I forced myself to go kayaking today. I didn't really want to go. I wanted to hide under my covers and protect myself from the world. One of those days.
Kyle is off in the city with a friend, exploring the Mission area of San Francisco. Last summer I took him around this area and watched as he became enthralled in an area he hadn't yet explored. I made him promise me this morning that he would go with WIll and I again, later in the week.
Will is off on his little sunfish with a friend, breeze in his hair, salt water on his skin.
I watched him hang on to the boat, as he keeled on one side. He was hanging on for dear life.
And just like a mother, I turned to far to make sure he was OK and found myself emerged in the lagoon, clothes, sunglasses, hat and all.
I didn't mind. It's the getting back into the boat that's not such a pretty sight.
I felt a bit better after my small adventure but wonder when this wave of menopausal mood fluctuations will lift. Each and every month. Each and ever month. And it still catches me by surprise.
There is so much to do right now, and I don't want to waste a single moment. Please don't let me waste another moment.
And then there's this:
For any of my Bay area friends, I will be speaking at the Castro Theater on July 30th before they play my father's film, "Rosemary's Baby." Come and be scared. Not at the film, at how inarticulate I am in front of a crowd.
You all know I fear the devil. And here I am, once again, face to face with a film that changed my families life.
I had trouble getting out of bed today, how am I going to get up in front of a crowd and talk about the film?
The Psychology of Soup
5 days ago