Summer Brew

Last week, the third week of March, we had phenomenal weather. We had an average high temperature of 75 degrees, which left me happy to have gotten a pedicure the week before, and had colleagues envious when I wore open-toed shoes and cropped pants while their dogs were still hidden in shoes. (Meanwhile, in California, Jill was having a winter storm of cold, windy rain; and Tam was getting snow in Washington State. Bizarre.)

Anyway, we’re back to more seasonable temperatures in the 50s this week so I’m glad I took advantage of the fluke week and lived like it was May, windows and toes open, smiling back at the sun, brewing up some sweet tea vodka to toast to wonderful weather.

Hooked

Beware the iPad, and Words with Friends (WWF), and Word Feud, and Draw Something, and 7 Little Words….because next thing you know you will be sitting across from your sister at a family get together taking your words turns, jonesing for that 100+ point word on WWF, hoping to set a new record on Draw Something, and staying up way past your bedtime most nights gaming (of all things).

And then suddenly you realize you haven’t posted on your blog for 10 days and you think maybe you have a problem, and you really should get around to writing that post…just as soon as you take your turns...

Oh, and aren't you glad you did.

I Love It, I Love It Not...Corned Beef and Cabbage

Nothing a against the Irish but I am not a fan of "boiled dinner." It's just so...anemic. The meat looks uncooked and everything tastes the same.

Although carrots, cabbage and potatoes were staples in my mom's Polish cooking, I didn't grow up eating corned beef and cabbage together that way. It's only been in the past few years that my mother has made it-- mostly because one brother-in-law is Irish, and the other one enjoys it for his birthday dinner. I avoid it.

Tam sent me a picture of her boiled dinner yesterday, and Jill of hers, but I just can't get on board. Sorry, girls.

I do not [heart] boiled dinner. Yuck.

Booyah!

 Yeah, I did.

Read it and weep, sistah.

Déjà Vu

As I sat in my local Mexican restaurant yesterday sipping a margarita and enjoying a quesadilla on a warm and sunny afternoon in March--in the middle of a beautiful, sunny week in March--I got a weird feeling of déjà vu. When I reached for my camera I knew it wasn't just that nervous system phenomenon. I had really been here, I thought.

So I pulled out my iPad and went through my blog archive and saw that, indeed, two years ago--almost to the very day, during another unseasonably warm-for-March week--I was sitting in the same seat, eating and drinking the same things, reveling in the promise of spring, enjoying the longer afternoons, and dreaming of San Diego.

Only this time Jose called me señora. Last time I was señorita. Darn President Effect.

Waaaahhhhh.

[Heart] Note...to a Good Night's Sleep

Despite a comfortable bed and soft sheets, I find it harder these days to get a good night's sleep. By that I mean sleeping all the way through the night and waking up rested.

Too many nights lately I go to bed with a lot on my mind, so if I wake up in the middle of the night--because my over-40 bladder needs a break, or my neighbors make a racket when they get home late (read: drunk), or the wind is howling-- I have trouble getting back to sleep. The worry track in my head starts running and falling asleep again becomes a challenge.

So I love a night like last night when I slept through the night. I may not feel exactly well-rested (I think I'm still at a deficit) but I felt so very satisfied when I woke up and saw 7:22 on my alarm clock, and it was actually 8:22 already...but I stayed comfy just a little while longer because I [heart] my sleep.

Calendar Function

Every morning while I sit with my coffee and slowly come to life I try to get something productive done. Whether it is creating a list of pressing things to do (which generally doesn't include any pressing--as I believe in dry cleaners) or writing a grocery list or journaling something as inane (or sad) as what I wear each day (don't judge me), it is nice to leave the house already having accomplished something. I suppose that way, even if school is an abysmal failure, I can still end the day knowing the day was not for naught.

This morning, as I updated my calendar on my iPad, only after taking my Words With Friends turns, I couldn't help but flip forward on my calendar--with all that attitude of a finger swipe on an iPad--and realize that six weeks from this morning I will be waking up in sunny San Diego...As I will six weeks from tomorrow, and the day after that, until I wake up in Los Angeles a couple of mornings after that.

I guess I'll go easy on myself then. All of those days simply being there will be count for accomplishing something, no?