Well, this Spring, so far, blows.
I have just received confirmation that there is no way all my paperwork will come back in time, so I won't be going to my mothers' memorial service - something that I think I'm okay with, but I hate the thought of disappointing my father and my step-father and my grandparents (who are being gracious and lovely through all of this. Actually everyone's been really supportive and kind and understanding - anger at how this turned out has apparently made me think they'll turn on me like raging dogs, or something. Which isn't their personalities at all.)
My friend M is the same. Which isn't all bad - at least she's not dying, right - but isn't great, either. I keep remembering chunks of our history together - she and I lived together for four years, and I have old and doddering cats that were our pets then - Chumba, in fact, my steadfast purring machine, my cat-hat, my giver of kitty-zen, was her kitten - and she hasn't gone through that time yet in her head. It's bewildering and sad and bittersweet, all at once.
My job continues to go well, with my only complaint being that they're under-utilizing the support staff. (me) But I'm hopeful that I can corner some big projects soon.
My children didn't go to the music festival today - Cass came in to our bedroom in a high state of anxiety because he couldn't remember the words and thought he was going to throw up, and after he blubbered a bit B (soft-hearted B) let him out of it (which of course meant there was no way R was getting up there either. Five, for her, is all about what's good for the gander is good for the goose.) Not that I'm the hard-hearted parent, exactly, but I wouldn't have given in.
And I'm tiring of this set-up for my blog. Maybe a move? Do I want to jump into more serious blogging territory? Will have to think about that....but definitely at least a face-lift for daysgoby.
My brother had a good friend that used to come out to supper with us quite a bit - and it used to kill my mother that we could go to any restaurant (Mexican, Chinese, Guatemalan, Italian, whatever) and he would order a hamburger and fries.
And now my daughter is taking on that role.
Yesterday she suggested that we all go out to eat at the Chinese restaurant here in town. SHE suggested it. I was thrilled at the idea of more hot-and-sour soup, so off we went - where she promptly ordered fried fish and chips. At least she ate some of my soup.