Perhaps my latest read has been having an effect on me.  I woke up to the prayer call yesterday morning.  I muttered, “What a cacophony,” to myself, rolled over and went back to sleep.  The word is officially mine.

My life, in general, these days is a physical manifestation of a cacophony.  There is too much going on, in real time, in emotional time, in pretend time.  There is a lot of noise bouncing off the walls of my heart, and I’m tired.

A dear friend of mine returned to town in order to pack up her house and return to her mother-land.  I helped her out a few times with the sorting/packing/selling/purging.  Some of the purging “help” was just relocating things to my house – like the new curtains in Lola’s room and a collection of toys for Charlie.  As I ran from one floor to the next, dear-friend said to me, “This wasn’t how I envisioned us spending time together.”  But I’d rather have some time with her than no time.  Then today, she and I went to the desert “Drake” hotel for juice and snacks.  I was tempted to take my own thermos of tea because I prefer mine over theirs, but decided against it.  I think I’ll try to pull it off next time. It can’t be trailer if I’m wearing my masha’Allah scarf that twinkles with the daylight.  Plus, it might shame them into actually making good tea themselves!  One can only hope.

To add to the disruption and chaos that I’m feeling, my desert girlfriend called me the other day to ask me to make cupcakes for a party that her daughter is having this weekend.  “How many cupcakes do you want me to make?” I asked.  My friend laughed nervously, “Whatever you can make,” she said.  “Well, I can make THREE.  Or I could make three HUNDRED.  Tell me a number.”

“My daughter invited sixty girls.”

SIXTY girls????

“So you want 60 cupcakes, then?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

I don’t mind.  I’ll just have to make time in-between the tea time at the desert-Drake, the wedding I’m going to tomorrow evening, and the other dessert that I have to make for tea on Thursday afternoon. Plus, I have to make sure my kids aren’t getting stupider. And they have the nerve to expect to eat. Every. Single. Day.

Maybe the cacophony is in my mind.