It is beautiful day in Connecticut. The sun is shining. The sun is warming and the little blossoms are out in pink and white among branches still barren of leaves. I went for a walk in Greenwich town. Coats have given way to cardigans and light jackets and the shops are full of brightly coloured couture.
I went to the Apple Store to get a pouch for my phone. I love pouches for phones. I always like to put things in things. Even my pen has it’s own little leather pen pouch. A purse for money is essential. A friend of mine has money just loosely around her handbag and make up too. In fact she doesn’t put anything into a make up bag (which I couldn’t live without), or a wallet or a pouch, not even her glasses. No case for the glasses. I’m the opposite. I put everything into something. Nothing is free in my handbag. Anyway, one of the sales assistants at the Apple Store asked me if she could show me how to scan and charge myself for my purchase using my phone. My heart sank. No. I don’t want to scan my own purchase and charge my own card. This ‘do it yourself’ thing in America is going to a whole new level. You know you can scan purchases yourself at the Builder’s Warehouse, or whatever they call it here, and swipe your own card. I suppose it’s useful if you’re buying a bag of nuts and bolts and don’t want to stand behind the person who is buying the whole house in pieces. But there’s the express till.
I know some people will love the DIY purchase thing, but it’s not for me. I just want to give what I want to someone and they must do the complex scanning and charging things and then hand me my goods and smile and wish me a good day. It makes sense. It has always been that way and I don’t want to do it any other way. But one day, if I live so long, it will be the way things are done and I’ll have to do it and enjoy doing it or stop shopping. I think, when the time comes, I’ll learn to like it.
I was fascinated that at the petrol station where all things are DIY, you don’t put air in your own tyres. There were two cars, us and another, and we had to wait for the air guy to put the air in the tyres. Interesting, isn’t it? You must put your own petrol in. You must swipe your own card and etcetera, but you don’t put air into your own tyres.
I went to class earlier. It’s my first class since going to SA. Well, it certainly hasn’t become any easier. I’m sore, but I’m extremely keen to continue. I have seen the most amazing results from my two weeks at class. I’m amazed. It really works. I’m fitting into things again. My jeans, for example are a little baggy. I joined this class because I couldn’t zip them up and I don’t know at what point in my December excesses my girth widened, but widen it did, quite extensively. However, I’m now back at my previous starting point, and in only two weeks. In another two weeks, I shall be feeling pretty in spring frocks and sandals. In four weeks I shall see muscles again. It’s lovely to lose weight in spring; to feel the weight of winter’s indulgence melt away. It’s wonderful to feel light and fresh and attractive as one always does when one loses weight, and as one always wants to feel when it’s springtime.
There was a South African film festival at Columbia University. It was modestly, but well attended. On the first day they showed Nothing But The Truth, with John Kani. There was a panel discussion and I was asked to be part of the panel. I did it, but I felt so inadequate. The other speakers had so much to say. They were so erudite and intelligent and I felt so not erudite or intelligent enough. Anyway, I guess I did ok. People came to talk to me afterwards, which I think is a sign that they didn’t think I was a complete idiot.
I really like the case that I have for my glasses. It’s black and textured and it opens like an envelope. I like it. The dog got hold of it. It’s a pit bull. It’s a big one with huge powerful jaws and it crushed one side of the case, but my glasses survived because it’s a good case. The edges are hard as steel. Those edges are now crushed together on one side and they are staying where they’ve been put, but the glasses still fit. I haven’t discarded it. I’m looking at it now and it looks a bit of a chewed up old wreck. I still like it, though, even with big dog’s teeth marks and a crushed side. It’s a case with a story.
One of our cats is missing. I always tend to keep a positive mind and I expect him to return, but it’s been a few days and it’s worrying. It’s spring. Females are in heat or on heat or whatever, so he’s probably gone off to get laid, but one never knows. Catherine was saying a beautiful and rare cat like that could be stolen. He’s a Bengal and such a beauty. I don’t even want to think of the possibility of him not coming back. He’ll be back. I’m praying.
I’ve become a fan of Gluten Free bread. The detox book said it’s the only bread to eat, so I’m eating it. I asked for unglutened bread at the health food shop. The guy said, ‘you mean gluten free’. Well, yes I mean gluten free, but what’s the difference. I mean if it had gluten in it to begin with and the gluten was removed then it’s unglutened. If it had no gluten in the first place and no gluten was added then it hasn’t been glutened, so it’s unglutened. Gluten free simply means that it’s free from gluten and the word ‘free’ always sounds sexy, but it’s still unglutened isn’t it?
No I didn’t say all of that to him. No one would listen to that. It’s the sort of thing one only puts on ones blog and hopes that people might read it and get what I’m talking about, or thinking about, however fleetingly.
Well this has been quite a ramble. I’m going to watch Baseball this afternoon. I shall report back.