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Mom's
My cousin bought this for me. Pick a Saint Cuppa coffee anyone? I am a theatre critic OK...so it's a new "career", but if you're interested in reading my reviews, go here Updated 2/11/01 WHAT I'M READING Christmas gift from my friend, Diane, who felt it was time I learn more about Australia That's it for today!
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WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT 13 February 2001 I really have absolutely no right to complain. After all, I’ve seen Marn’s pictures. I’ve seen cars lined up on I-80 for five hours, trapped by severe snowstorms. I’ve seen caved in roofs in foothill communities which have had no power for 3 days. What am I complaining about? All I am is cold. But I’m tired of being cold. I can’t believe I said that. I, who have professed every year to love winter, to love the rain, to dread the approach of summer, am sitting here saying I WANT SOME SUN, GODDAMMIT!!! It’s not that I mind the outside weather. I don’t mind walking through the rains we’ve been having (I’ve managed to avoid the deluges, except for when I was driving on Saturday and hit pockets of rain so heavy I couldn’t see the road). But this office, with the breeze that blows in from the dog door, and the heat that doesn't quite make it all this way, is just starting to get to me. I can’t seem to get ALL of my body comfortable. I can bundle up in my poncho and that keeps the upper half of me warm, but my lower half is still cold. (What's to become of my upper half when I’ve frozen my lower half, I really don’t know...) Maybe it’s just that today was a weird day. First of all, I fell asleep watching a movie last night. I had worked diligently literally all day, finishing all of the rush jobs (good Bev) and felt I deserved a couple of hours off. But of course, watching a movie meant sitting in a chair and once I was immoble for more than a few minutes, that was pretty much it. I didn't even set the timer on the stove to wake me up. Still, I was up at 3:30 anyway, having had a whopping 6 hours of sleep. But I was disoriented. The day wasn’t quite right and the morning just was out of sorts because the schedule seemed off. Things didn’t really start falling into place until the early afternoon, by about 2 p.m., when I’d come home from the supermarket. But then things started to look up. The cupboards were full once again and all was right with my world again. Kimba was happy...I had dogfood again. By late afternoon, I realized why I let work back up sometimes. These two guys I work for. I’d like to choke them sometimes. Both of them called on Friday to alert me to rush reports that "had" to be finished by Monday. I already had plans for Saturday, meeting a friend for lunch in the Bay Area, but I spent all day Sunday, from pre sun-up to about 9 p.m. and got all of the rush reports finished. As usual, I put the psychiatrist’s work out in his pick-up box; I called the psychologist and let him know he’d forgotten to give me an address, and could he please call me as soon as he got to the office and let me know what it was so I could send his report. Well, the psychiatrist’s work is still sitting out in the box, and it is long past sundown. And I never heard from the psychologist, despite two phone calls. Why do I bother? In the early evening tonight, I had a new experience. On Valentine’s day, I’ve agreed to help deliver flowers, of all things, for a local florist, so I went tonight to get some orientation to what the job will entail. (Peggy accuses me of taking the job just to get material for this journal. And yer point is...?) It’s going to be interesting. I’ve agreed to work 5 hours and to consider longer than that, depending on how it goes. All the other delivery people are about 16 years old, I think (maybe a tad older), but I’m definitely twice as old (and twice as out of shape) as the others. This will either be something fun to talk about in a couple of days, or will land me in the hospital from heart failure! But now it’s time for Letterman, and he’s going to interview Maralyn (Mad Dog), my personal choice to win Survivor this time around. (Us old gals have to stick together.) But she got booted off anyway. Right now being on Survivor Island doesn’t seem so bad. It’s summer in Australia, you know... |
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Some pictures from this journal |
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Created 2/13/01 by Bev Sykes |
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