Shifting gears

The irony that I cannot, in fact, drive a stick shift is not lost on me, with that title.

Sometimes -- often-- my work, mommy, and personal life collides in weird ways. Sometimes it's not subtle at all: usually that sort of lack of subtlety is announced via the SC's teacher calling (no, that didn't happen today). The more subtle is as today, where I had the SC's Spiderman Backpack on my desk -- as it was delivered by X as it had his swim mask. Imagine it: Spider Man backpack, postcard from the winery reminding me to pick up my shipment, scribbly notes on quadrille paper about the needs of the semi-odd new analyst, and one of my two screens opened to Alixito's blog. It was compounded when I sent out invites for a comingling dinner party -- GH's friends and my friends. Well, one in particular soon to by My Friend too, she's that cool.

Whrrr, crash. Sometimes when you're shifting gears between mommy-friend-singlegirl-workerbee you shift from 4th down to 1st (as Adams said) and the transmission leaps out of the hood in an ugly mess. Today wasn't messy.

It did, remarkably, contain a disgusting number of transitional periods: worker bee to friend, travel coordinator to worker bee, mommy to exwife to mommy to worker bee, etc. It just kinda hit me when I saw the SpiderMan backpack.

I *am* looking for a new purse....