traveling in Washington D.C.

The past two days have felt like traveling. It's like I've been on vacation in my own city. After my hazy day of sleep, separation, and recovering from Saturday night's gig, I dragged myself out to my weekly Sunday night dinner party. I drove there shrouded in a mind-fog. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go, but I had been napping on and off all day and I needed to get out of that bed for a little bit. On the way, my room mate called, already there, and asked how it went with the. . . separation conversation. So I guess she and everyone else already knew by the time I got there.

I pulled up and the host (my Palestinian friend who does all the cooking), walked out front to meet me at my car. He opened my door, helped me out, and hugged me. He said, "We're so glad you're here." I started crying like a baby on his shoulder. He took the beer from my hands and led me up the driveway to the circle of warm, welcoming people. Right away two more close friends came up and hugged me, to which I responded with more tears. Damn. This week was the largest the dinner party had ever been, and there were lots of people I didn't know, all whom were probably wondering why the hell this girl shows up 3 hours late and starts crying. Eh, fuck 'em.

The rest of the night was just surreal. It was rather cold, so for the first time, we had to eat inside and not on the back veranda. (Don't you love that word - veranda? It's not used nearly enough.) We opened up the dining room and gathered around the huge, dark wooden table. I sat back and watched the scene unfold. There were about 20 people of all different nationalities, ages, and backgrounds, all laughing, eating, reaching for food, passing dishes, oohing and ahhing over the delicious spread, pouring wine, and vascillating in and out of various conversations about days at work, politics, religion, philosophy, food, and relationships. There was roasted eggplant in rice, cous-cous salad, cold salad with these special Palesinian herbs, several kinds of cheese, and then there was pumpkin pie, pumpkin cookies, and peach-praline pie. Halfway through the meal, this hip-looking couple walks in the front door. They're from Denmark. They know the New Zealand roomate. They're here for dinner. Great. Then these random, tattooed people came in from outside where they were smoking and started saying all kind of crazy, drugged-up stuff that made everybody laugh. We were laughing at them, not with them, but they didn't know it. Then I met this stunningly-beautiful couple that works in film. The woman reads palms and does your i-ching, and the guy has a mohawk and is writing a memoir. Billy Bob Thorton is in their phone. They are moving to LA.

Finally around 10 we gathered our things and started giving hugs and kisses goodbye. We piled 6 people into my little Honda Civic and laughed all the way home. Then we didn't want to go home, so we wandered out to U St. and ended up at this little reggae club. We were the only white people there. We drank margaritas, got hit on by every guy in the place, danced, and laughed until the placed closed and we had to leave. But no - we weren't done yet. We walked down to get some pizza and continued our crazy night. I think we finally made it home and into bed by 3.

And that's just Sunday. Today, I called off of work with my room mate, who is also a teacher. I decided to give myself a "me" day. My room mate's friend was in town this weekend from Denver, and so we took off to spend a girl day with her. We slept in until noon, watched some steamy episodes of The Tudors while we drank some spiked coffee, and finally left the house at 2. The three of us met our other good girl friend, who happens to be currently unemployed and available during the day, out for a walk around the city. We went to the National Gallery, then walked down the Mall to the sparkling fall light of the sun illuminating all the little pieces of dust in the air as they floated around the monuments. We ended our walk at the Lincoln Memorial just in time to watch the sun set over the Potomac. Someone said, "I wish we had a song right now," so I sang. And it was silent except for my singing, which seemed to reach very, very far. We waited until the sun was completely down, then spilled into a cab and headed to Eastern Market for a great Cuban dinner.

Now I am home. My vacation is over. I need to go back to work tomorrow and face a lot of things I have not been ready to face this weekend. I don't know how I will do. I don't know if I have the strength to face the day. But right now - right now, I am content. Right now I can be. These past two days have shown me that I can access my free-traveling-spirit right here in my own city. I remembered all the things I learned about myself this summer. I am still my own best friend. And even if just for two days, life was good.