mom is here. jackson is taken care of, NOT BY ME. (((deep cleansing breath)))

this is the second time i have been given this gift… this glorious gift of TIME to “work” (meaning making a dent in my inbox, catching up on my favorite blogs, working on my book proposal… working on the ACTUAL BOOK that i am pitching)… ya know, “work.”

i set out with a smile on my face, my macbook and earphones and await the glory of the coffee that will come once i find the RIGHT SPOT to plant myself for a few hours and “work.”

arriving at whole foods, i pay for my dark chocolate skim mocha and find my spot… near an outlet to plug in my laptop.

i settle myself. snag an extra chair for my oversized, underpriced purse from target that doubles as my diaper bag and today, my laptop bag. i plug in, log on to the wifi network, take my first sip of my beverage and breathe.

the last week + has been particularly stressful and ridden with anxiety that i cannot go into detail about in this forum. needless to say, having this break, this breath of caffeinated air, this TIME ALONE with just me and my computer is priceless.

i check in with some twitter friends who i haven’t communicated with in (HOLY SHIT) 24 hours because my mom has arrived and i was busying myself snuggling with her as though i was the one nearly turning 2 years old and not my son.

and as i check in with my twitter friends, two women take seats nearby… close to my spot.

you see, i’m sitting at a bar, looking out a window… a lengthy bar that offers a plethora of seats for people to enjoy coffee, delicious food and good company.

one woman is telling the other about her latest “fuck buddy” and how her age (46) has caused him to leave her and now she is angry… like REALLY ANGRY just relaying this story to her friend.

she bangs her fist on the bar. multiple times. continuing to talk with her hands, she then explains the moment of him leaving her apartment and hits, bumps, slaps the bar repeatedly.

at first i feel badly for this woman. she’s obviously distraught and confiding in a friend. but then i notice that others around me are starting to notice her. it’s not just me acknowledging her behavior… hearing pieces of a conversation that (in my opinion) should be taking place behind closed doors, on a couch with your friend and a bottle of wine.

she hits the table again.

“i told him ‘that’s it!’” she exclaims.

and now i’m irritated. so, like any good blogger who is attempting to make headway through their inbox while also on twitter, i begin tweeting about her.

so the earphones are in and the music is blaring and i decide that my inbox and any sort of REAL THOUGHT will have to be put on hold until this woman is gone because NO ONE AROUND HER can focus on anything but her ranting.

i look for other seats… no other outlets are available. i need an outlet because my battery is low… not too terribly low, but low enough for me to not risk moving my seat.

i stay. i decide to blog about her. just to rid myself of this angst and document this experience of THE ONE DAMN TIME I GET OUT TO HAVE COFFEE AND COMPUTER TIME IN PUBLIC…

pink is blaring gloriously in my ears… “child be still…”

I’M TRYING!!!! I’M REALLY TRYING!!!!!

there’s a tap on my shoulder. i’m jarred from my writing. i turn and meet the face of an older woman who is already mid-sentence with me. obviously i cannot hear her because MY EARPHONES ARE STILL IN MY EARS, yet she is talking to me.

i mute my itunes, pull out an earphone and turn in my seat to face her.

OLDER WOMAN: (points at my laptop) “is this one of those little laptops, like the small ones?”

ME: “um… well, it’s a macbook, but i’m pretty sure there are smaller ones out there. are you shopping specifically for a mac?” like i give a fuck.

OLDER WOMAN: “i don’t know, but i know there’s a smaller one and i didn’t know if this is the smallest there is or if there are smaller or what you would recommend?”

ME: (thinking to myself… do i look like i fucking work at best buy?) “honestly, it probably all depends on what you would be using it for. i would suggest researching one that is not only the size you want but offers the programs and applications that you would use the most.”

she pats my shoulder, points over to her husband whose standing 10 or so feet away with their coffees, waiting for her and probably burning the palms of his hands while holding their coffee.

OLDER WOMAN: (points at my macbook) “i think we can get smaller than this…”

she walks away.

and then i tweet this.

lesson learned… just stay at home, lock myself in my bedroom and put in earplugs. i may live a solitary existence for the remainder of my life and never again enjoy the glorious splendor of a dark chocolate skim mocha from whole foods, but at least i’ll get some peace… til the magoo awakes.