Thursday, November 06, 2008

One of those beaches that own some of my soul.

My friend Pippa used to laugh when telling me the beaches that owned my soul usually reflected my moods, or so it seemed to her whenever we arrived at Long Beach over hills out the back of Dunedin.

Now I'm wondering if the big storm I photographed in Italy was more about the days after I left Italy than my mood on the day ... because Boccadasse has surely became one of the very few beaches that have a small piece of my soul.

You see, this morning began at 6.06am but I fell asleep again and dreamed intensively until 7.07am which is a terrible way to begin, as today I was heading to Brussels and work. I showered fast and was back on track for my 8am departure then remembered to check how Jessie was feeling.

She was still in horrible pain so I realised I had to work from home and that she needed a doctor's appointment. And so it is that my day, so far, has gone something like this ... she writes at 11.46am.

Wake, shower, make breakfast for 6 people, race out the door to kindergarten with little Miss Four - take Mr 11's lunchbox by mistake, race back, realise and Mr 11 has opted not to take Miss 4's pink Mega Mindy lunchbox so he is lunchbox-less. Then the police woman start ringing the doorbell but her English isn't so good and she's talking to someone else as well as me on the intercom. She must have imagined me gone and rang the doorbell again. She was insistent but neither of us understood each other fully. I caught the elevator down and let her in after a conversation and she went where she was trying to go, which wasn't my apartment.

Meanwhile, Jessie can't walk to the tram so I phone a taxi because the doctor's list is full today and we can't really cancel and expect her to do a house call and anyway, her phone has an out-of-service message so I order a taxi ... the one that simply never turned up for Tara and I. I told him it was an urgent doctor's appointment and he got one to me in 20 minutes. Jessie left, I had by now written more than a few emails to work, received some and sent in a brochure sample but had to race out and get the right lunchboxes to everyone which I did with more complications than I can be bothered writing here. Home via a little shop for cola for instant energy, only to learn Jessie's stomach problem will take a month to heal and is painful ...

So here I am, settling down in the ruins of the apartment which looks like the police came in and searched it rather than the shambles left by this extended family of mine as they raced off to their clean offices and classrooms.


V-Grrrl said...

Oh it is horrible to be a grown up and ringmaster of the circus.

Much love to Jess.

Di Mackey said...

I must like it, V ... I keep collecting families. I've been doing this since I was a girl-child in New Zealand.

I just know I'm going to open the door to an orphange-load of displaced children one day ... I think the gods toy with me sometimes.

Jess appreciated the love though.

Simon said...

Might I suggest that a couple of those six people are big enough to prepare their own breakfast?

Di Mackey said...

Oh the trouble I got into ... ;)

Jessie didn't eat breakfast this morning so there was me, exaggerating.

I gave it away when I laughed over your comment. I have these stepkidlets who haven't quite grasped the concept of helping and etc ...I'm working with everyone impatiently though and hope to report happier mornings one day.

Manictastic said...

I think you are in the need of another vacation in Italy :D

paola said...

yes, why don't you just keep a copy of the keys? As a reminder that you can escape there if and when you want to?

Di Mackey said...

Sssh Manic. I was going to delete this post because it was so whiny in retrospect. It was just, at the time, the day seemed so bizarrely out of control and insane that I decided to blog about some of it ... a kind of therapy ;)

Hmmm, very therapeutic Paola. I should frame them and hang them up next to the big Genova prints I'm going to make for my bedroom office maybe :)

paris parfait said...

So just an ordinary day in your life then, Di? :) (Wonder of wonders, the taxi showed up!) xo

Di Mackey said...

I thought you might appreciate the incredible nature of the taxi turning up, Tara. I was just phoning another taxi company when the doorbell rang to say he was there.

Just 20 minutes ... stunning ;)