I Would Die to Have It

I'm at dinner in my Iranian family's house. Most married into a big Italian family, and some children adopted from the foster system quietly play Nintendo Switch. The boomers and other, more secure demographics still bemoan long-cancelled travel plans & speculate on 2020 wine quality. There's no sympathy for California other than: "The grapes that haven't burned will absorb all that smokiness!" I sip my own pinot noir and hope that, in the future, a gift of a bitter bottle of 2020 vintage will be seen as a subtle insult, like Carnegie's gift to Rockefeller.

After the sad cubicle at the solar panel place, I was upgraded to my own office in an engineer's office. I got into gear quickly at my new temp job placement, and I liked my position a lot. My managers were engaging and kind, and the owners were like a family you'd hear about in a Hans Christian Anderson story (supportive generations of fathers & sons, not scary or abandoning-in-the-woods). I happily take on personal errands along with my actual office work (like making a budget spreadsheet for my boss' home renovation costs, exchanging his & his wife's $450 sunglasses they broke on their boat, registering their out-of-state fishing licenses, making impossible 4th of July hotel reservations, then cancelling those reservations, finding a shoe cobbler, etc.) usually at my desk working through my canned soup/microwave lunch. They took over a year to make a decision; after the shutdown, they hired someone externally to do my job & the job of the Service girl who was slated for maternity leave. They openly admit this new hire is willing to do both jobs for less money than I was being paid. I guess they knew I'd want more money for more work. I wonder about the Service Girl & how she'll handle the blatant pregnancy discrimination in the male-dominated office. Her baby should be about 5 weeks old now, I hope she still has her job when she's scheduled to return. They gave me a generous severance bonus, which helped immensely with sudden car radiator repairs in August during (what was a supposed to be) a weekend beach trip that spans nearly 6 days. I'm glad I can still fit into last year's bikini, but now I look more like a softly curvy anime meme about thick thighs.

The summer is spent avoiding sugar & flour-based carbs. And taking lots of naps. I tried to avoid an indulgent boyfriend buying me ice cream, and I got lots of sleep. The deep need I feel to re-start a regular workout regimen is killed only by my fatigue. I try to go back to Pure Barre with some regularity, but my weight creeped up to 160 so my balance is off & my car wants to act up again. I can't even go to my gym when I want to because their 24hr service has been cut to 12hrs of operation, due to local restrictions.
If only I could restrict myself for so many months.