04.28.2002 - 5:58 p.m.

I spent most of yesterday afternoon in the back of my roommate's Jeep, trying to keep the collar of my jacket from flaying my cheek while keeping my hands tucked into my armpits for warmth. (We had the top down.) It was a nice day, but my roommate's guy has this thing about driving faster than other people, and speed is cold.

I understand the romance of convertible things. I do. I don't understand how people manage to drive them, but I understand the attraction. The absence of a barrier between yourself and the world you're driving through, the cultural icon of personal freedom, so on and so forth... turning my head to find an angle where the wind doesn't set off sympathetic vibrations in my nasal cavity, the sound of that wind over the radio. Knowing that if I sang along, the people in the front seat would not hear me. When I closed my eyes, it felt very solipsistic, or some other large word having to do with solitude and strength within a storm. I got some good thinking done. Not about anything in particular; I just like thinking. The back of a topless, speeding Jeep is a good place to do it.

My shoulder is stiff, which reminds me, we also spent a good while at the point, playing catch and planning wedding stuff. I'm to be the maid of honor. I will be a good five inches taller than the best man, but I get to pick my own dress. It seems like helping them plan a wedding, the first wedding I've ever been part of, the last day before they move half a continent away, should make me feel something. I should have some deep thoughts on the subject to share here. But I don't know what I think about it; it's just something I'm doing for a while. So not today.

Notes for Next Time: Catch baseballs with fingertips and pocket of glove, as they are smaller than softballs. Smaller size equals smaller area of impact equals larger concentration of force equals blood blister at base of index finger. Stupid physics.

-stonebridge

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