I LOVE the new year switcharoo. Fresh. Clean. Kind of like my digestive system this week. Everyone in my family (with the exception, somehow, of my typhoid mary daughters) got the dreaded stomach flu for Christmas this year. Which meant first thing on my birthday (Dec. 27th) I watched the contents of my innards fly from my body. Really, how much could there have been in there? LOTS. But the freaky weird thing is, friends, that this horrific purging was just what the doctor ordered. Like doing the Master Cleanser EXPRESS instead of the 10 day lemonade fast. I’ve no tolerance for such things as fasts–like too much the snacks. Feel bad when I don’t eat. But who can’t lose a few around the holidays? Skin’s clear and glowing, stomach only likes small portions now. It’s all good!
Was that too much information? Sorry. Sort of. Not really.
This is my final week of unemployment before starting my new job next week. I’m ready. Mimi and Beenie’s schedule will not be changing drastically. They will be getting to school 1/2 hour earlier in the morning than usual, and collected a 1/2 hour later in the afternoon. Not too bad, right? And my job seems like it will be somewhat flexible with when I show up in the morning. I’m shooting for 8-4, maybe 7:30 till 3:30 in the summer. Being a gov’t job, they may actually try to work with me on this. So this week will be spent doing things I don’t perceive myself being able to do easily once fully and gainfully employed:
- having lunch with a friend in my neighborhood
- shopping for girls’ outfits for dance recital
- figuring out where to send them this summer and fall before they start kindergarten
- figuring out how to scour my house clean enough to show to prospective buyers
- finding what remains of my self, what she might wear to her new job, possibly adding to this ensemble of uniforms
That’s enough to think about at almost 4 a.m. after awakening from a coughing fit. Yes, I’m back on the couch drinking tea. And considering visiting the doc this week to get something to help out my sore throat and endless sinus annoyances. Winter is brutal on this mama’s upper respiratory system.
I am feeling empty when it comes to creating art. There is so much else pressing at the moment, I fear there is little left for this part of my life. Which is depressing, but reality. Mathematically, that makes reality depressing. Nothing anyone hasn’t already figured out.
But I’m not feeling particularly depressed, probably because there is an air of chaos and the unknown floating around my house, and there’s not much I like better than not knowing the future. Upheaval is what I do best. After that, settling into a routine is what I do best.
Good, fresh, clean as a whistle 2011 wishes to you, fiends.
20 Fingers, 20 Toes 
2011 felt so fresh and so clean to me, too. Until January 6 when the weight of sameness and futility and worthlessness crept in. Sometimes I fall for the whole New Year delusion every year. Hope yours is still bright and shiny.