Control Freakism....

Hello delurkers, fellow blogsters, Dears and all!

Its been a harried week. I take my piss-ant job too seriously. Probably because I believe that things will fall apart if I am not there to do EVERYTHING by myself, MY way (the right way). I worry about not being able to leave the place in tip-top shape for the weekend shift, and leaving them with a mess, which inevitably I will have to address when I get back to work. I worry that ....oh hell, I worry about silly things for a job which I love but which keeps me in the poor house.

I need a flipping vacation. That's what I need. BIG time. One that requires an airplane to convey me, transport me far away to somewhere ELSE. Somewhere warm, with sand, balmy breezes and palm trees. With nothing at all happening. No agenda, no time-lines, deadlines, places to be or things to see. No intrepid excursions shared with other intrepid adventurers in overly stuffed-full and smelly buses. It would be okay if it included or comprised entirely, and preferably of all of the local colour, I. E: REAL people , with real places to go, with real lives in the here and now who could tell you a real story or two, and invite you to a real place to hang out..... not that tourists dont have real lives. I are one of them , frankly, and I think and hope that I'm real most of the time, but I really loathe the 'Us and Them' thing that happens when one travels to other countries. I dont want it. It stinks.

So, other than making a kind of gentle and budding friendship with our regular driver (who was utterly beautiful with green eyes and skin the colour of rich molasses) who took us - whole famdamily - to 'see the sights etc., and being invited to dinner with his family at his shanty-town home (a HUGE honour) which I have experienced on St. Lucia, and which is something I will never forget, I dont want to engage with anyone. I dont want to see the sights, either famous or historical . NO group events. Maybe yoga in the morning on the beach, I could deal with that.... Kissing the sunrise hello with out-stretched arms. Toes digging in, to be cocooned in still cool sands, sounds of surf gently doing the ebb-and-flow dance with counterpoint of land silently just BEING. Breathing. Matter meeting matter. Breath meeting breath.

ONLY if I felt like it, however, if I didnt, and that would be okay in such a decadent holiday way, just sleeping in until noon would be the thing. The very thing. Freshly squeezed orange juice on a tray waiting for me. Smell of coffee brewing, triggering my reluctant departure from the dreamlands. Room service. No lists. Nothing to do but just Be. Here. Now.

Except horse-back riding. I'd schedule that into my day. With pleasure. THAT I could deal with. I'll give my parents credit there. Whenever they booked holidays they always made sure we went somewhere where there were horses. There were horses when I visited the Dominican Republic a good 20 years ago with my mother. We rode every single afternoon. Just when the daily thunderstorm was about to break. The horses went wild and we'd gallop home. One time, one of the of the tourists freaked out, on a day when I was given one of the Horse Master's own horses to ride. A very HUGE gift, since his own horses werent part of the tourist 'string' and they were, in fact, his babies. He was a real horseman from South America, Argentina or Chile, I forget which, but he was a life-long horseman and loved his animals. A true rider. He urged me to race ahead and stop the horse that had bolted with the screaming tourist on board (who only made the poor beast more frightened... silly woman) I managed to catch up, grab her reins and stop the panicked horse.

Never you mind about all that adventure stuff. The athletic exertion. I'm TIRED, okay, and have no words or energy left in me to do anything. I'm peopled-out. They say a change is as good as a rest.... Picture this: Here's the white woman who has nothing to say and is a lazy self interested, disconnected typical tourist, navel gazing, watching the waves roll gently, in and out, sitting on her towel at the beach, not talking to anyone. A snob, very likely. Ignoring other people and seriously discouraging conversation by her look' if anyone makes the mistake of getting too close. Except for the beach bar-tender . Yay, I'll embrace that! That slogging through the jungle stuff or climbing mountains, or racing down white water rivers, bonding with strangers who need to connect with nature to feel alive because their lives are as exhausting as mine; no. No, I just want a quiet beach and a book or ten, and a few drinks to pass the day....

Have I mentioned that my mother has control issues? Huh, apple falling not far from tree comes to mind.

If wishes were horses...

Actually, if wishes were horses, I'd be in my happiest element!

Happy Birthday to all of you birthday boys and girls today. Hope all you are doing well, or at least ok.

I'll make sole for dinner, with rice and asparagus. Simple. And then I'm taking the night off and am just going to relax with a few loads of laundry that need folding, and sweet domesticity whilst B does dishes.