what would Jack and Diane do?

Now that I've got my camera back, I am totally going to town. And let's be clear on this: since I'm in Erie, "going to town" usually translates to "hanging around my bedroom and sometimes the backyard." Still, it looks as if this is to be another photopost. Beginning with photographic evidence that love does, indeed, hurt. I was seizing a rare opportunity to cuddle with my boy Sal last night, unaware of the fact that my grandmother was about to turn on her hairdryer. When she switched it on, Sal went berserk, and managed to claw me up. There was even some blood! I acted irritated with him, but I swear, he seemed so contrite, and anyway, the scratch makes me look a little bit tougher, so I'm not too put-off by it. Still, though, Sal's feral cat routine is losing its limited charms pretty quickly.

Also, you can't tell it from this picture, but I am slightly sunburned, so I'm stuck sitting inside on gorgeous, sunny days like today until the pink fades away. Actually, that's not entirely true, as I'm going to be spending Sunday at Cedar Point, and may end up burning further. You know what, though? It'll be worth it all, just to see Young Steven again. Just as I wrote that, George Michael came up on iTunes shuffle, so I know it's going to be good. I don't know yet, however, whether I like rollercoasters. This could get scary, but really, I'm a whole lot braver when I'm around that boy, so I think it'll work out pretty well. And hey, you can expect even more pictures following that adventure!

Tonight, I got to play with one of my favorite girls in the world. Her name's Emma, she's two and a half, and far more photogenic than anyone's got a right to be. Check her out:

(Clearly, Sal plays nicer with her.)

Oh, Emma. We played with kitty for a long time, and Greg taught me to salsa (kind of), and Kamal was here, which makes even a dull afternoon into an occasion. Sadly, I didn't get to see Izzy, and may not get to until I come back in August. But maybe then, I can take her to see Order of the Phoenix, which I will clearly be dying to see again (and again). Which reminds me: I am currently rereading the Harry Potter series, and taking detailed notes, and enjoying it so much that I sometimes find myself reading aloud, doing voices and all. Why am I such a goon? Really, though: it's a good way to spend these days.

Otherwise, it's all slow-going. I scheduled a last-minute appointment with Jill, which I've admittedly been putting off since I know we're supposed to process rape issues and this is not a good time for it. I've packed up my clothes and books for the summer, and burned a ton of CDs for the drive down. I have a date with Ellen's mom for the Villa booksale, which has me all a-quiver, although I need to restrain myself from buying second and third copies of books that I really like. I'm counting down the hours 'til I see Steven again, and the days 'til I can get back in Marshall's lovin' arms (four and three-quarters!). And today I painted my toenails and ate strawberries. You know, I've never told anyone, but I only eat strawberries when I'm in love. It started when I was thirteen, when I stood in my kitchen with the girl I loved, eating strawberries, and realized that I hadn't realized how good they were until just then. I told myself I wouldn't eat strawberries ever again if I wasn't in love at the time, and although that's a really stupid resolution, I've somehow stuck to it all these years, and may manage to uphold it yet. So today, I sat inside, eating strawberries and painting my toenails and rubbing lotion into my sunburn, and I felt like a femme, sure, but for a few minutes, I just felt good about it, about everything. How lucky, eh?