So there’s this poem about crying called “Yesterday I Cried” by Iyanla Vanzant. I won’t put it here, but you should Google it. I went through something like that on Saturday. I was pretty drunk, to tell you the truth, and the fact that I was intoxicated made all of the “hold it together” we all have just sort of go away, and when it did, all I had left was a whole lot of sad that came bubbling up. I was happy, too, of course, I was with dear friends and they rock my world. But boy oh man, all that sad just came slamming up through my body, totally unexpectedly, and it hit me in the back of my face, and I gasped and put my hands to my cheeks to hold it all in, but it was too big, and it came gushing out of the front, sending me scrambling for tissues and privacy.

I cried and I cried and I cried, sitting on the floor of the bathroom with my knees pulled up to my forehead. I forgot to lock the door, though, and my buddy Jake came in having to pee and I probably scared him half to death. Jake is really a wonderful dude, so he sat with me, and I told him that I had decided to cry out all of the unhappy all at once, and it was taking a while, and I made him cry, too, which I felt bad about. And then I felt better. And then I threw up.

That is all.

The flight was delayed and then canceled. I held back while everyone else groaned and rushed the counter to be rescheduled. It sucks, because I just want to get home, but really, all I have to look forward to is a broken water pipe and then some freelance work tomorrow at my computer. I’m not in a rush. Everyone else seemed really mad, but I tend not to get mad when I fly. Before takeoff I’m always just hopful that I’ll get through the flight ok, and after, I’m thankful to be landing safely on the ground after hurdling through the air for several hours.

There’s something about air travel that’s so disconcerting. Your luggage goes away from you. That makes me nervous. The government is allowed to search it if they want to. You don’t get to meet the person controlling the aircraft. He’s always sealed in a tiny compartment in front before you get anywhere near the plane. That’s freaky; I’d like to meet the person responsible for my life as we glide miles over the Earth. You know? Look into his eyes, make sure he’s not drunk. When you get on a bus you see the driver right away, and you can tell if he’s had too much to drink. Same with a cabbie, and even a subway conductor. But they don’t let you meet the pilots. They should. I’d like air travel better. But there are rules and stuff. It is The Way It Is according to the government. Actually, my hatred of air travel is all the government’s fault. There’s a lot of having to trust the government when you get on a plane, and you know how I feel about the government.

*sigh* Here I sit.

I got off the plane and Tracy picked me up in her bumper-sticked car. I got grilled cheese at Milwaukee’s famous Alterra and we went to her house where I finally met Miss Moe, who I’ve been following on Twitter.

Other events of the weekend:

Snow angels, Rock Band on the Wii, Boggle, Scrabble, random hugging, lots of dancing, a private group tour of Lakefront Brewery, co-cooking, lunch at Hooligan’s which was sponsored by Seesmic (thank you, Seesmic!), writing on the basement wall, lots of drinking (of course!), football in the snow, sing-a-longs, hookah smoking, epic amounts of photography, and serious conversations about firewire cables. There were also a zillion things that happened that made everyone bond, and that’s such a good feeling.

This city is so cool; everyone is so friendly! There was a table of old ladies at a diner we went to, and when they saw that we were a large group with no where to sit, they moved to a smaller table so we could have theirs. That would NEVER happen in New York! They were excited when I told them where I lived, and told me proudly, “We’re Obama supporters!”, which made all of us deeply happy.

Oh Milwaukee. If you weren’t so cold I would move to you.

(sidenote: I made a last minute decision to go to SXSW, and others did, too. If you’re planning to attend, get in touch. We’ll hang, and it will be awesome.)

Wednesday was lunch with G. and her new baby girl, who is pretty much the cutest thing ever. G. showed up to the restaurant looking like her usual glamorous self with her Dior sunglasses, shiny hair and trim figure. You go girl! You make motherhood look good!

Baby was quiet through lunch; she only made a few “I’m trying to poop.” noises, and slept through the whole thing while I got the inside scoop on birth and new baby days. At one point I was peeking at her as she slept, and she woke up, looked at me for a moment, rolled her eyes, and fell back asleep. Rob does that, too.

***

It’s 1:30 in the morning and I’m still packing for Tracy‘s. Tomorrow I am flying alone for the very first time, and I’m nervous even though I know I don’t need to be. I’m flying princess-style: no checked luggage for me. Rob and our buddy Chris are driving to Tracy’s (which is just outside of Milwaukee, which is a totally bananas drive). They’re taking most of my stuff.

Ok, back to shoving my entire life into a suitcase. Some people over-eat when they’re nervous. I’m overpacking.

photo by Tracy, who I will be with in just over 12 hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!!