Summer

I’ve been home for about a month now, and I can’t say it hasn’t been uneventful. In this short time, I’ve been up and down, drunk and sobered, and loved and tricked. This whole new summer adjustment period felt so ridiculous. I mean I had (and still pretty much have) nothing to do. So what did I do?

I slept. I slept a lot. I’d do that whole go to sleep at 6AM and wake up around noon or one. I absolutely hate that schedule…I mean it just feels so unproductive. I live in a country house (we’ll get to that in a moment) in a valley that goes to sleep every night around ten, maybe eleven at the latest. Nightlife isn’t exactly rich here, so I found myself creating nights of downloaded Family Guy episodes and Super Mario Three. (The costume where he throws the hammers is a personal favorite—it even kills the Thwomps.) And don’t feel sorry for me please, dear reader! I did enough of that already.

And I adjusted to living in this country guesthouse in Saratoga, which my mom affectionately refers to as the “Cozy Cottage,” as if it’s a fairy tale locale with mythical creatures and princes and princesses, kings and queens. I find it quite ridiculous, myself, as I listen to coyotes out my window at this very moment, whining at the moon reddened by forest fires. It’s beautiful, really, but it’s too much of a getaway for me. This is the kind of place I’d retreat to on vacation and spend a week, and then return to city life, or a variation thereof. The internet is also lousy here. Just insult to injury I guess.

And I went on a few dates. Of course, I’m not going to say my life isn’t controlled by hormones nor say I’m a teenager looking to marry, but it’s the summer and I want to have that more than platonic summer companion. Just wondering where he is now, I suppose, as the last three didn’t really yield much. To their credit, they were great guys and I have nothing bad to say about them, suffice it to say together we lacked chemistry. I’m beginning to think my valence electrons are as shifty as Oprah’s weight. Gosh darn it!

And I started to work. For the most fabulously successful gay realtor known to man. But he doesn’t call when he needs to and it’s always hard to figure out what he’s looking for. But he’s paying me cash to do his marketing biddings and door knocking. Mother says I’ll probably have to find another job, but I hate restaurants and I hate retail. I need another La Patisserie era to come again. I truly will remember my days there in a profoundly fond way, and I sincerely hope they’re all doing well, especially to those with whom I have lost touch.

And then I sold the car. Mom gave me ten percent of the proceeds of the sale. Whoopee!

And I’ve cooked. “Yum-O!,” as that dreadful bitch Rachael Ray would say. Chicken tetrazzini is officially my new favorite food, and I also love pies. Thus far, I’ve done blueberry and cherry, and I have yet to get that piecrust just right. Almost there, though. Stay tuned. Waffles are also tickling my fancy lately: I’m doing the recipes that use yeast and you make the batter the night before and let it rise. They’re wicked good if you like a bite of buttery tartness to your waffles. I went out and got a chef’s knife, too. I don’t work with those little steak knifes when I cook. I really need to cook lamb this week.

And I’ve seen a lot of friends. It’s interesting to see how much we’ve grown as we’ve been apart, not to say we’ve grown apart, but y’know just how we’ve grown. Some have become entirely different people while some have remained their old selves. I like to think that regardless of how much I grow, that my friendships with people at home and in college remain the same. There’s something funny about relationships I have with friends…it’s like there’ll always be that little thing that somehow keeps us together. And with respect to the friends I’ve lost or let go, I still think about them in a positive way and just acknowledge our differences.

So this is my summer thus far. I was supposed to be living with my dad, but he unfortunately bizzounced to Boston to work at a new company. Can’t say I don’t want to bitch the little bugger out for ditching both me and my nine year old sister. I’m finding more and more though that I’m silenced by his financial offers—a debit card linked to his account, the responsibility to pay his bills and handle his finances, and my gas, paid. Not to mention I also guilted him into getting me a window air conditioner for those extra sultry nights and a phone with internet for the lack of internet at my residence. My Love Don’t Cost a Thing? Well for daddy, not so much.