15 December, 2011


Someday I would like to own a bookstore near this patisserie near Borough Market in London. People would stop by after shopping and sit and browse and peruse the latest selections. I wouldn't care so much if the weather wasn't sweet because of the books. All my favorites, and especially, ones that I have always wanted to read but didn't get around to opening. Perhaps we would have "tea of the day" and people could sip tiny cups of the hot potion while they decided which books to take home. I would pretend I was living in "Black Books" without being as rude as Bernard. In the meantime I am content to be where I am, providing massage services and speaking for children in the child protection system. It's a roller coaster and I used to self medicate with pastries such as these. Then I reached my limit. So I backed off the carbs, the caffeine and sugar. And fat, my best friend. And Surly Bender.  I didn't think it was possible and I was wrong. And not for the first time did I realize I was mistaken. Tango class was on the schedule tonight and yet when I had an opportunity to work, I decided to do it. Now I am too tired to go to class. C'est la vie. One minute you are planning an inexpensive bookcase project and then, whoops, the whole wall needs to be re-wired! One minute you are planning to live in a brick house with a fireplace in Linden Hills and then, wham! You find yourself living in a tiny apartment right off the freeway juggling childcare with a man who beats you up after he leaves your two year old alone, asleep in the car, parked on the street, in the winter. And then he tells you your 6 year old daughter was watching the baby from the window. It was never my plan to live with a man who hit me across the face in front of our kids. But it happens.

1 comment:

Denise Emanuel Clemen said...

My fantasy is to have a little coffee shack near the beach. Or that there will be condos above Powell's bookstore in Portland.