Okay, it’s out. Well, I am at least. I’ve been laid off from Breathe. Sigh. Last week. They’re cutting back in a major way and a bunch of us have been released back into the wooly wilds. Can a sistah get a break?
Moment of self-pity aside, it’s going to be alright. I’ve got some book ideas, plenty of freelance pitches brewing, and applications clogging the inboxes of most media hr people in the city. Now it’s back to self-structured days, self-discipline, self-purchased water. And total life reevaluation. Sorta. I’m going to my tenth college reunion at the end of the month. That should be interesting. How do you work in the cancer thing? I guess maybe how I just did talking to someone I hadn’t spoken to in forever just now. You just bring it up, like you would talk about having kids or getting married or getting promoted to vice principal. Right?
This weekend was lovely. T and I went to Governors Island, which is spooky and beautiful. It looks like a boarding school campus designed by Norman Rockwell and Marquis de Sade. “Here’s the sprawling soccer field and over there is the moat and over there, the prison.” It’s a great place to fly a kite, which we did. T mastered basic kite flying. Which means he can keep it up while staying in place (no jokes there, kids). While I still run like hell across the field as it nosedives onto the crispy grass. Of course it would be terrible if they developed the island but it would be nice if only my friends and I could live there. We wouldn’t need high-rises just a health food store with a juice bar. And we could turn the abandoned Super 8 into a gym with an Olympic-sized pool sanitized with ozone instead of chlorine. We spotted the apartment that would be best––wood floors, arched doorways, high ceilings, a large, enclosed porch. The kitchen would need gutting––it’s got some weird Formica island shaped like a mutant jellybean––but other than that, heaven.
Anyway, back to my “schedule” for today. Which means finishing my last Breathe story and heading to the pool and then the chiropractor––for the remaining week he’s still covered by insurance. Wah. I’m switching to an HMO for now, which sucks.
That’s my whirl. Please read Maureen Dowd’s incredible rant, one of the best she’s written in a while: “United States of Shame”
Peace.
