrings, writable CDs, mp3s, Sims downloads) and looking stuff up on the computer. We agreed that we are unbelievable geeks since this suited us far more than drinking booze and having shouted conversations at a loud restaurant with fifteen people. I still felt a bit cloudy in the head so I was grateful for the low-key evening. It was very comforting.
It's been a chilly November. Not wet, surprisingly, only one rainstorm so far, but I wear a coat every day because it's in the 40s when I go to work and again by the time I come home at night. The color change in the leaves hasn't been pronounced but they are falling fast. No more silent midnight walks; now Jasper and I crackle and crunch our way through the dead leaves on the sidewalk. Two nights ago I finally conceded defeat and put the midweight bedspread away in favor of the down comforter. It's wonderful to snuggle underneath it, its heavy weight signifying the arrival of winter.
I wish Ginkgo were here for me to share that thought with. She's been dead two years now. Her domain name is no longer valid. All the beautiful, passionate work she had on the web is gone, the images scattered like glorious autumn leaves among the archives of individuals and search engine caches, her presence an echo growing softer with distance. Next November I won't have an active diary in which to pay homage to her influence on our community and on me. So I'll say goodbye one last time, Eve, and walk you to the edge of memory. Farewell, little leaf.
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