Sunday Morning Ritual in These Foolish Things

Sitting here at this lovely, lovely coffee shop with massive patios overlooking the lake and tons of outdoor seating and live jazz. Sipping my half-caf bottomless drip coffee and tapping out an entry. This may become a Sunday morning ritual for me as it’s just lovely out here and there are plenty of people to watch.

Have I told you lately how much I loathe being alone at home? I know I have. I don’t know what it is - except for the fact that I’m just sitting in my apartment and not working at my JOB or being with my people. It bothers me so much more than it ever has.

And here, I live in this new (to me), beautiful city where there’s SO MUCH going on and I haven’t done a whole lot to embrace that. And of course it’s because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, but while I’m here I should be doing more exploring and enjoying, I guess.

So, the job that would’ve taken me back to [my former city] fell through, and I’d already spent a lot of my forward-thinking energy on where I might move when I go back.

And now, I’m back to…well, not Square 1, but Square 2, I guess?

I’ve been in talks with yet another company - these are folks I’ve worked with in the past on a project and we’ve gotten pretty far in our talks. I’ve spoken with the CEO several times and we’ve emailed a lot.

It would be a remote role. You know how I feel about that. I suppose some type of co-working space or, I guess, find a bunch of coffee shops and/or breweries (in the case of this town) and work from there? I don’t know.

But I think the good thing about this is that I can work from anywhere so if I want to be in [my former city] I could do that, or if I want to visit [Athena] when she moves to Bentonville, I could do that, or if I want to work from my new boyfriend’s place on the lake (manifesting!), I could do that!

Okay, enough about that possibility until it comes to fruition.

Let’s talk about my gingerness for a while, shall we? You know, me and my red hair and my fair, freckled skin that burns so easily in the sun?

Yeah, well that big ol’ bump on my shoulder that we biopsied last week turned out to be squamous cell carcinoma and now I have to get Mohs surgery on the 10th. It’s the quickest I could get in to get this motherfucker taken care of. You know how I usually give my ailments a name…like the aneurysm in my head is called Lumpy and I can’t remember what I named my colon tumor, but I know I gave it a name. I suppose now that it’s gone it has been erased from my brain. Good.

But this thing on my shoulder? It doesn’t even deserve a name because I just want it GONE. OUT. OVER.

I’m so sick of the “C” word.

Speaking of C., I had dinner last night with my friend C. and told him what I just wrote above and now he is insisting on driving me to and from the Mohs procedure. He’s had it done before - on his face, and he told me that he’d be there for me. What a good guy. He sure is an angel. I really am lucky to have met him and incredibly grateful that he offered.

Why is he so nice to me? I don’t know! Maybe he feels sorry for me? It’s not that he likes me in that way, right? It’s not that…

Could it be?

So, my childhood friend’s dad - the one I wrote about in my last entry - she posted a piece from the news. There was a vigil last night. Turns out, her dad was the night security gate guard in an elite neighborhood and he was absolutely beloved. He was 81 years old and had worked there for 14 years. The police have not yet apprehended the assailant. There was so much love and support surrounding my friend, her sisters and her mother and I’m so relieved to know that.

I almost feel guilty for saying this, but when we were kids, her dad was a dick. He was abusive to my friend, her sisters and her mother. I spent many, many, many days and nights with that family, and I heard her dad hitting her mom and watched him yank her little sister’s long, thick, gorgeous hair so much that she had bald spots and had to cut her hair short so he couldn’t grab her by the hair!!

It’s so hard to rectify my childhood memories of the man from back then to the man who is being memorialized as a highly-respected pillar of the community.

Regardless, I’m so sorry that his life was taken from him. For as scary as he was in my childhood, he didn’t deserve to be brutally murdered. The news also interviewed the woman who found him and was with him the moment he passed. She told him that he wasn’t alone and that he was peaceful and pain-free when he died…she said he just went to sleep.

Can you imagine? I can’t imagine being stabbed to death but being peaceful in that moment.

But there are so, so many more things I just can’t imagine either.

Guess I should close for now.

Take care of you.
GS