to go: 1190.16
months and months
of not very much going on -- at least, not very much besides work and
bike-riding and work and bike-riding some more, with the occasional BOOB
sighting or Tot Crisis tossed
in for chuckles
-- all of a sudden David and I find ourselves with more appointments on
our calendar than the local botox clinic during Two-For-One Month.
tell you the truth, it's a little overwhelming.
It kicks off with The
Fourth of July tomorrow -- a one-day trip to Nevada City, for brunch
with friends from the old Baby Boomer Chat Room -- and it continues
right on through the next few weeks with a high school reunion (his), a
trip to TicTac (hers) and a romantic anniversary weekend for two
(his-AND-hers). Along the way we're also going to try and squeeze in a
mammogram, a professional bike-fitting, a camping trip, a two-day
Professional Development Seminar, a couple of mandatory family
occasions, a veritable PARADE
of out-of-town visitors, and -- unless
is merciful disaster strikes and
we're hit with a blinding snowstorm during the third weekend of July --
our first *big* organized ride.
of this, mind you, on top of our
regularly-scheduled work and bike-riding and work and bike-riding some
is going to be
great!" says David happily, as we're discussing the intricacies and
logistics of our suddenly-amazingly-complicated schedule. "Think of all
the material you'll have for *FootNotes*!"
Cranky/Lazy/Antisocial Secra isn't so sure.
looks at her
overstuffed calendar, and at all of these new obligations coming up --
social, personal, professional, "other" -- and wonders if she has the
internal *oomph* to get through them all. (Not to mention the vacation
time, the wardrobe, the room on her credit card, the UV
protection.) "Can't we just stay home and read People Magazine all
summer?" she says ... hoping she doesn't sound as whiney as she feels.
looks at her
Cranky/Lazy/Antisocial Secra isn't really
all that cranky. She's had
sort of a tough few weeks, hormonally, and she's been feeling a little
beat-up and raggedy , but otherwise she's her usual annoyingly
optimistic self, 84.99276% of the time. She really isn't all that lazy,
either. She's simply grown accustomed to the ease and the comfort of an
uncomplicated lifestyle. (Read this: if it doesn't involve unplugging
the phone and slipping into a pair of Happy Pants, you're
going to have to drag her into it, kicking and screaming.)
isn't even all that
antisocial, truth be told. She likes other people just fine. (As long
as she doesn't have to -- you know -- TALK to them.)
Not-Really-All-That Cranky/Lazy/Antisocial Secra understands that she
is married to a people-person: that *he* thrives on conversation and
social interaction almost as much as *she* thrives on sitting alone in
a dark quiet empty apartment for five hours every Sunday afternoon. She
understands, too, that part of her continuing evolution as a person/a
recovering alcoholic/a cyclist/a writer is stretching herself in ways
that may not always be comfortable ... literally or figuratively.
understands that *FootNotes* needs the occasional infusion of fresh
experiences to remain interesting. (She feels that lately we've all
been spending entirely too much time inside her head AND
her reproductive system.)
she's gearing herself
up for a whirlwind few weeks of sweating, swearing, shaking hands,
allowing complete strangers to touch her inappropriately, eating food
she wouldn't ordinarily eat, spending money she wouldn't ordinarily
spend, posing for pictures, exchanging polite uncomfortable chit-chat,
and smiling until her smile muscles threaten to collapse, right there
on her face. She hopes that parts of it are fun. She hopes that the
parts of it that aren't fun are at least journal-worthy. She hopes that
she remembers to say "Please"
and "Passing on your left" and "Oh god oh
god oh baby oh baby." (Or maybe she'll just stick to "Thank you.") She
hopes that she doesn't cry or spill food on herself or fall down in
front of anyone. She hopes there is at least one decent picture taken
of her and David for the anniversary album. She hopes that there are
occasional Happy Pants Moments, along the way, so she can stop and
catch her breath at least.
she hopes that her
calendar -- plus a few fireworks, here and there -- are the ONLY
things that explode this summer.
a safe and happy
Fourth of July, everybody.
throw a rock