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2005-11-27 - 2:17 p.m.

...sunday at home, and surfing...

Hours later...

I received a phonecall last night from a grad student friend - I'd earmarked my futon for her, and after three months of setbacks, she's finally planning to pick it up today. It's a very nice futon and I'm slightly sorry to see it go. But at the same time, I'm happy to be rid of another THING in my life, and pleased to take back the space. Whether she shows up remains to be seen. She is predictably late, but sometimes does not show up at all. (How is it that I surround myself with people like this?)


I've finally made it through the Thanksgiving dishes, which pleases me greatly. I don't have a great deal of space in my kitchen and I hate washing and drying dishes. My solution has been to clean in short bursts. Once the drainer is full, I stop until the next burst hits. Today the only thing remaining is the greasy browned glass casserole plate. I've doused it three times in citrisolve (R), and I am making slow progress on removing the grease stains. I am a terrible dishwasher.

Today I also made splendid progress with the Thanksgiving leftovers. Green beans for breakfast (hey, I live alone, what does it matter? I like green beans, and the cats are my only critics). I combined the apples-n-onions with the leftover butternut squash, adding chicken broth, cilantro, tofu, and curry spice to make an interesting soup. Paired with a half-glass of red wine, I concluded that it is entirely edible. Now I am enjoying a cup of tea and listening to a radio show.

Mizzy is entirely disatisfied with life at the moment. She is following me through the apartment and complaining loudly at me. Who ever said cats can't talk. She's finally found a mildly pleasing spot - perched on the top of the 5-foot refridgerator, gazing Sphinxlike into space. I've given up assuming that this apartment belongs to me.


Before starting the lectures I have to write, I've engaged in some online real estate shopping therapy, and spent an interesting half-hour skyping with K. I've recently come across a new diary of a young woman living in Germany (I'll check with her before I mention her name here). Several of her entries have made me terribly homesick for the Good, Bad, and Ugly of being an American in Germany. I directed K to a recent entry about a certain incident involving a shopping cart and an irate old lady...

K burst out laughing, "Oh my God, little t, that sounds exactly like YOU!" He was also captivated, as it reminded him of his many years of seeing Germany through my eyes. The characters, the conversations, the parties - it is so close to my own experience (although I've yet to hear about this woman's experiences with the German delicacies of leberkaese or 'tot oma,' lucky for her). Even the photos made us suspect that this woman lived down the street from us.

I hope that this does not freak her out completely, but we started arguing over which town it was. K said the landmarks were so familiar that he was CERTAIN that it was Town X. We started doing some searches on a few of the landmarks, and I was certain that I had identified it as Town Y, quite some distance away from our home. We argued about it. It couldn't be Town Y, because his MOTHER is from Town Y, and HE WOULD KNOW.

So here's where my d-land Bekannterin (do we call ourselves friends when we meet so remotely?) might get REALLY freaked out. Because he called his mother and sent her to the diaryland link - confirming that I indeed had found the right town.

"Oh yes, that's Karstadt!" she said.

Anyway, the whole hunting process was quite fun, but one point struck me as odd. One observation I made in Germany was how very different the regions of Germany felt. The people had different characters, different prejudices, and even the architecture was different. Our two towns really are not close together at all - in separate German states even. Yet her pictures and stories strike such a familiar chord! When I think about it, I know that small town America has a familiar feel whether it is New York or Illinois. Perhaps this is not so strange, but it makes me wonder about how cultures homogenize with time, our how "they all look the same" when you are outside of them. Who knows.

Anyway, I just got a call about the futon, and I really need to start on these lectures.

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