am i there yet?
It's been a grueling week or so since I got back from Portland, made more so by constant and chronic e-mail problems and a new editorial vacancy I have just a few weeks to fill. The bright news, on the latter front, is that within 36 hours of advertising I have enough applicants to start about six newspapers. Of course, I'd rather eat my own arm than start a newspaper. And on the email front, our publisher valiently switched us to a new provider over the weekend, so hopefully the problems will desist. It's been several weeks of sporadic service, and I haven't been receiving things, senders don't know I haven't received it, all sorts of chaos. It's enough to make you fall down and give up. And if it wasn't, the 90-plus degree weather would be. In other words, I have been super super cranky.
Friday night I cheered up a bit when the boy and I went to see Joan Armatrading, who was fabulous and charismatic and emotive. I always am very impressed with the boy's tolerance of his Santa Fe lifestyle. I mean, one minute you're a punk rocker in Pittsburgh, flash forward a few years later you're surrounded by a singalong of middle-aged Santa Feans harmonizing: "Shelter in the storm/willow/willow/when the sun goes down." or something like that. After, we met up with Dan and Megan (who were both visiting and coincidentally both at the Cowgirl). Saturday I had my two hour workout and then, literally, collapsed and was unable to do much of anything. The boy and I attempted to attend the gay pride dance party but a large sushi meal kind of took the wind out of our sails. Sunday, determined not to spend another day staring at the fan, I headed to Darius' pool. That finally cooled me off and the rest of the day was much more productive (and also included a Best of Santa Fe photo shoot in an arroyo by my house).
Thursday a.m. I'm off to Atlanta to see my dad, so, until then, I have a shitload of things to do, like read the gazillion resumes coming into my inbox, which is receiving e-mails at least. Which brings us full circle back to the start of this post and, with that, I bid you—
Friday night I cheered up a bit when the boy and I went to see Joan Armatrading, who was fabulous and charismatic and emotive. I always am very impressed with the boy's tolerance of his Santa Fe lifestyle. I mean, one minute you're a punk rocker in Pittsburgh, flash forward a few years later you're surrounded by a singalong of middle-aged Santa Feans harmonizing: "Shelter in the storm/willow/willow/when the sun goes down." or something like that. After, we met up with Dan and Megan (who were both visiting and coincidentally both at the Cowgirl). Saturday I had my two hour workout and then, literally, collapsed and was unable to do much of anything. The boy and I attempted to attend the gay pride dance party but a large sushi meal kind of took the wind out of our sails. Sunday, determined not to spend another day staring at the fan, I headed to Darius' pool. That finally cooled me off and the rest of the day was much more productive (and also included a Best of Santa Fe photo shoot in an arroyo by my house).
Thursday a.m. I'm off to Atlanta to see my dad, so, until then, I have a shitload of things to do, like read the gazillion resumes coming into my inbox, which is receiving e-mails at least. Which brings us full circle back to the start of this post and, with that, I bid you—
posted by Julia at 3:40 PM
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