I spent a wonderful week at my Dad's, though it was a bit more of a marathon than a relaxing week (since apparently my idea of relaxing does not necessarily include getting up at 7:30 am to make an 8:30 am water aerobics class - but I did, every week day I was there!). I had a ton of fun, and for the first time in a while both my parents there were in really good spaces and so we had the kind of talks I've come to treasure deeply where we don't shy away from the scary stuff. These conversations are good, like lancing a boil or something, even though a little painful having to admit things hurt or things weren't fun, or whatever, still feeling better after working through it. Oh dear gods, sorry, hopefully that was slightly articulate. Anyway, I got to have those one on one conversations with both my dad and my stepmom at different times, but on the back porch of the house in the quiet when voices go a little meditative. My stepmom and I are pretty emotionally similar in a lot of ways, and really this time for me the best part was getting to tell her that I was worried when I went to visit earlier in the summer about her not being particularly happy, and that I was relieved that essential spark that so delights me about her was back (she's gone vegan and done some other things and she's feeling a thousand times better, and it shows
with both her and my dad). And I never want to forget being out on that same porch in the evening having a much shorter (but no less meaningful) conversation with my father, who in his own way was telling me he's proud of me. He talked about how what I'm doing is something no one else in our family really has - the getting of the phd - and that mentioning of the difference is his way of pointing out that i'm doing something good in his eyes. Made me happy.
Also me and my stepmom managed to do our part for the failing american economy (or, as gray_ghost
put it, 'they probably took pity on you since you don't have any money') and i was taking new clothes shopping, to get my hair cut, and my toes and nails done. I put on one of my new dresses the next day and my dad grunted (such is his way) that he liked this new one. When I asked how he knew it was new, he pointed out with a sardonic laugh that he'd seen all my other clothes so many times he could recognize what was in my closet and what had just been added to it.
So, after that, normally I'd drive back to LA and turn into a closeted pumpkin for a couple of days - reading old fanfic, watching some bad tv, and taking the dog on a walk, but not much else.
Instead, though, a friend of mine was in town doing some consulting work on a site and so she came to visit the same night I got back! We went to dinner that first night, then came back home and caught up with the first couple of episodes of True Blood. Friday she was back out at her work site, while I ran errands and got some of the tasks on my mental to do list finished; we saw Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter
(which was its own brand of hilarious) that night. And then yesterday spent the day watching the first season of Spartacus while preparing for a party since some of my friends who were out of town when I ABD'd wanted to celebrate since they were back. Thus, well, Saturday night = party. Today we went to the Getty and wandered around the gardens and a couple of wings, and now, well, frankly, I'm pooped.
We were talking about going up to Griffith Park tonight to do the planetarium (because planetariums are awesome, hello!) but since she's taking a nap right now I may suggest postponing that until tomorrow night.
Oh gods, tomorrow. Tomorrow I start summer school and oh dear gods i really wish i didn't have to. but, i do, so today is my last day for having to moan about *having to go* (i make no promises about not moaning about things like the damn workload, because it's not going to be light). It's a rotten schedule since it takes about an hour to get across town, i'm going to be carpooling with co-student
, and i have to talk to her at 7:45 am
I. am. not. good. with. mornings.
Actually, the truth is I'm great with mornings as long as I don't have to talk to people until at least an hour after I wake up. If I can get up, get some coffee, go outside, check email, get in the car, listen to the radio on my way to school, then I am GREAT after all that. But most of the summer, since the time I naturally tend to wake up is about 9 am, I'm going to be forcing myself to wake, but I will inevitably snooze until the last minute, and I will then be jamming what should be an hour's worth of waking up into something like 20 minutes of time, and be carpooling with this woman so we can save money and have to *blerg* talk to her *blerg*. I would be displeased if I was doing this with anyone, frankly. Even my mom learned not to talk to me in the mornings during highschool (and the lesson still hasn't worn off 20 years later).
school. oh well.