|Fog on the Beach/Early Sunday Morning|
In a mere 15 hours, my mother and I will be getting into a car and heading for the airport for her 2nd annual return-to-the-east-coast birthday visit.
I have not made a list. I did not even realize I had not made a list until I uttered the words, "I have not even made a list," to a friend a couple of hours ago.
I have not made a list. I am the Queen of List-Making. Or recently abdicated queen.
It's quite probable that an alien intelligence has taken over both my body and my brain.
My mother, Queen of Pillville, is on a lot of medications. I have, at least, made a list of those for her to take with her to my brother's house. And it's an illustrated list. So there.
It's quite possible that I have not sweated any of the other travel prep because I am delirious with the prospect of my impending freedom. My mother is going to stay at my brother's place for 2 months. And I am going to do All the Things!!!
Here's a list for you:
Visit daughter C and go to a family wedding with her
Go to a T'ai Chi Chih retreat in New Mexico
Go to Maui for a friend's birthday week celebration
Visit one of Dan's oldest friends in Hilo
Go to Kauai for another friend's birthday celebration
That's just September. I am not making up the Hawaii stuff. I do indeed have two friends (who don't know one another) who have invited me to their birthdays celebrations on 2 different Hawaiian islands. And by some incredibly fancy luck, the party dates did not conflict with one another or the T'ai Chi Chih retreat or the T'ai Chi Chih teacher accreditation week in October.
In addition to (hopefully) becoming a T'ai Chi Chih teacher in October, I will: (here comes another list)
See friends in L.A. and actually go out somewhere at night
Read from my memoir with other Shebook authors in L.A.(more about that later)
Have a wild party with wine... and...wine (please send wild party ideas)
Host a mini writing retreat chez moi
Return to the east coast to pick up my mom
As if this weren't enough good news for one day, I also had a sweet, sweet dream about Dan last night. It was black and white--like a classic movie. We were having a secret tryst in a library. Through most of it, I was unaware that he had died. He was alive, in my arms, and we having a fabulous time sneaking around in the dark among the books. Every now and then a man in a suit would show up at a desk, and Dan and I would have to straighten our clothes and look presentable. The man in the suit had some kind of account book, and Dan wanted to ask him something about money, but I'd try to discourage him. It was at these moments that I knew Dan was dead. I wanted to tell him nothing about money mattered, but Dan didn't seem to know he was dead so I had to skirt around the issue. But it was fairly easy to distract him, and then we'd just go back behind the shelves and forget that he was dead.