day 22: pumpkin spice coffee

I made Pat lunch today. A turkey sandwich (cut into triangles, just for him), Wheat Thins, and a few pieces of candy. I included a note, written on an index card with a thick black marker.

I ordered a hot chocolate and a fat bagel with turkey and lettuce and sun-dried tomato spread.

I went shopping with Resa for long-sleeved T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts. Instead I bought a short-sleeved T-shirt and a soft, striped scarf.

Resa and I stopped by a coffee shop. I sipped a wild berry smoothie through a straw. Di can imitate straw noises.

We rented American Pimp and watched it with Mark and Di, plush pillows and thick comforters.

We dined at a Chinese buffet. Egg rolls and kung pao chicken under heat lamps, ice cream and hot fudge for dessert. A waiter poured pop into our empty glasses and set four fortune cookies on the table, amid crumpled napkins and dirty plates and unused silverware. My fortune read, "Someone is saying something nice about you." I smiled.

Mark went home to nurse his sore throat with Diablo 2 and rest.

We visited James at his uncle's house. There was a fish tank, a bird cage with a towel over it, and a sleeping bag and a leopard-print blanket sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV. We watched The Man Show, and James performed various Dashboard Confessional songs on a curvy acoustic guitar. He sang, too. Di supplied forgotten lyrics like whiteout, and gave me a back massage.

I love back massages. I ask for them all the time, like taking too many candies out of a dish. Whenever Resa and I eat at Green Mill (noted for their prize-winning pizza), Resa fills the pockets of her pea coat with mints and we share them in the car.

Tomorrow I'm going to have pumpkin spice coffee for breakfast.

My hands smell like face wash.