Articles in month: July, 2008

Well, it looks like the good times are over for me. I’ve been summoned – in a few days I’ll be heading back to work so that Sara no longer has to bottle up all her feelings or post them anonymously on public bulletin boards under names like FoxyLoxy37. I do feel like I have a little negotiating power now, though, and am going to sit Sara down and talk about an every-other-day schedule rather than six times a week, sometimes seven. Also, I want family medical leave. I mean, what if I decide to have a little bloglet? So, I need to contact my people to have the paperwork drawn up and then I’m packing up and heading home. I hope the resort won’t mind a few missing bathrobes. Between you, me, and the four walls, when Sara gets the bill, I’ll just tell her I “lost” them by the pool.

So I’m getting a hot rock massage and fantasizing about being upgraded to WordPress 2.6 when I get a tap on my shoulder, remove the cucumber slices from my eyes, and am told by Felipe, the masseuse, that I have an “important” call.

“Hello?” I ask, expecting bad news about my stock portfolio.

“Hey! Hi! It’s Sara! Guess what?”

She always does this. Guess what? Like I’m supposed to intuit from 5,000 miles away that she created the perfect peanut sauce recipe or finally found that Essie color she’s been looking for at Trade Secret stores around the country. It’s true that I’m a sophisticated program, but I have my limits. Anyway. “What?”

“I’m calling from my new Blackberry! It’s red!”

“That’s nice.” What I want to say is, Can you really afford that?  But that’s not a conversation I want to have while I’m racking up spa services on her dime.

“And we’re over the halfway point here and G. is doing great in school and my book is shaping up and there’s this great article in Publishers Weekly about my editor and Story of a Girl was named to the 2008 Capitol Choices list and—”

“Slow. Down. I’m on spa time here.”

“It’s not all good news, though. There are a lot of spiders. Last week I was making dinner and found a solpugid in the kitchen and I almost died. We got it out alive because it was too big to kill, really. You’d need a shotgun.”

“Uh huh.” I wave Felipe over so that he can hold the straw of my passionfruit margarita while I drink.

“And I miss my friends, and my blender and my coffee maker and my office and…well, I miss you.”

I know I’m supposed to say, I miss you, too. Awkward. “Listen, Sara, you’re breaking up. Maybe it’s the reception here. Maybe it’s your Blackberry…”

“It’s not my Blackberry. My Blackberry is the most perfect thing in my life!”

“Can’t…hear…you…” I hold the phone further and further out then hand it to Felipe, motioning for him to hang up. I’ve only got about three and a half more weeks still need my widgets exfoliated and to shave a few more pounds off my archives. Don’t worry about Sara. She’s fine. After all, she has her precious Blackberry now. Got to run – my mud bath is ready.

Sara totally interrupted my hula lesson to order me to let you all know that she is the latest member of the Teen Fiction Cafe blog. Apparently, I am not enough for her, and she has to go off with her cool new friends like Wendy Toliver and Kelly Parra and Lauren Baratz-Logsted and group blog because she wants some “space” and the freedom to “see other people” and “explore other sides” of herself. Fine. She made her first TFC post today. La-dee-da. On the topic of friends. How every ironic. Now, if she will leave me alone for five seconds, I’m putting my grass skirt back on.