I had an emergency appendectomy, and then slept most of the time
for several weeks. During that time I moved into my new place, the
one where I can set up a friend's electric piano, since the friend
is out of the USA indefinitely for visa reasons. Work has been
demanding lately, which has been good but has also meant that I've
not slept enough. As usual, I learn more and perform better during
crises than I do during "normal" times. At home I am surrounded
by boxes, most of which I don't even want to unpack. I have a list
of things to buy at the hardware store, but haven't bought any of
them because on some days I need to get up and dash to work, and
other days I just want to spend some quiet time in bed reading a
linguistics paper, or listening to the clock radio, or sprawling
around enjoying my sheets and deciding not to unpack my books.

Today I lifted weights for the first time in almost a year.
It felt wonderful. I had forgotten how magnificent it feels
to have this heaviness in my muscles, the feeling of weight
that tells me I have really done something. I tried not to
lift so much that I'll be miserably sore tomorrow, but only
time will tell.

My bike is working again! Hurrah! One thing I might do tomorrow
is to come into work via public transport, or walking, or something,
and ride home. That way I can start riding again regularly now
that I'm almost recovered from this surgery thing.

I'm starting to have something like a social life. Today after
I lifted weights I drove into Palo Alto and had dinner with a
colleague and a friend of his I hadn't met. Few things feel
better than lifting weights, then having a nice dinner and chatting,
then going to a bookstore with people and talking about books. And
then I came back to work to follow up on stuff. Nice. I was
invited to a games party the other day, with people I hadn't known.
I have several people interested in coming to a regular bridge game
at my house. I just have to get a table to play on now, and to
wait until after the holidays. This is turning into a social life.

There was a company holiday party the other night. I went reluctantly,
knowing that these things are usually tedious and dull. But several
of us asked the DJ to play swing, and it turned out that several of
us could swing, and I got to dance. It had been a year or so; after
my quasi-boyfriend and I broke up I couldn't face going back to the
ballroom where we had been learning to dance. But the other night
several of us burned up the floor doing swing and salsa and
cha-cha-cha, and then the DJ switched to rock and the floor filled
up from the energy the ballroom dancers had kicked up. I went back
onto the floor (after adventures with moleskin, because my feet
were already covered with blisters and skinless bits) and danced
and danced and danced. A half dozen people told me afterward that
they loved it when I danced. It's so seldom that I feel comfortable
enough to do so, and that my body will let me.