I keep putting off my Happy Jewish New Year post because I want to download photos of my mother's Rosh Hashana feast, and yet I don't have the patience for downloading photos. It's all too much I'm afraid. Meantime, I'm forgetting what I've been meaning to write and share with you. Generally, I think things are very different this year. My commentbox runneth over with different stuff this year.
So here is a list of some stuff:
I felt absolutely no guilt this new year, I enjoyed my mother's beautiful and delicious food without (for even one moment) feeling that I should have cooked something.
The above may well be connected to the fact that I have reached my maximum meal preparation capacity. Yes, that's right, I have a low cooking threshold, what can I say. Ever since I left my parents' home I have been cooking my own meals, and that has continued to be my unofficial role as wife and mother. That would probably add up to...I don't know...a million meals or some such. It certainly feels like that. So, anyway, I just can't go on any more. In fact, this has extended into a terrible allergy to supermarket shopping. I can't tell you how many times I have driven to the local shopping centre, only to be physically unable to steer my car into the parking lot.
I'm spending a lot of time at the moment working with my dad and writing in the local library. I'm also putting together an application package for a course I want to take next year, and there's a lot of work involved. The librarians all know me, and some are friendlier than others. The friendliest one is a middle-aged man who is clearly somewhat mentally handicapped. He cheers me up every day because he greets me with such gusto, "You're here already! Earlier than yesterday! I love it when you're here because I can come and chat." He gets distressed when I don't sit at my usual desk, and on Thursdays he arrives with a bottle of Spray'n'wipe and a rag and he cleans my desk for me. He says to me, "You sit and you type so much, all that typing." He's an absolutely gorgeous man, you'd love him.
I'm working on some script evaluations, and last week I finally met a writer whose work I've admired from afar. Half way through our coffee meeting he took out what looked like a very large purple fountain pen, I was delighted, until I realised it was an injecting pen, he's diabetic and he injected himself right there in front of me.
Mr. Commentbox and I decided last week to start walking together on Wednesday mornings. We started this morning and left so early that it was still dark, we continued walking for an entire hour as the sun rose and we were completely oblivious to the orange dust-storm around us. We honestly thought it was just a strange orange mist, and it was only when we got home and noticed our clothes were orange that we realised that, yes, we are indeed the most stupid couple in Sydney.
This is Miss Commentbox's last week in school. How did that happen? I have no idea. I thought it would be very exciting, but actually it is mostly just confusing. So I won't be buying her school uniforms any more? No more packed lunches? Obviously no more after-school activities because, ahem, there's no more school!! There won't be any more homework, lifts to and from school, parent/teacher meetings. I cannot comprehend how this is going to work out, it's just so strange.
The good thing is that now that Miss Commentbox will be driving, and the boy across the road who was in my carpool for 10 years will be driving, I reckon they owe me about a gazillion lifts. I will demand they drive me to all my appointments, and I will always be late, because I will always remember at the very last minute that I forgot something, something very important. I think I might call them throughout the day to alert them to changes in my plans, and request lifts from far-off locations, late at night, for myself and my 3 other friends whose children refuse to pick them up. Yes, I'm going to have fun with this.
I discovered two weeks ago, when shopping with my daughter for shoes for her Graduation Dinner, that I'm not the type of mother who likes shopping with her daughter. We spent 4 hours looking for shoes which ended up being a half size too small, and so needed to be exchanged the following day. It got ugly, I spat the dummy, and now Miss Commentbox insists on going shopping with Grandma Commentbox. I don't blame her.
There's more to tell, but I think that's enough for today. Hope you're all doing well, I think of you all the time and send you my love. Exxxx