Believe We're Gliding Down the Highway, When in Fact We're Slip Slidin' Away

Girls right before the dance party, when we weren't quite so sweaty.

Well, kids. My weekend took a turn pretty early on and never really righted itself. It started off pretty well. I decided to run a 10 mile route right after work and the weather cooperated by cooling off halfway through my run. It felt really good to go that far. Then, since both my daughters were busy doing their own things, I told some friends I'd meet them out for a drink.

While I was getting ready, I got a call from my friend J, telling me that our friend C's husband had a massive heart attack the night before, and they weren't sure if he was going to make it. C's husband P. is 45 years old. I've also always had a bond with P. because he's one of the few people I've ever met who's had the same kind of childhood as I have. He was orphaned at a young age, and was raised by his aunt and uncle, who were less than kind, just like mine. So, we've talked about our fears of dying young and leaving our kids for someone else to raise many times. The news really threw me for a loop. C was also the teacher who wrote Coadster's letter of recommendation that got her the full tuition scholarship. She said there wasn't much I could do that night, but to be sure to visit the next day.

I went to the Dublin pretty physically and emotionally drained. I told my friends that the only way I'd make it, was if I could blow off some steam with a dance party. They all thought that was a great idea and so we commenced to cut a rug...Or several of them for a few hours. It was fun and exactly what I needed.

I said I liked to dance, I never promised that I looked very good doing it. Um, EGAD!

I woke up in a little bit of a funk on Saturday, that got worse and worse as the day progressed. Luckily, I don't have that happen to me very often. Usually, I'm pretty amazed at how lucky I am and count my stars every night. Every once in a while, I do get all Irish and brood and It's just as annoying to feel that way as it is to hear about it. I figured, I must need to let myself work through the shit and when I was younger, and had a hard time admitting that I had negative emotions, they always came back to bite me in the ass later, a million times worse. So, I rode the wave.

Turns out, the wave wasn't too bad at first. I gave myself a get out of jail free card night on Saturday. Coadster and I had sushi for dinner, and then she went to a party and I stayed at home and drank a beer and watched that movie about Coco Chanel. It was actually really interesting. I just think I need to learn to speak and read French now. Everything she went through sounded so much more beautiful in French.

Fireworks over the Old Capital.

I woke up at 6 am on Sunday to take Stinky to her bus for camp in Northern Minnesota, then came home to my empty house. Coadster was going to the Quad Cities with her dad, so I had the whole day to myself. Normally, I would relish the alone time, but I was still in my funk and it probably wasn't a good time to be stewing by myself. Since I had run too much already that week, I decided to go for a bike ride instead. Of course, it started raining halfway through, and I had to turn back, because I couldn't see very well. The minute I got home, it stopped (of course). After I showered and cleaned my house a bit, I texted my friends to see what time they wanted to go to a party we had planned on going to together. I thought getting out of my house might help. They called me back to inform me that they were already almost there. Apparently, they had forgotten about me. Of course.

On Saturday Coadster and I had stopped by the hospital to see C. She said P was making an incredible recovery. He had "died" several times the night before, only to be revived again and again, and so originally, the doctors weren't very hopeful. But P was showing everyone. He was motioning for pens, since he couldn't speak and he wanted to communicate and he squeezed his wife's hand when she asked if he could hear her. So, I figured, I'd stop by the hospital again, to hang out with C. for a bit. Right before I was getting ready to leave, I got a call from J letting me know that P got his tube removed and that he could talk. C. was spending as much time as she could with him, because he kept waking up and not knowing where he was. She said it probably wasn't a good idea to go visit that day. Of course.

That was it. All my socialization plans were thwarted and I was forced to hang out with myself and the dark cloud I was wearing over my head...Well, at least for most of the day. The night was a different story. I was determined to leave my house. I didn't care whether it was raining or whether anyone else wanted to join me. I needed to get out of my scary brain for a while. It all turned out well. I met G, D and J for fireworks (the rain stopped just during the display) and sat at the Dublin for a beer or two. It was a pretty slow night there, so we did a lot of girl talk and that was just fine with me.

Soooo, now it is that I'll get ready to start my short week. Most of the funk has lifted from my brain and hopefully I've worked out some of the loneliness and self-indulgent wah, wah, wah for a while. I hope your weekend was funk free.