Day one was fine. We’re all used to one of us being gone. Junior was delighted to have half the bed to himself and I went all crazy and slept without the air conditioner on (did I mention that Mr. G would thrive in an igloo?). I haven’t bothered with mascara and shaving my legs is completely off the table. My clothes match but just barely. There’s no one to dress up for and I’m taking full advantage.
We went shopping on Robertson so Jane could get some new pants from Paige. While we were walking to Starbucks Alexander felt cold so we found him a cool sweatshirt at Kitson men. Men. We’re shopping at men’s stores now. The LA/NY of it felt appropriate for the season. Jane still has a gift card from LF but right now everything is too short for school. We’re waiting for longer versions of everything to appear.
I should mention that Jane also made off with my Alexander McQueen flats and though it’s sad that they’re no longer mine they do look awfully good on her.
It’s just too bad that after a lovely day with the kids I couldn’t sleep without my husband here. Part of me will never sleep soundly without him.
I’m about to make my children a casserole for dinner tonight. If you’ve ever eaten with Mr. G you know that casseroles aren’t things he eats. The same goes for stews, chilis and hot cereal. For the next three days we’ll have a warm house with plenty of casseroles, Indian takeout and lots of chili. I’ll wear no makeup and possibly look homeless by Thursday. If you see me on Superbowl Sunday and I’m holding a cup please resist the urge to put your loose change in it. This is the Gottlieb version of lemonade from lemons.
The Facebook, G+ and Twitter fast is going better than I’d ever imagined. I have seen a drop off of readership here and I’m sorry about that but I try to tell myself that at some point my friends will think, “I haven’t heard from Jessica in a while. Maybe I should check her blog.” Or maybe not. Maybe I’m missable. That’s okay with me too.
I had a tennis match at 9 this morning and typically you have 90 minutes on the court before someone gives you the boot. Sometimes that’s frustrating, sometimes 90 minutes is more than enough time to humiliate yourself. This morning I had a match with an actress. The pro had told me she was an actress and he’d also told me that he expected her to win the ladies 3.5 singles tourney (in which I’m competing). Actresses are my least favorite people, they’re sort of like bloggers with body dysmorphia thrown in and have a habit of actress avoidance.
The actress was very unactressy and that was just the beginning of a mostly perfect day. Of course she was tall and thin and she sort of lept across the court and she even beat me (but I really don’t think that will happen again). She was really nice, really fun to play tennis with (we were stuck at deuce a zillion times) and when we stopped to chat and catch our breaths she was really insightful and curious. So when I got a text that my 11am meeting was pushed to 11.15 and it was 10.40 and 4-2 I was thrilled to be able to finish the second set. Of course it was a 55 degree morning and my arthritis hates the cold so it was absolute kismet that I would have a 1.45 acupuncture appointment.
Is there any cliche I haven’t become?
From tennis there was a meeting with Glass Elevator and every so often I pinch myself because I realize that I’m working with women who are bright and creative and articulate and I’ve somehow fooled them into taking me along for the ride. We are SoClose to being able to share an exciting new project with the world that will have you laughing and loving the way we communicate.
And to round out the perfection it’s my husband’s first night away. I love that man but I love the first night he’s gone. I’m going to sleep diagonal after watching Downton Abbey or some other estrofest and in addition to not having put on any makeup I haven’t brushed my hair nor do I plan on it. That first night away is good for both of us. The second night I really miss him and the third night is downright lonely. The fourth night is miserable and I usually start inviting people for dinner and I’m thrilled to say that this time there will be no fifth night. He’ll be home for Super Bowl.
Which reminds me of my own pending travel and the fact that I’ve booked airline tickets for myself and my son but not Mr. G. His new work schedule has been so awful that we are doubting that he’ll come along for spring break so rather than buying and not using a ticket we’ve decided to roll the dice and if he can join us he will. Jane will be in London and Alexander and I will return to Amelia Island with a friend of his. It’s our first time doing anything like this and I see it as a sign of marital strength even though it has me feeling lonely and overwhelmed in advance.
2013 will be the year of independence. Unwanted independence for both of us. I’m not worried about if we can do it. I’m just a little pissy that we have to.
The Super Bowl is one of my favorite days ever. Every man in town (and many women) are glued to the TV which means that I have the mall and the golf course all to myself. Typically I’ll stink up the course and then meander through shops that are almost empty. Periodically I’ll pop into the house and check on the commercials. More often that not I can find them embedded in my twitter stream and if I’m going to be perfectly honest I’d have to admit that I sometimes feel a little badly that I’m missing out on the shared moments of watching the commercials.
No, I’ve never actually felt bad about missing the touchdowns.
In a year where Chevy has decided to skip Super Bowl advertising it’s interesting to see who gets in the game and why. Taco Bell has sat it out for a few years and now they’re going for a spot that looks like it’s going to be pretty entertaining. Right now there’s a teaser up on their YouTube Channel. We’ll have to wait until February 3rd to see the whole thing.