I haven't done much all week, coming home and crashing on the couch, not going anywhere except to the store to get Theraflu and gallons of orange juice for me and the roommate.
I was finally able to get out of my blueness this weekend, going back to Parma to hang out with my mom and then hit up my old familiar haunts from my adolescence, visiting the library I used to work at as a page, giving up on the clothes racks at the Goodwill but finding copies of "Dirt" and "Superunknown" to rock out to in the car on my way down to Cuyahoga Falls to catch up with some people, pick up the roommate, and take a long drive with some good tuneage. It's amazing therapy and now that the weather is getting colder, I'm totally ready to dig out the flannel I more or less permanently borrowed from my dad.
Sunday was fabulous, as Lindsay and I went to see Neil Gaiman speak at CPL. Of course he was wonderful and read to us from his new book and talked about how he loved C.S. Lewis and Lord of the Rings as a kid. The people-watching was fabulous and we ducked out during autograph time to grab a pizza at Georgio's because we were starving.
I got Neil's autograph for Randal and then we went forth to get lost in East Cleveland and she took pictures of overgrown lawns and random signage. I would've too if I'd been able to find my camera that morning. Everything seemed to be glowing and golden even if we were in an area that most would see as anything but.
And for some reason I feel like posting this for the heck of it because it's just good in that fuzzed-out early 90's should've been bigger Northwest kind of way.