So I made it to church a second week in a row, much to my Mother's uncontainable joy. ;) I know how that reads; it's not that I don't go or that I'm an easter/xmas bunny, it's more like something always comes up, whether that something is illness or travel. When I AM here and I'm capable of standing through an entire Orthodox service (no small feat for the feet, especially those which are espadrille or stiletto-clad), I go. I love church. Especially my (I know, unexpected and anomalous) church. Liturgies (do NOT call it mass or I'll get medieval on your ass) are glorious feasts for my senses and best of all, they leave me with a lovely, lingering sense of peace. But that's to be expected, since I'm the girl who swooned when Enigma appeared during my early high school days. I can't get enough chant. (Join in it, why don't you?)
After church, I made my Sunday Whole Foods run for the fat WaPo, the slightly chubby New York Post, excellent espresso, black tea and whatever else it was that I managed to spend $80 on, which filled just one reusable WF bag. I should just have my paycheck auto-deposited at that store; it would save time (though not any money). It doesn't help that I pass three of them on my way to and from work. My sister fell in love with that organic, healthy, bougie financial-drain, pronouncing it "yummy" and "fantastic". I knew she'd dig it. I bought her tiramisu and edamame and she was all giddy from the gourmetness of it all.
Sigh. I miss my sister. A lot. On Saturday evening, I cried at the airport and afterwards was so upset about how she was gone that a male friend helplessly offered me:
a) A new pair of shoes as a belated birthday gift ("I don't know what the proper bribe is for missing a little sister")
When I declined BOTH, the friend mildly freaked, since that proved it was serious.
I just wanted to crawl in bed, which I did, for a four-hour nap. I kept moping about how it had been over eight months since I'd seen her, she had been here for less than three days and poof! Her time on the right coast was up, before I could get used to the sound of her laugh again.
I prayed for her excessively at church, lit candles etc. I'm not quite sure what the exact reason is, but it's a big deal to take communion on your birthday, probably so you commence your year right. I had a feeling her heathen ass wouldn't make it to services so I feverishly implored the Lord to accept my piety instead. Later on, on the phone, she echoed such requests, although in an entirely nonchalant fashion, much to my irritation and her total amusement.
I got home from Yuppie Foods and fought the urge to nap, because I had very hot plans. :) Chai had texted me about dinner at Amma and I knew it was just what my Eeyore-esque ass needed, so I kept myself up until it was time to don jeans and a fresh heaping of blush. Just driving (with a sick remix of, of all things, a Britney song on) was cheering me up, seeing Chai sealed the deal and lifted my grey, drooping spirits. I met her friend and we proceeded to have far more fun than everyone else at my second home. We discussed being Konkani, weddings, GW, finance, the proper pronunciation of "Sepia", blogging, flying, war, buddhism, Southie desserts, lent, Vijay Prashad, dogs, interracial relationships and so much more. I can't remember if it was then or at my sister's birthday dinner (or both) that she mentioned DC's Restaurant Week; appositely enough, I got a GMail from OpenTable.com reminding me to make reservations for the 2006 edition! Who wants to go somewhere Mediterranean or Indian during the second week of August?
Oh, how I wish she didn't have to leave in order to make a conference call at 9pm; I would've bugged her for an apres-dinner libation or followed her home to the Morg. :) I've yet to meet Chandi, y'all. For a hard-core canine-phile like me, that must be remedied. ;) Especially before she moves away. :( Maybe I should leave DC, too. All my favorite people are going or gone.
I stopped at CVS for some ADVIL while cursing my assigned gender. Yeah. Exactly. Despite that totally icky and painful development, I sailed home contently. From deep within (just above what required the ibuprofen), that little voice which you can only hear when you quiet yourself and are still piped up: "I love my life." I do, I do. That's a massively awesome feeling, one I wish for everyone, if only so we all smile the way I did, all the way home.