I am truly feeling rejected. Jordan announced that she and Jacob don't have time to come for supper this week--I've sort of gotten used to our weekly suppers. Then I told Jamie I'd like to ride to Austin with them for the weekend, and he said the logistics wouldn't work out. Then my sister-in-law asked when I was going to come for a visit, and since I now had nothing scheduled for the weekend, I suggested that. But my brother called today and said that wouldn't work for them, they're too busy. In truth, I can see the reasoning behind each of these things and I know, deep in my heart, they're not personal--but it does make a person feel sort of pitiful. I called Charles, told him my story, and asked if he wanted to go to dinner Saturday night, and he said he didn't know--he felt like second fiddle. So here I am, spreading the joy. And I admit I shouldn't feel rejected--after all, I talked with three of my children and the wife of the fourth today. Jamie called about 9 this morning and wanted to discuss the state of the world--I felt bad that I had to cut him off but there was someone waiting who had a nine o'clock appointment with me.
Betty and I went to dinner last night, and when I told her I felt pitiful and rejected, she laughed and laughed. My self-pity melted in the face of wonderful food--an amuse bouche (I love saying that) that was goat cheese wrapped in smoked salmon and then a paper thin long slice of cucumber, a butter lettuce salad with a delicate vinaigrette (okay, it was supposed to have blue cheese but didn't, but it had these mild good little flans) and scallops on a bed of cous cous with a vanilla sauce. I thought I'd just eat the scallops and forget the cous cous which I ordinarily don't care much for--but the texture of this felt more like orzo and the sauce was delicious. I was sorely tempted to pick up the stray bits with my fingers.
But good dinner and some weekend plans aside, I'm at loose ends. I can't settle on a writing project, and I can't find a book I like, one that truly absorbs me. I see a Barnes & Noble trip in my immediate future. When I feel this way I often drive away the whatever-it-is with cooking, so I've been diving into recipes. One familiy favorite is Doris' casserole, named for the woman who served it to me 35 years ago--our husbands were in medical training together. Yesterday several of us met with her for lunch--she's been ill, and it was a long-postponed reunion, but we had a wonderful time. And we talked about Doris' casserole. I came home and decided that was what I'd take to Jeannie and Jim for their Sunday night supper. And Monday we'll have a neighbors pot-luck on the porch--I'm thinking I'll suggest bring your own hamburgers and I'll make a black bean salsa, an antipasto sandwich loaf, and maybe some cole slaw. Everyone will bring something.
What I've learned from yoga that helps right now: I won't be critical of myself for not settling on a writing project, not even for not getting absorbed in a book--there's a purpose behind that. Writing ideas are simmering in the back of my brain, and they'll come forward at the appropriate time. What I have to learn is patience. And fearing the weekend will be long, and I'll be bored? I actually have quite a bit planned, I have really good friends with whom I'll spend time, and I'm blessed. Not many people are as fortunate as I am.
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