Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Lunch at The Last Resort

Within a six day period in April, right after Edgar turned 23 and Miriam hit 21, we have four more birthdays.

I took Marcela, 29, Gina, 32, Yolie, 30 and Cristy, 33, all college graduates, out to a fabulous restaurant in a college town, The Last Resort, yesterday, a former dance hall where I'd once danced all night to Delbert McClinton and others. "Mom I love to hear your old stores," Gina encouraged me, but my mouth slammed shut, while my memories soared from within. What happened 30 years ago, stays there.

We had a great time; good food, good company. I shook off my bad mood regarding dry rot truck tires, but I got that accomplished as well, plus several other dumb errands that cut into my gardening time severely.

Several soccer practices last night, after I got a large supper of spaghetti in everyone, still having to first pick up Chuy from his weight-lifting class at the high school, and Jonathan and Scotty from their CRCT tutoring classes.

Running into my old friend, Tami, looking fan-tablulous now in her early 50s down at the park, was a super blessing that put a smile on my face. Not only do I miss the good ole days, but the many people that then populated my life.

It'll be an antsy me sitting in the dentist chair, if and when I can get everyone headed to school, running back to the middle school afterwards, after the dentist and recycling, to pick up an overly-agitated Paloma for her court date, back to her school for an IEP meeting, and then on to a Pathways counseling session with her, where all she seems to hear is that her relentless anger and dangerous violence is understood, and even justified, when that's not the case being presented to her at all.

An updated psych evaluation is a priority, and I'll need to help Miss Kim gather up the nescessary paperwork to get this show on the road. Fortunately I keep good notes and files folders of documentation.

I'll again slam supper on the table so we can get to youth group at church tonight, the relief of my bedtime is only some 17 hours away from this very moment.

No garden time, no rain in sight, the housework is getting ahead of me and my list of chores is expanding alarmingly, but such is our way of life.

I can do this.