Sunday Musings

My daughter is in Denver for two weeks to do training and I am feeling like the old fire horse stuck in the barn listening to the sound of the alarm. I'm proud of her because she is successful, better than me, but with my promotion I am needed at home this trip. Still, the yearning to be there with her is overwhelming. We have had frequent communication, emails, calls and texts.  We have hilarious conversations and commiserate about the shared frustrations of our job, all of which end with “miss you, love you” from us both. She has a cold this week and I do too, my first in a good ten years, perhaps in sympathy but more likely shared germs from work. She has two trainees assigned, one Russian by the name of (wait for it) Igor. Imagine his surprise on finding out she speaks Russian and has been to his hometown.  So Saturday on the way back from the grocery I text her:

Mom says: My fever broke this AM and I am feeling better. You?

Eva says: A bit better today. I had to get here at 6:45.  I worked until 9:45 last night. I'm tired.  I'm also hungry and Igor is stuck on a language line call!

Mom says: What language?

Eva says: Spanish. Pray for me. 

Mom says: Any Particular God?

Eva says: Surprise me.

Mom says: Any God I prayed to would be surprised. We just left Whole foods. Maybe I should pray to them?

     Fifteen minutes later my phone rings. It's the girl bursting with news that takes too much time to text.

     “After work last night I went to the gym and ran for a half hour, came back to my room and woke up this morning on the sofa, still in my gym clothes. I had to be at work and there was no time for breakfast, so I just jumped in the shower, got dressed and ran over here. I'm exhausted and on my way to whole foods for something to eat. Oh, the fucking language line hung up on us! Can you believe that?” 

Yes I can actually and I advise her to email her manager with the time of the call so we can pull it and get the translator in trouble. It's hard enough to sell the program third hand without that annoyance and lord knows we pay these people big bucks to talk for us. In my mind's eye I see her footsteps as she heads out the door of the office and faces west toward the mountains, pushes the crossing button, walks across the busy street and into grocery store heaven. “Have you called Carol?” I remind her of our rich relation who lives in Denver and wants to meet her while she is there. “Not yet,” I hear the edge of exhaustion in her voice. “Well, make sure you do. You really will have fun meeting her. Maybe tomorrow?”

     This morning she called me early, exhausted of course, with news about her evening out. “ I put the do not disturb sign on the door and the maid came in a 8 anyway.  and I am so hungover.” she starts in the middle of a sentence, ends it, and starts another, “They all wanted to stop at f'ing McDonalds at three in the morning!” 

     “Wait darlin', first tell me where you went and with whom.” I already know. You may recall the similar experience I had with some of these same folks. Of course she is talking about our coworkers, only this time they took a taxi to Vinyl, a multi floor dance club, where they whined and complained the entire evening while she danced, made new friends, and ran into someone she knew, of course.  The crew insisted on stopping the taxi for fast food, but more confident than I, she put her foot down after a long wait in line with the meter ticking.

      “I told them I was not paying for this taxi because this stop was not my choice.” They went home annoyed with her because they didn't get any big macs and french fries. “God mom, I wish you were here,” she laments once again. 

      “Call Carol,” I advise. “

     “But I don't have any transportation. How will I get there?” 

     “Baby, she'll pick you up in her beamer convertible. She'll take you to brunch. You can have bloody Mary's. It will be good, promise.” Now she's excited because it sounds exactly like the hangover cure her mother would recommend. 

     “What's the number again?” she asks.

I just got a call. Carol is wonderful and they had a fabulous time. I was right again. “I'm so glad you insisted I call. The food was delicious and that really was the best Bloody Mary I ever had.”

     “You went to Pearl Street grill, right?” I can always fill in the blanks in her conversation. I bet Carol can too. What I didn't tell her is that Carol and I are born 2 days apart. We share a lot of qualities, youthful attitude and appearance being among them. Of course Eva felt immediately comfortable with her. 

     “Okay Mom, love you, gotta go and get a manicure and pedicure. Miss you.” She does too, but not as much as she did this morning. Thanks Carol.