Sheets

I iron when I'm stressed. I iron late at night in a tank top and underwear. I iron when I can't sleep. I tear all the sheets from my bed, grab fresh sheets out of the cupboard and flip down my ironing board from the back of my bedroom door.

Most women hate ironing. It's a vestige of male dominance and typically female housework. There's the possibility of getting burned and really, who minds a few wrinkles? I don't care though. I don't care if ironing is a throwback to June Cleaver and chauvinism.

When I iron, I'm thrown back to my year in Thailand. As I stand in my tank top and underwear, with my iron in hand, everything stops. It's warm and humid. The steam curls around my hand. There are palm trees outside the window of my mind. The air hangs heavy and I can hear cows in the streets, roosters outside my door and dogs howling. A pink gecko stares at me from the wall.

Suddenly,

I can breathe again.

I'm ironing the flat sheet now. I told myself that I would only iron the first foot and a half of fabric. It's the part that peeks over the blanket. The only part that matters, aesthetically. I was lying to myself. Smoothing out the wrinkles is addictive and I know that I'll end up ironing the entire sheet. Every inch will be smooth and soft. 400 thread count, egyptian cotton. I love my sheets. I used to dream about having sheets like these.

When I'm done ironing, I'll finish making my bed and then I'll gingerly climb between the sheets and try not to wrinkle them again

Craigslist Family

My housemates have become a loosely-connected family. It's wonderful. J and A (they're a couple) are like the parents. J is the dad. He takes out the trash and handles the plumbing, makes awkward jokes and generally teases everyone. A is sweet but with spunk. J makes fun of her but they're adorable together. Then there's Y (the asian grad-student). He's like a dorky older brother. I can poke fun at him but I really respect him. My friends come over to the house and he'll have us rolling on the floor in laughter. Last is C, we're closer to sisters. We each live our own lives but we have some good conversations and an adventure every now and then. It's amusing to me that the whole group found each other on craigslist.

The other day, I decided at 1 am that we should have a hot cocoa party. Y and C joined in and we invited fifteen people over to the house, lit a fire and had different kinds of hot chocolate. I stood in the kitchen over the hot cocoa and smiled at the scene. This is what a family should be like. This is what college should be.

Modern Gypsy Caravan of one

My dream house is roughly 100 sq. ft on wheels. http://www.tumbleweedhouses.com/houses/

It will have a front porch with a rocking chair (or possibly a swing) and potted plants. I'll have solar panels on the roof, a composting toilet and a rainwater collection system.

I'll have only the things I need and nothing more. People won't be able to give me gifts because I won't have any place to put them. I'll have a loft bed above the kitchen and a wet shower above the composting toilet. I've been wondering about the possibility of using the humus from the composting toilet as soil for my potted vegetable garden. Apparently "humanure" (if processed correctly) is safe for use as soil for edible plants. Who knew?

I'm thinking about adding a mifi to it so that I'll have internet wherever I go and then I can take my self-sustaining modern gypsy caravan of one with me wherever I decide to travel withing north america. I have a feeling I'd run into problems trying to drive all the way down to brazil with it behind my zap-truck.

Winks

They're strange. Winks can be overdone. Large facial movement. The eyelid closes and the mouth opens. Or, they can subtle. So fast and quick that one is left wondering if it even happened.

The short and quick winks are sneaky. They're flirtatious but not obviously so. Getting winked at is almost like having someone raise their eyebrows at you. You sit there, half-stunned. "Did they really just do that?" The answer is most likely, "Yes. Yes, they really did."

I always expect old men to wink and young men to thinking winking is old-fashioned and socially awkward. I'm taken aback every time a young man winks at me. It still happens though.

Restless

I'm getting restless.

Maybe it's because I just got back from Israel. Maybe it's because I'm not interested in any of my classes right now. Maybe it's because I'm hormonal or maybe it's the cold, clear skies. Regardless of the reason, I'm restless and my wanderlust is out of control.

I was just asked to become president of the jewish cultural group on my campus next year. I guess I could do it. I'm opinionated enough to make decisions (half the time). I care about maintaining the jewish heritage. I just recently got back from Israel so I guess I should have a renewed passion for everything.

I think maybe I just miss him. He's awfully cheesy and not the best guy but he's so honest with me. It's almost obscene.

He spent the night before his birthday with me at my house. We mostly just cuddled. I liked having him next to me in my bed. It's a larger bed and I only use up half of it. It feels right to have someone just an arm reach over. I've never felt that before.

I tried to get people to go to the beach with me the other night. Spontaneous roadtrip!! Let's rent a yurt! My friends wouldn't go for it. "In winter? We're sick... That doesn't sound like fun. The roads are icy right now." I decided that my friends are lame. They're wonderful and they care about me but they don't have the same spunk. And they say that I'm not adventurous. Why don't they understand the adventurous means having real adventures and spontaneous roadtrips and crazy spur of the moment urges? Adventurous does not mean taking magical mushrooms in someone's basement and pissing yourself because you're too scared to go to the bathroom or because you're hallucinating that you're melting.

I need new friends.

hmm...

I was in Israel. I met a guy, another american jew on my trip. He was from Philadelphia. He's in law school at Penn. Smart guy. He looked like woody allen but when he smiled, his whole face lit up and it was a beautiful smile. He didn't talk much; at least not to me. He had no problems speaking in front of a room, sharing his mind. He was articulate and well spoken. Entirely too conservative in his fiscal policies and he drank too much. But I liked him just the same.