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I have
been trying to reach out, via email, to friends distant and near. Today I got a
long email from an old and dear friend in the D.C. area. She reports that she
and her husband are up at 5:00 a.m. every morning; they go for a two-mile walk,
then have breakfast and dress for work, each going to their separate home
offices. She fixes soup for lunch and they meet, walk another mile if he can
take time from his remote meetings. And then at four they reconvene to watch
Nicole Wallace, the only commentator they trust. And in the evening, they walk
another mile.
Okay,
they tired me out. Here I sit in the tights and T-shirt I’ve worn for two days.
I sleep until at least eight each morning and am lucky to comb my hair. Some
days I even wash it, but not daily like I used to. I fiddle at the computer,
reading every credible news report I can find, and then it’s almost lunch time,
but I squeeze in a little work. Lunch is leftovers if, praise be, I have them.
I often get some serious reading done between lunch and about two o’clock—notice
that narrow window—when I am compelled to take a nap.
After
I nap, I either cook dinner or explore the day’s happenings online, and
suddenly it’s evening, I have a glass of wine, and I’m tired. At the end of the
day, I am often disappointed in the amount of work I have—or haven’t--done. Me,
who used to be such an organized compulsive who prided herself on accomplishing
so much each day. I am uncertain what to attribute it to—that old thing about
those who have the most to do get the most done? Or I read a phrase the other
day that struck home with me—anticipatory dread. Even though I feel safe and
content, fear is a constant in the back of my mind. We are all afraid of a
threatening but uncertain future.
A
bright note today: my oldest son’s best buddy of almost thirty years ago—they waited
tables and bartended together at Uncle Julio’s—sent me eggs Benedict, sausage
gravy and biscuits, and a hamburger from a local restaurant. Out of the blue.
Completely unexpected. Alirio does this from time to time—when my kids and I
were in Chicago, he sent a gift certificate to a pub right across from our hotel.
He lives in the Valley, so I’m not sure how he ferrets these places out. But it
was a real day-brightener to get his gift today.
When
Jordan came out to announce it, I called the restaurant and said I was sure
this was a mistake. They said no, but the name was difficult, and they would
spell it for me—and I knew instantly. Alirio (pronounced Alidio), a native of
Columbia, went on from their bartending days to join the Border Patrol and had
a good career there until his retirement last year. He and his Rosie have two almost-grown
sons. I last saw them, probably within the year, when we all landed at Colin’s
house at the same time. The two boys, now men, and I spent two hours
reminiscing and laughing and sharing—a wonderful time, and a lesson for me in
the value of keeping up with friendships. That’s something that’s always been
important to me. Alirio is the icing on the cake that proves my theory. What’s
the saying? “Old friendships are gold….”
So
tonight I’m going to sleep resolved to be more productive tomorrow, to stick to
business. But, ah, there are three food magazines calling for my attention.
That’s sort of work, isn’t it?
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