Don't worry; I said my piece last night. As I told the son, yesterday was a day that got progressively more exasperating the longer it went on. And by the end, having deleted 8,000 emails offering various black and cyber come-ons and finally, getting a call from a telemarketer with an auto-dialer trying to sell me a loan modification that I don't need (only slightly worse than the damn bank that's trying to sell me insurance I don't want), I just blew a gasket.
And I wasn't trying to sound overly sanctimonious--only somewhat sanctimonious. I buy things. I have a fondness for cashmere. I buy copious quantities of music. Vast amounts of music. Way too much music. Music on disc and music live. And books. But trying to sell me a lifestyle? Boys and girls, that is so 1985.
Today, I saw old friends and co-workers, and I sat and talked to them, and it was fun. DHM made a funny comment about low-maintenance friendship: we've been promising to meet for coffee for almost 4 years. But in no time, we were off and running, planning lunch (Zov's, woman! Great Mediterranean and the desserts...!). CL wondered aloud when we'd all pack up and go to another concert ("When it's $10!" LS replied, which was what we paid for Aerosmith). And everyone wanted to know where the son plans to go to college. ("I don't know," I said, waving my hands vaguely. "I'm going to put him on eBay and send him to the highest bidder.")
The son has grown a goatee and the daughter had her first basketball game. I got a photo of her looking radiant and of him looking like...a Viking.
Tomorrow is a new month: I have parties and brunches to attend and stuff to do, and I'm making the most wonderfully evil sounding fudge and toffee trifle for the neighborhood do. And maybe something else. Because I've become the person who brings two desserts.
I have plans to make. I promised the daughter New York, tea at The Plaza, a day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That happens in May during travel week unless I drop dead between now and then. I promised my beloved TD that I would come "home" to DC to visit him solo, and April is looking very promising for that.
I have projects to complete. Okay, so NaNoWriMo went about the same way it does every year, but I've actually got something I like. And then there is: Bathroom. Sledgehammer. NOW.
That is life.
Go listen to some good music: "What is Life" by George Harrison from the album The Best of George Harrison.