Feeling: silly
Listening to: Matt Caplan - Wither
Reading/Watching: Prozac Nation, by Elizabeth Wurzel

Today comes back to me in a series of vivid thoughts, skimming through the usual for three seconds at a time of "oh em eff gee."

Nimsay asked a routine question of "Who wrote 'It Must've Been Love' and what movie did it come from?" and of course, I said "Roxette, from that scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts is in the limo going home." So naturally, ever since yesterday Roxette has been stuck in my head. And it's not like it's even something fun and campy like Cyndi Lauper, it's a ballad. And I know exactly half of it.

Today, being unable to go see Hollywoodland due to timing issues wound up being a blessing in disguise, because mon coeur and I elected to eat some Red Lobster (an establishment which is by far underpatronized by someone who loves seafood as much as I). Then we came home and watched Kramer vs. Kramer (first timers, both of us) on the little TV in bed, cuddled up so that mon coeur knew every time I started crying because the tears would puddle on his chest.

We spent a good hour and a half after the movie lying there, just talking. About things that had nothing to do with what we do in a day, and everything to do with just us.

I went to go sing for Selichot at St. Andrew's Congregation Israel, and they carried around Torah scrolls with an 8' blue mosaic-tile cross hanging on the back wall and a stained glass window of the good shepherd looking down on us. They really need to stop renting spaces and buy their own building.

The cantor rehearsed some pages, and mentioned how the women ended on a dominant chord. He laughed and said "I just love dominant women" and we said "uh..."

...Then a few minutes later I made the passing comment that actually, I'm pretty bossy, and everyone looked shocked. Genuinely surprised. Some part of me died laughing.

Despite the room being six inches wide and painted wall to wall flat white, each of the four singers had a microphone turned up too loud. Luckily mine was placed at a height for regular human girls, and I am not only half wookie but also wore my four-inch-heel knee-high ass-kicky boots, so if my navel wanted to bust out into a solo, we were all set.

A man from the congregation came up afterward to thank us, and told me "your voice gets better and better, but you are getting smaller and smaller!" and then suddenly became anxious that I would be offended, and apologized. I had to jump in and laugh and tell him no, really, I appreciate it. It's sad that when it comes to women's weight, men just can't win. Ever.

I stumbled back up the stairs on my way home and realized that marrying a man who matches my height exactly has made my heel-walking skills atrophy.

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