January 11, 2005
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Part III isn’t happening, at least not today. How’s this? We packed and left.
I remember when I’d leave my kids for a couple days; it was such bliss, after I got over missing and worrying about them. But I used to wonder if it was worth it. Because that Monday morning, by about 10, I was wishing I’d never gone; wishing I’d never tasted freedom. Suddenly the never-ending sea of toys, which started in the living room and spread everywhere, seemed so messy. I would yearn for the freshly vacuumed hotel room. The two kinds of sandwiches that no one finished, I would eat while remembering the chef making our Caesar salad at the table. The argument getting out of hand in the girl’s bedroom, I’d have to mediate, my mind still back in that huge king-sized bed we’d left the day before.
Writing about the trip made it worse. I mean instead of leaving it behind, I kind of dragged it out by sharing it with you. And wanting to make it sound as wonderful as it was I might have made it harder to leave behind.
All I know is that my dogs are bugging the shit out of me. Were they always this obnoxious? I can’t seem to make myself pay the bills and I was supposed to do that yesterday. I am obsessed with food. I have all these great leftovers and I’m either snacking or tasting what I’m cooking, or sitting down to a meal, or thinking about all the above. There is a four-foot piece of hose from the drip system the puppy brought in, along with chewed-up wood all over the floor, from my day at the hospital. They get bored when I’m gone.
And you know what’s really bugging me? My boss loaned me this book for a fun read: Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination by Helen Fielding. From what little I remember about Bridget Jones Diary I wasn’t all that taken with her but in reading the first few pages of this, I am impressed. She has what I lack, and that is punch. Sometimes I read people who I know are the real deal, even on here, and it’s just so depressing because I’ll never have style like that. I’ll never be that clever.
But then I think about it in terms of food. I told ya I’m thinking about food all the time. But what I was thinking was that everybody enjoys a good hamburger now and then; there’s always a place for the simple things in life. And maybe more people will relate to my straightforward style.
I wish I were back with my mouse.
Comments (6)
Sounds like you have the mid-Winter blahs already! Maybe a boyfriend would help? You could try on-line dating – not that I’ve met anyone with my ever so brief sojourns into it who wasn’t also dating many other women – but it’s good for some male attention and a perk-me-up once in awhile. While I would basically never date someone who I met online, I have had some fun email correspondences and IM conversations and gotten some really nice attention too. It’s the latter that really helps. I, too, am looking for something, a guy, a relationship, something, these days… which is new, I’ve been fine being alone for a long time. But I’m not sure where to, ahem, cast my net, where to look… If you do, let me know. -:)
I’m still laughing about you and the mouse. Amazing how an animal that’s essentially nature’s version of a fur-covered eggroll casts such a long shadow.
envious of someone else’s voice… hummmm… been there, done that…lol… there and still do that…. but when you find your own voice (which, btw, you are well on your way of doing) you’ll just appreciate others talents w/o comparing yours to their… or so i’m told! i work on it too!!!
I just got caught up and I have to tell you, it was hard to read about your trip I was so damn jealous. Making it sound that good has got to be a symptom of good writing, dontcha think?
And for a self-esteem boost, go read Fieldings first novel – the dreadful one about Africa and you’ll see that she had to work at that talent – it is incredibly lacking in that first one. Cringe inducing, it is.
I cannot even start to believe that you have this teaspoon of
doubt mixed in with your food cravings
I mean …even here you are telling such a story
that I sit up to read it.
I laugh at the food for comfort…
tis a definate winter thingy
((((HUGS))))
You write well. What Helen Fielding has that you don’t is a professional editor who is paid according to her success with turning manuscripts into top-selling books. If Ms Fielding could do it by herself there would be no need for editors and if she only needed a teensy bit of help then the editors wouldn’t be so well paid. Most people forget about editors when evaluating their own writing compared to something they’ve read in print.