Hello from the land of Burt's Bees Lemon Butter Cuticle Cream. I finally cracked and decided $5.99 for a giant container of lovely smelling cracked-cuticles preventative. We're talking years of ghastly nail care here. I don't require bright, shining, enviable nails, but merely an un-ravaged set. Clean, neat and healthy, or as much as they can be taking into account my daily channeling of anxiety into "evening" them all out. With my teeth.
I'm in Book Purgatory once again and it's a terrible, terrible place to be. M. Rescue me. Somebody! The terrible thought entered my brain the other day that I no longer even like books, that they all suck, a waste of time. I cannot even believe the neurons and synapses conjured that assessment, however brief. But nothing is holding me. For months now, I haven't finished one single thing. The next book club selection, which happens to have a fabulous cover of a women flashing a field of cows - midwestern breast cancer story - turned out to be a self-published abomination wherein the "author" copy/pasted her CaringBridge journal into a single document and called it a book. Reader comments and all. Bah. Everything else, meaning the real books I've checked out from the library to try, have failed to hold me. Too dark, too fluffy, too predictable, too copying of the latest popular thing.
Getmeoutofhere.
And I get that death is a part of life, but lately there seems to be a surrounding wave. Excessive hearse sightings. News of passings-on that have been both expected and not. Two and three degrees away, rather than the usual five or six. I don't know what to make of it all except to take in the beauty of remembrances, grieve with the most closely affected, ponder the great beyond...
***
Okay it's days later and that clearly was the middle of a thought or even a sentence.
I did find a book! That so far I like, maybe 35 or so pages in with no ship-jumping thoughts or anything. Thanks, RHE, for being that engaging of a writer. Your thoughts on Martha Stewart's Housekeeping Handbook alone earn a gold star. I'm on exactly the same page with those daily, weekly, monthly and yearly checklists and am totally living in squalor, too.
I've had "Happy Blog-iversary" in my head since Friday at least. Haaaaaaaaaaaaappy Blog-iversary. Woo! Nine years seems both impossible and completely accurate. I do miss the pre-FB, pre-Pinterest, pre-Tumblr days of blogging, when the writing/content took center stage. Now it's all popping in occasionally whenever we can spare a moment away from the mini-micro blogs that are tweets and FB posts. Onward, as ever, but I'm always given pause by the question of, what did we lose?
Also, if I were to create a pie graph of personal energy spent each day - well maybe I should do that. Graph it. Because maybe I'm not really aware of where it's all going. I suspect stressing over failed expectations? Like I'm not doing enough, ever, or whatever I do accomplish somehow lacks. Which is frustrating because I'm doing the best that I can? And it's not only my voice that I hear putting forth this assessment. And some distant part of me is also aware that were those voices to be silenced, I'd probably a whole lot more energy, even creative energy, to expend.
Moving on from that entirely subjective thought strand, let's wish one fourth of our readership a happy birthday! Yay, AA!
The weather-cooling brought on by the formidable Karen-storm occurred behind schedule but is here at last. Windows are thrown open.
A field trip to the farm tomorrow with a group of tiny people is on tap. (Their parents will all be present, too.)
Yesterday I did a 1-mile walk in the sun to help stop hunger - a much different experience than last year's chilly gray 5K walk. I brought a puppy and a 5-year-old with me, so a mile seemed wise.
Today I folded laundry and made ribbon dancers for my preschoolers while watching ProRun. Queue the Helen Meltdown in 5-4-3... I'm so glad TimGunn told her to suck it up in his TimGunn way. And I love Heidi's charming attempts at Americanisms, like "the dangling sausage," and "hitting it on the nail." Also, some surprisingly kickass looks? I'm a little bored of the whole inevitable duking it out among the lower-ranked, but whatever. Still do NOT agree with the Kate oust... rooting for Dom maybe, ultimately? We'll see.
Ah, behold our blog-look. Behold us! I await the questions from another quarter of our readership. I will make it a point to blog just about BUGS next post.
For now - sleep.
xoxoxo to you,
pen
Showing posts with label laotang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label laotang. Show all posts
Monday, October 7, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
so i did something weird with my gmail
Let me preface this by saying - I archive almost all of my nonjunk email, like letters and pictures from family, friends, even the little bits and pieces of conversation, just because and just in case. But as far as the actual inbox is concerned, ideally it is kept neat and clean. Then when the little smartphone arrived on the scene last year, and as the computer because more and more decrepit (I'm cursing it for its incompetence as we speak), I fell behind in my archiving. Like, way behind, to the point of I Give Up behind. There were over 1,000 non-archived emails weighing down my inbox and my shoulders when finally, the other day, I found a solution via google to bulk archive through a simple filter. At first it didn't work, but then I switched something and it did work! In a matter of seconds, poof! Emails archived, chaotic unarchived weight from shoulders lifted.
But then, today it occurred to me - why it took 2 or 3 days to dawn on me, I do not know - that no longer were any new emails coming through. No "I'm back in the country, how are you?" emails from mom, no prodding,"hey, what are you doing, tell me MORE!" messages from mendacious. No articles from my coworker I said I'd edit and she said she'd send? Hmm. Except, oops, they were there, just not in my inbox. Automatically archived. So, wtf? I don't even know how to fix that, and do admit to feeling slightly panicked all over again at undealt-with email.
Ugh, my brain! Isn't there a way to archive my peskier thoughts. (Without fubar-ing that, too.)
So teaching is really quite lovely, so far. Still so much to incorporate and learn, to-do lists everywhere, but also the feeling that - we're off to a good start, and introducing new things in as the year goes on is the right way to do it, anyway, for us all. Thursday, I had a thought that perhaps 2 out of the 3 were already a little too comfortable with us, the teaching team, because all of a sudden they were block-crushing little monsters who would not be stopped. But it was also Thursday, i.e. our Friday. And then there's the problem of the afterschool crew, whom I stayed with Thursday, but not Wednesday, after my coworker and I convo'd and decided having 2 people stay for 1-2 children was not only pointless, but also possibly illegal, pay-wise. I had 3 kids on Thurs, which brought me up over minimum wage (holla), and also, I earned every penny with the wild monkeys under my care. Sheesh.
Outside school, I daily fend off a connected series of muscle aches and panicky-type waves, so I can only assume by now all of the monster is stress-borne. My upper spine is like a barometer for mental duress.
But then, I ponder the force field of calm I carry with me in situations where others are calling for it. Like the children in my care, or the parents dropping them off, or the old dog in pain, or the child upset about xyz at school today. Not always, but often, I can carry this shield for others, but not myself, like some kind of gift (but also a curse, since I am apparently unable to partake in it).
Well so, J.Lo's off to a tiny northern state this week for a conference, so I'll be here, holding down the fort. Watching normally booed and hissed shows on the large TV instead of the tiny tablet or phone, making pasta di fagioli and eating the leftovers everysinglenight if I want to. Facing down Full Week 2 of school, managing the puppies and the children. And generally trying not to lose my shit! (Exclamation point absolutely required.)
love to you xo,
your penelaotang
But then, today it occurred to me - why it took 2 or 3 days to dawn on me, I do not know - that no longer were any new emails coming through. No "I'm back in the country, how are you?" emails from mom, no prodding,"hey, what are you doing, tell me MORE!" messages from mendacious. No articles from my coworker I said I'd edit and she said she'd send? Hmm. Except, oops, they were there, just not in my inbox. Automatically archived. So, wtf? I don't even know how to fix that, and do admit to feeling slightly panicked all over again at undealt-with email.
Ugh, my brain! Isn't there a way to archive my peskier thoughts. (Without fubar-ing that, too.)
So teaching is really quite lovely, so far. Still so much to incorporate and learn, to-do lists everywhere, but also the feeling that - we're off to a good start, and introducing new things in as the year goes on is the right way to do it, anyway, for us all. Thursday, I had a thought that perhaps 2 out of the 3 were already a little too comfortable with us, the teaching team, because all of a sudden they were block-crushing little monsters who would not be stopped. But it was also Thursday, i.e. our Friday. And then there's the problem of the afterschool crew, whom I stayed with Thursday, but not Wednesday, after my coworker and I convo'd and decided having 2 people stay for 1-2 children was not only pointless, but also possibly illegal, pay-wise. I had 3 kids on Thurs, which brought me up over minimum wage (holla), and also, I earned every penny with the wild monkeys under my care. Sheesh.
Outside school, I daily fend off a connected series of muscle aches and panicky-type waves, so I can only assume by now all of the monster is stress-borne. My upper spine is like a barometer for mental duress.
But then, I ponder the force field of calm I carry with me in situations where others are calling for it. Like the children in my care, or the parents dropping them off, or the old dog in pain, or the child upset about xyz at school today. Not always, but often, I can carry this shield for others, but not myself, like some kind of gift (but also a curse, since I am apparently unable to partake in it).
Well so, J.Lo's off to a tiny northern state this week for a conference, so I'll be here, holding down the fort. Watching normally booed and hissed shows on the large TV instead of the tiny tablet or phone, making pasta di fagioli and eating the leftovers everysinglenight if I want to. Facing down Full Week 2 of school, managing the puppies and the children. And generally trying not to lose my shit! (Exclamation point absolutely required.)
love to you xo,
your penelaotang
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
holla holla hey
Good morning from the east coast,
I have been burrowed into the world of newjob and settinguptheclassroom for days now (weeks?), but I feel like emergence is coming soon. More or less. There are still things, still lists, but not quite so harrowing in their must-get-it-done-immediately!ness. I'll have to develop a repertoire of kitten-herding skills, for instance, that can only be honed through practice, trial and error. I must compile a stack of music-to-play that mostly veers away from kids-singing-kids-music because that seems a quick road to mental snapping. Oh, and lesson plans. Must corral the bits and pieces of I-think-I-want-do-this and I-vaguely-envision-that and tighten it all up.
But it'll happen.
I had a thought about stories the other day that perhaps you'd enjoy. And probably this is a human thing, not just a penelope thing, but maybe it falls into the Venn diagram middle-space of personal and universal experience. I love stories. Have always loved them. But do I/we love stories to the point of fault? In terms of narrative thread, we almost set ourselves up, through that love of stories, to expect an endpoint to all our narrative threads. And I know, how obvious - life, while made up of our stories, is not a storybook or even a series of them. Our narrative threads are much messier, frayed, knotted and twisty-turny. Which is part of their beauty, but also, should we not be continually mindful, a good way to set ourselves up for that constant sense of disappointment and frustration when our stories fail to end and end neatly. For instance, say I'm working on patience, or cultivating a sense of joy. (Of course I would pick something abstract, but any goal-or-problem-type *thing* could be substituted in.) And I, through whatever means, land on some sort of mental secret or key to attaining said goal or solving said problem. And my mind tries to squeeze it all into a story paradigm, wherein I had that moment of recognition or realization or epiphany, and from that day forward, that particular goal was achieved or problem was solved. I guess that would be the old living happily ever after trap, even if one doesn't actually expect it to be so pretty or pat or whatever. It could be more disheveled, this journey and conclusion, but I think our minds still want to squeeze into a storyline wherein we no longer have to worry about this particular thing.
Except that never happens.
I have to cut myself off - ohmygosh, ironically? - and return to blogland later. Today is Open House part two, for the littlest classroom (not mine, but my presence is still required) and then some errand running that most unfortunately includes procuring 5 tons of mulch. And then, I hope, some canned salsa making. And oh, preparing for the first day of school tomorrow.
Love to YOU who must write me back now,
pen
I have been burrowed into the world of newjob and settinguptheclassroom for days now (weeks?), but I feel like emergence is coming soon. More or less. There are still things, still lists, but not quite so harrowing in their must-get-it-done-immediately!ness. I'll have to develop a repertoire of kitten-herding skills, for instance, that can only be honed through practice, trial and error. I must compile a stack of music-to-play that mostly veers away from kids-singing-kids-music because that seems a quick road to mental snapping. Oh, and lesson plans. Must corral the bits and pieces of I-think-I-want-do-this and I-vaguely-envision-that and tighten it all up.
But it'll happen.
I had a thought about stories the other day that perhaps you'd enjoy. And probably this is a human thing, not just a penelope thing, but maybe it falls into the Venn diagram middle-space of personal and universal experience. I love stories. Have always loved them. But do I/we love stories to the point of fault? In terms of narrative thread, we almost set ourselves up, through that love of stories, to expect an endpoint to all our narrative threads. And I know, how obvious - life, while made up of our stories, is not a storybook or even a series of them. Our narrative threads are much messier, frayed, knotted and twisty-turny. Which is part of their beauty, but also, should we not be continually mindful, a good way to set ourselves up for that constant sense of disappointment and frustration when our stories fail to end and end neatly. For instance, say I'm working on patience, or cultivating a sense of joy. (Of course I would pick something abstract, but any goal-or-problem-type *thing* could be substituted in.) And I, through whatever means, land on some sort of mental secret or key to attaining said goal or solving said problem. And my mind tries to squeeze it all into a story paradigm, wherein I had that moment of recognition or realization or epiphany, and from that day forward, that particular goal was achieved or problem was solved. I guess that would be the old living happily ever after trap, even if one doesn't actually expect it to be so pretty or pat or whatever. It could be more disheveled, this journey and conclusion, but I think our minds still want to squeeze into a storyline wherein we no longer have to worry about this particular thing.
Except that never happens.
I have to cut myself off - ohmygosh, ironically? - and return to blogland later. Today is Open House part two, for the littlest classroom (not mine, but my presence is still required) and then some errand running that most unfortunately includes procuring 5 tons of mulch. And then, I hope, some canned salsa making. And oh, preparing for the first day of school tomorrow.
Love to YOU who must write me back now,
pen
Monday, July 29, 2013
making the starbucks is a genius blog-name
Hello old-same,
#firstworldproblems: So I've also been behind on blogging LoCo and yesterday said, Today is the Day, Going to Get it Done, but then ran into all sorts of technological roadblocks that are making me bitter. Like why does it have to be so hard, considering how "easy" it's all become. Or probably I'm making it too complicated, but ALL I WANT TO DO is a) upload photos b) arrange them in the order I want and c) caption them adequately, so as to tell enough of the story. And yet. Five hours later and I've gotten nowhere with Wordpress and its crapola setup. I could blame this all on my geriatrically slow PC, but even then, I'm finding the whole platform inadequate, and Blogger's hardly better.
But it also could be my impatient/restless/slightly bitchy about everything mood.
Which will pass in a few days or so.
They're cutting down more trees up the street, which is going to change my landscape again. DareIsay ruin the view, again, but obviously I'll eventually get used to it. I just hope that in fact our property line does extend into the trees, because whoever the tree-chopper is, they seem reckless and voracious and hellbent on total destruction. I suppose it makes them a lot of money. Or actually, this tree-chopper up the street may be completely different than the other neighborhood tree-chopper, who is in it solely for the wood-money, whereas this person could just be clearing land to build another home. Because they're aren't like 10 for sale already? There are. Ugh. People.
The fish tank and I came to a head in our long-standing passive aggressive battle yesterday, wherein I've failed to periodically clear its filter buildup and also may have scooted it too close to the wall or something, because it looked like it was sticking out too far, randomly, and the thing leaked onto the wall and onto some books and well, now I'll really have to paint the living room in the fall, if it weren't already on the list. And I put the books out to dry in the sun, and then forgot to bring them in when it started raining. "Carrie" has taken the worst hit, and all three are mass media paperbacks that are highly accessible at used book sales, so I'm not overly sad about it, but still. D'oh. Duh. It's like when I took some ibuprofen from the bottle this weekend and apparently failed to replace the top and inadvertently booby-trapped the thing for the next person, who spilled hundreds of pills everywhere. And I have no recollection of doing that, whatsoever. But it doesn't seem out of line with my recently very flaky character. And I haven't been particularly offended by this personal shortcoming, either, is the funny thing. I'm like - oh, I did that? Hum. Really? it does sound right... oops. I'm sorry, J.Lo. Shrug! And then I just move on to forgetting the next thing.
The west coast succulents all seem happy in their various new containers, but it's only been two days and who knows. However, I will say the succulents in the Easter Garden thrived the most, possibly on neglect. Although some magical person has been taking care of it regularly - but low light and little water and indoor living, they seem to love. And generally, less attention.
I've had a few weird recent dreams, surely media inspired, as Orange is the New Black - which is yes, occasionally uplifting but also raw and funny and dark and light - and its intense prison narrative seemed to have led to a scene in the Chicago dorms lobby, wherein a resident argued with the security desk, and the disagreement culminated in a microwave cooked roast being flung while the resident screamed. I have no idea. And then the escape from Pakistan dream, but clearly that was influenced by watching Argo, which was Iran, but still.
Today so far has been: Kindergarten screening for N.Lo, who wore his new red sneakers and "did AWESOME," in his own words. And the rest of the day holds: catchup to you and Cath on our book and our notes, more notes on my Giant Book of Parameters, some cleanup here and there, possibly some handbells (or maybe I'll just skip and go Wednesday), some pondering of life and taking in the delightful breeze. And a pie. Maybe it's time to make PIE.
xoxox
penelaotang
#firstworldproblems: So I've also been behind on blogging LoCo and yesterday said, Today is the Day, Going to Get it Done, but then ran into all sorts of technological roadblocks that are making me bitter. Like why does it have to be so hard, considering how "easy" it's all become. Or probably I'm making it too complicated, but ALL I WANT TO DO is a) upload photos b) arrange them in the order I want and c) caption them adequately, so as to tell enough of the story. And yet. Five hours later and I've gotten nowhere with Wordpress and its crapola setup. I could blame this all on my geriatrically slow PC, but even then, I'm finding the whole platform inadequate, and Blogger's hardly better.
But it also could be my impatient/restless/slightly bitchy about everything mood.
Which will pass in a few days or so.
They're cutting down more trees up the street, which is going to change my landscape again. DareIsay ruin the view, again, but obviously I'll eventually get used to it. I just hope that in fact our property line does extend into the trees, because whoever the tree-chopper is, they seem reckless and voracious and hellbent on total destruction. I suppose it makes them a lot of money. Or actually, this tree-chopper up the street may be completely different than the other neighborhood tree-chopper, who is in it solely for the wood-money, whereas this person could just be clearing land to build another home. Because they're aren't like 10 for sale already? There are. Ugh. People.
The fish tank and I came to a head in our long-standing passive aggressive battle yesterday, wherein I've failed to periodically clear its filter buildup and also may have scooted it too close to the wall or something, because it looked like it was sticking out too far, randomly, and the thing leaked onto the wall and onto some books and well, now I'll really have to paint the living room in the fall, if it weren't already on the list. And I put the books out to dry in the sun, and then forgot to bring them in when it started raining. "Carrie" has taken the worst hit, and all three are mass media paperbacks that are highly accessible at used book sales, so I'm not overly sad about it, but still. D'oh. Duh. It's like when I took some ibuprofen from the bottle this weekend and apparently failed to replace the top and inadvertently booby-trapped the thing for the next person, who spilled hundreds of pills everywhere. And I have no recollection of doing that, whatsoever. But it doesn't seem out of line with my recently very flaky character. And I haven't been particularly offended by this personal shortcoming, either, is the funny thing. I'm like - oh, I did that? Hum. Really? it does sound right... oops. I'm sorry, J.Lo. Shrug! And then I just move on to forgetting the next thing.
The west coast succulents all seem happy in their various new containers, but it's only been two days and who knows. However, I will say the succulents in the Easter Garden thrived the most, possibly on neglect. Although some magical person has been taking care of it regularly - but low light and little water and indoor living, they seem to love. And generally, less attention.
I've had a few weird recent dreams, surely media inspired, as Orange is the New Black - which is yes, occasionally uplifting but also raw and funny and dark and light - and its intense prison narrative seemed to have led to a scene in the Chicago dorms lobby, wherein a resident argued with the security desk, and the disagreement culminated in a microwave cooked roast being flung while the resident screamed. I have no idea. And then the escape from Pakistan dream, but clearly that was influenced by watching Argo, which was Iran, but still.
Today so far has been: Kindergarten screening for N.Lo, who wore his new red sneakers and "did AWESOME," in his own words. And the rest of the day holds: catchup to you and Cath on our book and our notes, more notes on my Giant Book of Parameters, some cleanup here and there, possibly some handbells (or maybe I'll just skip and go Wednesday), some pondering of life and taking in the delightful breeze. And a pie. Maybe it's time to make PIE.
xoxox
penelaotang
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
#32 The WALL
dear old-same,
I'm not sure how you could think i wouldn't have googled footbinding. Though even in looking at it- i still find it inconcievable and horrifying... The book ends with her laotong dying in a messy ugly cancerous way and she must repent of all the ways in which she misunderstood the friendship and her friend- though i was surprised at how little insight snowflower had to the things Lily said to her- but perhaps that's the problem with two horses matched together. I don't know. One is tame and safe, the other is wild and chained. They both speak the same language and yet how did they fail to look beyond the words of one another. It's hard sometimes to look beyond them i know. Oh context.
Anyway, i know i'd be perfect laying hands on people but that's because i've been at it for a while now- i'd encourage you to not disavow what is a, stepping int-o spiritual authority- but perhaps just a step back with a, God what is that? And how does one? It really is just a blessing. And i think you're going to find a way to do it eventually with a confidence of knowing that God speaks and you listen and from your heart knowing what the people need, even if it's just what you need- they all sit there with the same tenderness. And I know you are attentive.
Here on the island, I have to endure what is my last pointless staff meeting. Though trying not to resent having to go to work 1/2 hour early. I'm just glad i didn't repress it from my consciousness...
[insert here: i have my first ever successful coffeeshop skype session and boy was it a whopper. my poor friend matt! details later. i mean i seriously thought he was making it up when he was like oh, i can't write it down. he was not being overly dramatic. aka hyperbolic.]
Meanwhile my flatmate V was late to the meeting. And she couldve had the courtesy to text R and me to let us know so we could fuckaround more instead of working a 1/2 hour longer. I was pissed actually but it's my last meeting. And the usual tension of soul sucking children and good moments apply for what was a typical wednesday.
I was going to relate the weekend. But it was one of those - we pushed it maybe, did a little too much. We did praise our ability to travel well together and after some really superb coffee and my innisfree boon and the hair touchups we negotiated and decided on bbq duck for dinner. So it wasn't all bad. I just had that overspent feeling both financially and emotionally. Sjt is convinced we'll meet up for 10minutes in the airport before I leave forever and she'll be coming back from thailand to say a real goodbye, so she was MIA most of the time, and was like ive seen you for 2wks straight. Yes, yes. I KNOW. By sunday we were dragging down and after a different than normal goodbye lunch which was offkilter and weird because we were all OFF, we went to have some more excellent coffee and in a twist we played clue. I won. I'm really good at it. I should've been a detective. That and i'm equally good at deception so... And then we closed the night with baked chicken and the movie clue. Check that off my list! and then i came dragging into monday and thankgodtomorrow is friday!
But lets talk about my innisfree boon. NO its ok we don't have to. But really it's been such a fun thing on the island thanks to matt and a couple friends. V-VIP forever. I used up all my points and i'm shipping some of their awesomeness homeward. Hope it all fits.
Anyway tonight coffee with meaghan at pangs. I have to remember today is Thursday. It is not Friday. No. We have to get through today first. And no it's not mentally healthy to take down your curtains and undo your pillows and photos and trinkets until next week at least. Meanwhile fighting the itch. Even if the suitcase is staring at you and the question looms if everything will fit and do you really have to break up with your coat? It pains you to leave it behind and yet your smaller now- and your waiting for the last allergy test and debating one last visit to the chiro- what are the last things? I dont know. Perhaps it's too much.
m-
old-same, Together, we are better.
let us both rest a while,
and then return to the hill,
on which the shade tree waits.
m-qa.
I'm not sure how you could think i wouldn't have googled footbinding. Though even in looking at it- i still find it inconcievable and horrifying... The book ends with her laotong dying in a messy ugly cancerous way and she must repent of all the ways in which she misunderstood the friendship and her friend- though i was surprised at how little insight snowflower had to the things Lily said to her- but perhaps that's the problem with two horses matched together. I don't know. One is tame and safe, the other is wild and chained. They both speak the same language and yet how did they fail to look beyond the words of one another. It's hard sometimes to look beyond them i know. Oh context.
Anyway, i know i'd be perfect laying hands on people but that's because i've been at it for a while now- i'd encourage you to not disavow what is a, stepping int-o spiritual authority- but perhaps just a step back with a, God what is that? And how does one? It really is just a blessing. And i think you're going to find a way to do it eventually with a confidence of knowing that God speaks and you listen and from your heart knowing what the people need, even if it's just what you need- they all sit there with the same tenderness. And I know you are attentive.
Here on the island, I have to endure what is my last pointless staff meeting. Though trying not to resent having to go to work 1/2 hour early. I'm just glad i didn't repress it from my consciousness...
[insert here: i have my first ever successful coffeeshop skype session and boy was it a whopper. my poor friend matt! details later. i mean i seriously thought he was making it up when he was like oh, i can't write it down. he was not being overly dramatic. aka hyperbolic.]
Meanwhile my flatmate V was late to the meeting. And she couldve had the courtesy to text R and me to let us know so we could fuckaround more instead of working a 1/2 hour longer. I was pissed actually but it's my last meeting. And the usual tension of soul sucking children and good moments apply for what was a typical wednesday.
I was going to relate the weekend. But it was one of those - we pushed it maybe, did a little too much. We did praise our ability to travel well together and after some really superb coffee and my innisfree boon and the hair touchups we negotiated and decided on bbq duck for dinner. So it wasn't all bad. I just had that overspent feeling both financially and emotionally. Sjt is convinced we'll meet up for 10minutes in the airport before I leave forever and she'll be coming back from thailand to say a real goodbye, so she was MIA most of the time, and was like ive seen you for 2wks straight. Yes, yes. I KNOW. By sunday we were dragging down and after a different than normal goodbye lunch which was offkilter and weird because we were all OFF, we went to have some more excellent coffee and in a twist we played clue. I won. I'm really good at it. I should've been a detective. That and i'm equally good at deception so... And then we closed the night with baked chicken and the movie clue. Check that off my list! and then i came dragging into monday and thankgodtomorrow is friday!
But lets talk about my innisfree boon. NO its ok we don't have to. But really it's been such a fun thing on the island thanks to matt and a couple friends. V-VIP forever. I used up all my points and i'm shipping some of their awesomeness homeward. Hope it all fits.
Anyway tonight coffee with meaghan at pangs. I have to remember today is Thursday. It is not Friday. No. We have to get through today first. And no it's not mentally healthy to take down your curtains and undo your pillows and photos and trinkets until next week at least. Meanwhile fighting the itch. Even if the suitcase is staring at you and the question looms if everything will fit and do you really have to break up with your coat? It pains you to leave it behind and yet your smaller now- and your waiting for the last allergy test and debating one last visit to the chiro- what are the last things? I dont know. Perhaps it's too much.
m-
old-same, Together, we are better.
let us both rest a while,
and then return to the hill,
on which the shade tree waits.
m-qa.
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