So... big news coming.
But I'm in hurry up and wait mode.
All I can do is make lists and plan.
I can do this.
It's official, I survived winter.
Today I looked around and saw that I was thriving again.. not just hanging on for dear life.
My house is clean (ish), the dogs are being walked, I'm reading, I'm cooking, I'm engaging with people on purpose.
It feels good.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I was going to post to facebook a general request that someone in our neighborhood go outside and assure the young man, who's been driving around the block for the past 30 minutes revving his car engine, that we all believe that he does in fact have a giant penis. And that we request he stops with the revving and squealing of tires because his driving display has convinced us of his manhood.
But I didn't have to. I live two blocks from the police station.
More on the early alarm clock anxiety. ..
I've been really careful in the evening leading up to a day shift, no caffeine, limited screen time, physical activity, dim lights... last night I was drowsy by 10:30, and after combat rolling into bed I was sound asleep in just minutes.
I woke up so refreshed.
I was ready to hop out of bed without looking at the time, so rested I planned on using my extra few minutes before my alarm clock by braving the cold with the dogs.
I swung my feet to the floor and glanced at the clock.
*I saw the clock at least 5 more times at randomly staggered points throughout the night. I think I need to start taking something.
I'm not sure that I made any real resolutions for this year... beyond "gin and tonic", but I did have some intentions. The first is to learn by heart something each month. Oops.
Missed January already.
The second was to read 2 -3 books each month. I'm good on that one. However, january's book number three should have been done ages ago. Book number three doesn't want to be read. Something is crazy with the spine of this book. I can't hold it open single handedly. .. It's a two hand jobby. And when I forget (every paragraph or so) and my hand slips or moves, it slaps shut. Now it's a week into February and this tiny book is still giving me grief.
I keep looking around for the candid camera folks.
So I was watching a teen flick yesterday. Based on a teen novel, two young cancer fighters fall in love, do inspiring things like... fall in love.
This is usually the sort of film that tears me to pieces. I'm left a weepy heap.
Nope. Not this time.
The mother was played by an actress I've seen for years playing the motherly role, she'd be 15 years my senior... but then...
There was the dad.
There's no way he was older than me.
Yeah, he had grey at his temples and in his beard.... but HE WAS MY AGE.
I AM THE SAME AGE AS THE PARENTS IN TEEN MOVIES NOW!!! I've been "sitcom mom" age for about 10 years now... but this... this is a painful realization.
I have a very tall bed.
It's higher than my hips with the box spring frame in the mix. I remember the day I bought my new mattress and box spring... setting it into the bed frame where there'd been plywood for as long as I'd been the bed's owner.
The bed belonged to my Grandma R, my mom's mom. For some lucky and unknown reason she left me her bedroom set. I only wanted the plant stand (now long gone to the bluebox on a day that I needed to purge my belongings), and I think there were some tensions from the other older cousins that mom shielded me from when it was announced. Maybe the long suffering return on being named after grandpa?
When I placed the mattress on top of the box spring and saw the bed's height I was transported in time to her home, being too little to even get onto her bed without assistance, the awe I felt looking down at the floor from my high perch.
I think of those times and the visits to grandma's place nearly every night that I climb into my bed. Some nights I give a little hop and swing into bed, but most nights I tuck my shoulder in and combat roll myself into place. My high perched pillows.