i'm not really a misanthrope, but i inherited a healthy dose of yankee cynicism from my mother. i grew up in the burbs near boston but have lived in san francisco for -gulp!- 17 years, most of them as a freewheeling, self-indulgent, bartender/writer prone to affairs with bad boys and other non-healthful pursuits.
in the mid-90's, i righted the ship, found myself a nice boy, got a real job. and here i am in 2007 with a 2-year-old daughter, tenants and a mortgage and knocked up for the second time. life is just full of surprises.
yesterday i found out my nanny, who i credit with keeping my sanity and marraige together for the first year of parker's life, is giving notice. today, i found out two of our tenants are moving by the end of the month. i mysteriously injured by foot so i'm limping around and i'm enduring the trifecta of tri-3 pregnancy woes — back pain/heartburn/general discomfort. and i'm on deadline with a travel book assignment.
still, it's a gorgeous 4th of july day and since i'm neither nationalistic nor athletic, i skipped the annual billy carter memorial softball game and spent a few delicious hours alone in my lovely sun-drenched home just drinking in the solace. i even got a little work done on the book.
god bless 'merica.
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