<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Friday, October 24, 2003

Came home with memories bubbling away

but knowing that I'm off to staff Loni at an anniversary banquet in Emeryville, and gotta go home and overdress! In these casual times, office hours are blue jeans and sandals and -- at times -- pants suits and low boots. Several times a month there is need to gussy up and do the fancy-schmancy, which includes hauling out the family jewels, etc. This is one of those evenings. Last Saturday (The Autism Foundation's event) was another. Actually, I rather enjoy dressing up -- when it's appropriate. Makes me feel womanly.

I'm not particularly good at small talk, so usually find a potted palm to stand behind, or, place myself close to the band and feign "intent listening" so that no one can engage me in talk. I'm convinced that this is one of those talents one is born with, and that time won't do much to enhance. I'm still apt to give "real" answers to polite questions that no one wants to hear, and that are really only place holders in a conversation while the "other" looks over your shoulder for someone more influential or more beautiful, or maybe younger? These days that's called networking. I hate networking as much as Lou Grant hated "spunk!" No matter how aware I try to be about the rules of the game, I still find myself giving "real" answers ... .

Am I sounding cynical? Maybe. But -- if I'm lucky -- I'll find myself drawn to some empathetic soul who suffers from the same malady. And I usually do.

There's a poem (not lyrics this time) that I wrote for UN Day long ago, I believe it was for a group of children in a class I was teaching (Sunday School, if you will). It fits in here somewhere. Will leaf through more files this evening and print it out before I climb into bed.

Guess what? Didn't run out of week prematurely this time. It's Friday and I've still got juice enough to last through another day. Feels good.

Later ... .

Links to this post:

<\$BlogItemBacklinkCreate\$>

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Free Guestbook from Bravenet
powered by Powered by Bravenet bravenet.com