Saturday, June 25, 2005

Summertime, and the living is... ok

The last few days have been the kind that remind me why I live in Maine. Thursday morning Darren and I went for a run down to a park near our house -- a run past million-dollar houses, with water views most of the way and a lovely lighthouse to gaze on, too. Then I walked over to our local bakery/coffeeshop for some coffee and a brief work meeting before we began our festivities: lunch out (starting with Bloody Marys at 11 am) and the schooner ride. It was a gorgeous day to be out on the water, with the sails on this beautiful wooden boat flapping above our heads.

Then, yesterday, we went to my sister's for a BBQ. We brought the dogs along and sat outside sipping margaritas and catching up with friends. We played bocce in the twilight, I got clotheslined by their big, ridulous dog's lead (leaving me with legs looking like those of a little kid: bruised, scratched and with a couple large rope burns), we watched the sun go down and then ate homemade strawberry ice cream. It was lovely.

And all of that was sorely needed, because things have gone completely batshit crazy at work. We're experiencing a bunch of turnover in our little company; my department, which has 4.25 people, has a new employee starting Tuesday, and I just learned that my previous most recent hire is leaving for grad school at the end of summer. Which means I need to start the hiring process again.

And, of course, I'm going on vacation next week, most of which will be spent down in New Jersey at my parents' place. Which means that I have a ton of work to do over this weekend if I'm really going to be able to leave at the end of the day on Friday. And I also have to do some minor revisions to the freelance piece that dominated last weekend. And I have to try not to think too hard about all the other crap going on at work. As my best work pal said yesterday, the success of this weekend depends completely on our ability to compartmentalize our lives.

So on this glorious first real weekend of summer, I'll be the one on the back deck, with coffee, some dogs and the laptop, clicking away. And as soon as that's done, I will try my best to forget it ever existed.