Tonight: Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. My first Broadway show EVER, with Whoopi Goldberg, Charles S. Dutton, Paul's father from Mad about You. I decided at the last minute to run by the TKTS office; a lot was open. Since this is a limited run, I jumped at it. I had second row seats almost against the wall, but it was on the best side so my line of vision could catch all of the key facial expressions. And I was thisclose to Whoopi. She even stayed in character to yell at someone to turn off their cell phone. That's theatre!

Ginny’s birthday party tonight… I’m so happy to be getting dolled up to go out on the town. I have a wardrobe of wonderful pieces that are really only suitable for evenings spent flirting and sipping Manhattans or margaritas. There are satiny slip-skirts, fitted tops with beaded hems, funky high heeled shoes, mostly thrift store bargains that I lucked into that look top-notch. I don’t worry about the labels—just the slightly over-the-top factor. Tonight, it’s velour leopard print trousers with a flare leg, and an elegant black sleeveless top. Black strappy high heels, of course. Now, where’s my cocktail?

Across from my hotel room sits a bank, a wall of windows, of offices. The ones with nice wooden furniture and table lamps sit on the lower floors, which surprised me. Wouldn't they want the better views? Other offices have that typical furniture that goes in all veal fattening pens; their cubicles just have walls. The wild thing is nighttime, when housekeeping--all women of color--rolls around in their awful blue maid's uniforms, whisking feather dusters across each desk, so as not to disturb the papers but still attacking the dust. Two worlds, one more oblivious than the other.

It's the kind of rain that just saturates everything. At the moment, I love it. I've been running around all day meeting an editorial group with which I work, gossiping and making future plans; having coffee with a colleague at my new school to discuss my fall courses and the upcoming move and imminent changes. I attended a session on electronic grading, which I'm thinking of incorporating into my classes more. Now, I relish the idea of staying in--ignoring the television because when I get close to it, my stomach churns--and diving into the future bit by bit.

Yesterday, the doctor remarked that I haven’t been to see him since December 2000. Here’s what happened then: I went to a birthday party at a beach house in Galveston. Nick and I were the only souls brave enough to rush through the cold wind to the hot tub, which we found was only lukewarm. Our friends boiled pots of water to pour in the tub, but it didn’t help. Soon afterward, Nick and I had swollen and painful lymph nodes in our armpits. The doctor said we’d caught infections from the hot tub not being properly heated or chlorinated.

I keep having this experience at this conference of meeting people who have gotten the jobs to which I applied or who applied for the job given to me. I've realized what a normal process this is. We all know the limited number of jobs available this year, and we all wonder who ended up in Colorado, Washington, New York? And, eventually, we find out that a friend of a friend was the one, a web of scholars in rhetoric and composition all finishing dissertations and planning moves across the country. I suppose this would be the definition of networking?

Tonight, I had my first New York celebrity sighting: Kymm! In the theatre district at a Starbucks, passing the time until meeting a friend, I picked up my grande chai and turned to get a straw. In walks a woman: leather jacket, nose ring, glasses. I think with suriety, "That's Kymm." I say hi, she tries to place my face. I tell her I'm a reader; she laughs that she's been recognized. I stammer a while about Lancaster and Elvis until she has her order and leaves. Then, sitting by the window, visibly smiling, I think, "Wow. I met Kymm!"

I'm in New York again, at another conference, but having a much better time than in December. One, I'm not staying right on Times Square. Two, I'm aware how much meals cost so I'm not suffering sticker shock, and I actually found a cheap dinner. Three, I told myself on the flight here to have fun and not worry about doing anything; after all, in a few months, I'll be moving a couple of hours away and can travel here any weekend. Now, I intend just to go with the flow, enjoy the conference and my colleagues. And, maybe, relax?

IN MEMORY OF LICORICE
The black mouse scurried, but when captured, sat sweetly on my shoulder. She liked to complain, and so chattered loudly when lifted from her cage to the unfamiliar territory of my body. She nestled next to my neck, her face buried in my hair. When I pulled the soiled paper strips out of her little house of woven grass, and gave her new ones, she fussed as she arranged them into a new nest, upset that her tiny world of order had been disrupted by those hands that could catch and hold her, lift her into an inconceivably big universe.

At this point, I'm a Howard Dean supporter. I liked him before, but I read an interview in the Advocate with him, and it's no surprise that I like a lot of what he stands for, plus I like that he doesn't seem to have a problem telling people what they don't want to hear when it is actually what he believes. And he keeps a blog! Can a New England liberal get elected? It'll be tough, but it's not about voting for the person who can get elected, but voting for the person you want to have the job.

Tomorrow is trash day, and I realized that things will be a lot easier when we move in August if I go through something each week, put things in either the trash or recycling and not have to deal with it all in July. Plus, the anal-retentive Virgo in me likes to have a reason to go through things. Today, that meant going through my office supply shelf in the closet and the magazines on one of my book shelves. This book and that one taught me how not to be a pack rat, but there is still so much.