The older I get, the more my one life, feels like a lot of little lives, neatly nestled within one another.

You know, kind of like those Russian nesting dolls.



I know. I'm scared too.

Anyhoo.

Last Wednesday, I returned to my full-time job, after a lovely, 10-week summer break and lots of Cakers time.

Friday past, I sent my son off to college.

Late Friday past, I intercepted two tearful phone calls from my son, who's away, at college.

Saturday, when not receiving any of the dozen plus, progressively happier-toned phone calls from my son, at college, I was shopping for additional necessities, for my son, the college student.

Sunday, the family my son left behind, as he headed off to college, piled into a vehicle and traveled two hours, one-way, to visit said son at college, and to deliver the goods purchased the day before, phone calls notwithstanding.

I’m truly doing okay with all of this. I am. Sending a kid to college is a lot like a healthy breakup. You know what I'm talking about. Those bittersweet ordeals, where both parties know it's for the best, while mourning that which was, and will never be again. Sans personal protection order.

I’ve not been crying or dwelling or calling him on the phone. In fact, I've been celebrating some newfound freedoms, as follows:

1)Working out on the elliptical, wearing just a jog bra, slippers and a rhinestone, butterfly brooch.

2)Drinking Bacardi straight from the bottle.

3)Openly fondling the cache of long lost forks and spoons and cereal bowls, the likes of which I haven’t seen in months, perhaps years.

4) Feeling no pressure or guilt when “There’s nothing to eat in this house! ” ::Onthat note, I invented a new emergency treat, for when the snack cupboards are bare. Sprinkle a layer of fresh, shredded parmesan (the real stuff, not the smelly dust found in the green can.) in a flat dish and microwave until melted and brown around the edges. Less than a minute,usually. Let cool, a little. And voila, you have Parmesan Paper Crisp. No crackers required.::

Okay. Back to the dolls. Over the past week or so, I haven't been feeling quite myself. It's like I'm living too many lives at the same time.

Or I'm living a little of someone else's life.
Or maybe someone's living a little bit of mine.

It feels like a couple of my inner lives, have lost their little heads.



That can't be a good thing, right?

Anyway. What, with the craziness of returning to work and the tiny heartache of the displanted sprout and the upcoming holiday weekend, I think I'll be taking a brief blogging break.

I haven't even been knitting. ::And I hope who ever is wearing my knitting life's little head, is doing me proud.::

P.S. I started this post a couple of days ago, before the devastation of Katrina was fully known. My heart aches for our brothers and sisters who have lost family and/or homes.

My heart swells for the rescue warriors, who refuse to rest until the job is done.

Labels: From My Loins, Passages