One Perfect Saturday

I had one day off this weekend before working 5 days again.  I had to make it count, like my life depended on it.  Like my internal sunshine was about to fizzle out and I needed to pump the day with new light. 

This wasn't a perfect Saturday, I'll admit it.  The dog woke me up at 8 AM by jumping off the bed and racing to the window to bark at something that was probably not even there.  The bed shook violently and I was sure that something had jumped on the bed, not off. 

I made due though.  The sun was shinning brightly. It was primarily green outside.  The dog had calmed down by the invisible intruder. 

I went to Costco, like a true weekend warrior.  I got there 15 minutes after it opened and filled my cart with delicious things.  I was sure that if there had been a contest, then I would have won for healthiest cart.  Salmon, gigantic strawberries, asparagus, corn, and fresh mozzarella.  The car was loaded and back in the driveway at 10AM. 

I celebrated my successful morning with a breakfast burrito, homemade. 

And, then, still inspired by the early morning, the sun, and the greenery, I washed the dog. 

That's her "I'm angry because I hate when you pour water on me" face. 

She was very good, despite the fact that I was spraying her with a hose.  I only chased her around the yard a couple of times.  Once I was done, and she always knows when that is, she went crazy.

Success is going to Costco early on a Saturday then washing a two and a half year old black lab.

I rewarded myself with a Sex and the City marathon and graham crackers covered with the chocolate frosting that I successfully hid in the fridge. 

Then I kinda got crabby because I realized Saturday was half-way over and I had to go to work the next day.  And because I probably needed a nap due to my early wake-up call.


Later, K and I went out, dined alfresco at the best restaurant in the area, and were just fine having the sun shine in our face. 

That's how I like my Saturdays: a little bit of chores, a little bit of running around in the sun with a dog,  a little bit of SATC reruns, and a little bit of chillin with chilly drinks underneath an umbrella. 

Night Off

Since life is so different now, and the new norm is to wake up early and put in more than 8 hours at work, K and I decided we needed a new routine.  He developed one in January when the new norm was teaching teenagers about history for free and then coming home and taking over the kitchen table with books about WWII. 

Our new routine is just that, very new.  I was told that in order to establish the routine, I must follow it exactly for one week.  That didn't happen, but I got pretty close. 


Monday and Wednesdays: Tennis with K after work. 

We soak up the best days of the year here in Central PA.  This time of the year is just superb.  The days are long, but the humidity has not crept its way back into the air.  Still, the evenings are warm and may even treat you to a storm if you're all done with tennis.

Plus, I get to rock the tennis skirt. 

Thursdays: Mini-date.  Last week we dined alfresco in Hershey. This week we may look at wedding rings.

Friday: A morning run with Lilly before work.  Then a possible happy hour after, followed by an early bedtime.

But, the best for us is Tuesday.  That's the night when we do our own thing.  We go our separate ways.  And, it's fabulous. 

Tonight we switched our Monday for a Tuesday, because the weekend was crazy and we needed a much needed break. 

So, I got dinner for myself. I came home to find K down in the basement on the xbox.  I asked him, "So, what are you going to do tonight?" while I looked at the clock.  He got the hint. 



There's something about the night off that's pretty wonderful.  Maybe its because everything will be consolidated and shared in 5 months.  Maybe it's because we take the time to have time for ourselves. I haven't nailed it down yet, but I like it. 

I ate dinner, watched girly television, took a bath, then vacuumed.  I know that sounds funny, but it felt right.  I wanted a clean space.  I made my bed, even though I just crawled in it to blog.  It made the room feel better. 

Plus, I bought a very girly duvet set a couple weeks ago on a night off.  So, I had to make the bed.


The routine is working.  The week doesn't feel so 9 to 5 anymore.  There's hope at the end of the day, there's something to look forward to.

It's good timing too, because I feel like I'm just realizing that's there's so much to look forward to.

The days are longer.  The air is fresh.  I awake to a warm sun greeting me in the morning, and fall asleep to the pitter-patter of rain at night.  I don't know if the outsides make my insides better or the other way around, but I'm going with it.  I'm going to abuse the hell out of it while it lasts. 

Forgetting Me

Sometimes I don't know how to start these.  Its pretty rare, but there are still those moments where the exhaustion just takes over.  It's like there's a net over my brain.  My brain becomes a little flipping fish, trying to escape the net.  That creates more exhaustion sometimes.  Eventually though, I flip and I swim and escape back into the wide ocean that is this creative outlet.

That's enough metaphors for the night. 

Life is really different right now.  And, I'm going to say that it's going to be really different for a long time, but that means that eventually it will be the new normal. 

For now though, it's different and I'm mostly just tired. 

I miss the late nights when I start writing at 1130 because the inspiration has just kicked in.  I miss the sleepy mornings when the dog and I get up, go to the bathroom, and then jump back into bed. 

But, most of all, I miss this. 


A part of me feels like I've put the true me on a shelf.  It's getting dusty and it's too high for me to reach her.  More metaphors, I know, but you get it.  I have to do so much at work, and then I'm tired when I get home, so there's not much room for anything else. 

True me is a night owl.  Not the one who will stay out until 3AM, but the one who puts on awesome pajamas, clears off her desk, chooses the right indie album, and clicks away at the keyboard.  She has twinkling lights on outside even though she's at her desk and can't see them.  She occasionally gets up and dances to an especially inspirational indie song.  She doesn't think about tomorrow that much.  She sleeps in and then makes sure that walking on dewy grass is one of the first things that she does when she gets up.

So, you can understand my frustration.  It's about growing up and moving on.  But, still, I feel like I've given so much up in the last couple of years in exchange for happiness and success. 

I was swimming a couple of weeks ago, and there was a section at the end of the lane that was ice cold.  I thought it was motivation to swim faster, but it was still uncomfortable to get through. 

And then I told myself, "What are you doing?  You're Catherine.   You're the girl who use to jump in the river on rafting trips." 

Oh yeah, I thought back.  The river was green, it was so cold.  And I did it without hesitation, even though I had my grey Gonzaga hoodie on.  I jumped and the icy, green water hit my chest hard, but the gasp upon emerging was fantastic. 

I'd forgotten. 

We played tennis twice this week.  We haven't played in over a year.  I can still hit the ball into the corner of the court.  I can still lunge for the ball so that my foot makes that satisfying "scrape" on the pavement. 

But, I haven't played in the crisp Spring months in so long.  I haven't worn a long sleeve shirt.  I haven't run the lines and conquered the stairs like I use to.  I told K yesterday what we use to do for a warm-up: a mile, sets of stairs, and then line drills.  Then I did a line drill, and ran backwards better than I did in high school.

Still, I'd forgotten.

I was putting a pre-wedding CD together this week.  Its so that I can daydream in the car on the way to work, because that's prime daydreaming time.  But, I wanted to put ceremony music in and didn't have any. So, I downloaded everything I could on iTunes.  Then I played my discoveries on the computer, and the sweet classical music filled the room.  Like it use to.  Whether it was on an album or from my fingers, classical music was in my life.  I wanted to master not only the piano, but my knowledge of that kind of music.  Maybe it stems from my childhood when my Dad had all of these classical cassette tapes.  Or maybe it was just because I had a piano and I knew how to play it.   I could play to the point where I locked my own mind out, and subconsciously my fingers would move, until the Clare de Lune moved me to tears. 

So, I played that music the other day, and I'd forgotten how wonderful it makes me feel. 

I don't know what the solution is right now.  I have to work.  I have to put in long hours.

But, I have to get back to the way things were. 

I have to get back to the things that use to move my soul.

I have to get back to pushing my body to do amazing things. 

I have to get back to jumping in without fear and swimming even when the current and the clothes on your back drag you down. 

So, tonight I will go to bed early.  Because tomorrow I want to get up early and run with the dawn. 

I'll even leave the twinkling lights on tonight, just to make it easier to wake.  



Birthday Boxes

You know it's going to be a good time when this shows up on your door.

And when he picks up these.

So, I picked up this. 

The light in the living room is terrible. 



In honor of K's birth, we dined on seafood and played Wii all evening. And argued over who should be thanked. 

K should be thanked because if it weren't for him, we wouldn't have crab and mussels, and to die for smoked salmon sent to our door.

But, then again, we should thank his mom because, well, there would be no K at that table.


Really though, I should be thanked because if I didn't move, then there would be no shipping of the seafood.  Although, we wouldn't need to ship it because it would be next door. 

We just thanked my parents though because they sent it.

So, we ate crab then beat the shit out of each other on the TV.

You jealous?

Happy Bday, K (and Dad, and Jon). 

Terrible light.