mmm. i want.

(in case anyone cares, i have taken to posting little things in the annex. it's sort of a repository - a word i am not at all certain i'm using properly - for all the links i find at work and want to look at later. emailing them to myself was taking up too much inbox space.)

so it's tuesday again. i read somewhere that time seems to pass faster for older people because they have a routine, and that means i need to break mine up because i am more interested in enjoying more minutes than doing certain things repeatedly.

but that's got no relation to anything else i was about to write. i open the window with this little box and my fingers pause because i have things to talk about but i feel like i've forgotten how to talk about them. rusty fingers, rusty thoughts. the editor i most admire here told me today that i would get to the fiction i want to write, eventually. that i should think about creative nonfiction until then. "you just haven't lived long enough yet," she said. "i can smell talent. you'll do it."

i needed that. not to hear "why aren't you doing it NOW?" but "you'll get there." she offered to help open doors for me, school-wise. i must get on my feet where that topic is concerned.

otherwise, well, otherwise i have discovered at the ripe old age of 29 that i love to cook. i bought myself a present with last week's bonus: the gourmet cookbook, 30 years in the making by the editors of gourmet magazine. for sunday night dinner i made balsamic glazed salmon and buttermilk and shallot mashed potatoes. and damn, it was good. i am holding back from trying out the potatoes gratin recipe until a night J will be home from work in time for dinner. i want to cook everything, all the time, which may prove to be hard on my wallet until i have a stockpile of ingredients. (my stomach just growled so loudly as i typed that.) i want to get another book about wine - though my roommate has the wine bible so i guess i don't really need to - and buy more things to have with dinner. i feel so absurdly productive making something tasty to eat, following recipe steps and enlisting J's help here and there.

i can't believe it took me so long.

other things that happened lately: the bright eyes show, which was good, but strangely i feel very little like remarking at length on it. the jason webley show, at which we discovered that Our Hero (meaning webley) had cut off his flowing locks and replaced his jaunty hat with one that made him look something like a newsie. still a good show, though.

then we had our roommate's birthday party, at which i fell asleep two hours before everyone else, which made me feel old and lame. i also spent part of the night talking to some kids who were born in 1984 - they were smart and fun and great, but i still felt like gramma molly. i did make oscar night plans with p & j, though, which is good: cocktails and the mockery of fancy dresses is a must in my world.

and then we were hungover on saturday, and J had to work late out of town, so the rest of us saw kinsey without him and i, upon his return, tried to smother the small, petty parts of me that flinched a little when he said the co-worker he drove to florence with was funny and interesting. dear self, insecurity is not flattering. get over it already.

i hate even typing that stuff. it's an ugly truth, and he knows i get insecure - that's nothing new - but still i would like to find the means to overcome that and feel all the time like i do a good part of the time - certain and strong and confident in more ways than just this one. i have a lot of ideas about it, but putting them into practice sometimes is tougher than it looks.

but i'm working on it. and i know better, ultimately. i just have to remember that.

(repetetive molly, again, wanting to erase all those words but knowing that wouldn't make them any less true. leave it be, let it go.)

talk to her last night and hours of reading on my wee personal schedule for tonight. i kind of can't wait.