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January
6, 2006. My clothes smell faintly of curry. It was a good day for contact with people. I met Tom and Jon for lunch, as they're in from Los Angeles for a whirlwind trip to see family and friends. We went to this building right across the street from work which has a huge atrium with palm trees and a large green statue and fountain. We got salads and veggie wraps from the express version of the main restaurant for the building, and sat on the upper level in the winter sunlight and gossiped about our lives. I told a somewhat-humorous story involving an unwanted gift of a candle holder one Christmas, at which point Jon cautiously asked, "Does this mean you hate candles?" I flicked my eyes at the plastic bag holding a wrapped gift and started laughing. "Oh god no, I love candles." "I guess you should unwrap this now, then." So I did. And it was a really lovely candle holder that needs to be suspended from the ceiling somewhere in either my bedroom or living room. It's got little tiny metal bells that can hang from the wrought curlicues, and the votive glass is a pretty royal purple. Included with it were four very nicely stinky candles. Very nice. I am pretty sure they love the Sufjan Stevens CD I got for them -- all of the tracks are themed about Illinois. After getting to listen to a few tracks tonight, I am pretty sure I will be purchasing this CD for myself in the near future. I casually invited myself along to dinner tonight, in Oak Park. Tom and Jon were meeting Pam and Ben at Khyber Pass for Indian food. It had been forever since I'd been there, so I got home as quickly as I could, tidied my apartment for a few minutes, fed the cats, and then headed back out into the chill and managed to coordinate buses so that it only took 45 minutes for me to get to the restaurant. It all worked out very, very well. We had a very nice time - we sat and chatted forever, well beyond our curries and naan and rose milk and mango ice cream. Ben's working on February's radio shows already, and asked me if I will be free for it. Sweet. Jon was totally sweet and dropped me at my apartment afterwards, as he was heading towards Greektown to hang with another friend for a glass of wine before heading back to minister to Tom (who was feeling a bit under the weather) at his parent's. If I can wake up early enough, I'll get to brunch with them, too. Considering that I had a decent amount of buffet tonight, I am pretty sure tomorrow will only require a cinnamon bun and a goodly amount of coffee. I am topped up with lamb curry and samosas and saag paneer. I am feeling heady with the warmth of my friends. I received a parcel in the mail today from my friend David, and the mere thought of the gift itself actually moved me to tears as I stood in my kitchen and ripped open the bubble mailer. It's a book of poetry by Gordon Downie, the lyricist and voice of the Tragically Hip. David has told me since he played the Metacortechs game that my writing is quite similar in feel to Downie's. I spent a very happy amount of time on the bus to Oak Park flipping through the pages and drowning in the words. It's quite humbling to have people send you stuff they think is like you, and the stuff itself is just so amazing. I think that these people must really be crazy, to think such goodness about my work. It's been a good day. go
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