May 25 2009
Memorial Day Memories
We’ve had a pretty nice weekend for Memorial Day festivities here in Paradise. I missed most of them because I was busy writing, digging my way out of the financial hole created by the former Monkey House denizens. That’s not entirely the cause. I’m still decompressing from the past five years. I had little social life during that time and have forgotten idle chitchat and small talk. And let’s face one truth about middle age: A single man is an asset at a party. A single woman is an embarrassment. I’m just not into facing potential cattiness right now.
So, I wrote and read and ate and slept. I’m a little ashamed to admit my fascination with historical romances, but what the hell. Guys read hot-rod magazines and view boat porn.
As I worked yesterday, I took a break and sat in the cockpit for a few minutes, remembering other Memorial Days when I’ve had to work. Ah-Ha! That’s the problem. I have not celebrated it as a holiday in many years. Last year, the male housemate worked my ass off the entire day while he and his shiftless kid loafed around. I remember limping as I helped him move some furniture. The seven years before that, I was usually working at Macy’s and its predecessor. Before that, I was a hard-working single mom and my daughter spent the holiday with her dad. Wow. It’s been nearly 20 years since I went to a Memorial Day picnic, I think.
What a waste of a lifetime. (Forgive my whining tonight. I’m grieving over things missed out on.) Ya know, I just can’t feel too guilty about living on a boat and contemplating having fun for the rest of my life. My family would love to have me wear figurative sackcloth and ashes for the rest of my life, singing mournful hymns while awaiting the judgment of a spiteful God.
Ya know, I’ve never been to a major-league baseball game in my life, nor an NFL football game, nor an NBA game? I haven’t been swimming in God knows how long. A real picnic with friends and family, not a lame one with fellow workers? Can’t remember the last one.
Okay, enough of my sniveling. I can look out my companionway hatch and see a great blue heron cruising by as it flies to its nest for the night.
I need to start working out again. That gives a person a feeling of power and control over her life. Otherwise, I’m going to sit here feeling sorry for myself and will become a whiny bitch. Being an able, feisty bitch is much better. 
Drum is coming to visit for a couple of days. He’ll be back in June for some more time with me — I think. I don’t expect much from people anymore. If he doesn’t show up or whatever, I’ll find something else to do. I’ve been too low-maintenance for too many years. Guess I need to speak up and claim what’s mine.
‘Nuff of my whining. I think I’ll go read and then go to bed. It was nice to have a long weekend. That’s the first holiday I’ve had from the morning gig since New Year. Crap, I’m just tired of working and not having fun.
73 de Voyageuse
