Confessions Of A Medium-Aged Procrastination Queen

I watched a conversation spiral out of functional parameters so fast last night, and I was grateful to be on the outside of it even if I was sitting right next to them. Because then my kid came over to ask me to tuck him in and said loved one just kept shouting at the others rather than pause while I removed him from the room. Absolutely zero awareness and/or consideration.

I’ve tried so hard to be understanding of their perspective in these family trips. I never like to discount someone’s pov. because it runs deeper than any given situation and I’ve been personally familiar with their position as an “outsider” in the fam. Yet I found myself frequently holding back the phrase “but it’s not about you.”

Found this guy outside today! He was kind enough to stick around for a photo shoot.

When we do beach week, we usually hit up the bar across the street, and it gets so packed. So I tend to pick one song to work on in preparation. But this year we picked a new spot and it was so chill. Not only did I get to do a warmup (proclaimers’ “I’m gonna be”) but I nailed the one I practiced (“hook” by blues traveler).

And then because the night was young I polished off offspring’s self esteem just for the hell of it.

It was such a satisfying feeling to belt that one out… like when you cut wrapping paper and the scissors hit that grain to where the blades just glide through.

But more than anything, I was there with one of my bestest friends. He was Husband’s college bestie and roommate and he also lived with us for a while. We used to talk all the time and hang out. Now life tends to be in the way. Kids, work, distance, etc. But bro and I were in our element.

I’m really excited about it though because it solves all the problems and is also cute and fluffy.

Going to the beach Saturday for a whole week and even though there will be rain for part of each day, I’m hoping the air will rejuvenate me enough to put in some progress.

Chapter Nine, in which Jack Sparrow rides a horse

The Price of Freedom by A. C. Crispin

The way he refers to Caesar’s limbs in nautical terms had me kicking my feet.