![]() ![]() Egg mcmuffins are 4 dollars? That’s probably how much my skinny mocha was going to be. I’m enthusiastically entering a Macdonalds in my suit. Should I go back to the post office and ask him what he wanted? Is he going to yell at me again? Beggars can’t be choosers. I could make a sales call from the sidewalk. ![]() I wonder what he wanted from MacDonalds for breakfast? I have enough time to get that coffee. I’m going to make a map of the homeless people in this neighborhood. My in-laws won’t open the tennis shop until 10:30. I’m going to start work at 9AM like anyone else who doesn’t work for themselves, and make this happen! But I have to make that first sales call. And I will provide space for my kid to be a kid in the woods and my man to be an artist in a studio and even my me to be a musician again. Outside Portland, in a school district that teaches Chinese to five year olds but also teaches them to love and live in harmony with the earth. You see, we just put in an offer on a house this week. ![]() I am determined to take my very expensive business coach’s advice and finally make five sales calls. Those beautiful eyes that go from a sparkling earth-tone rainbow in the Redwoods to a dark grayish black here at work. The one that numbs his spirit and dims the light behind his eyes. I wonder if he’s the dragon, or another angel put in my path to give me the opportunity to love.īut I am determined to get into that office next door to Macdonalds, the one I forged out of the back of the former Art Gallery my man build where the indoor tennis courts used to be in his family’s tennis store. Maybe tomorrow you can eat, sad down-and-out human sitting on the sidewalk outside the post office, begging for food.Īs I keep my New York pace, wondering indignantly why people think someone in a suit walking briskly to work with a cup in their hands would have the time to go to Macdonalds, he grumbles a guilt trip at me. I’m sorry I’m in a hurry today, maybe tomorrow. Well can you use your card to get me something from Macdonalds? I grabbed my Netflix envelope and my checkbook, and walked with my laptop and iPhone in my backpack, my rolling bag in one hand and my environmentally friendly coffee cup in the other, to the post office. I popped my homemade Matzoh ball soup in the microwave (my goy dad’s recipe with butter! makes the balls so fluffy), thinking I only have 4 hours to do this while my kid is at Nature Preschool (yes, the Chinese preschool didn’t work out - in my enthusiasm to support his advanced lingual skills, I’d failed to take into account the communism conformist factor of the Chinese education aesthetic - my four year old has no interest in joining the corporate world) I put on my mother’s gold Mezuzah pendant, affirming in the mirror that I am one of them, I come from Jewish Harvard stock, and my people have always been good at making money. Step up, Eliza! I am determined to be the breadwinner starting today, so my kid can be free and my man can quit the family tennis business and let the sickly talented artist in his soul blossom. Who am I kidding with the gypsy hippie act? I’m a mother now. I packed my knee-high New York-style $250 black leather boots from Amsterdam in my top-of-the-line eagle creek rolling airplane bag, and put on my new Vibram toe-separating web shoes from REI, in a new variation of the image my inner five year old was first impressed with - that New York working executive woman walking to the office in her pink Reeboks and changing in the elevator. I put on a black pin-striped pencil skirt, a white button up Oxford shirt with just enough spandex in the thread to make my boobs look good but not take over, a matching suit-jacket, and walked enthusiastically to Starbucks to get a skinny latte. ![]()
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