While my hair turns purple

While my hair turns purple, or more correctly burgundy...

Last week everyone was preparing for Christmas, guests, family, big dinners and party food. Watching what people put in their carts this week is a return to reality, vegetables, fruits, bread and the basics. No more giant hunks of beef and rack of lamb. No more trays of appetizers and boxes of truffles. Yet the demonstrations for salsa and hummus go on and on and on.

Working, even at a crappy job, has been good for me. I seem to have lost these past few years. I can't recall anything of any significance happening. I spent a lot of time in a depressed daze and doze. I remember feeling helpless and hopeless. I was walking on eggs, and, in fear of breaking them, just stopped walking. It was a hard situation for everyone to observe. I will always be in debt to S's family for providing a way out of purgatory.

Living alone has been good for me. Living with the boys, Piper and Little Mister, has been even better. Not that it will be a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I am a rotten housekeeper. There is a great satisfaction in having a clean house. I just haven't made the connection to keeping it pristine. I think at my age I never will. The only solution is to become wealthy and hire a keeper.

Which brings me back to working. As this year ends, I am going to try to find a better job. If anyone knows of a position for an erudite, creative woman with burgundy hair, please think of me. I have lots of experience in many fields.

There goes the timer now.