Hee! Travel is broadening indeed, despite aqua aerobics (Mom's sport o' choice) and near-daily cut-throat pool volleyball tournaments. But there were also poolside margaritas and homemade guacamole and tacos from the taco truck and Big Chico Burgers and buttermilk doughnuts and God knows how many bottles, bottles, bottles of Mr. Kendall Jackson Chardonnay . . .
This was originally scheduled as a Li'l Martini-and-Grandpa bonding event (in my mind, anyway), but of course that is no longer possible. But he is now super-glue-bonded to Grammy; she let him drive her vintage 1970 VW bus, and he is (1) one happy camper and (2) completely obsessed with driving.
On the home front, Daddy faithfully took Mimosa out several times to practice her own driving; sooner than I can imagine, I'll have two additional chauffeurs in the family, and when that happens? I am never getting out of my chair. Happy days will be here again!
Mom is doing well. Her friends have really stepped up, and she had many calls and visits and invitations while we were there. But she's getting physically weaker, despite all the aqua, so I got very stern with her and talked about weight lifting. She belongs to a health club, for heaven's sake! I said that I will be so mad if she's no longer able to live on her own because of something preventable. (She is always welcome to come live with me — in fact, we would adore it — but you should see the grimace she makes when I mention this.) She has agreed to start going on Thursday mornings to lift weights with our dear friend Tia Gabi, who has a heart of gold but a soul of flakiness, so we shall see.
I came home to some bummer news: I did not get the job I wanted (which, I will now tell you, was to be the part-time Assistant Director of Religious Education at the Concord UU church, almost directly across the street from Orchard House, where Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women). They have been kinder than kind, bending over backward to assure me that they love me, they really love me, but, as I feared, there was an internal candidate whose qualifications almost exactly matched mine, with the added bonus of knowing all the players involved, so of course they went with her and I don't blame them at all. It's probably a blessing, since I would have had to stop attending my church if I took this job, and that would probably have been a bigger deal than I was admitting to myself, but still.
I really wanted it!
But I have four editing jobs this week for four completely different clients, including our little community college that you might have heard of, i.e., HARVARD UNIVERSITY, and everyone else can suck it.
I am not bitter, stop it.
So I will continue on my merry freelance path, editing when I can (I can do as much of the dense, impenetrable science editing as I want, and that is something — at $5 per page, you can see how quickly I'll get rich), and substitute teaching when I want to, and I will keep Brunie's awesome words to me as my mantra:
Don't worry, little worker, something great is coming. I know that you like the churchy stuff, but I feel like you are meant for greater things. Not that the church isn't great, but it is small and I think it would be confining after awhile. I see you on a broader canvas, or doing something thinkier... Or at Starbucks. Or hooking. Just spitballing here...
OK, it may not be the St. Crispin's Day speech, but I find it very inspiring.
And another friend has also given me words that I'm finding very inspiring. My Sleepy Dear Friend Susan (so named for her habit of cat-napping adorably during theatrical performances or when I'm transporting her to and from Betsy-Tacy events) (and for her dearness, of course) wrote:
I think the important thing to do is what you're doing — getting strong and fit and staying as beautiful as you already are.Her words "getting strong" have resonated powerfully for me. I've focused on "thinner," "lighter," and "healthier" without much traction, but "getting strong," for whatever reason, is doing it. Since I've been back from Chico, I've eaten much smaller meals and have included exercise (small exercise, I've hurt my leg again, alas) every day. And as always my weight shot up while I was away, but it's coming back down nicely, and I'm adopting my old trick of going to bed slightly hungry, which is a pleasantly familiar sensation. Could it be that at long last I'm getting back on track? Only time will tell, but I definitely feel a renewed strength of purpose, I'll tell you that.
Okay, it's almost 9:30 on Saturday morning, and you know what that means at Chez Chardonnay, right?
The house hasn't been vacuumed in two weeks, and the cats' claws are approaching Howard Hughes length. Time to get at it.
— Lady C