A Slice of Life

In Residence at Patricia's

I am almost gleeful to be in residence at my sweet sister Patricia's home. I had a wonderful flight with no one beside me so I could spread out with my reading material and just lose myself to the vagaries of American business and the economy and all the other dish Business Week and Fortune offer about the state of corporate affairs. I was greeted by my two cherub nephews and my sister at the airport and here I am. Sitting in Georgia, in bed, with my laptop and looking forward to four days on the Atlantic Ocean -- home.

Back in Chicago are my daughter and work. For a week I can live without both so that I can return renewed and pick up the threads of my Midwestern life once again. It's a nice feeling to go solo every so often and have nothing to think about except whether the sun will be out and at exactly what time I can have my first cocktail of the day.

Sadness

Sometimes there are those fleeting moments that make me profoundly sad. I was driving home from work late Friday afternoon and it was raining. I had bid my colleagues farewell for the weekend and watched them take off to join their spouses. I turned off the lights and locked the office. It was raining and bleak and I needed to go to the supermarket along the way. As I pulled out of the parking lot this wave of grief just swept over me. I cried to relieve the pain. I was sad because I miss my Mom and Dad. I was sad because I was going home to an empty house. I was sad because I'm tired of doing everything on my own. I was sad because I am just tired. I was sad because my husband left me and never looked back. I was sad for my daughter who lost her father. I was sad because I pissed off my best friend because I was inconsiderate.

My nature is not one of sadness or gloom. I am very optimistic and happy 99 percent of the time. But there are those rare moment when I'm sad.

An unexpected surprise

One more thing to note, my sister Patricia received an email from Herb Hoffner, my dad's roommate in college and med school. Dr. Hoffner found my sister through my brother-in-law. That in itself is a miracle. The point of the email was to let us know how much he respected and admired my parents. He recalled how Mom and Dad met in med school and how my Dad asked to be introduced to my mother and how it took them a while to actually go out because my mother was always at the symphony and had other commitments.

He recalled my father's quick sense of humor and his extreme intelligence. He was brilliant. He talked of my mother's warmth and graciousness. He also remembered meeting one of the daughter's at a Clark event at a museum in Lincoln, MA. That was me. So I wrote to him and told him how well I remembered that evening among my Dad's classmates and the beautiful art. I was struck by his need to find us and write about my parents. Trish says it's a gift and she is right.

Fresh Cut Grass

I finished mowing the lawn just a while ago and I sit here listening to my daughter's ITunes library. Right now, I'm playing the Great Lake Swimmers recommended by my 15-year-old-niece who lives on the South Shore of Massachusetts. She has great taste. They sound like Sufjan Stevens.

I love mowing the lawn. I find it quite therapeutic -- particularly at the end of the day. The only hitch is I opted to go green and I have an electric lawn mower with a cord which requires special maneuvering and more starts and stops than I prefer.

It's been a long day. Caroline drove quite a bit today. We headed out to Winfield to this great nursery -- the Planter's Palette -- and they had Tiarella, lovely Tiarella. I had a bunch of it when I lived in Connecticut. It's a May flower that has a bottle brush appearance. It's white with the slightest hint of pink and it's kind of squat and has deep green, almost brackish-looking leaves. I didn't buy it because I am unprepared for it. I am unprepared for anything. Tomorrow is the day I plan to dig out the gardens and think about what it is I want to plant. Tiarella, though, is on the list because Caroline really liked it too. She returned to look at it again, which impressed me. She also suggested other plants. We will buy a bleeding heart, one of my Dad's favorite flowers.

Another lovely surprise is when returned home late in the afternoon my neighbor told me she had yellow Irises. I couldn't resist. So they're on the front porch and I will definitely plant those tomorrow.

Oh I just love this time of year and the flowers and the light and everything else. It's all so fresh and alive.

Being sick -- a long forgotten experience

For the last 48 hours I have been in my bed sleeping. I am sick. It's an unusual thing for me because I am always healthy. I felt it coming on Tuesday afternoon and I left work on time and came home and popped into bed and laid there. I did make dinner for my daughter that night and managed a bite or two myself, but at 3 a.m. I knew for sure I was really ill.

The last two days I could barely keep my eyes open and I look like a wreck. I think I'm exponentially better, but perhaps I will stay home one more day so I can I have romantic sick day. You know, where you watch movies, read books, sip tea and just feel under the weather.