this is what calm feels like

Drinking green ginger tea in a beautiful indian mug and listening to the newest sigur ros album while my mother sleeps curled up on the sofa to one side of me and my cat snores in her little cat bed on the other. someone was setting off fireworks far away, and listening to their little pops and imagining them was probably more fun that seeing them would have been.

For possibly the first time in my life, I did something patriotic! Or semi-patriotic, or at least typically American. my mother and I somehow got kickass tickets to the phillies game and (of all people) we ended up sitting seven rows behind home plate. Like so close I had to get worried about getting hit with foul balls (which I always worry about at baseball games, as a general rule, due to my complete and utter unathleticism, which, as if it had to be proven again, was in fact proven again in a particularly unsuccessful game of badmitton last night, but which this time seemed like a legitimate concern), so close we could judge from looking at the player's faces if they were attractive or not. It was wonderful. And sunny and beautiful. And I ate a delicious pulled pork sandwich and pretended like I knew what all of the many acronyms and statistics on the scoreboard meant, just for today.

Liking it here and missing what is not here, all at the same time.