Time for a variety of updates and thoughts. Perhaps the easiest way is to just grind out some sort of chronology.

As of 10:25am this morning, I'm listening to "Waiting Room" by Fugazi. Sometimes the "Launch" online player is far too appropriate.

Friday night I talked with an insurance agent for quite a while. He said he was asking me quite a few questions and just letting me ramble to make sure that what happened to my computer and bass guitar wasn't just what could be classified as "mysterious disappearance." Apparently if something just "mysteriously disappears" it isn't covered by renter's insurance. He told me not to worry, that this situation was not that but indeed a theft. Forms should get to me early this week and we get can get this all taken care of. Not having a decent computer is really dragging me down in several areas, so this is some good news finally.
Later Friday night I went and saw The Rosebuds play. I'd fallen asleep watching the Cubs play earlier and by the time I left, Stacey had been asleep for about an hour. She woke up while I was getting ready to go and while she wanted to come along, she was just too wiped out.
(Quick divergence: We're both at the point, myself moreso than even she is, where our obligations and work drain us so much that when it comes time to actually enjoy ourselves, we're too tired and stressed out. "Welcome to life," I know. Stacey's fortunate in that at least her work is something she enjoys and is pretty fulfilling for her. Mine...well, mine is I think making me literally physically unhealthy, not to mention mentally jarred. The worst part is that by the end of the day I lack energy to do much of anything to help pull myself out of this.)
Anyway, Little Brazil and The Rosebuds were both quite good. The former seems to be settling into a fairly safe but enjoyable powerpop style (in the vein of The Pixies, old & heavier Weezer, perhaps Superchunk) and their set remains pretty solid. The latter featured a sound a bit sparse compared to the record (not that this was a surprise), in places relying on repeated powerchords pretty heavily. Then again, that's pretty much how the band has to do it within the context of the tour. The keyboards definitely kept the sound surging and the vocals, as on the record, were quite clear and song-driving.
I ended up spending time talking with a middle-aged gentleman wearing a Boston Red Sox cap. We watched the very end of the Red Sox vs. Yankees game and glad Boston pulled it off in the end. Turns out that's the only game of the series they'd manage to win. He really rocked out to The Rosebuds, same way as a young kid would. Here's a guy who's at least in his 40s, pretty smart man, getting excited at good music. Gives me hope that maybe I won't be unable to enjoy anything after the age of 40.
In between bands the bouncer plugged the jukebox to blare the Ramones. "Johnny died! We gotta honor him!"

On Saturday Stacey and I went to this healthy eating and nutritional info thing at Wild Oats. I needed inspiration and may just have gotten some. I wish I had self-control. My mind is determined but my flesh is what seems to win out. Exercise is another weekly goal.

Saturday night eventually found me eating sushi and drinking (probably weak) sake. No reason, I just felt like it. That's relatively healthy.

On Sunday after Liturgy we were planning to go to another church for a Sunday School luncheon. Our main goal was to look at curriculum and network with other instructors. We got there and the place was buzzing and we just weren't up for that. We know how to get ahold of people there and will get more out of doing things in a quieter setting.

What happened next felt like a Seinfeld episode.
We live in an old Italian neighborhood. An old Italian bakery stands only a few blocks away. We've heard very good things about something they serve called "gouterouni" (terrible spelling, I'm sure, but it's pronounced "goo-ter-oo-knee") but for some reason whenever we've gone to order it they're missing some ingredient like dough (I kid you not) or potatoes. We decided to give it a go yesterday afternoon, figuring that they'd still have all the ingredients at five til noon on a Sunday. They must have because someone took the order for our vegetarian version of the gouterouni.
I walked in at 12:30, right on cue, very hungry, happy to finally try this magical food. Several old men wandered around behind the counter, drinking Bud Light and laughing at their own jokes. They couldn't find any trace of an order being taken. Some guy in the back said he took the order but they never did anything with it. The guy at the counter told me they'd get it done in 15 minutes (which turned out to be just over 20). I came back almost half an hour later, they gave it to me at a discounted price, and I took the gouterouni home. Stacey started slicing it and hamburger spilled out. They'd not paid attention to the actual order (if it ever really existed). At that point I was steaming and quite hungry. Stacey went with me. Our goal was to just get the money back. Her goal was to keep me from blowing up at the old guys so we wouldn't be banned from the store or something. I let off steam more than I should but rarely lose my temper. For whatever reason I was in the midst of losing it over some silly Italian food. We went in and they started apologizing, gave us our money back. They grabbed a vegetarian pizza that had just been made and gave it to us for free. Some other poor sucker probably went in 5 minutes later only to find his food not ready. Look for "Old men at Orsi's screwed up my vegetarian pizza" on Google and I'm sure some other equally pathetic fellow is whining in his blog/journal about it today as well.

I really am trying to get work done today (and even accomplishing a few things while writing this). Somehow mentally I'm just struggling. I have so many things to be happy about but once I get behind this desk, I lose most of my desire to live. I don't mind most of the projects in and of themselves, but things always seem out of control and about to turn over on top of me. The fact that the people who aren't doing the projects keep changing things around doesn't really help. The fact that my memory is lousy and I'm unorganized and can't focus with a lot going on around me doesn't help, either.

Despite last week's 90+ degree highs, we're somehow at fall again. For some reason I keep daydreaming about crunchy orange brown leaves and Michigan apple cider and playing baseball in my yard on State Line Road and every year's last days of Dairy Queen and my old cocker spaniel and family within 15 minutes and wearing comfortable old sweaters in the chilly autumn nights. I wasn't happier then. I'm in love now and couldn't have known then how great it is. I've found so many more and better things to care about and find joy and beauty and truth in. My spiritual life is infinitely better and getting moreso as time goes on. I'd never go back in time if I could. Somehow, though, this daydream still makes me tear up while ignoring my death-inducing work for just another minute.