Another day in paradise
Yesterday was a good day.
It is Easter vacation for the schools around here, which means no morning traffic, which means K has an extra 20-30 minutes in the morning, which yesterday combined with a scoop of her awesomeness to mean that those last few odd-sized slices of whole grain bread in the bottom of the bag were beautified into French Toast instead of becoming a misproportioned peanut butter and jelly sandwich which requires a kombucha in hand to compensate for the stiff crusts.
Then I had a slow morning for a couple hours, got some errands done, then went to work. Back to work. Back to the job I contentedly quit a month ago.
See, last Thursday sucked. I was sitting here, another potential job avenue fading into unlikelihood, and Uncertainty, Insecurity, Intimidation, and Stagnation were lead weights making it hard to keep treading water. I could feel something in my spirit screaming, while my body felt simultaneously enervated and ready to explode.
Then the temp agency called and said my old job wanted me for a short project. Seemed like it might be…“lifeline” is not the right word, but maybe a nice buoyant log for my raft.
Since quitting I went back once, to wrap up a project I had started but the client had cancelled halfway through. The best part of the place bad been the people, and now there was nearly no one there. Seats that used to hold friends were empty but for the ghosts of a thousands farts, which are not nearly as good of company as their originators.
As I walked out the door that day I realized I would probably never go back. It was kind of sad, but just like you realize you can’t stay at summer camp when the summer’s over, I was okay with it.
Yesterday I was going back. Not quite sure how to feel about it.
But I walked in and saw Catherine, my utterly bodacious Kenyan friend. Turns out the project is only four researchers and a project manager, but the other four are all kick-ass. Furthermore, it quickly became apparent that the project is actually bona fide interesting. I would go so far as to call it legitimate research, instead of “research.” I will be asking questions whose answers I am actually interested to hear, and I go so far as so opine that the work is actually contributing to something worthwhile.
And stepping into the main work room, who did I see but the charismatic Mexican, the delightful Ghanaian, esteemed Americans (2 of them), scholarific Belgian, and the beguiling and sensational individuals whose ancestry I can’t currently remember.
I walked out on light steps, going back to my old friend the train station, though it won’t really be familiar until tonight when it is late, all the commuters and “normal” people already home, just us curious after-hours train riders and the never tiring kebab/falafel vendor.
Then I got home to my fantastilicious K, who had made lasagna, individual little pans so I could have extra cheese in mine. Fresh veggies. A deep red blanket spread out on our great balcony (a major selling point for the apartment), the pillows we brought back from the Chichicastenango market in Guatemala, the little end table sitting to one side with two glasses of red Spanish wine, and a benevolent Spring evening sun warming us to pleasantness.
Eat, drink, talk. Tea and reclining with a book as the sun put the stamp on the day and mailed it to the past.
Oh, and we found Ben & Jerry ice cream this weekend, so I got my chocolate fudge brownie groove on.
La vita é bella, no?
Ufck yeah! What a bountiful international fantastical outdoor meal! That's the stuff right there. Nom nom nom. I felt like I was on a medieval caravan just reading it. I'm going to invent that with your Ben and Jerry's you reclined on the pillows and smoked a hookah, full of herbal tobacco of course.