Today a complete stranger complemented me on my egg poaching skills. Apparently "it's tough poaching eggs but you nailed that shit." At Arden's house after work we made eggs benedict with avocado, garlicky spinach and pastrami. Damn. I keep hearing the troubled youth stories of my co-workers and wondering how my childhood could be so rose coloured. Two out of three have had abortions (both under 21, both with sunny personality) one abusive boyfriend, one suicide attempt, two stoner parents, one 35 year old boyfriend, one father in jail.
And yesterday sitting on the beach a sort-of-friend went on about how those with the right diet will never get cancer, and I sat there thinking of my mother who was a certified dietician, who had a perfect diet, active lifestyle a loving husband and two kids. Who died of stomach cancer. And one of the reasons why she did not recover was that while she should have been eating high calorie foods to get back her strength she stuck to the "right" diet and got weaker. Anyway he was pretty impressed with the things that he was saying so I didn't get into it. People change the way they think of you when they know that you have lost your mother.
I guess I shouldn't really leave on this note. I'm just sitting here alone in the house with the breeze and the open window thinking sad lonely thoughts of someone who has been in public along time and suddenly finds them self in private.