Sleeping Late on Thanksgiving

I have a permanent cramp in my shoulder and a new employee to hire and a month of work to do in five days. I need to get my hair cut. I haven’t had enough cheese today. Nor have I done enough Christmas shopping.

Blogging isn’t the only area of my life where I am behind.

Thanksgiving with my family was lovely. We had a miniature holiday. My grandfather doesn’t do well with big crowds and unfamiliar places; my mom hosted my grandparents, my cousin Emma and our family. Not even half the size of our traditional Thanksgiving celebrations.

Grandpa had a good day.

For the second consecutive Thanksgiving, Meg and I skipped our annual Thanksgiving morning race. Running isn’t bringing me joy and that particular race was ruined for me two years ago, when a well-meaning reader recognized me and outed me as a blogger.

Thinking of that day still makes me cringe.

Memories of that day still make it hard to blog.

But sleeping in on Thanksgiving is pretty awesome.

Quiet

I didn’t have anything to say in the days following the election. My world felt different and I didn’t have anything to write. So I didn’t. I just didn’t.

Not writing felt pretty good. Different from not writing when I want to be writing. Or not writing when I have things to say but no time to say them. Or not writing when writing is impossible because my fingers are as twisted up as my thoughts.

This was intentional (if unplanned) quiet.

It was nice to have some space to process.

But now, I am here. I am back. Needing to write about the date I went on almost two weeks ago (it was mostly good) and the kitchen backsplash that I finished almost three weeks ago (also mostly good) and Thanksgiving plans (HOW IS IT THANKSGIVING?) and Brady’s new future as a circus dog (agility class 4ever!) and, oh, maybe a hundred other things.

But first: how are you?

Happy Election Day

Happy Election Day, my friends. I hope that this day finds you feeling empowered and excited about democracy. Especially if you’re American.

My building is closed today, due to polling nearby, but I am working. (Sort of.)

I am also running from suburb to suburb in my quest to assure that my Aunt Lynn has the opportunity to cast her vote. Briefly: she’s in the hospital due to a bad case of pneumonia. I, Niece of the Year, called her township and figured out how to get an emergency absentee ballot.

It’s a simple, 84-step process that goes something like:
1. Call the Clerk to find out WTF to do
2. Drive to township offices
3. Locate Clerk’s office
4. Stand in line for a minute
5. Get some forms for her to sign
6. Drive to hospital
7. Stand in line at reception to find out what room she’s in
8. Deliver the paperwork
9. Get the paperwork signed
10. Drive back to township offices
11. Find the Clerk’s office, again
12. Stand in line, again
13. Get the ballot
14. Drive to hospital
15. Have her fill our her ballot
16. Drive to township offices
17. Find where to turn in absentee ballots
18. Turn in her ballot
19. Hope that she voted for the candidates I support (but know that it’s good for her to vote no matter what)

Tonight, Lucy and I are holding our traditional Election Day party. We’re drinking cocktails and eating junk food and knitting and hanging out with our dogs and watching the election returns.

So basically what we do every weekend. Except on a Tuesday night.

Things are about to get wild.

 

Halloween Night

img_2219Lucy invited me to do Halloween with her kids again this year. I couldn’t resist. I made a pot of vegetarian white chili (really good, but a little too spicy for the kids) and headed to her house after work.

She and the kids were just getting home as I arrived. It was controlled chaos. I imagine most of her life is. (She never complains.) Getting dinner ready, kids into costumes, pillowcases to hold candy, a bottle for the baby, candy for their trick-or-treaters, etc..

It was a surprisingly nice night for Halloween. In southeastern Michigan, our Halloweens are generally punctuated by sleet. Not this year! And so we headed out: Lucy, the baby, A, L and me: Auntie Pie.

L, who is three, made it all of four houses when he was ready to turn around. A, who is such a big boy at four years old, was still fired up and ready to go. I offered to go back to the house with the littlest two, but A insisted that I be the one who accompanied him through the remainder of the neighborhood.

He is so sweet. And so funny. And the things that he says! At one point, we were walking away from a neighbor’s house and he tells me that his heart hurt a little bit. Which was alarming until I realized that he had been frightened by the neighbor, who answered the door wearing a scary mask. His heart was beating fast, that’s why it hurt.

I told him stories about when he was little (he’s always so interested in the things I did with him before he could remember) and reminded him to thank his neighbors for the candy and, while we were only out maybe 20 minutes longer than his mom and brothers, it was so special.

According to Lucy, he thinks that I’m the queen of trick-or-treating.

Sometimes I get sad when I think that I won’t have kids who are anywhere close in age to Lucy’s. It’s nights like Halloween that I’m reminded that maybe it’s not so bad. If I had kids of my own, I wouldn’t have been trick-or-treating with just A. And that’s pretty damn special. I’m a fortunate auntie to a shark and a pumpkin and a Iron Man/Superman/Rylo Ken hybrid.

Good Thing He’s Cute

It’s Thursday night.

I am exhausted. Lingering cold and post-conference fatigue. But I am taking Brady to his agility class because it makes me as damn happy as it makes him.

He’s excited the second I pull out the leash. He’s been cooped up all day. It’s understandable.

I am in the midst of clipping on his leash when, in his excitement, he pops up and cracks me on the underside of the chin with his head.

He headbutted me.

And I bite through my tongue.

It bled a lot. Not gushing but plenty. It only gushes when I stick my tongue out really far but when do I stick my tongue out really far? I get it under control enough to take Brady to his class. Probably because I was in a bit of shock. Also because, damnit, that was the plan and I didn’t want to deviate from the plan.

I swing by my mom and dad’s house on the way home to show my mother my injury and she was like “uh, sorry, but we’re going to urgent care.”

I’m 34 and my mom took me to urgent care.

Where, I might add, I am the star of the night. There were approximately 12 people staffing the urgent care clinic and I saw them all. Seriously. (It was a slow night.)

I got my tongue stitched. Twice, because the first stitches didn’t hold. The doctor called me “one tough lady,” a compliment that I am still relishing in because, in actuality, I am not very tough. I’ll maintain that the injury really wasn’t that horribly painful (I went to dog class, after all) and neither was the stitching, but I’ll still take the compliment.

Now, almost four days later, I have had my stitches removed (thanks, ma!) but my tongue is still swollen and feels weird and/or maybe a little numb and I chew to one side. I’m still on antibiotics and my arm is still sore from the tetanus shot but this isn’t so bad.

Plus my tongue still looks bad enough that I can get away with not wearing a Halloween costume. I stick my tongue out and it’s plenty scary.

There’s something to be said for timeliness.

The Date That Wasn’t and Other Tales

Last I left you, I was going on a date with a guy who I met at a charity fundraiser.

Then I woke up with a sore throat. That turned into a sinus infection.

No date.

I was very, very close to attempting to suck it up and going on the date anyway. I’m glad that I didn’t. I spent all of last weekend – and a good part of this week! – feeling truly awful. And maybe this guy is really a good guy who I’m going to want to get to know and sniffling my way through a first date doesn’t seem like a good way to gauge his interest. Or mine.

I should have known that I was bound to be sick. Last week was a week filled with work lunches, board meetings, yoga/hockey/soccer/dog class commitments. I didn’t have time to breathe (and, as you can see, blog) and that’s when I get sick.

He was nice about my cancellation. Nice but heading out of town this weekend. We haven’t made new plans and, as it turns out, that is probably for the best.

Because I was injured yesterday.

Stitches injured.

But that’s a story for another day. You know what they say: one blog post per minor medical setback.

Lucy the Saleswoman

The nonprofit that I’m on the board of had a fundraising event a couple of weekends ago. I agreed to go because it seemed like the right thing to do; my best friend, Lucy, agreed to help me fundraise because that’s what best friends do.

Also because she is great at it.

Also because it was at an event that involved a good bit of drinking and she is also very skilled at harassing drunk dudes.

And, as it turned out, harassing drunk dudes to go on dates with me.

I don’t know really how it all went down, but she would periodically circle back to me and say “[some descriptor of a guy] really wants to date you” and then she’d be on her way to sell more raffle tickets.

A few of the guys came up to me. I was legitimately busy so I’m not going to say that I did the best job of batting my eyes and I should also note that none of them were David Beckham.

One guy came up to me, talked for a few minutes, left for a while, showed back up. Was relatively nice. Kept asking how it was that I didn’t have a boyfriend. Was self-deprecating but not overly so. Is not short. Definitely got a big sell on me from Lucy, because he kept remarking on it (“She says you’re the best person that she knows.”). Possibly has a bad haircut. Seems like a genuinely decent dude. Bought a respectable number of raffle tickets. Left with my number.

Asked me on a date for this coming Saturday night.

I agreed and a lot of the reason I did so was because of how enthusiastic Lucy feels about him. Me? I am unsure leaning towards genuinely unenthusiastic but feel like I should give it a try.

I also feel like I’m going to need to get my eyebrows done before Saturday.

I also feel like I should have a few date-ready outfits and I most definitely do not.

I should probably get a charming personality before Saturday, too.

This is a lot of work.