Actual dinner I ate tonight: pistachios, a Bridgeport IPA, a chaser of chocolate milk. I was busy feeding the baby some sweet potato and apple sauce as AH was out practicing music with some new people which is great, I hope it works out. I will eat hundreds of dysfunctional dinners if he finds a band and people he likes. But I don't like having lost my cooking mojo. It has just up and vanished lately, when I think of it I just feel kind of tired and empty. I think I would have eaten out every night last week if the budget, the baby and my conscience allowed. I am doing everything kinda half-hearted and half-assed lately. It turns out I am pretty terrible at switching gears in one day. For example,yesterday after dropping the baby off at daycare, I worked the morning at one of my library jobs, concluding with my weekly departmental meeting, took the bus to class for an hour, did an hour of work at my other job, bussed home to pick the baby up, left her with AH, went to a 6 o'clock community group meeting which I had to leave at 7:30 - we weren't even at item IV on the agenda - but AH and I are switching off on a bowling league on Monday nights so I left the car running in the street and we practically high-fived each other as we jogged past on the porch. Then homework. Then bed. Every day involves multiple locations and different twists to my personality and brain function and I suck at it. I'm trying to figure out a way to make it sound like a positive on my resume: "I enjoy sitting in one place with an agreed upon agenda and no surprises or pop-meetings or on-the-spot schedule changes. This is when I do my strongest work".
Also, I am squirming with humiliation because my Student Chapter of Future Librarians of America or some such name can sponsor one of us kids to go to the Future Librarians of America conference in Chicago this summer and in return we had to write this humiliating little 250 word essay about why we "deserved" it and submit it for my fellow students to judge. Like they won't just give it to a friend. So I almost didn't try but at the last minute I talked myself into it and submitted some sad little version of how being immersed in the profession for a week would really really help. Dear 20-somethings, read me and judge me, go on ahead. Sigh.
It's time for more chocolate milk.