The sun and I woke up together today, or rather got up, as I was awake long before the first light slithered under the blinds. It was peaceful to sense it there, I can't say watch as I didn't have my glasses on. It never got very bright; there is a storm out over the water today I think, so no color came along with dawn. I suppose that is fair after the splendid days we've had.
It is too quiet. There is already more work sitting on my desk than I have any hope of completing today, so I moved out of the office to sit with the laptop and the cats by a window where yes, the sun occasionally breaks through the clouds. And here I am writing nonsense, when there are contracts and critiques and opinions to complete.
I've been reflecting on ageism this morning. A friend wants to go to law school, mid life career change, and I can't help but want to discourage him.I think it takes five years, realistically, of training for a good lawyer AFTER law school. I'm not sure there are firms out there willing to invest that in someone who'll be in his sixties by the time the training is completed. I know all about the ADEA... age discrimination in employment act.... but I really can't say i think this is subterfuge. While I want the philosophy of the act to apply, professional services are so personal. So I'm stuck in the moderate world of confusion.
Another friend struggles with his PhD program, at the beginning of his professional career, and I wonder if he will wish he'd done something else when he reaches this magic age of confusion. Of course, I have to try to apply in to myself, and find that I'm okay, I've done what I wanted, for the most part, and now have freedom to play with words. Even if things stack up on my desk. (Now if only they'd cooperate and play back.)
Today is supposed to be the launch day for submissions for the summer issue of LSL. Truth is I've already bought one story and have an idea how the layout goes. I need to finish the site design so that I don't have to create more (ack) email names for subs. I found a format for online submissions that I like… NFG,(is it back yet?) Glimmer Train, Thirteen and some others, all use it so it must work okay. If only I could get my designer to code it for me. She has to wake up first. Spring break is not for sissies either.
On another note… with three women in the family, all still enjoying the hormonal delights of femininity, there is a clear need for chocolate from time to time in my house. During holidays, my mother always made homemade fudge… none of that marshmallow stuff for Peg… she was a real cook after all. It was a tradition I brought away from Indiana with me and the kids demanded it from the time they were old enough to say the words. My youngest daughter, when she was about two, christened it more appropriately, and now when we indulge we call it by its rightful name:"pudge."
Last night, after having had their fill of cucumbers and mushrooms and kumquats (yes!) and greens, which is all they've found in the fridge since stopping in for a few days before enjoying their respective spring break plans, the two girls went back to the mall. (I am on strike… three out of five days in a mall, especially with the weather we've had, is cruel and unusual punishment and I'm not THAT bad a mother!) Perhaps to appease the beast that emerges when I've been left to too many hats, they stopped by the store and brought home Bridge Mix. You know, that candy that is worse than a box of chocolates because some of them are nuts or jellies (yuck) or crème filled or raisins or caramels (pronounced with two syllables like any good Midwesterner will tell you) or... who knows what, covered in chocolate...
It is one of those things we use for mood control, or at least did when the girls were in high school and peace was more necessary. I guess maybe I've been a little short with them lately. They brought home a good pound (to share!) and said they'd come up with a new moniker for it, too: "Bitch Mix. Like Pudge without the innocence."
They ought to be in advertising.
The boys appropriately declined. Smart kids.
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