Today felt like summer. Kat, Sarah and I spent a blissfully sunny afternoon lounging about Hains Point — they swam in the pool, I walked around by the Potomac — then, for dinner, we smacked the hell out of hard shell crabs in Chesapeake Beach, Maryland.

I had a tough time with the initial de-shelling of the crabs. I could start the opening process, and I could smack the meat out of the shell with the little mallots, but I couldn’t do the part where you scoop out the crab’s lungs and whatever else it ate before it died. So I would pop them open (there’s a little tab on their undersides, it’s like opening a beer can) and then hand them to Kat, who would deftly gut and crack them into two pieces with one fell swoop. (This is why we have friends.)

Afterwards we stopped for hot fudge sundaes at the Tastee Freeze and thanked our lucky stars that we had already powered through adolescence, unlike the angst-ridden throngs of belligerent teenagers in the parking lot playing cards.

On the drive home, we almost died because of an attractive man in the next lane who kept looking over at us and licking his lips.

“This is a sign you need to go: When every 12 months, everyone you work with is suddenly replaced by younger, more naive versions of themselves. It’s like you’re a member of Menudo.” — Mark

For the past three days, I’ve had the “I’m leavin’ on a jet plane” song stuck in my head. I burst out singing it every now and again. I even surprise myself with it sometimes. This afternoon I started singing “so kiss me and smile for me…” and I thought, What the heck is that song? And then I got to the next verse. Ah yes. I’m leeeeeeavin’, on a jet plane….. More accurately, I’m leaving in some form of truck. But still.

My improv class is funny. I mean, funny like interesting. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time, but that doesn’t much matter, because no one really does. There are about ten of us who show up on any given week. Half the people have recently moved here from Ohio. We have our class in the South Nap Room of a private elementary school, so we spend a lot of time sitting cross-legged on plushy carpet.

Our instructor is a freelance journalist, unassuming and average-looking, who from what I gather was a lot more shy and reserved before he started doing improv two years ago. He has a really calm, authoritative, Zen-ish way of explaining things. Part guru, part baseball coach. “So, let’s look at this scene again. When your partner said he had that cell phone with the smart bomb, how did that make you feel?”

Anyways, for the time being, it’s more fun than yoga. (I’m not very flexy.) Here is a megaphone about pancakes, puppies and fearlessly looking like an ass.

I’ve been wearing the same shirt every day since I got my teeth out. Ok, that’s not true. I’ve been wearing different shirts to work. But I’ve been wearing the same shirt otherwise. It’s pale yellow and very soft and says Moosejaw on the front. And it’s kinda smelly at this point. I’m not sure why I feel compelled to wear it, but it’s now something of a superstition. Like it will help all my sockets heal up nicely. One is already being pesky. Gotta love dry sockets. Eww.

— Update, 8/21: Changed shirt.

Sometimes, I am not smart. For example: Chili and fries from Ben’s Chili Bowl… though soft indeed, this was a poor choice for post-tooth extraction consumption. The texture was fine, it was more the spice, pouring into fresh wounds. Lesson learned. Onward.

Mmmm, soft foods. I am trying bulk up — or at the very least, keep from withering away — on account of having my teeth out. So my roommates have been pitting all my food items against each other in a caloric contest. This morning, when I am deciding on which soft food I will have for breakfast, Kat asks which has more fat, the Ensure, or the Yo Baby Drinkable Yogurt? It’s almost a toss-up. Ensure has 6 grams, Yo Baby has 4.5, but the Ensure serving size is slightly bigger. Yo Baby has a cooler name. I’m afraid to try the Ensure. Yo Baby wins.


Five minutes later: Tried the Ensure. Felt like I was being wussy for not wanting to. (Me? Wussy about something? Please.) It actually isn’t bad. A little medicinal (or metallic?) tasting. But other than that, a ringing endorsement.

teeth are out, i am bac k at home. i don’t remember much. sarah, who was my designated chaperone home, tells me that they tried to schedule a follow-up appointment with me while i was still waking up from the anesthetic. when the nurse said, “how about thursday at 2pm?” i apparently just threw up my hands in the “i dunno” position. here she details our cab ride home, which left something to be desired, from a nauseated girl’s perspective. my cab driver on the way to the surgery said i was beautiful. perhaps this is the true meaning of death cab for cutie. ha.

sarah is my angel o’ the day, by the way. she is very patient when i tell her that i need things, like dancers to keep me entertained. maybe she could just sing say, say, say. things now are woozy but npt deathly bad. that’s why they have drugs i suppose. my mom sent me a video (life as a house) which i will watch. i don’t know why she sent it, other than that i’m prone to tearing things down in order to build them again.

hence the impending move to chicgao. which i am still slightly wavery about, only because, well, it is changing my entire way of life from top to bottom. that’s fine. that’s fine. i keep picturing what it would be like to walk into my boss’s office and tell him i chancged my mind. but i feel like my reasons for wanting to leave still stand. 1) i have been there for two years. 2) two years is a long time when there is much else to explore. 3) i love the components of my job — i sort of have to, the position was created for me, but i would like to know what other jobs are like and get some experience in them. because eventually i will have to take a such a job. so why not now? it sort of reminds me (ok this is cheesy but whatever) of when harrry met sally, how he he runs into the party at the end and says that when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want to rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

i guess for me it was the opposite. i realized where i didn’t want to be for the rest of my life. basically because d.c. and me, we ain’t meant to be. not right now, anyway. maybe someday i shall return, when i have a career or family-based reason. for now, i could be anywhere. and there are a lot of anywheres out there.

i sound so sure now, don’t i? drugs. it’s the drugs.

to top it all off, i am sitting here with an earl gray teabag string hanging out of my mouth. i am steeped, baby.

“You have to have a life-challenging illness, not a life-challenging psyche.” — Sarah, on why her organization, Food & Friends (which mostly delivers to, you know, AIDS patients), won’t deliver to me

Went to a reception at the D.C. bureau of my journalism school… a few alums were there that I recognized. And I have to say. It was weird. I look pretty much the same as I did two years ago. So when other people don’t, it surprises me. Longer hair, less hair, gained weight, lost weight. It’s freaky, actually, to see someone who does not look quite like the freeze-framed image you had in your mind.