Monday, August 01, 2011

Weekend Warrior

It was a busy weekend.

I needed it to be a busy weekend.

Because now I’m back in the routine of the workweek – Monday, again – and it isn’t going so well.

I’m full of toxic thoughts and I am overwhelmed and sad and I kind of just want to cry on my mom’s shoulder about a very large variety of issues, including The Coach, every mistake I’ve made over the last 8 years, money and why I do not have an endless supply of it, Maria’s pre-wedding party and the bruise on the inside of my knee.

But my parents are on a little vacation so crying on my mom’s shoulder is not currently an option. I’m also two months out from turning 29 and should probably be past expecting my mother to solve my problems. I just need to shut up and suck it up.

Anyway. The weekend.

Friday night: dinner with Lucy, Chet and one of Chet’s friends. I wasn’t very hungry and I wasn’t very into it. I haven’t been great company lately.

Saturday: Meg and I spent the day on the lake, chilling with the dogs. I bounced between mundane chores to get ready for Friday’s big pre-wedding fiesta of fun and laying out on the deck, reading back issues of Cosmo and attempting to even out my weird tan lines.

I don’t have a strapless bikini. I was borrowing the top of one of Meg’s with the hope that I could make it a little less apparent that every swimsuit I own is a halter. Which was lovely and I think that I am now an even shade of pale, pale beige (as opposed to my natural color of blinding white). And we had the extra entertainment that was my falling out of that ill fitting strapless bikini top on two occasions. Classy.

Late on Saturday afternoon, Meg and I ran a 5k. It was one of those get-down-and-dirty obstacle course type of races that are all the rage. So, we ran through waist-deep water and climbed over walls and ducked under barbed wire and had a great deal of fun. I’m pretty sure that the race entry fee was ridiculous, and I’m pretty sure that the picture of us covered in mud from head to toe made it totally, totally worth it.

We saw our cousin Liz on Saturday night. She took us by the house that she’s building (I am increasingly considering moving in with her) and we saw a movie. When we were dropping off Liz and hugging goodbye, she says to me “let’s do that French kiss.”


She meant a double kiss to the cheeks. No tongue. The miscommunication had us in stitches. And, for the record, there was no cousin-on-cousin makeout.

We got back to the house late. I consumed an obscene amount of bread and fell into a deep carbohydrate coma.

I’m considering carb loading before bed every night. Damn, that was a good sleep.

Sunday: well, maybe I’ll write about Sunday later. This is long enough and boring enough and rambling enough.

Not even boobs or mud or awkward makeout proposals could save this post.

I am boring and crabby.

It’s a winning combination.


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