The cold is finally better, thankfully. A lingering cough, but that’s it. Sunday, we awoke late but still made it to church. It was my turn to provide refreshments for coffee hour, but someone forgot to inform me that the parish hall is undergoing serious cleaning and there would be no coffee hour due to lack of space. Glad I bought the coffee cake instead of made it.
Afterwards, hubby and I headed for Sam Snead’s and had a divine Sunday brunch on the lanai. Sam Snead’s is a restaurant in the clubhouse over at the Pearl Harbor Navy golfcourse. I love the omelette bar. I had a crab, shrimp, mushroom, spinach, garlic, cheese omelette. Yum. Mike ordered everything on his. Too funny. I didn’t think there’d be room for the eggs in the pan, but the chef managed it.
We sat outside and watched the golfers putting below us. In the distance, you could see the ocean. Funny how it looks higher than the land you’re sitting on. It looks like it should just spill over the island when you sit and look at it from a distance that isn’t too high above sea level. I think we were at 20 feet above, and that’s because of the lanai.
In spite of the idyllic setting, however, we still managed to have an argument. We don’t argue much after almost 19 years of marriage, but some things still cause it. This one had to do with Mike wanting to withdraw from a class. I was not pleased at this. I think, however, that we’ve solved the problem and he will continue with the class as scheduled.
I’ll be the first to admit I don’t understand this. I have never withdrawn from a class. Never, not once. Lose money or work my ass off to finish? No question which one gets my vote, no matter how hard or how exhausting the work. I never give up when money’s on the line. I am learning to apply this thinking to my fiction writing too. Never give up because money IS on the line. Every day I sit home and write is a day I don’t earn money elsewhere.
I’m not saying money is important to me as a writer. If it was, I wouldn’t be writing. But I’d like an income, something that pays the bills and keeps me in Reef slippahs.
Sunday ended pleasantly enough, though. I didn’t get any writing done, but I did read the Diary of Virginia Woolf, Volume One. It’s amazing how much into her life you can get just by reading those short burst diary entries. Though she certainly had her issues with her own husband, she needed him. In spite of her affair with Vita Sackville-West, I believe she loved Leonard Woolf more than anyone else in her life.
From 2 Nov 1917:
[…] one’s personality seems to echo out across space, when he’s not there to enclose all one’s vibrations. […] the feeling itself is a strange one–as if marriage were a completing of the instrument, & the sound of one alone penetrates as if it were a violin robbed of its orchestra or piano.
Oh I may get irritated with him, but I need my orchestra too.