When I find myself in times of trouble
Ronald McDonald calls to me
Bearing fries and ketchup
Was feeling green around the gills today so I took a healing walk to my happy, special place. I can't even eat anything on their menu anymore except the salad shaker and fries, but that was enough. It got me through.
In the Life Goes On department: I went on a swell job interview yesterday, at a publishing company. The job is editing YA non-fiction (that's "young adult"), and the company seems very functional, friendly, and cooperative. It was actually the second interview for this same job, so I think that's a good sign that I may get offered the position. I feel good about accepting if they do offer--it's a creative job and I'll get all the benefits of working full-time.
One of my old bosses e-mailed me a copy of the reference he sent them. Reading good things about myself fills me with both delight and shame. I have to get over at least the shame part.
So what about yoga? I'm still going to teach my Integral class, as a public service (it's a volunteer job), and my other paying class on Saturdays, as well as teaching the meditation workshop in October. I think that is just about right. I get to keep my hand in teaching, I'm not abandoning yoga, but I'm not going to get burned out on it. It will become my spiritual practice again, rather than the thing I'm failig to support myself with.
Tomorrow I'm going to Chicago to visit AMA's family. First there's the annual apple-picking party in Michigan (yes, I'm hoping it won't be as dorky as it sounds), then Monkey-Dad's surprise birthday party. No, they are not WASPs, believe it or not; Monkey-Dad is a transplanted NYC Jew who has embraced the midwestern ways. He doesn't even have a NY accent anymore.
They are very nice people, but rather reticent. I have not yet mastered the art of feeling comfortable in their presence. "Reticence" to me still feels like "disapproval," or "disinterest"...but it gets a little easier every time.
It'll be our first time flying since...ya know...
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