Today I went to a class at Del Mar Ballet, which was in a converted garage, watered a part of the lawn that was “stressed out” (Dad), ate lunch outside, and laid out in my bikini. First day I did not go to the beach. Too busy.
If, after reading the above summary, you still ask me what I’m doing in San Diego, I suppose you mean, what I’m doing for money. Well, I’m still writing (see my story in the September issue of Glamour, on sale already!) and I’ll be blogging for Smitten, as of next Monday. But the search is on for full-time employment.
Sometimes the search is more off than on.
Unlike most moms and dads, my parents are not only not pressuring me to find a job, but they seem to be hindering my progress. Since I landed here on Monday, my dad suddenly has begun sending me funny forwards from the office, and he has asked me to cook dinner twice already. My mom and I go to the beach and read Us Weekly and do crosswords. This is during workday hours. And both my parents encourage the nightly flow of wine. Should I worry? Oops! Real Housewives is on—