30 Days - Day 28

The Hats

I wear many hats. And I'm getting old.

And it takes me longer than it used to to switch hats. Today I'm a municipal officer, posting about fire regulations and the annual shore clean-up and recycling instructions. And I need to get into writing mode. Deadline. And edits. Deadline. And a play revamp. Deadlines. And workshop. Deadline. And a corporate tax return I was begged to do. Deadline. And I in turn need to beg someone to type up some old poetry for a publication that they downloaded to me in squinchy JPG format that a four year old couldn't read. Deadline.

And I'm tired. I feel the life is sucked out of me at the moment. I have some health issues, nothing serious, just annoyances so I phoned the doc who'll see me tomorrow morning.

And the only hat I want to wear is my reader hat. Curl up with a book that's waiting for me and tell the whole world to buzz off.

I can't even find the chef hat so's I can make my own dinner.

30 Days - Day 2

Parties. There's one on tonight. A lovely lady who turns 88. Big hall rented. Loads of food, booze and live music. About 50km from here.

Invitations like this have two responses in me. Initially I agree to go, especially when the lady herself phones me and tells me I HAVE to be there. I always agree. Initially.

Second response is today. Reality: going there will destroy my Saturday. I despise participating in such events. Mainly because I'm not very social. Small talk evades me completely. Being around relentless conviviality leaves me exhausted.

My week's quota of rhubarb-rhubarb was used up at a dinner party yesterday and the host, a dear friend, was in bed with the flu and all the out-of-town guests milled around to lay out the food, etc., and I dredged my brain coming up with topics when called upon and responding with interest to those brought up. There was a toddler and lots of baby talk and the teevee on all the time even during dinner. I made it through for about 2 hours but I always leave such events thinking to myself: what the hell is the matter with you? I'm definitely and positively missing some kind of social gene.

See, I'm basically a gregarious loner and the prospect of two nights in a row making nice is frightening to me. Don't get me wrong, a gathering of likeminded spirits really turns my crank and one-on-ones are fantastic, I've had a few throughout this week.

So my strategy now is: an "oops, not feeling well" at the last minute. Which seems to work best though I need to brace myself for onslaughts of tubs of chicken/turkey soups which has happened before for this socially inept liar. Which makes me feel worse, i.e. sickened.

And I deserve to feel that way. Right?

30 Days - Day 1

I'm going to try this, write a piece every day for 30 days. I've got other stuff on the go at the moment so it squeezes out my Scriobhnarin, my writing muse. A lot of stuff on the go. Exciting stuff which really helps me maintain stability and keeps me focussed on what's important.

We were awarded a grant for my town but more on that later. I'll have to come up with a project manager, task and timelines. A lovely project which will hopefully enhance our community even further.

I was down at our wharf last evening watching the crab boats heading out (note to self: for gawd's sake woman, always pack your camera) and it was one of those moments, you know? Where perfect peace descends and all feels right, just in the moment. The boats so beautiful and meaningful with their nets and pots and their soft thrumming on the water, the wide white wakes, the gulls cawing overhead, the crews in their yellow oilskins, the forty shades of blue in the sea and the sky reflecting off each other endlessly. I could live in that moment forever. The clean mission of it, orderly, fruitful, harmonious with the bounty of the sea.

A crystal moment in my life.