Saturday night

P1030867

Mendocino, again. (The picture, I mean.)

Meanwhile, in San Francisco I met Harriet and her friend L for dinner.

Sadly, no pictures were taken.

It is an odd thing, this meeting of imaginary friends — on the one hand, you know them, or think you know them, very well. On the other hand, you don’t know them at all in a physical sense. And they don’t know you! So they are the people you know, except, in Jeanne’s case, they are very tall. Just by way of illustration. Or, in Harriet’s case, they have red boots! It’s an odd disconnect of knowing someone well and not at all all at the same time. Yet, it was fun, and conversation flowed, and H’s friend L is quite nice and also a Hungarianist. How many Hungarianists can there be in the world? Not many, I would expect.

Anyway, I am up late, waiting to proof a paper coming in from Ohio (where it is considerably later)

Yawn.

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2 thoughts on “Saturday night

  1. I love that feeling of knowing someone well, but not the physical part. It gets introverts over the shy stage, don’t you think?

    You tell the Ohio writer to write her papers in time to bring them to the Writing Center before it closes at 10 pm. I’m serious; she should be doing that kind of stuff on her own by now.

  2. 1. Yes! It is a very interesting feeling — I’m trying to think what it’s like. Is it a little bit like when you have a new boyfriend and then for the first time you are hanging around with him in the company of his friends, whom you do do not know at all? There’s a curious feeling of a bunch of differing levels — you think you know stuff under the level of polite conversation, but you are carrying on polite conversation as if you did not. Kind of.

    2. Oh that Ohio writer. I wasn’t so much proof-reading as egging on the production of paragraphs at all, i.e. — that looks great — now write the next. She tends to get herself stuck. (They were display labels for the manuscripts class — she’s got 6 displays of interesting bindings.) But you are right — she needs to get to the point where she’s writing ahead of time so she has time to go get things edited, or at least to read them over a day later and edit them herself. But she panics, and then can’t do anything and then things get really dire. I reassure myself that I am not totally a helicopter parent in that I have absolutely no involvement at all with her painting class, other than to admire the terrible photos she sends me over her phone (which is not a smart phone.) Or her other two classes either, for that matter. I think she’s better this year than last — she seems to be juggling her assignments better from what I can tell. I helicopter in to pester her to write things on the calendar.

    3. I still have your key!!! I am the world’s worst mailer — but I have found an envelope, which is progress.

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