Because that’s when I’ve awakened at least three mornings this week, including today. You would think I still had a child in early morning seminary!
I have not just been sitting around, twiddling my fingers, however; I spent most of the past three and a half hours in my studio, moving things around and growing increasingly more pleased with each tweak. The walking about, shuffling of boxes, emptying and moving and refilling bookcases, bending and stretching, et al, have been like a really productive variation on the theme of yoga. The standing and thinking and scratching my head about where to shift the tower bookcase have sent a good deal of the lymph in my body racing for my left ankle, and to a lesser extent, the right. I need to spend an hour or so on my back, with my feet up a wall like I learned in yoga class when I was rehabbing my broken leg (and frankly that was my favorite part of the class, as it was the only part where I felt like I halfway knew what I was doing).
I have also done a modicum of knitting this morning, always a pleasant thing to do. I need to figure out what I am taking to the ballpark this afternoon. Yes, I am stepping waaaaay out of my comfort zone. I bought inexpensive seats for a friend’s daughter’s fundraiser several months ago, and this is the day when I get to watch my sweetheart and some of my friends enjoy the game. Lest I sound like a martyr, there is something in it for me, as well: we are dining first at Chop House Burgers, and picking up two T-shirts which Beloved ordered. We are looking forward to wearing them to the next Empty Nesters dinner. They say something on the order of “Practice safe eating. Use condiments.”
Beloved found the folding cooler. He already has some bottles of water in the freezer, and others chilling. We are going to pick up some snack foods, although if I clean my plate at Chop House, there will be no room at the inn so far as I am concerned.
Breakfast, first, and then shopping, and then a nap, and then you should pray for me, or for those sitting around me who will be subjected to my general ignorance [nay, agnosticism] on the subject of baseball.
If you’re watching the Rangers game, and the camera pans across a woman who looks suspiciously like me, melting in the Texas heat and looking anywhere but the field, do not adjust your set. Or your meds. You’re not (necessarily) hallucinating.