It's not even the weekend and I am abridging my writings. It is year end, and I have been busy socializing. Yoga yesterday morning with a "mini Franco" mis-fired, as I can't make out his instructions half the time. As I pause to look around and figure out what pose I should be taking, I take a little sip of tea from my cup. Mini-F cocks an eyebrow and say, "Drinking tea? In my class? Well, that's a first one." I knee jerk telepathize to him, "It's the last one for you, too." What was supposed to bring me calm, brought me minor irritation, but I got all my physical therapy homework, and my seated meditation homework done, so I forgive him. Adios, Franco!
I host a luncheon for the retired, the jobless, the entrepreneurs and the in-betweens. We have a wonderful potluck that flows seamlessly into the evening. I have always thought that Agatha Christie's "Murder in Mesopotamia" was nonsense, but now I know it can happen. How could you not realize an old boyfriend, who comes back a few years later under a different name and becomes your husband? At lunch, I greet someone I know, but didn't realize it was one and the same as the person now being introduced as my friend's brother, until he points it out to me. What an idiot I am. There were clues everwhere, but I failed to see them, as I was so convinced that Harry was Harry and not the brother. This is where your brain plays optical illusion with your eyes.
Today is a series of catching up with friends, starting with coffee in Mill Valley, a chat with a friend in NY, lunch in Larkspur, and soon a cocktail party in the neighborhood. Some have physically moved on to different settings, while some remain where they have been. What's interesting is how some can let go, and others have a hard time doing this. It does not seem to have much to do with whether you are still physically "there" or not, either. Perhaps some people are more mentally mobile than others. I imagine my friend competently dealing with the work at hand, mentally counting the acorns she stores for the winter, while dreaming of the great things she'll do when the spring comes around. In times like these, we all have to become little squirrels stashing away our little acorns until abundance returns. Let us hope that 2010 will bring abundance to us all. Until then, we all need a few acorns in our little nests.
At dinner, the whole family turns on me, and criticizes me for not speaking Japanese with them. It is all my fault that they are not fluent in the language. Even my very French husband chides me. He used to be fluent in Japanese, BEFORE he met me. So, in 2010, I can only speak Japanese to them. 2010 is going to be one long monologue. For starters, I teach them how to say honorable mother - Okasama. As I tell them how smart they are, they speculate. "You have a good forehead." "You have a big brain." The way this is going, 2010 will be hilarious.
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