Rest area on Linda Vista

Or it could’ve been Wesley. I don’t really remember if I was one or two blocks west of Arbana at this point. But, yaknow, nothin’ like galumphing along at 0-skunk-30 and finding a toilet in the street. If I had had to, you know, go, it would’ve been tempting. I do occasionally have to hit the woods.

So. “Moom, don’t cry…” I have been dropping the beach urchins off at Daytwa Metro for what seems like forever now. I sent Lizard Breath off to Spain for six months and what seems like about a billion times out there to Callyforny. I sent Mouse to Senegal! And *that* send-off involved a loverly little jaunt over to Chicago O’Hare with a dead iPod and many related adventures which you can check out here. Fun times.

I was dry-eyed today. Like always. Focused on navigating the I94 18-wheel Clogway back to the Planet Ann Arbor. But my heart felt heavier than usual. Not for any particular reason, at least not one that I can articulate. My “baby” has a wonderful life in San Francisco and I am proud of her for having the wherewithal to support herself in an expensive city with what some people might pooh-pooh as *only* a liberal arts degree. I disagree with that view of life but whatever.

Anyway, if anything, what I don’t like about myself at the moment is that I seem to have lost almost all of any ability I ever managed to cobble together to do the small talk that makes the world go ’round. Like, what do I talk to my beautiful, sophisticated daughter about? I don’t know. My life is the same old same old and I am happy with it. My job is interesting to me and the people I work with but probably not to anybody else.

So today, I worked from home. I’ve done that quite a bit this week. (And no, I have not been very productive.) I just wanted to be in the same building as this beautiful young woman that I could once hold in my two hands. Six pounds, three-and-three-quarters ounces. A part of me wants to say that we spent the whole morning talking, solving the problems of the universe. Not. I hung out tinking away at work and she packed and organized herself. This is okay, I think.

I do not know where to go from here. I mean with this stoopid blahg entry, not with life (although I have NEVER known where to go with life! Fer kee-reist, it seems to just happen to me…). Fer kee-reist, the kid has another hour or so before landing at SFO (thank you very much, flight-tracker). She will go on with her life and work tomorrow and I will head in to my cube tomorrow with *bells* on! I am in a bit of a trough today but life goes up and down and I will just keep on truckin’.

I will pretend I am body-surfing in the waves of Gitchee Gumee and that I am in a small trough waiting for another wave to carry me along. Catch a wave and you’re sittin’ on top of the world…

One Response to “Rest area on Linda Vista”

  1. Margaret Says:

    Sometimes when I expect myself to get weepy (BIG MOMENTS) I don’t and other times I sob my eyes out. Like when the new sinks leak. When the fancy new dishwasher doesn’t turn itself off. Stupid stuff. SF is an expensive city–love it there. (but I can’t imagine living there)