Thoughts on life, love, and the pursuit of balance.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
It must be Monday
If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans. -Woody Allen
Yesterday I had all kinds of plans. I thought about the upcoming week, what I wanted to get accomplished, broke the large tasks down into manageable daily tasks, and renewed my commitment to eating moderately; not emotionally, in spite of a brewing hormonal storm.
I began my day as planned, by running. Something was off though, I could feel it. Something in the air felt against me. My normal run was sluggish and forced. I made it, but barely. No runners high to be had, I felt like a neglected lover.
Still I pushed on. The next plan was to return the jacket I had gotten for my husband's birthday--wrong size. I could not find the receipt anywhere, which reminded me I needed to clean and organize more, but figured I could use my credit card as proof of purchase.
I decided to check my voicemail before I headed out the door. There was a message from my bank that let me know that I had left my credit card at a restaurant we ate at on out way home from Christmas. I had two options: drive 3 hours to get it in person with my ID or they could shred it for me. New detour added to list to go to bank and order new credit card.
So I couldn't return the jacket and couldn't get through to the bank so I decided to move on and start working in the yard as I had planned. I want to start a compost bin but have to move two years worth of pruning and gardening debris just to see the ground.
I pulled the unwieldily green waste bin across the driveway into our back yard. I started filling it slowly with the half rotting leaves, vines and twigs. I had to cut the larger pieces as I put them in the bin with my large pruning shears. The huge container filled as I added copious amounts of leaves and other slimy matter. Babou stood by pinching her nose and saying "Stinky," her new word for anything unpleasant!
Finally I had most of the pile in and was going to add one last large branch to top it off. I looked around for my lopers and could not see them anywhere. After a quick search, I realized that they had disappeared. I turned to look at the brimming yard waste container and realized that they were most likely buried in the bottom of the container!
I decided to H with it and pulled it around to the front of the house. I had little time left to get to the post office and grocery store before Mr. Jo got home from work. So I got everything together to go, loaded up the jogger stroller, and put the collar on our loco dog because he needs a walk at this point also.
By the way, I am in the midst of full pms and hate all my clothes, hair, face, really everything about me. Could I have gained 15lbs over Christmas? That's how I feel. So I put on a larger pair of black pants for the walkabout which decide to start falling off as we go along. You know how irritating this is even though it might mean that the 15 lbs are all in my mind.
So anyway, I make it to the PO and then to the store, stragelingy pants, jerking dog and all. I go through the aisles making up dinner as I go, going in circles, trying to remember my list which I had forgotten at home, of course.
On one of my circles back, I notice a monkey sock on the floor of the store. "That's weird," I think. "That looks just like Babou's sock." A quick glance at her feet informs me that they are, indeed, her socks as she is both shoeless AND sock-less. I spend the next 15 minutes re-circling the store in reverse, trying to find her shoes and socks. I finally find the last shoe and have put them away as it is useless to put them back on her once she gets it in her mind that she wants to go barefoot.
It is at the moment that I get the shoes and socks tucked away that I hear the howling. It must have been going on for a quite a while from the look of the other shoppers faces; I had just been preoccupied to notice. Or perhaps I had become somewhat deaf to it as it was all too familiar. The sound was unmistakeable and a quick glance out the front of the door proved it was indeed, my dog. There he was, head thrown back, in full howl!
I tried to remember the rest of my list and get in line as fast as I could. The line was long. The howling continuous. Finally I made it outside, collected my loco ultra needy dog, and took off for home.
As I crossed the parking lot an older woman caught my eye. You know one of those older grandmother types that know EVERYTHING about children and their proper care? She gives me a terrible, scornful look as she passes. The look said "what kind of mother lets her child ride around in the cold evening with NO SHOES or SOCKS on!" She actually sniffed at me!
Anyway, after that, I pretty much gave up. I hurried home and made dinner, the only thing in my day that was truly successful. No wonder I eat too much!
I was raised in a very free-thinking family of great proportions, living a semi-nomadic life between northern and central california, traveling, and often living, in a VW van. I received a BA in Religious Studies and Cultural Anthropology at UCSB, have worked for a wine magazine, and traveled as much as possible. I am now a thirty-three-year-old-mostly-content-stay-at-home-mom living in the Bay Area with my husband, two-year-old daughter, and very energetic Golden Retriever.