in the wildwood trees the wild wind blows

I was happy, which is not like me at all


Sifting through the usual mundane bills and junk-mail, this little envelope appeared as if by magic. From the picture, you can deduce a few things:

• I have no patience when it comes to opening letters that are personal in nature.
  
• The card inside is shiny and pretty. Precious. We likes it!
  
• A teeny-tiny sparkly sweet star was affixed on the seal of the envelope. From that alone, you should know who sent it. I am not sure if Anna timed the card to arrive on V-Day, but I am going to pretend she did anyway.

Rather apt that I should hear from the blogheroine last night. Not just because I lurve her, but because of what else I had on deck. You should know that Anna is the reason I have mustered the cojones to meet random blogospherians. Had meeting her not been the experience to end all wired experiences, I might have continued on with my tendencies towards reclusivity.

Twenty minutes after I tore open this card, oodles stopped by the crackhouse, and the two of us braved the gale-force winds to head over to Medjool. There, we were joined by maisnon, ads, and Roopali. I think I may have had it with Medjool, even if it is in my most beloved neighborhood. Last time I went there the food was excellent, but the drinks were lame. This time the drinks were satisfactory, the food was satisfactory, but the service was the suck. Furthermore, maisnon had made reservations well in advance, and yet we were seated about six feet from the door in no man's land. Okay, okay, fine, let me just admit to the real problem- when oodles and I sidled up to the bar, I ordered my usual drink of choice and the bartender said, "I'm sorry, we're out of Grey Goose." WTF?!? oodles thought I was going to have a panic attack.

Roops was super sweet with her I love the V-Day (you have to imagine that VH1 "I love the 80s" jingle-theme in your head like I do when I write that) attitude, and very thoughtful giftcards. oodles brought cookies from my favorite bakery. ads showed up in pink. maisnon showed up with her hair did. Me? I brought my ability to whine and my inability to smile normally at a camera. Good times.

This morning, I discovered that the twice-yearly Castro bollywood extravaganza is quickly approaching. This year's first at-bat looks more promising than the complete strikeout stinkfest that was Paheli last fall: Parineeta plays on March 18th. Maybe this means that the fall 2006 schedule is ill-fated. Anyway, for those of you that are more about high-brow cinema that is actually about more than sparkling and dancing, Deepa Mehta's Water plays on March 19th. While I'm all for seeing both, I have to confess that seeing a bonafide, cheesy Bollywood film at the Castro theater is really the higher priority for me. The possibility of witnessing catcalls at SRK or Saif Ali Khan? Sign me up. I'm class-ay like that.

In other news, if I do not bake something tonight, I might burst into tears. I cannot explain this problem of mine, but I figure admitting that it is a problem is the first step.

Oh, also, 8 a.m teleconferences? I loathe you.