The organization I work for had a fundraiser last night; it gave me a chance to do what I love most — dress up, be girly and be a bit bossy, all in the name of charity of course. We hosted 75 people at a beautiful home in Paradise Valley for a bit of African drumming, dancers from Bhutan and wine from Sonoma. It was a lovely night.
(Photos by Bryan Lewis)
We not only raised more than a month’s overhead, but we also had a lot of smart, well-connected, community driven people talking about refugees. A man from Bhutan spoke of how he lived for 17 years in a camp before being resettled in Arizona. We were transfixed by the emotion, the horror of life so hard to imagine from the comfort of a luxury home. Refugee students now in college wandered through the crowd talking about how our mentorship saw them through high school graduation. Board members explained to their friends why they enjoy being involved.
After six hours in heels, my legs are tired this morning. But my heart is happy. I hope the passion was contagious!
I have been working unbelievable hours and doing so happily. I am really enjoying my new job. That said, there are many weekend and evening activites that require my presence — whether just to stand there and shake hands, or to actually do some work — that have me running on fumes this week. Here it is, Saturday afternoon, and I’ve already been to and from the office twice to get a bit more done. Granted, I also managed a break to swing through my favorite bookstore for some holiday shopping and a trip to the local froyo shop too.
Good thing I don’t have children. I don’t know how my girlfriends with kids manage their families and careers. I am barely getting myself dressed and out the door.
Proof positive is my kitchen table, where I’ve been dropping off mail and pieces of Christmas projects all week. I won’t show you photos of my laundry room, where the dryer has been full of clean and now wrinkled clothing for days and towels are scattered about to air dry. Or my floors, which are a disaster. Or the garden, which this week is barely getting a single gulp of water — much less the Zen-like conversations I’d imagined having with my cilantro plants. As if.
Thankfully the schedule this week seems calmer and the holidays (with 5 days in Colorado) are right around the corner. Yippee-ay-ok-ky-A!
I did manage to sneak in some knitting a couple days ago during a conference. I sat in the back and quietly clicked away as the speakers presented on a variety of refugee-related topics, including a Holocaust survivor who had the room in tears by the time she left the stage. I wish I had an ounce of her survivor spirit; I more than likely wouldn’t be complaining about a job that is keeping me hopping during an otherwise dreary economy.
Plus, this knitting is for another custom-order Nudu cap, so I should be counting my lucky stars.
With that, I’ll go sit down to a slice of humble pie and bid you adieu. Happy weekend, friends!