Suzy Says

For a person who aspires to idleness, I seem to be very busy. Maybe that’s the whole reason I have these lazy aspirations. Or maybe my career goal of idle rich is always in the back of my mind.

Kathleen met me at work on Friday afternoon and we walked to the bar together. (I wonder if all that uphill walking even came close to obliterating all those wine calories?) We stopped off at Shelley’s Jewelry on the way, where Kathleen bought a gorgeous ring and pendant, both silver set with stunning fire opals. They aren’t her birth stone, but they are her favorites (like me with diamonds), and they look damn good on her. She looks damn good anyway. No wonder she would never even consider botox, since it’s completely unnecessary in her case, and that she can contemplate her 20th high school reunion qualm-free, knowing she’ll knock everyone on their collective ass when she walks in wearing that vintage black velvet dress.

We met more friends at the bar, and it was so good to catch up with them that I stayed later than I had intended. And although I had three glasses of wine (gasp!), I didn’t have a hangover when I woke up at 6 am on Saturday, which was a pleasant surprise. I left for my Mom’s place around 8 am, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge in fog so thick that the towers of the bridge were completely invisible.

The fog vanished quickly once I got to Marin, and it was 80 degrees in Petaluma yesterday. Mom is settling into her new home, but not without the usual melodrama. I made dinner for us, including my famous cheese biscuits, and all four of us kids were together with Mom for the first time since Dad’s death last year, which sounds all heart-warming and Norman Rockwell but wasn’t. It was a nightmare day. There were several important and unpleasant issues to be dealt with, and Mom’s reaction to each of them was to throw a fit like a three year old, screaming and crying, etc., to avoid facing the [usually terrible] consequences of her [unfailingly stupid and destructive] actions. My brother and I both went home last night, but my sisters are still in the little casita of hell up there. I guess I better call them before I add “bad sister” to my “bad daughter” credential.

One good thing that came out of it was meeting Mom’s next door neighbor, Dave. He used to be a jazz musician who played with Harry James! And his son Kevin is a really cool guy who happens to live three blocks away from me. So the day wasn’t all bad. Just mostly.