I’m part of the sandwich generation, which is far less tasty than it sounds. Rather than indicating that we solely subsist on anything that fits within two slices of bread, hopefully gluten-free in my case, it means that as we aged into becoming caregivers of our children, our parents simultaneously aged into needing various stages of elder care, often requiring us to fill both roles at the same time and literally becoming sandwiched between two roles requiring us to care for others. If you’re like me, you may not even see it coming until you are firmly in the middle of it.
Today a bunch of Trader Joe’s Wheat Crisps soaked up my feelings and it felt amazing. It would only have been better had they sidled up to a personal-pan-sized wheel of Brie with some raspberry jam and gone all in.
Work has been rough lately.
Oh, you too? (Hugs)
Holy Sweet Baby Gee, it is HOT up in here! Sitting here sweating to death in my own home lusting after my neighbors two (2!) air conditioning units that I can almost reach out and touch from the comfort of my couch reminds me of my complete dependance upon what my family would call “bought air.”
Last night I was introduced to the amazingness of BuzzFeed’s Whine About It. It’s a lovely little no frills, low key, weekly video bit done by staff writer Matt Bellassai and it’s all I am right now. Why? Because I needed that little burst of Whine and I definitely need it to be about all this Adulting I am finding so hard to do right now.
Last week I copped to how I’m a member of the Funky Bunch. Ok, no, I am not the chick on the right rocking those kneepads like nobody’s business. But since I have owned my funk, I gained perspective into it. I don’t exactly have good vibrations yet, but at least there’s an outside chance.
No need to send a search party, I know I’ve been MIA for a bit. I wish I could say I won the lottery and I’m checking in on society from my private island, but sadly, that is not the case. I finally managed to lift my head just above the oppressively pounding surf that surrounds that lovely island and not choke on the water, long enough to take a deep, live-saving breath. I have been in a FUNK friends and not the James Brown kind.
Since it was recently announced that my alma mater, Sweet Briar College, intends to close it’s doors at the end of the current semester, alumnae have rallied to save the school, many of them sharing their personal stories of why they chose to attend Sweet Briar and what Sweet Briar did for them. There are so many inspiring stories from former and current students, parents, professors and friends of the college. The outpouring of love and support has been overwhelming and in many ways apparently long overdue.
I have clearly been holding quite a lot in for quite a long time. I realized this when I caught myself bawling uncontrollably while listening to “Let It Go” from a little movie called “Frozen.”
What the hell is wrong with me?!?
Yesterday my boss traveled back in time to 1940. It’s the only explanation for why what went down in the office yesterday could possibly happen. I’m all for time travel and I often daydream about what era I should have been born in. Hint: not the one with no indoor plumbing or hairdryers. So I really should have been giddy as all hell when I found myself face to face with a time traveler. Sadly, my reaction was anything but giddy. You see friends, this time traveler wanted coffee and he wanted me to get it.
Cyber Monday is one of those things that smacks me firmly in the face and shouts, “You are so close!” every year. Having just checked out of an emotional visit with family and a sobering look at what the holidays really can do to people with or without family to visit, (way more on that in another post), we attempt to return to our every day lives ushered on by a tsunami of email and ads promising huge savings coupled with the thrill of convenience. In the past, I have basically finished my holiday shopping by now and that was even before the advent of cyber-anything. I have seriously scored some pretty great deals on previous clicking sprees. Now it only serves to remind me what I don’t have and taunts me mercilessly as a missed opportunity.