I had a really nice time in Maine.

A small update to this post about dysmorphia and looking at yourself in the mirror. On that day, a month ago, I started a habit of getting on a scale in the morning. I’ve found that having okay self-esteem can mean you can convince yourself of anything including “Sure I’m about the right weight for my height.” It’s like exercise, you can say “I’m not sedentary, really, I do plenty of active stuff.” until you actually start exercising and then you realize how different it is to be fit, and no matter how vigorously you do it, tooth-brushing isn’t exercise. In the absence of data, you go with what feels right, and sometimes what’s easier… until you see a picture of yourself on the Internet and say “Huh”. Perhaps the Dismemberment Plan said it best “knowing about that would involve knowing some pathetic, ridiculous, and absolutely true things about myself that I’d rather not admit to right now” though their song discusses denial of a different sort.

In any case, according to the scale, I’ve lost six pounds since then. According to the height/weight charts I’ve probably got ten to go before I’m in truly normal range. According to the government, I’m still too heavy (or too short) to be a Marine which is okay with me. According to the photographic height/weight chart I am a pretty capable photographer compared to many (submit your picture if there isn’t someone in your height/weight box! no, I’m not in there). And, according to my sister and Mom — who came up to Maine and brought cake, and presents — I look great. I, of course, feel exactly the same, except possibly a bit more in control of this situation. Being 38 is fine so far.

Update: I went shopping for swimsuits today and even tried on a whole bunch of them. First time for everything….

It’s becoming a tradition that on our birthdays my Mom uploads random childhood photos from when my sister and I were kids. This is my favorite picture from this year’s batch.

I said less than thirty words out loud yesterday. It was rainy, I stayed in and worked on an article I’m writing for Library Journal, listened to sea shanties and tried to get Sadie the cat to like me. The day before was an explosion of noise and chatter when my Mom and sister came to visit the place I’m staying here in Kittery. We walked around Portsmouth, went to Strawberry Banke, ate cake and took a bunch of pictures. Last night I made the mistake of going out to get some food at right about the time all the outlet stores closed and people got on Route 1 to go home. I had a bizarre flashback to high school when I used to drive up to York Beach and sit in traffic like this for what seemed like hours. Today the sun is back out, I’m going for a hike and enjoying my last day of being 37.

post office: 1 bill, 2 postcards (Brazil, Amsterdam), 1 contract to get notarized, 1 package slip too late for the package window, 1 letter from a stranger saying thanks.

thrift store: 2 shirts, 1 belt, 3 picture frames, 1 six foot knitted scarf, 1 basket shaped like the state of Washington, 1 red bra, six dollars.

libraries: 1 wifi connection tested, 1 broadband committee meeting, 1 flyer created, 1 hard drive defragged, 5 librarians.

phone: 1 call dad, 2 calls mom, 1 call sister, 1 call lauren, 1 call gary price

swim: 18 laps, 32 laps, 22 laps, 30 laps (yes that’s almost 3 miles)

I was talking to a good friend on the phone yesterday and she said “So what are you doing this weekend?” and I said “Absolutely nothing.” which is basically true and yet not like it sounds, or I am kidding myself. I have been gone two out of the last three weekends and the one I was home for began Friday night at 1 am when I got back from Baltimore. So, where most people have weekends that sort of represent “Hey you’re not working, go do stuff!” I have weekend that say “Hey you’re home, get organized, do laundry and get ready to leave again!” I leave again on Thursday to spend Labor Day weekend in Kittery/Portsmouth.

When someone asks what you’re doing over the weekend, answers like “go to the post office” and “cook dinner” and “write thank you notes” don’t seem like answers. I typed up a bunch of nice thank you notes, wrapped up a wedding gift, and signed a ton of legal documents for a MetaFilter Project and went to the post office where I had two T tokens, an envelope full of clippings from my favorite correspondent and a package from Mom. As I left, the lady at the PO said “Happy birthday!” and I realized she’d read it off the package. Don’t even try to keep secrets in this town. I’ve been trying to give the new roommate some townish advice like that. He’s from Queens and the fact that we don’t have house keys was a little surprising to him. I’m sure it will only get worse.

I make no bones about it, I am not a relaxed person. The Virgo Month of Leisure is an important part of remembering to take some time off. Of course, since I don’t have just one job to close the door on, the idea of “time off” is amusing at best and at worst preposterous. Let’s see how I’ve been doing at this leisure thing over the past few years…

• 2005: trip to New York, trip to Indiana
• 2004: Slow month, possibly the first since this all started.
• 2003: I move to Vermont full-time, I start a new job.
• 2002: Greg on the scene, I am working on a book.
• 2001: I start a postcard project, we know what happened after that.
• 2000: Burning Man followed by the hospital
• 1999: driving cross-country & my barn roof blows off
• 1998: in Guatemala

I really don’t think of myself as that busy, but it’s been years since I took anything like a few weeks off without bringing work with me. Since I started working with MetaFilter, it’s a rare weekend that I don’t put in at least a few hours. And yet, all of my jobs and work don’t usually seem like WORK. When I’ve got a deadline on a project and I have to really shift into hyperfocus mode then I feel busy, but the rest of the time, not so much. I see that as some sort of measure of success, being able to get published, go travelling, get paid, meet people, learn things, live someplace excellent, and have it seem like no work at all. Now I’ll work on sleeping better.

Roommate update: it looks like I have a new roommate, though I haven’t met him yet. He’s a first year law student from Haiti and he drives the same sort of car as Ola. I’m sure there will be a bumpy transition for the two months that him, me and Ola live in the house at the same time. She should be heading out on her Peace Corps adventure sometme after the election and then it will just be me and him. This means we’ll have sort of a full house for a few months, so we’ll be down one guestroom.