This has been the first weekend I've had in a long time that actually felt like a "real" weekend. And, since I'm writing this late on a Sunday evening, the past tense makes me a little sad. On top of that is the fact that I hate this particular time change, which all adds up to a grumpy end of the weekend mood. (I love the fact that it stays light so much later. I just hate the idea that when my alarm goes off at zero dark thirty it feels even earlier than it should. I am not a morning person, and yet I have a job that expects me to be wide awake and competent at 6:45 am. This is either funny or tragic, depending on how little sleep I've gotten.)
I think the theme this weekend was friends and beer. Seriously. Friday night saw me hanging with a friend I don't get to hang with much, which is too bad because I love him to bits. We sat and chatted for hours while the kids ran around crazy and we drank his beer. (Not too much, since the run was the next morning.) Saturday found me on two different sets of friend's porches while we soaked up the sunshine (and later a violent thunderstorm), dissected the behavior of errant tax men and drank beer. (The younger boys were with their dad, and Sasquatch was off being sixteen, so I could.) And Sunday ended with a three family impromptu dinner out where the kids played pool and the adults gossiped and...drank beer. I do like beer. But I like hanging with my friends even more.
My stress inclination has always been to hide out, and I feel like I spent most of last year hiding out. By the time I felt ready to emerge this year I'd kind of backed myself into a corner with my solitude. So I've really been trying to make an effort to engage lately. I know my friends love me. I know I love them. Now it's time to get off my butt and get back into circulation. I'm ready.
Bloated, but ready.