Lazy Daze

Not a bad weekend. Found some jewelry, some of which isn't crap, none of which is gold (probably - still trying to figure out how to work that gold-testing kit). Found a backpack full of kids books, too, for the Grands. Even found a fairly cool pipe stand for the Lug. I'm trying to work up the energy to take pictures - to post here, to maybe make my first eBay listing - but I'm just not there yet; I'm not sure I'll be there ever again at this rate. Truly, I'm hitting the wall here.

Two more weeks of this insane schedule, of tutorials filling every nook and cranny, of classes filled to the brim with students. It ramped up with the speed and power of a tornado late last week, won't let up until the 10th - and even that's suspect since I'm starting to fill up with other tests (ACT, PSAT), other dates forthcoming (November is just around the corner), even an AP Calculus student. The money is good. The brain fog is bad.

How do I get rid of this haze?

Well, for today I'll take a walk. That seems to help some. And I'll try not to think too much, save it for my students. I have to believe that one day I will be rid of this mental fuzz-bomb. Maybe my hormones will finally settle, or maybe I'll find the right combination of food and exercise, but I will, some day, be able to think.

Just not today.

Today I rest.

And, today only, I will force myself to enjoy it.

Effing Up

I keep the books for an LLC. There are three partners (including myself). I found out a few interesting things today about LLCs, the IRS, and my own innate sense of chaos:

1. Last year's "automatic" extension (with pertinent paperwork) was for 6 months. This year it was 5 months - which was 9 days ago. Writers do not good timekeepers make.

2. If you file late on an individual income tax form - but you owe no money - you owe no late fees. (At least it was that way a few years back, though a quick check of the IRS web site reveals it doesn't say anywhere obvious and in so many words whether people who are owed refunds pay a penalty or not.) If you file late on a corporate tax form, even if you not only owe no money but made not a penny (and even took a loss), tough toenails - it's $90. per partner, per month or part of a month. And, if I remember correctly, you can't even deduct that on next year's form.

3. If I ever get the urge to be a bookkeeper, an accountant, or a tax lawyer I will lay down until it passes. If it doesn't pass, I will drill a hole in the exact spot the thought came first because obviously it's an alien living in my smart bits.

I'm tired, I haven't eaten lunch, and I have students in less than an hour. Surprisingly, I while I feel sarcastic and snarky, I'm not terribly upset. I've learned an important lesson - like Thomas Edison and his views on failure, I have eliminated another handful of possibilities for future employment and enjoyment. That's gotta count for something.

Signs

I have white chili simmering on the stove - since I have tutorials every afternoon, into the evening, I now need to make certain I have food to come home to (or for the Big Lug so he won't hit Pizza Hut). I have London for Dummies sitting beside my laptop, too - I'm days away from finalizing our plans for the 30th Anniversary Trip. And maybe, just maybe, what I'm feeling is a new sense of determination and perspective.

Friday is the only day of the week I refuse to work. Every other Friday the Big Lug takes as a "compressed day" (work long hours 9 days, get the 10th off). This last one was that intersection. Usually, we travel. This time we lounged. It was weird (I'm not a lounging kind of gal), but wonderful, full of snuggles and deep moments and random acts of love and laughter. No treasures of the selling kind, but many of the better kind.

I needed it. Obviously. When I'd come back to the "real world" from my Florida vacation, it was cold, complicated, and messy. Then, on Wednesday I passed on a lithograph (or original?) by Ernie Barnes at my local thrift shop, and regretted it - not only did I like it (yet couldn't figure out where to put it) but I looked him up afterward and ... well, I might've missed the deal of the year, because I couldn't find that picture anywhere on any web site. To top it off, Thursday evening, on the way home from work, I spotted a dozen "Yard Sale" signs dotting my route, proclaiming a Saturday hunt I couldn't have. Friday was a tonic, and I relaxed my guard.

Maybe that's why Saturday happened.

I had a full work schedule for the weekend, but I was determined to do something. The paper said there was a flea market about 3 miles from my house, beginning at 7 am. Since I said "yes" to 9 am Saturday morning classes, I've done little hunting, so I really wanted to do this. And, as it was in the same place as the Gift Bee lady, I wasn't really expecting lighting to strike twice. But I could hope, right?

The first thing I found (at the third booth) was two lovely pipes and a pretty tie clip (sterling) for the Big Lug, and a Rogers demitasse spoon for me ($8 total). Then a great necklace for Head Trip ($2). Then ... nothing, but it's okay (I thought) because I satisfied my inner Treasure Hunter, and maybe had enough time to go to another sale.

On the way out, I stopped by the second-to-the-last booth, next to a bunch of (clearly) girlfriends setting theirs up a bit late. I had to pee, really badly, but I'd caught sight of a pretty pin - very Art Nouveau - and while I was inspecting it for markings I danced from foot to foot, wondering if I could make it back to Starbucks before I had an embarrassing moment. (Have I mentioned how much I hate menopause?). The vendor saw me, told me about the bathrooms just over there (we were next to a baseball field), so I tossed the $1 at her for the pin and sprinted to the shed-like building.

Afterward (no accident) I started for the car but Mama Angel reminded me I had time to thank the lady with the pin for the pride-saving tip, so I headed back, and did so. As I walked away, I couldn't resist glancing over the now-set-up booth next door. On the ground, atop a blanket I thought I saw ... couldn't be ... but it was. A pendant. A thistle? Gold?

Can't be. And yet ...

Have I mentioned that I have several pieces of Scottish jewelry? And even some Depression glass in the thistle pattern? I don't know why, but those little fuzzy flowers draw me like a ... well, like a bee. I picked it up, glanced at the back, and - sure enough - it was 14K. I asked for a price. The woman deferred to her friend, her very pregnant friend, who shrugged and said, "A dollar."

I hesitated. I was in the very same parking lot where I had received a small gift of hope (free, with guilt attached by me) just weeks ago. This didn't feel heavy, but it was gold. Again. And it while it was not free it was cheap. Again. And yet I still - just for a moment - asked myself, "should I tell her?" As if I had a choice. I opened my mouth to say tell her.

"It's gold," she told me. I guess she thought I'd hesitated because it was too expensive, not because I didn't trust my Angel.

I smiled and paid her.

That's when I noticed it wasn't a thistle. "Do you like Cadillacs?" she asked when I stared at it.

"Huh?" I said like a dope.

"The symbol," she said, indicating the pendant with her chin, "it's for Cadillac."

Well, hell, I thought, but - truthfully - when I looked again I have no idea how I'd missed it. But I still liked it, and it was (at worst) a hedge for inflation, right?

"I have lots of stuff I don't wear," she sighed, shifting to accomodate her in vitro. "But they were missing stones so I didn't bring them."

My heart thudded. "What things?"

"Rings," she said, "like, ten of them. And some other necklaces."

I swallowed hard. Karma or retirement? Which path should I take? "Lots of people would buy them anyway," I told her on my exhale.

"Really?"

"I would. And," I went on, resolutely choosing good vibes, "you could sell them just for the gold alone. There's places all over. Just ..." Oh, heck, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Ask how much they pay because most pay crap. Here." I took out one of my business cards, wrote my gold guy's name and address on it. "This guy will give you a good price, better than everybody else." And just in case, I put my cell on it, too. "If you decide to sell it, go to him or even just call me. I like jewelry, and don't mind getting replacement stones for the right pieces."

She took the card, but said she probably wouldn't do anything about it until after the baby was born. We talked baby stuff for a few minutes, I said ridiculous things about mistakes (and how we can't avoid them, so just do the best we can) and other idiotic advice that no one ever wants (which probably means she burned the card, seriously) and then I left.

A sign, some would say, but for what? - I'm headed in the right direction? Resolution of goal pays off? Making time for what you believe in is the right thing? Karma beats Greed? I'm going to inherit/win a luxury car?

Or was it lesson? - I'm a chattery dope? Stop while I'm ahead? Stop finding the dark cloud in the silver lining? Honesty is the best policy, but overshare is mortifying? I need my eyes checked?

Or am I simply overthinking it? (Snort. Gee, I wonder.)

I did see one thing clearly, that morning: next year, no early Saturday classes. Whether it's about the goals, the hunt, the lessons, the bank account, or the people-meeting, I realized that nowhere else on the planet gives me that fun, stimulation, hope, and smack-downs - not for $12, anyway. I won't block so many possibilities anymore.

Oh, by the way, I wore the pendant all day. It's really cool. Even if it's not a thistle.

Resolutions

The beginning of the school year always feels like New Year Day to me, much more so than the first of January. Let's face it, our lives have revolved around the fall-winter-spring-oh-yay/crap-it's-summer schedule more often than not our whole lives. Even without the teacher thing I have going, the student and parent part of it kept me busy for nearly 30 of my 50 years.

Sarah Ban Breathnach, in Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy, makes the argument that we shouldn't make our resolutions in January, when we're exhausted from the holidays, when the weather is bleak and depressing, and when (from my point of view) our financials are usually at their lowest ebb. No, the best time for new beginnings is the one consistent time of many of our new beginnings - the time of the year we got new clothes, new teachers, sometimes even new schools and new friends. Fall is technically a time when the Earth begins to wrap up. Why not start to rev up instead?

So, here's my list of resolutions. In the months to come I will ...

... follow through on at least five things I've been saying I will do for oh-so-long (write a story, fix and send out my resume more than once, start selling on eBay, get the other blog site up and running, decorate/redecorate rooms, etc.).

... be more decisive (no more waffling, hedging my bets, or deferring when I have an opinion) but less of a know-it-all (as if I'm one to give advice).

... take more pictures. And post them.

... participate more, in everything I can.

... have more adventures - real ones.

... learn something completely new, from the ground up.

... start something over, from scratch.

... give more encouragement than criticism, more hugs than food, and more support than expectations.

It's going to be an amazing year.

Same Old, Same Old?

When my sister told my mother we'd gone parasailing, Mom said, "You're kidding? Your sister, too?" At which point Sis informed Mom she was on the speaker phone.

When I told Head Trip I went parasailing, she said, "Really? But ... Really?" I had to tell her I had pictures to prove it before she stopped tripping over her own tongue.

When I told LF Trip I went parasailing, he paused before he said, "Good for you!" in that hearty way someone who can't wrap his head around a concept says anything. And then he followed up later by laughing over a comment I made about cleaning the house, adding, "You? Mom you never really cleaned anything in your life." (Yes, I could hear the italics.)

Predictable, funny, do-anything-for-me Mom. Queen of the Unfinished projects wife. Low key, play-it-safe gal.

I'm pretty damned tired of everyone thinking they know me. I really need to do something about that. And do a lot of it.