Beach it, if you can

The beach is like a mini vacation even for a day. I just spent a glorious day at the beach swimming and sunning - rejuvenating me for my work week.

And it's nice to have a weekend to myself, with the family away. But even with a glorious beach break I still feel a little confined by working full time (40 hours is 40 hours). I love the money and not having to worry if I can pay for this week's groceries, but still confined. There's laundry, shopping and weeding to be done and less time to spread it all out in.

Uninterupted time is nice though - it helps me calm down some what. But this job, I don't know if there's enough to do to keep me interested. Or do I do as my co-worker suggested and just enjoy it. Hmmm.

It all just makes me feel that life is meant for living and not working all the time. Do I sound like some kind of dilettante?

Michael has asked me to take him swimming a couple times and I simply can't.

Work, the drudgery, has made me think I need to take this next year of guaranteed pay and finish a second album, write my award winning screen play, or simply promote the hit songs I have already recorded. And not feel guilty if I don't have enough to do at work. Because I'll do as much as I can.

Perfect

This is the garden taken from the upstairs window - thru the screen.

From afar, it doesn't look TOO weedy. But trust me, it is.

Someday I'm going to have the perfect garden is kinda like saying someday I'm going to have the perfect life. I'm talking about a garden where weeds don't grow and the only things between the rows is luscious, brown, tilled-up soil. I wanted such a garden this year but I started working and the garden is too God Damn big. Excuse me. But to reduce the lawn area that requires mowing, my husband doubled the size of the thing last year. Does he weed or otherwise deal with the garden - NO. But in his infinite wisdom he determined that we needed a bigger garden. So someday . . . I will have the perfect garden.

One very simple way to achieve this would be to have a container garden like my friend Nan. You see it has to be manageable. Otherwise, what is the point.

Other thoughts on working vs. not working

Not working is better. Did I say this already in an earlier post? As much as I like aspects of working and making money and interacting with people, the idea of lounging at the beach, writing, writing poetry, and writing songs is all very appealing. Perhaps after my work stint, my new goal will be to attract abundance doing something I truely love - like writing or writing songs.

A life of leisure. Now there's a goal. Forgetabout the perfect garden. What was I thinking?

No more fun and games

Before and after shots of our 3 plus months together.

Here are the pictures I promised a while ago of Daniel and I after our time together.

See how paunchy and pudgy we were in the before shots and see how muscular, fit and happy we are

in the after shots. It was a beautiful few months and now it's back to reality. I remember I wrote in my blog

how this quiet life was quietly becoming facinating. Well it's quiet no more.

I've decided rather quickly that working is good or bad depending on how you look at it. Bad in that I am no where near as relaxed as I was. Bad in that I have less time for fun things. I rarely cook anymore (good or bad?). I used to cook the kids breakfast and make pizza on Friday nights. You see in a way by working I treat myself more because time is more precious - by buying pizza for example. Daniel doesn't come on the walks anymore (good or bad?). I am less anal about my new car and specks of dirt that accumulate on the floor mats. I am less anal in general because I simply don't have time. For example, Toto pooped all over the living room rug one night after Doug gave him copious amounts of left over salmon skin and a pan to lick. This didn't really bother me in the slightest, though Doug did clean up the mess. Could that have had something to do with it?

Good or bad? The frickin pay is GOOD. I am telling you when the payroll clerk told me the amount of my first check for 2 weeks work I almost dropped the phone. The take home pay is more than 3 times what I was bringing home at the newspaper. So that is GOOD. And I have promptly planned a few excursions so that money doesn't burn a hole in the bank account. Doug and I will go to Bermuda for my cousins wedding in May and the whole famdamily will go to the Everglades and Keys this April! It's not cheap to buy airline tickets for five or even two people these days. So the extra cash will help ease the strain.

Also after being unemployed, it's good to be employed and I do like having work colleagues again. But my creative pursuits are suffering.

Unrelated thoughts:

• I don't necessarily like being this busy. I used to think my creative impulses would flow when I was really busy. Now I don't necessarily think so. I think slower might be better for creative pursuits. But this one gem did come to me in the midst of my new job frenzy. In fact I was going to compose a whole list of things my mother taught me but only this one came to mind:

If you spill milk and wipe it up with the sponge, you have to rinse out the sponge or it will really smell.

I must have neglected to rinse out the sponge as a girl and remember her telling me this in the kitchen like it was very important.

• My mother now brings a picture of her grandmother, Grandma Hill, around with her when she travels. She says it's her guardian angel to help her when she forgets things. It's actually really cute - she places the framed photo on her dressing table to look over her.

• As unsettling at times as this new job has been (it's an adjustment) - because 40 hours is 40 hours. I do feel that my guardian angel (my deceased friend Helen) is providing me with this excellent work opportunity somehow. The job literally fell into my lap. It's also made me realize this is how people who work feel - stressed and busy. It's given me some empathy insight.

• Has anybody out there seen the Wrestler?? Pretty good movie.

20/20

Mom is long gone and I am still recovering . . . .While she was here I caught the full-blown flu from my son Matthew. It started on Monday night as I was caught wondering why my knees were aching horribly. The next day I knew. Actually for the next week I knew. On third thought I still know because after fever, aches, and sore throat, I developed an eye infection that is still on the mend.

Now that my mother is gone - it's out of sight out of mind - the worry that is. You see she and my father are growing OLD and she at least doesn't seem ready to face the inevitable. Inevitable being assisted living, nursing home etc. As we toured one assisted living facility's nice two bedroom unit she asked "Where will I entertain." On the positive she still has a terrific spirit of life but on the flip side she should not even be driving and is not ready to acknowledge even that.

One night after a wonderful dinner of grilled chicken with all the fixin's she had her mind fixed on dessert. And not the strawberries and cream I had so laboriously prepared. "Do you have a biscuit, a chocolate biscuit?" No. She asked two to three more times hoping one would materialize. It didn't but it did bring to mind a story I remember when her mother visited our family when I was young. My mother prepared a wonderful meal of roast beef with all the fixin's and when her mother sat down she promptly said, "No gravy?" Well my mother was not happy as her loud rattling around in the kitchen indicated. But she did make gravy. I suppose I could have gone and bought some chocolate biscuits but I didn't.

So unfortunately I think her visit contributed to my illness (which Daniel also caught - negating weekend plans to go to Maine) and my subsequent eye problem.

Which leads me to my next point - I do not see as well with glasses as I do with contacts. I started wearing my glasses because with my contact lense, the infected eye became more irritated. Anyway, I almost feel like I've lost one of my senses completely with glasses on versus contacts as illustrated by the following examples:

• On my solo drive to Maine, instead of taking I-95 out of Boston I continued on I-93 a good 30 miles before I realized my error. Yikes. I am blaming my blurry eye and the anticipation of two days of freedom.

• On my solo drive to Maine, I didn't realize I had my EZ-Pass in the glove box as I cursed myself at each toll booth for forgetting it.

• On my drive home from Maine, I proceeded through one toll booth without paying and with my EZ Pass still in the glove box because the car infront of me appeared to go right thru. In hindsight I barely sighted a $1.00 sign as I cruised thru the booth. I am awaiting my summons from the Maine Turnpike Authority any day now.

• At my morning swim at URI, I somehow missed all the signs posted on the women's locker room re: using another locker room due to the lack of hot water. As a result, after swimming, I proceeded to the showers, scantily dressed, only to find real, live, men working on the plumbing. Whoops. I figured I was safe to change when the plumbers walked by saying something like "Oh I thought we were on the other side [of the locker room]."

• That same fateful day I dropped my sweatshirt on route to the parking lot without even a scant recollectiong of doing so.

With my compromised vision (yes my glasses are the up-to-date prescription) there's no telling what I might run into. And if you see me with my glasses on, please introduce yourself.