Journal to a Muse

Still no pix and not much knitting

Apparently Terry Kellogg had it right. Wherever you go, there you are.
Sitting at the Westin LAX, I here occasional planes and tired snores from DH who is as worn out as me, but more able to let himself take a nap and sleep.

I'm riled up. Angry with myself... even on vacation. I hate that.
Why? Let me tell you... not that there are BIG or especially MAJOR reasons.
1. We stopped at El Segundo Beach. It is a sandy beach with a bike path and few rocks. It was tough slogging through the sand. After huffing and puffing no more than 100 yards, I sad on a man made breakwater. I was happily wearing my new cropped workout pants and top (Land's End via Sears...) THERE WAS OIL/TAR on the rock which transferred itself to my butt via my NEW pants. It even went through to my panties. So now I can't wear them tonight or tomorrow (pink and grey... I was feeling pretty, even...) and have to wait until we get home to either send them to the cleaners, or find an auto supply store that has tar remover. Feh.

2. My DS and future DIL called Friday and told me there were "some" errors on the 240+ wedding invitations I addressed. Today I opened the email with the details. Was I on crack when I did them? LOTS of errors. I hope I have enough "extra" envelopes to fix the mistakes. Cr*p. Cr*p. Self loathing is blossoming.

3. Which makes me remember I'm FAT. Really. I'm not going to write my weight here... but when they said Tyra Banks was "fat" I thought I'd give up all my books (and I have thousands) to be her weight. And at Capri Laguna, our room was down the cliff a mere 15 steps. Climbing them made me huff and puff...Going down them was scary because I didn't trust my ankles, knees or hips.

4. My director's toddler grandson fell into, or near a swimming pool on Thursday and is now in an induced coma. The "good news" is that his brain swelling has stopped, and they removed the ventilator. But they are expecting lots of PT.

5. The husband of a friend had surgery at UCLA to replace part of his aorta. The surgery stressed his kidney... which he'd received by transplant some years ago. The stress may mean he requires dialysis.

6. My newsletter partner's dad has a recurrence of cancer... CAUSED, they think, by some of the previous radiation he had for a different cancer. I can't help but wonder if MY radiation will turn into some other kind of cancer... I don't want to make new friends with a bunch more doctors. I don't want to be "sick." Or cranky. Or cost that much.

7. I don't like being pessimistic or grumpy. I don't know how to cheer myself up right now... except maybe switch to Freecell.

8. DD says she might not post on her blog much any more because she's soooo busy. Well... That's OK. but there's something about being able to see and read about her whenever I want that is a neat touchstone. I guess I'll have to remember our phone conversations better.

Well, there is a bit of good news. I had a book buying binge at Barnes and Noble at Fashion Island in Newport Beach. (I originally tried to avoid being in a shopping mall on vacation... but what a pretty one... lots of outdoor "people space." With umbrellas, teak chairs and benches, geraniums, bougainvilleas, fountains and even a carousel.

So I bought a lovely collection of California photos and quotes. (Will scan a couple later-- the photographer's name escapes me right now. He was called the modern Ansel Adams, and I understand why.) I also bought the new Watercolor Artist magazine. Always inspirational. But what I am going to go finish reading is The Higher Power of Lucky, this year's Newbery Prize Winner. There was controversy because the protagonist hears the word "scrotum," doesn't know what it is, exactly, but from the context of her eavesdropping is glad she doesn't have one. The heroine is plucky, hopeful and smart. I think those traits are going to be enough to overcome the family situation in which she finds herself at age 10. She's much more like a Californian Pippy Longstocking than Ramona Quimby. I wish I'd had her to read about when I was 10. Teachers don't seem to have any imagination when it comes to what gradeschoolers might like to read... or be able to relate to.

I also got a book by an English teacher who got her high school teachers to make diary entries and share them, in the interest of building tolerance.

OK. So there are good things happening in the world. Teachers with missionary zeal and hope (and without zealotry!!). Teens who are malleable. Doctors who use all their talents to improve as well as extend life.

I've told myself I can't go to the gift shop and buy a bunch of Kit Kats or muffins. I guess I'll see about the Higher Power of Lucky. And maybe a nap before dinner.

Wherever YOU are, and wherever you're going, I hope you are enjoying it.