Hooray for the postal services

Last night Y. reported that she received the care package I sent her. Pretty good, actually: San Francisco to Tehran in 7 days. So now I’m a conspirator in transporting restricted goods into another country. The copies of Cool Beans include material the Iranian government would definitely not approve of–I’m thinking about the the photo in the Loners With Boners interview, but I’m sure there are zillions more instances. I also sent her Reading Lolita in Tehran, which I started reading myself because I thought of her when I saw it in the bookstore. When it turned out that she can’t get a copy of it in Iran, well, actually Y. asked me to send her my copy when I finished it, and I’m reading six books at once so I didn’t want to make her wait until I was done.

She says that her mother wants her to marry me. I guess it just illustrates mi vida loca that I’m more surprised that her mother even knows who I am than that she’s talking about marriage. That’s a long story and maybe I’ll tell more of it later. In any case, I’m very gratified that Y. was so happy about receiving her gifts.

I keep on looking out the window and seeing signs that say “Mission” and “Persia” and thinking that its somehow significant of something.

In other news, a client’s check is being returned. looks like I’m dirt poor for the next couple days. Owchie. I did find a cheap Burning Man ticket, so I should still be able to go, as long as I get some money this week.

Oh, I guess that means I should be working instead of journaling. Oops.