Hi all. I’m working on an article that was put on the back burner for six months. It didn’t happen at the venue that I usually write for, so I had to find it a new home. And that’s worked out just fine though the move did delay efforts quite a bit.
I’ll be happy when the thing finally gets published, so I can talk about it. It’s really a good story, I think. I’ve been telling people IRL about it for months, so I’ll be happy to spew in print and online. And I’m only publishing Part 1 this month. Part 2 will happen after I transcribe hours of tape, which is the worst part of my job. Transcribing in journalism is to paper grading in academia.
For the past couple of weeks, I wrestled a behemoth of information into a more reasonable 2,000 – 3,000 words. I worked when I was at the beach last week. After I completely rework the last section this afternoon, I’ll edit all weekend. I don’t mind editing my own work. It’s like picking the dead skin off a sunburn. It’s weirdly satisfying.
Ian is at a social skills camp for three weeks. He’s outgrown activities aimed at special ed kids. He’s too smart, old, and high functioning. But sometimes I have to put him in special ed activities, because I don’t know what else to do with him. I’m tucking away that package of guilt in the closet with the other boxes and suitcases of mental health issues.
Jonah’s still bussing tables at the local fancy Italian place. We’re learning about the world of restaurant work from him. He works with one guy who travels around the country staying for a year or two before moving on. On Sunday mornings, Jonah plays soccer with the Guatemalans who get paid off the books. He’s on a weird schedule — 4-12 on weekdays, 12-12 on weekends, Mondays off — which means that he rarely sees my husband and is out of sync with the rest of the civilized world.
But I like that he’s earning his own money for burritos and crap when he’s at college. Jonah isn’t exactly sure what he’s getting paid, because he never asked. But he gets these random piles of money, which will add up to a nice sized pile for school.
He’s working hard, too. It’s a pretentious place, where he has to know the Italian word for mushroom and hover around replacing people’s plates constantly. He can uncork a $50 bottle of wine without a morsel of cork floating on the wine.
I like that he has a skill that he can fall back upon, if there’s a political meltdown. I suppose his skills aren’t zombie apocalypse sort of skills, but they are skills that would be needed if mom and dad were incarcerated for crimes against the state and all assets were frozen. Could happen.
And my hubby is doing just fine as always. I’ve got a new dress and shoes for a date night tonight. Yay! We haven’t done enough date nights, because I feel guilty leaving Ian alone for the night. Hello, boxes of guilt in the closet! I mean, he’s just fine on his own. He’s not going to burn the place down. I just don’t like him to feel lonely.
Once I finish this article, I’m going to hire a companion for him for date nights, not a babysitter, just someone to hang out with him and play video games for a couple of hours, so Steve and I can guiltlessly get away for a bit.
Do you have regular date nights with your partner?
