I am getting old.

I'm noticing that students who I'd assumed were about my age are actually 4 or 5 years younger than me -- and some are born in another decade entirely. Not so distant a gap, but definitely enough that were I in their position, I'd view me as an older person. Like I was some kind of thoroughly established adult. A staff member walking around campus among students, in a protective staff bubble of permanence, stability, seriousness. I'm practically wearing orthopedic shoes.

I also discovered the second unfortunate consequence of leaving my over-priced hair stylist: My roots include at least 3 grey hairs. Certainly, I've been a bit of a prudish old lady since I first joyfully ironed along with Martha. And teensy wrinkles I've had since I was a kid, and expected while I baked in tanning salons throughout high school (oh, and college). But, as far as I know, grey hairs hold no exterior cause to blame for accelerating their appearance; my body is simply decaying. And once my very hair follicles lose interest in the plump, colorful vibrancy of youth, what hope do I have? If this is not the end, it is certainly no longer the beginning.

PS. I am not wearing orthopedic shoes. In fact, I think I look pretty hot today.

I was super sleepy this morning (to the point of actually resisting getting out of bed for a whole 3 or 4 minutes), but was happy to walk to campus and spend half an hour working out. Some combination of the exercise, a sunny noontime walk for coffee, and a pseudo-nap disguised as a work training meeting this morning have brought me excessive happytimes energy. The sun fell over campus like warm sugar, a sky all puffed silver clouds and baby-blanket blue; Suzzallo was a cathedral, Gerberding a palace; and the ripped-jeans/designer purses student body skateboarding and cellphoning through red square made me happy to be part of something.

Weekend.

Lost on Friday with Nate and Melissa. The show has recaptured some of its early quality, with the cabin, the black smoke, and a tightening-up of plot lines. Things are muddled with time changes and mysterious characters, and there are still too many plotlines to cover everything in any one episode, but at least I can recall week-to-week what's going on.

Saturday -- Gym, Costco, long walk with Buster to campus (was as big a fan of the Quad as any sun-bathing sophomore), dinner, The Wire. The first season was striking, but in hindsight a good reiteration of familiar social dynamics. The second is more complex, more original, more gritty. It's really exciting and unsettling to see blue collar culture and organized crime contrasted with inner-city drug trade. A group of primarily white cops chasing primarily black dealers does not make one think in the same was as this mix of Greeks, eastern europeans, and african americans. And one irish american played by a brit, or maybe Australian. I forget.

Today, crepes and thick-creamed coffee at the Rusty Pelican. Along with breakfast cocktails (mimosas), they're pushing the concept of breakfast appetizers -- who needs a cinnamon roll while they wait for french toast?

Then, what I secretly want to do 90% of the time (when not baking cookies): Nordstrom Rack. I was in an unparalleled mood for trying on out-of-season designer clothing, and felt incomparably lucky to wander in just after 10 am and see that the store was unusually neat an tidy. This is what retail looks like before the shoppers arrive. I dove in and started disheveling things.

I small rack of Missoni scarves drew me over at least twice, but though I'm sure it would have been a decent investment, I couldn't part with $50+ for a square of silk. Shoes were iffy -- many so-so summer styles, but instead I left with my first pair of Chuck Taylor's. (A girl at work recently bought her first pair, too, and Friday we shared ambivalence at a style so over-done in high school, and yet so inevitable.)

And then, after standing in the slow slow lines once, I saw one lonely pair of very attractive Marc Jacobs' sunglasses on a sad rack of very unattractive styles (who's really shocked that that weird plastic unibrow style didn't sell well?). Tried on and looked very exciting, and was in line as soon as I saw the price was half normal Rack discount. Unfortunately got the same register girl the second time around -- she didn't seem so surprised to see me again, though.

Much traipsing around downtown, and found a good denim skirt at Urban. Not cheap. But it felt very right when I tried it on.

Possibly it's the sweatiness that makes me get angry at things I see on TV while at the gym. I don't think I'm often angry at TV at home. Regardless, I saw this morning that Mary J Blige and Hype Williams have thoroughly ripped off Bjork and Michel Gondry's Joga.

Well, maybe not "thoroughly." The knock-off entirely misses the drama, creativity, graphic innovation, and geographic sensuality of the original. But, I guess a boring video for a boring song, and a sweeping, luxurious video for a phenomenal song ...

I try to avoid music videos, generally, so I'm sure there are plenty of landscape-zooming shorts I've missed. Initially it made me step up my elliptical pace and click back to the ridiculousness of that Bravo show about the hotel pretty quickly. However, after YouTubing Joga and watching thrice, my mind is at peace: it's gorgeous, and no low-budget green screen production will ever touch it.

Anne Frank, Robert Downey Jr.

Saw The Diary of Anne Frank with Sarah Saturday. As she said, it's not a play you can criticize easily -- its very existance is impressive, and for a company to put it on is almost a public service.

But even with these free passes, the production was top notch: sincere actors, a solid set, good pacing, engaging even when we all know the whole 'plot' and most of the dialogue. We also went to Crow and drank more wine than really necessary.

Saturday, half-priced brunch then Iron Man with a couple former Daily friends. Didn't realise it was Robery Downey Jr until suddenly there his face was, eight feet tall. Gewnyth Paltrow and whoever played the villain were also quality. Solid entertainment, despite the movie being one big set-up for the sequel.

Nelly Furtado - Man Eater

As we do often, we listened to this song in spinning today. It will be in my head all weekend. Subtly informing my thoughts. Controlling my actions.

I'm excited to announce that yesterday I wore a skirt sans tights for the second time this week, and was not at all freezing. It was spectacular. I'm sick of tights.

This young lady who rides my bus and goes to the gym in the morning is always a little (maybe a lot) flamboyantly dressed. Today, she wandered into the makeup and hair-styling area in a reasonable skirt and a strapless bra. Where on campus does one need to dress in a way that requires a strapless bra?! Crazy people.

ps! this is my 100th post!! winner!