books, dresses and other secrets

I'm on a big reading kick lately. I finished "The Time Traveler's Wife" last night and will start on "Middlesex" sometime today, though I don't know when I'll have any time. I can't remember the last time I finished a book in a week! Books have become my place to hide. With some good reading material, I can go anywhere. Consequently I've spent a lot of time in Medieval England and Wales, and more recently Southern Missouri, Chicago and Maine. No one kind find me in any of those places.

Dinner with my friend S last night -- we fan our secrets like hands full of cards, while we joke and laugh and eat. We shopped a little and I bought a kicky bohemian looking skirt to wear to our dinner thing in Vegas (business trip in 2 weeks) and she helped me pick out a shirt to go with it. I had bought an embroidered black satin dress a while ago but decided it was too dressy (can't overdress the customers) and, oh yes, T said I looked like a hooker when I tried it on for him. I don't - but OK. Thankfully I only spent $18 on it (it was a $120 dress I found on a clearance rack in Dillard's.) Maybe someday I'll have an occasion.

But I digress. Back to S and our once-monthly (or more) dinner date. It feels good to share secrets with someone... to say out loud the things that nibble away at my confidence, my being. S and I have stepped up our friendship on recent months -- it has become more trusting, more tight. I take great comfort in this little oasis of commiseration and girl talk. Our lives seem soapy and overblown to ourselves but take on a more normal texture when we see that other's lives are just as goofy as our own. In her company I am the most real me and the mask comes off. And she doesn't even mind.