This morning, my 75-year-old father and I went swimming. Now, keep in mind I swam for the majority of my young-adult, acne coated life and so I was expecting to jump in and grow my mer-tail, open my gills, and swim 2,343,375,743 laps. But, life doesn’t work that way, eh? Life reminds you that if you haven’t swam in the last five years and you were too busy with beers and trivia nights…then you’re going to drowned. Period.
I didn’t drown. But, I did have noodle arms after my tip-top seventy-six laps and looked longingly at the Australian male, with full-view pecks in the other lane who’s muscles were contorting while mine were falling flat. It’s always nice to sink to the bottom of a pool and float along that black line, or kick it old school and have a short tea party (without forgetting the crumpets) alone in the chlorine.
And I know I’ve needed to blog, instead of trying to exercise and eat healthier because writing TOTALLY outweighs eating in my life, although I may only say that because I have my choice of foods at my parents house and in the apartment I lived on ravioli and cracker packets. Like everyone else, I have no excuse other than I’ve been busy with everyday life. Lots of hours at the RR Loft, organizing the carpets and breaking the clock when we tried to hang it and then lots of hours at the teen center teaching 8th graders how to slow dance for their big formal before high school. We also watched youtube videos on how to fashion a tie and then did a demonstration – Real World 101 at St. Monica’s.
Then, there’s class. I’m studying to be a teacher (more school after I have a degree), because as my father puts it I’m a “professional student.” I haven’t really come out and told the blogosphere this, since it’s a long time coming and I need to be a regular career gal who can support her cat and book habits. But, I am. Somewhere in the metropolis of a North Carolina capital, I will be teaching English (and fingers crossed, creative writing) to teenagers only writing bad love notes to one another.
I’m looking forward to my best friends wedding in about … three ish weeks – no really, exactly three weeks. How exciting! I have a cute little picnic dress and amazing diamond-blazin’ sandals to wear with it and I get to stand up for Sarah Dion and Josh Drummond’s announcement of love. I’m a gushing best friend, like a mother, but without all those labor pains and years of grief. Don’t worry, during the week, there WILL be pictures. And a few days before that the Aussie best friends arrive and we will be celebrating their falling in love with the United States and refusing to return to Australia. Cheers!
I guess that’s all, for an update on me. Soon, I’ll have books & writing to write about and it won’t be so … me. Hah!