More Pomp Plz

Just popping in to say that I am flying to Santa Cruz tomorrow for my PhD graduation ceremony. I'm going out there alone, but lots of friends will be there, and my gal Erika is flying up from LA to make it a weekend of special lady time.

I had dreamed of our family of four all going to see me walk. As the time drew closer, though, it was clear that there were better ways to blow a few thousand bucks. Like eating food and living inside. But I just didn't want to miss it, as I'm certainly not going to ever earn another degree. I mean, this one took for freaking ever, I should go mark the occasion even if I did get the diploma back in the fall.

So today I was busy getting ready for my trip and such, and in addition I made two separate trips to the pool at the swim club--not our neighborhood pool--once for each kid to have lessons/practice. And I worked out with Pretty Neighbor and I parented the foster kids a bunch. Finally at about 5:30 I was opening my mouth to tell Matt that I was going to go get my nails done before the nail place closed. At that moment he told me that he was about to leave to play basketball with the guys from his old office. They needed 8 to play and he was number 8.

I just looked at him, assuming that any moment he would realize the importance of my arriving in California to see all my friends with properly groomed nails. I said, "So you want me to not get my nails done before I fly to California to see all my friends and be in my PhD graduation ceremony?" He went into, "You know I am happy to watch the kids whenever you need me to, you just have to tell me so I can plan," etcetera blah blah. I don't mean "blah blah" in a bad way. But you know. He really hated to back out of the game, wouldn't it be fun to get a pedi in California, man man husband talking. Reader, I am not even asking you to take my side, because even the very rocks cry out that they are on my side.

So I did what anyone would have done, which was to lie down on my dining room bench and cry. Matt came and stood concernedly over me, squeezing my knee, while tears trickled down into my ears.

"It's not even about my nails, I just feel that this whole graduation ceremony is an afterthought and nobody notices and nobody cares but me and even my finishing my dissertation was a story that got swallowed up by cancer last year and who really gave a crap and I had a lot of happy feelings a few minutes ago that just went away just now," I explained.

Nearly daily I have reason to be glad I put a bench in my dining room. You will never be sorry if you do.

Matt made protesting and soothing noises about how proud he was of me and how he hadn't been thinking of this graduation as a big enough deal. He seemed a bit taken aback by my sudden emotional fragility, and so was I. We were a sad little tableau, there in the dining room. Me prostrate on the bench, him standing there in befuddlement.

Then I had a brainwave. By this time, the foster daughters, who I had sent home fifteen minutes before, were back in my house having never gone home at all. I asked them if their father was awake and they said he was. I texted him and told him that I had a nail appointment and could Hank come over there please? He said of course, and it is lucky for him that he did.

Then I went away and got a mani pedi and darned if that didn't make me feel all better. And Matt and I kissed and made up. Our bark sails on. And Hank stayed at the neighbor's for two hours, and now I am all packed. I have narrowed down my graduation dress to three choices and I'm taking them all.

I'm taking the same shoes I take everywhere. I believe that there is no shoe environment I couldn't conquer with my Haflinger wool clogs and my tall Kork-Ease wedges. And I threw in a pair of cheap thong sandals I got at Target. They are a metallic pewter and when I put them on and saw how my pedi looked with them, I wanted to have sex with my own feet. Gross!

I will pop in later and tell you how everything went. I love you all!