pilates disasters and and some psychology

hola tout le monde, or at least the tiny fraction of le monde that is reading this :) -

so. a red letter day on multiple counts:

it was sunny ALL DAY; not a single freak rainshower. C had been thinking of hiring herself out to drought stricken agricultural areas, as she was able to consistently bring on thunderstorms by hanging her laundry out to dry, but it looks as if she may be losing her touch. long may it last. there's a rumour that they had sun all the way through october last year, but we are not choosing to believe that that could be possible.

in the saga of my ongoing physical fitness attempts, a low point: i actually fell off my pilates mat this morning - one of the thinly-disguised-sit-up exercises is a somersaulty type of arrangement, where you roll yourself into a ball and go backwards, and i went so seriously off course in my uncoordinated enthusiasm that i went off the mat, and crashed into the hat-stand in krystle's bedroom, bringing it down on top of me. hat-stand is fine. i have some bruises. that episode was followed by an unsatisfactory run, as well; i picked what looked like a lovely little rural lane, which quickly turned into the competition course for the local truckers' association's annual diesel-fume production semi-finals. this svelte midriff business is not for the faint at heart, that's all i can say. tomorrow morning i might just have to stay in bed and eat bonbons.

rounding study today not QUITE as dreadful as yesterday's. (i think. we'll have to see what it looks like by the cruel cold light of morning tomorrow). possibly maybe might be getting the hang of things. drawing was good as well - i am enjoying the exercises, although the lecture today had everyone either confused (M, P and G, who i think tend to assume that it's their limited english that is the problem), asleep (L confirmed her asleep state, and several others were doing the dip and twitch as well), or stroppy (me and liverpudlian, who said afterwards, 'i get to the end of class sometimes, and i realize i haven't a clue what the last two hours was about.'). (extraterrestrial statement du jour: 'what we are speaking to here is the creation of illusion of integrity inherent to the body, and by that i mean both spatial integrity and physical integrity.') the problem is that occasionally there is an actual idea hidden in the waffle, so you can't just stop paying attention and pick your nose. i should have bought that 3' x 6' cross-stitch in the market the other day, so i would have something to keep me occupied during lecture. hey, cross-stitch can be Art, too.

portrait night tonight - i cracked out the sanguine, which was indeed a messy sensual pleasure, but which resulted in a picture of T that made him look like a serial killer chimpanzee. (he and G (the one who made the etch-a-sketch work, yay gary) have been here working all summer, and facial hair maintenance has not been at the top of the priority list, so he's got a little bit of the rockabilly jesus about him, but nothing of the thyrotoxic homicidal tendencies-look of my sanguine drawing. so (sigh) i went back to boring ol' pencil after half an hour and ended up with a drawing that kind of sort of looks like him. the problem with sanguine is that you can't erase anything, so any mistake are there to stay forever and ever amen at least until you chuck the drawing into the recycling. (T for the record is hilarious and weird and astonishingly bright and very slightly antisocial and his work is beautiful. my favourite T fact is that an anagram of his name is 'tiny bonkers.')

long conversation with M today about her kids; apparently the younger one (age 3) is causing much drama with her separation anxiety, throwing fits every time she needs to leave, bedwetting for several _months_ after M went away once for three days, etc., and the elder one (seven) is obsessed with parental death and her subsquent adoption. she overheard them playing the other day: 'when i grow up i am going to have four babies and i will never leave them ever but no daddy because daddies aren't important' (M's husband P is a great big teddy bear guy who makes furniture and is incredibly sweet and patient w/ both the girls) to which the elder one replied, 'if you were adopted, you wouldn't have a daddy, but probably it would be better if mummy was dead before you were adopted.' eek. nothing freudian about it, it's too direct. then again, apparently when T's dad was leaving for a few days on a business trip, four-year-old T called after him, 'don't fuck any horses, daddy!' so who knows where any of it really comes from. i myself had a todd K. dream last night (once again i was wandering the halls of harborview), so there are clearly dark forces at work.

food extra good today; i made a galette with mushrooms and jambon campagne and stinky cheese. mmmm. green salad preceding and nectarines and chocolate afterwards... this two hour lunch thing will be hard to give up.