1. Get up. Get son up. Feed son and myself. Get son off to school.
3. Try and write. (Should be "Write," obviously, but last week was definitely more of the "try and..." variety.
4. Get son from school. Feed son. Get son started on homework.
5. Try and write. (Ditto)
6. Assemble dinner. (I don't really cook. Yesterday had its own wackiness, because I did cook. And bake. And make salad.)
1. Get up. Get son up. Feed son and myself. And mother. And father. Get son off to school.
2. Read pieces of mom's memoir. SO cool. She's been taking a class for a few years and has assembled most of the pieces. Now she wants to figure out what she wants to do with those pieces. She wants some kind of organized structure, but isn't sure what, and we talked and brainstormed. We even talked about showing, not telling. I'm such a geek.
My mom has had one of those lives that really does call for a memoir. She left Germany at three, with her family, in 1938, and grew up in London, then came to California (with family AND Old English Sheepdog) when she was about 12. She was one of the first 8 women to go to Vet School at UC Davis, and she built a practice with my father that they ran for 30 years. Plus many, many other things. We didn't hear lots about her life growing up--not because she didn't want to share, but because she isn't a storyteller (as opposed to my dad). But the writing thing and the "Do this piece" pattern has been her way of getting these details out. So this will be the first time for me (and my sisters) to hear about a lot of events in her life and her feelings/thoughts on them.
3. Went to REI with Mom and Dad. Tried on clothes. Blech. Bought new running shoes. Nice. And a new flavor of Cliff Bars--white chocolate macadamia nut. Oh, you know you couldn't have resisted either. Went to Trader Joe's with Mom and Dad.
4. Came home. Fed me and Mom and Dad. Sent them off to Santa Cruz to take a photograph of a tree. Yes. That's what I said. Got on line to catch up. Greeted son when dropped off from carpool.
5.Will go out to dinner tonight at local brewery. I don't drink beer. But the food is great. And son can get a hamburger.
So, obviously, a lovely day, but just different enough that I feel slightly disjointed and discombobulated. I am clearly TOO much a creature of habit. And perhaps am suffering from just a bit of withdrawal from that whole trying to write thing. :)