K. texted S. for lunch advice and S. said, Come on over! The school was having a curriculum meeting which meant ordering in lunch and there was enough for us, especially after a colleague gave us the chicken she didn’t eat with her own meal. We ate at S.’s desk as she brought people by to say hello. There can’t be many friends of S.’s who I haven’t met yet. 

We hopped in a car to the SIDCOR Sunday market where I quickly confirmed that the heat and crowds of outdoor fairs are not my scene all over the world. Couldn’t beat the company, though! I grabbed a table and K. got me a chicken skewer and it was so great to be reunited with S., who shares my feelings about the outdoor fair: nope. 

I have no idea how to count lunch when time disappears down a trans-pacific airplane hole. I guess the Delta SkyClub Tokyo bits and pieces were a close approximation although by that point I was pretty sure I never wanted to have a body again, much less one full of airport food. I took a shower (this was my best idea of the trip by far) and then tried the regionally-specific SkyClub snacks. The two people next to us were doing a mileage run through Singapore. He was fashion director for Kleinfeld Bridal for years, first job was assistant to a much younger Donald Trump, running interference to enable the whole Marla Maples thing. I love being an elite traveler. 

The travel menu said we were being served dinner at the start of our twelve hour flight from Detroit to Tokyo even though it was only 12:15. Normalizing the meal and sleep schedule is key, everybody says: hygiene hygiene, hygiene. This first airplane meal was novel, the rest much less so. 

I can’t watch the Comey hearings. No fewer bombs will be dropped, no fewer children hungry. That’s not where power is. That’s now how we’re going to wrest it. Nobody is coming for us. My mother used to tell me that when I was a girl, in my memory it’s a bitĀ  ghoulish, a face out of the darkness, nothing is coming for you. What she meant was that if you want it you have to go get it, and watching tv is not going out and getting it. Power is so hard to build. Wins are so hard to get. Whatever. There’s a Chinese version of Chipotle across the street from the office now. I ran out of time this morning so figured I’d try it. High end Panda Express. Who knows when I’ll get this taste out of my mouth. Who knows when I’ll get this taste out of my mouth.

C. and I went to the Thai place on Fulton and she picked up the tab this time because I picked up the tab last time. We talked assessment shop, a talk I still kind of can’t believe I can talk, but I can, and do, and get paid for it. Life is nuts.

The institutional lunch was really elaborate, steam trays of meats and vegetables, this was not your ordinary wraps. I stood in line with M. and J. and we goggled at the warning on the roasted vegetable tray: no turnips. But why? I found the desserts inedible and was happy for the cookies that arrived later in the afternoon.

What comes with the chicken and rice platter? I asked, and the answer, chicken and rice, should have sent me in another direction, but I was not making the best choices. I took it to go and ate on a bench on the train platform, mistaken in my belief that the 1:03pm would take me home to New York-Penn Station. Nope. Only going to Trenton. I waiting until 1:20 for the pokey old local.

I made a plate of my leftover birthday dinner from K.’s refrigerator and ate it at the table while reading my new book. K. was at a PBAT panel at the high school, the cat was sprawled all over the table. I’m so lucky.

I heated up a frozen dinner and ate it on the couch watching television. And then I popped some popcorn and ate it on the couch watching television. What’s abject?