You know that feeling you get on Sunday nights when the weekend is almost gone, the last of the day’s light is rapidly disappearing, and the house is very quiet? You know how sometimes it’s associated with something you dread on Monday, or something you were supposed to accomplish but couldn’t face, but sometimes it just comes out of nowhere and hits you in the stomach with the force of a hundred years of loneliness and says to you, “Ah, so this is what your life looks like at 6:45 on a Sunday evening”?

I have that feeling. I think it’s partly because we had kind of a stressed out morning, which turned into kind of a disgruntled afternoon (despite an entirely delicious dim sum lunch in Chinatown and lots of leftovers), and partly because I’m a little worried about the next month’s worth of work, even though I knew perfectly well when I decided to get into this that the money wouldn’t be steady.

I miss you guys like the dickens, too. I wish you were here to sit on my back deck with me and talk about all this. But you’re not.

On the other hand, I did something today that I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and that Ross was convinced I wouldn’t actually be able to do (without making myself very unhappy and regretful). I cut my own hair. See?

Well, see in the middle? The top and bottom shots were taken about a week ago. It took about an hour and wasn’t nearly as messy a process as I thought it would be; it was, however, just as liberating and not-scary as I had hoped it would be. There was definitely a nervous moment in the beginning when it became clear that the layered shag I attempted first was not going to work, and I had to execute Plan B. Plan B, which was “keep cutting until it looks like a haircut,” succeeded, if not brilliantly, then at least a little luminously. Plan B was like a little candle in my day.

So the good news is at least I won’t have to clean out the drain filter in the tub so damn often.

It’s been a long week. I worked past midnight every night till Friday. But today, today we sat out on the grass and listened to a free jazz concert; we made more delicious food; we went to a party upstairs and had a lovely time. And now we sleep the sleep of the deserving… ask me for a story tomorrow.

…I now get hundreds of spam comments a day—sometimes an hour. If you’re making a comment on a post for the first time, or if you’re using a different name or email address than you usually do, drop me a line at MyFirstName@Utata.org so I know to check the sea of spam for your real comment. Otherwise it’s just going to get deleted with all the other ones. Sorry, ma’dears!

I’ve been working like a dog for the past three days, and won’t come up for air till the weekend, so to tide you over till then I’m sharing with you this email I received from my father this morning, which apart from the thermos of coffee Ross left waiting for me when I came back from the gym, I expect will be the best thing about my day. (My dad also sent the email to a friend of his, which is why he refers to Asher as “my grandson.”)

P.S. This story is better if you know Asher and can hear his voice, and also if you have seen my dad himself listening to music.

I marked my 60th birthday about 5 months ago. Last night I was driving my son-in-law’s Porsche ** 911 Carrera with my three year-old grandson, Asher, in the front seat. He sits on a booster seat that allows him to be right close to the control panel and he calls himself the co-pilot as his dad allows him to press buttons that do a myriad of things. While I was driving he turned on the sound system, made the sound level loud and, looking at me said, “Grandpa, you have to turn on the sound loud so that you can hear the music. This car goes very fast, you know, and when it goes very fast it makes a loud sound. Can you hear the loud sound of the engine?” I obligingly step on the accelerator and the car growls louder than the radio program. The car was stopped at a red light and I turned to look at him. His face was animated and his eyes were bright with excitement. His eyes still shining very brightly, he leans forward and presses another button and another red neon light comes on the dashboard. “The doors are all locked now, you know, Grandpa”. He leans slightly to his front and right and twiddles another knob and the stereo system changes from radio to CD. I glance at him to see him with his right hand clenched except for the forefinger which was rigidly pointing straight forward. He was using this finger to beat time to the pop music that was playing very loudly indeed. He excitedly said to me, “Grandpa, you have to listen to the music with your finger like this, you know!” waving his finger up and down in time to the music.

** I invited Kali (Kali is an old friend of my dad’s) to the house for lunch and to hand him mooncakes. Giving him mooncakes is something I have been doing for more then 20 years now. He was late and I received a phone call from him. He said, “Vijay, have you moved as I cannot find your house?’ I said, no, I was still at the same place. He hesitated a little and then said, “Do you have a Porsche parked in the front porch and Chinese lanterns hanging on the front of the car porch awning? I replied, yes, that is the house. He said, “I saw the place but thought to myself that this cannot be your house, for Vijay will never buy a Porsche.”

…are my photos from Costa Rica. Likewise, my stories from Costa Rica. I will probably never get caught up, especially since I don’t even have it in me to tell you properly about yesterday right now, or even today (we explored a new neighborhood, dragged home a gorgeous mirror for the bedroom, made several terrific meals, sat and read in a beautiful Japanese garden on a little island near our house, and painted art on the bedroom wall).

Still, here is a little bit of a start.

Today was a purple gem of a day.

Some of this new life is hard. We can talk about that later. In the meantime, I’m having a kind of romance with the city. Can you blame me? Look at that light; look at those lines. Ordinary things are new again, and I just need to make sure I see them.