Didn't walk in the morning, but about 7:30, I got in the car and took a dry run to the Sheraton. I'll be taking Suzanne tomorrow and wanted to be prepared. Actually, it was fine and I felt less nervous after a few minutes. I stopped at the 99 Cent store for a few items, then went home for breakfast.
Before and after lunch, I spent a lot of time on food prep, to wit: trimmed, sliced, and seasoned several pounds of tomatoes and onions and put them in the oven. Scrubbed two pounds of carrots and some oranges, added cinnamon, and put them in the slow cooker. Sliced two kinds of mushrooms and cut up a sweet pepper, which I stir-fried with the ground turkey I had left from the night before. Trimmed and sliced some banana shallots, which I have marinating in the fridge; will probably eat them tomorrow. Microwaved a pound of fresh spinach, adding my usual oil/lime juice/garlic dressing and had some for dinner.
El called in between all this and we had a long talk. She asked if I'd rather come over there or go out somewhere for lunch. I opted enthusiastically for the former--I really don't like going out on Mother's Day. Prices are doubled, the food is often not even that good, the service is dismal, and some places are crowded. As it turns out, Greg is working, so it will be just the two of us, but that's fine by me. I'll take the bus over, but at El's suggestion, I called the Access van to be driven home.
After lunch, I bussed to the mall and got fresh blueberries at Target. I toyed with the idea of going into town, but didn't feel like it, so just lazed at home.
Note: I sometimes re-read this blog and came across the following from almost exactly five years ago. At the time, who would have believed I'd be living in California and, indeed, living a considerably more interesting life? Not me, but here I am, and I'm glad of it.
Thursday, May 08, 2014
Thursday, May 08, 2014
Smithville Two
The Women's Club luncheon was at Smithville Inn, not where Aline and I had eaten on Tuesday. I sat with Bessie, Barb H., Iris, Doris (who's on oxygen; I well remember what that's like) and her daughter, and a few others with whom I'm friendly. It was the usual women's club-type lunch: not bad, the food edible if not unforgettable (I had salmon), the company pleasant enough, but so very, very--well, usual.
I've been to dozens, if not hundreds, of these gatherings. Not only does the Woman's Club have luncheons twice a year, but all the other organized luncheons I attend are so much the same. They comprise a group of older women, all dressed, coiffed, and jewelryed up, nodding and smiling and talking and laughing and I do the same, but on a certain shadowy level, I'm bored, bored, bored to tears.
I want to go places more interesting--even exciting--than southern New Jersey and its provincialism, and be with people under the age of 80. No, that part doesn't matter, it isn't the age thing exactly, but with people who won't gasp in horror if you express a thought that isn't precisely a reflection of what everyone else they know has said and believed. I want to converse with people who don't watch Fox News. Who don't watch The View. Who don't watch.
I've been to dozens, if not hundreds, of these gatherings. Not only does the Woman's Club have luncheons twice a year, but all the other organized luncheons I attend are so much the same. They comprise a group of older women, all dressed, coiffed, and jewelryed up, nodding and smiling and talking and laughing and I do the same, but on a certain shadowy level, I'm bored, bored, bored to tears.
I want to go places more interesting--even exciting--than southern New Jersey and its provincialism, and be with people under the age of 80. No, that part doesn't matter, it isn't the age thing exactly, but with people who won't gasp in horror if you express a thought that isn't precisely a reflection of what everyone else they know has said and believed. I want to converse with people who don't watch Fox News. Who don't watch The View. Who don't watch.
2 comments:
Rosemary,
Are we so few who feel as you so aptly expressed in your 5 yr old post? I believe the women of South Jersey and probably any town where they have lived out their entire lives are so, so, provincial and might I add parochial? You can imagine the 'fish out of water' I was when I moved back here. However, as painful as it was by not conforming I decided at some point to be who I am. They might not like me, but I do and that's what's important.
You have made a good choice for many reasons to live in Ventura.
Your choice was a good one, too, Pat. Clearly, you're a mover and shaker there and I know most of your neighbors (and the powers-that-be) think the world of you. Those who don't--or who can't relate to a self-directed and non apologetic woman--just have to be ignored. It's their loss.
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