Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Man, It Was Hot
I realized after supper last night that I could no longer procrastinate mowing the lawn. It had to be done. So I did it and, man, did I sweat. Sweat stings when it gets into your eyes, did you know that? Well, it really does, and I was wearing a sweat band. Good thing I had some Gatorade in the fridge. Good thing we've got a shower in the bathroom because I stripped off and just stood under the lukewarm water, letting it run over my head until I cooled off enough to dry off. Then I polished off my Gatorade AND made inroads into the remaining lemonade. (BTW, can someone please develop lawn grass that only grows 2" tall so it doesn't have to be mowed?? PLEASE???) I barely had enough energy to cut up the pineapple and strawberries to make a fruit salad but I managed. I can't leave fruit in the store when it's so reasonably priced and in season. I can eat it every meal, on my cereal, on my yogurt, just out of a bowl. Yum.
I just realized that if I want to keep getting my antidepressant and reflux meds I'm going to have to find another doctor. Well, crap. After last winter's thyroid meds fiasco I'm not going back to my old doc. Guess I'll call the clinic and take potluck. But first I'll check to see how many refills I have left on each of them so I can procrastinate if possible. Don't want to rush into things, you know.
The interview went well yesterday although I did have to call her because she'd forgotten. Oops. When she arrived (we met at Panerra) she looked at me like I was about to pull a rattlesnake out of my purse. Turns out her son hadn't really told her what he wanted or why, so I did and that was better. Then we just talked. And talked and talked. I got a very different perspective on the start of the business and the way it grew. Interesting.
June 26--Cindy Sherman, Still from an Untitled Film. Cindy was a good girl. You could tell by her sensible suit, the jacket fully buttoned, and her little straw hat. No one at Grant, Foley, and Chatham could figure out how she managed in the city. Chicago regularly chewed up and spit out good girls like Cindy, who grew up in a little Mayberry town in rural Wisconsin and watched too many Rock Hudson and Doris Day movies on late night TV. The senior secretaries at the law firm tried to keep the more predatory of the lawyers away from her. They were a little envious of her fresh innocence and wanted to preserve it, at least for a little while. Cindy kept trying to flirt with those same junior partners but they avoided her like she had a disease.
I don't know what comes next. She looked like such a victim that I had to close the notebook and put my pencil away. Time to read the paper and eat some of that luscious fruit salad I made last night. Hasta la vista, babies.