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I�m on the Amazon.com mailing list for books about writing. I actually have a couple books I�ve bought from their recommendations, with varying degrees of satisfaction associated to using them. This month, though, there was a book on the list that made me look twice, Keeping a Journal You Love, by Sheila Bender.
I don�t understand the multitude of books, this one included, that purport to teach someone how to journal (I also have trouble with the use of the word �journal� as a verb). Journal writing is, in essence, the writer writing about the writer. I don�t see the teaching need.
But, hey, Sheila Bender wrote a book and someone published it and people will buy it and take her word for gospel, so who am I to question.
I�m back at work. This is not my favorite thing ever.
Ohio was, as always, lots of fun. I did bring my stepdad�s digital camera, and as soon as he shows me how to transfer the photos from the camera onto a computer, I�ll post a couple Longaberger shots. We ate and shopped, and attended some of the big corporate teaching sessions, then ate and shopped, and ate some more, then maybe ate and did a little shopping. Oh, and then we ate. We had lunch on Monday and dinner on Tuesday and Wednesday at a restaurant called Buco di Beppo, an Italian place (apparently a chain) where the food is served family style and contains LOTS of garlic. I recommend the garlic cheese bread, the baked ravioli, the chicken marsala (best I�ve ever had), the garlic mashed potatoes and the green beans in olive oil and lemon. Oh my. How yummy. I�m sorry the chain hasn�t reached Massachusetts yet!
Per usual, I left the better part of a paycheck in the various stores around the Dresden, Ohio area and in the Company Store at the convention center. I own lots of Longaberger stuff now�pens and a calendar and a tote bag and a travel makeup case and a little spreader knife for appetizers�though not nearly as much as some people. The woman at one of the thirty registers in the store told us that in one day, her register totaled fifty four thousand dollars. Just her register�one of thirty. Just one day out of the twelve that the store is open, over the course of the three separate groups that come to the convention. American excess at its finest, my friends. And there I was in the middle of it, happily writing out my check.
But did we ever have a good time�
Friday night, before we left, the Boyfriend and I went to the J.P. Licks 20th Anniversary Celebration Kickoff, the Artboy�s project over the past several weeks. He was by the stage when we arrived, watching the band that was just ending their set and taking care of the administrative stuff that he needed to do before his band went on. Brendan was there, too, and came over when he saw us, hugged me and congratulated us both. The Boyfriend was surprised that he knew, which made me laugh. He apparently thought the Artboy would keep the news to himself.
I had a chance to chat with the Artboy for a minute in between bands. He looked tired, but happy with the event overall. He thanked me for coming. I was happy to be there (free music and sundaes for dinner�why would I not have gone?!). NGF didn�t show.
It was funny, looking at my reaction to that. I was sad for him. Even when I was at my angriest with him, I still supported the things he did. Even now, I still support the things he does. I know how important this event was to him, how hard he worked on it, how much of himself he put in to making it a successful weekend. He deserved to have her there, sharing his success. He didn�t have that, and that�s wrong. He deserves more than that.
It�s not that I think she�s not good enough for him. It�s not that I want him alone and pining. I couldn�t want anything less. But I want him to be able to have the relationship he�s in now be good for him in the ways that our relationship was not, as well as carry the few strengths we were able to master. I don�t think he has that, and it�s too bad. I do have that. I know what it looks like. I don�t see it there.
When my mom and I stepped off the airplane last night and I saw the Boyfriend standing at the gate, for just a moment, I forgot that I�d been on the back row of a tiny aircraft, seated right next to the bathroom for two and a half hours. I forgot that I�d had a migraine the night before and slept crappily. I forgot the annoyance I�d felt over the past few days at the endless caterer conversation. I forgot my apprehension about returning to work today and returning to the apartment and Chris last night. I forgot everything except that he was there and I was home, and that it felt really good to be there. And as I told him about the four days I�d been gone, I realized I�d been storing up little things to tell him as the Bee passed, not wanting him to miss those four days.
It was good to go, but it�s just as nice to be home.
That�s what it looks like.
I�m feeling very lucky right now.
Not that I feel like it�s perfect. Far from it. This afternoon, he emailed me because his friend Joe (one of the co-best men) offered to become ordained in order to perform our wedding ceremony, and the Boyfriend not only thought this was a great idea but also wanted to find the information in order to become ordained himself, and then got put out when I didn�t share his enthusiasm. He�s also pouting a little because I didn�t want to go down to the cape for dinner with him, Amy and their dad for dinner tonight, but chose instead to go home and attempt to unpack and get a good night�s sleep. Sometimes, he drives me batty, and sometimes, he makes me want to put my head through a wall, but he never makes me think I made a mistake.
Not that I�m going to change my mind about the whole minister thing, though. That�s just too much�
Oh, and by the way, the Christmas series of baskets this year are all STAR SHAPED!!! How much do I want all four sizes?! How many zillions of dollars will that cost me?! How much do I really hate Longaberger for doing that to me?! So it goes. I need a part time job to support my basket habit!
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