oh! but i was having such a lovely dream. phil and i were in new york, in a self-serve ice cream parlor. we scooped cones of chocolate mint lime, paid at the counter, and walked off down the street, catching up on the four months since he’s been away. we had a fabulous time talking, barely noticing as we walked past a film set for a movie about a woman who went back in time and introduced the bra to tightly-corseted victorian women. it was the most vivid, most wonderfully escapist dream i’ve had in a long time. mostly, though, it was just good to see phil.
the other night, the new artiste counter guy overheard me use the word victorian in a conversation with shaun. he (the new artiste guy, not shaun) stared at me and said, without any trace of sarcasm, “whoa, victorian. big word. i’m going to need a dictionary for that one.” he was totally serious in his thinking that victorian was a really big word, and that the dictionary would have helped him understand what i meant (it wouldn’t have). it made me miss conversations like this that i used to have with thomas, who i was quite happy to see behind the counter at artiste last night. after i got my iced tea, i said, “you know, if you were to take a break and come sit with me for awhile, i wouldn’t be averse.”
thomas laughed. “you wouldn’t be averse?”
“nope!” i said, giggling.
“so, if i were to come over and sit with you, you wouldn’t kick me in the balls?”
“i wouldn’t kick you in the balls.”
i’d rather stab myself in the hand with a fork than read any more shakespeare or take my shakespeare final at this point. the scar, after all, might look sort of cool, not unlike the snakebite on the breast of cleopatra.