Such A Day As Today Ever Was

I'm feeling quite "dear diary"-ish at the moment. This afternoon was a series of "beautiful, gorgeous, wish you were here!" moments. Everything seemed bathed in gold in the late afternoon, and the breeze was up. The Valley is quite the charming natural beauty, much more attractive than Windsor, I have to admit. Some kind of an accident on one of the major roads between Shelton and Monroe forced me onto a circuitous back road voyage that took me through some of the prettiest, leafiest stretches of road around. My destination was the Monroe Library, which is brand-brand-new (and fabulous). I laughed aloud when I realized I was passing the road that turned off into Tommy's neighborhood. Doesn't that just seem like ages ago?

Speaking of things past, for some reason in the shower I was thinking about lunches with my mom at Dom's, especially the ones where Sean would join us, and participate in the quintessential DiMarzo ritual of reading the paper and not talking. Then I got very sad all of a sudden, as it hit me once again that that's over and done with. Those Sunday mornings will never come again. We'll never slide into one of Dom's extra-large booths with her; I'll never squabble with her for first dibs on the section of the paper that I wanted. The waitresses will never come over with that special grin they saved for "Joanie." Their smiles for us are different now, sadder, because we remind them of her. And they remind me of her, and her quick little laugh, and the way she'd threaten me with her fork if I tried to sneak her chips. I miss her.

Talked to Jen tonight, another conversation that's really a monologue proceeding at breakneck pace. She told me how much she misses Mom and that, surprisingly, she enjoys talking to me; strangely enough, things I was thinking of telling her the last time we spoke. She had the unfortunate luck to get bedbugs in her apartment and had to throw out her bed. She also had to wash the cat--hiliary ensued.

In other news, still hating Carla and being jealous of Sara, as I track her progress on her blog (www.sarainitaly.blogspot.com) The grad party Linda threw for Sean and I last Friday came off swimmingly; I was especially glad to be able to see my aunts. Linda threw in a couple of hints about how the place we were at does weddings--she got married to Gary there, in fact. *shakes head* Then I crashed Heather's family party on Saturday, accompanied by Rae, who then promptly abandoned us on Sunday to start (another) new life, this time as a research assistant for the summer in Boston before she starts med school. I didn't realize how much I missed being with Rae and Heather till this weekend. Now I can't wait till Sara comes home and the four of us can get together.

Finally, Sean proposed today that we go see Swan Lake at the Met in New York next week. Our first ballet, and at the Met, no less! None too shabby...

In Which I Resolve Never to Look At Carla's Facebook Pictures Again

It's really just too damn depressing. The view from her apartment window, right smack in view of the Duomo...the Ponte Vecchio at dusk...the view of the city from the Boboli gardens. I miss Florence so much. Carla's postcard, which I got yesterday, urged me to come and visit. As much as I would love to, I can't in good conscience spend money going to a place I've already been, when there are so many other places I have to go. Plus, when I imagine how bittersweet it would be to return to Florence for only a week--maybe ten days, tops--I shake my head and think of other things. Egypt, for example. Eighteen months and counting...haha.

In Which Sean Gets a Real Job At Last

Yes, it's true: as of August 12, Sean will join the work force as a teacher of religion at Xavier High School in Middletown. It's not as wonderful as if he had been, say, working with Mr. Tressler at Northwest, but it's still pretty awesome for someone who has never yet been forced to hold a quote-unquote real job before. I'm so proud of him!!

In other news, I am the new, proud (?) owner of a 98 Toyota Corolla in beige, following a grand Flanagan family tradition. I have decided to name her Prudence. Alas, Brunhilde, your days are numbered.