Frugal, Friedan, Football, Freakout

["Hi, I'm Huntington, and I'm a financial fuck-up."

["Hiiiiiii, Huntington."]

[Sigh. I guess the only solution to this one is time. But I am so tired of being in this state. So tired I may actually do something to avoid it in the future.]

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[Betty Friedan, R.I.P. I guess what she started for women and men has been adequately recognized over the years. The world changed because of her.]

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[It looks as though I'll be going to watch the Super Bowl chez my sister and brother-in-law and niece. Good. The parents will be there, too. Mom got me a late Christmas present, Doris Kearns Goodwin's book about Abraham Lincoln's Cabinet. (Yes!) It's especially welcome now since I just finished Sean Wilsey's screwy, horrifying tell-all about some of San Francisco's rich and powerful in the '80s, a good companion piece to stuff like Tales of the City. In return, I'm lending Mom Son of a Witch; I've enjoyed sharing Gregory Maguire's books with her.]

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[Off to meet Chris in the upper Haight, where's been sitting at a sunlit cafe getting work done. He and I have been giving each other space this week (kinda; he did answer most gallantly my summons on Monday night during a mysteriously strong panic attack, and I accompanied him to a new members meeting at the Commonwealth Club on Wednesday). After all my - our - determination to try to take things slow, we have been taking each other verrrry seriously for weeks now, with the resulting squabbles putting us exactly where we don't want to be.]

[But I want me some of him right now, so bye.]

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