Okay, quick update on my weekend--less because I think you really want to know than because I want one last thing to keep me from turning to Ch. 1.

Saturday GWBoyfriend and I went to one of the city's smaller museums, the one devoted to the city itself, and saw a couple of interesting exhibits. I'd been meaning to get to this museum for ages, so it was a nice outing. We walked the 25 or so blocks there, and afterwards walked another 15 or 20 to the neighborhood where I lived immediately after college, dropping into some stores and my all-time favorite take-out place along the way.

Finally, after an hour or so in a coffee shop reading the Times, we went to see March of the Penguins--a good and very interesting documentary. I'm not exactly Wildlife Girl, but I'd heard the filmmaker on NPR a couple of weeks ago and had thought it sounded interesting (and, more crucially, I had two free movie passes I've been trying to use at the right chain for 8 months). Also, if you think there's anything in the world cuter than baby penguins, you'd be wrong.

Yesterday we went out to a remote part of the city to see my friend and hairdresser, who I'll call Tom. Tom deserves a post all to himself--actually, he deserves a novel, or possibly a movie--but suffice it to say that he's a very dear person whom I met through a college friend. 40-something, HIV-positive, Tom's lived all over the country and had a crazy number of jobs (many of which aren't exactly the kind of thing you'd list on a resume); he's a survivor, is Tom.

Since he moved to this more distant location about a year ago I've often gotten my hair cut at the storefront salon he works at, since it's much closer, but I prefer to go to Tom's apartment if I can--partly because that way all the money I'm paying goes directly to him, but mainly because it's so much fun: he's got two fantastic cats, a crazy, campy, multicolored apartment that every time I visit features new items he's salvaged from the street and painted gold or stuck feathers on. He has an old salon chair and all the tools of his trade there, so it's quite a professional set-up--but one which still allows me to hang out and catch up with him. Also, on a practical level: he's a damn fine stylist, and in a city where haircuts start around $60, the $20 he charges (and the $25 or 30 I usually pay) cannot be beat.

So, GWB and I both got our hair cut, with me winding up with a shorter and slightly different 'do than I've sported before--very sassy, I think. We hung out a bit with Tom, then headed back into the city proper for hummus at an Israeli joint we frequent that in fact sells only hummus--three different varieties, each a meal unto itself. Along the way we ducked into a vintage/collectibles store where I got a cute black patent handbag to replace one whose strap broke a couple of years back.

And now--and now, it's 3 p.m., GWB left around noon, and it's REALLY time to turn to that damn dissertation! Update later if I'm successful.