wow, one weekend-long headache and trish is a bit grumpy and distracted on an mangled monday morning. i will go with the commenter (and dear friend) who blames all of this pain on my obvious and glorious summer awakening (unrelated to my individual disgruntled morning awakenings, or dreary middle of the night toddler-soothing awakenings of late). my headache and flagging attitude, along with a busy monday schedule, mean that these paragraphs will be short today.
i’m trying and mostly succeeding at keeping my momentum and optimism in play every day, despite several anchors and irritants that i’m suddenly dragging through the sand and my eyes. i’ve got a 105lb dog with the runs…and subsequently, a house that smells largely of dog farts, nuanced by the pungent cat food scent wafting around the main floor. tomorrow is garbage day…it’s a veritable cacophony of subtle monday morning stenches. i’m sure my toddler’s room will be refreshing after her unsettled night in diapers. thank goodness for the strong smell of coffee and febreze noticeables.
i started this blog weeks ago with a “hey, i wrote something” entry, and today i will keep it going with largely the same sentiment. a baby crying, a neck hurting, a dog farting and a monday sun hanging high already…this day is asking a lot of my patience and Love and dwindling coffee bean supply. i’m here this morning at my computer like a gym hamster on a LifeFitness wheel of words…workin’ muscles just to say i did. it’s hard to feel the value of that kind of practice in the moment…the begrudged breaths, cynical muscles, stretched linguistics, rolling eye strains…but somehow just having pushed your way through it…through the base running drills and cardio climbs…by drinking down the metaphor milk and pushing through more word crunches…it all helps…it all checks a box, feeds another dream, inspires another wish and turns “one days” into “todays,” much to my own surprise sometimes. it’s how we humans operate, even though we can’t always see the process in play. i’m falling for the romance of the word my father tried so hard to sell…discipline.
so as i ramble through some sentences, and trudge through some morning prep and an office drive, i will sip at my coffee beans, find my gratitude and a bottle of aleve, and pat myself on the back for a run or two around the wonder wheel. i’ll start the day and my interactions as gently as a i can…push the aerobics instructor voices out of my head and out of my way, cheer and sneer at the morning joggers on my commute, and shake hands with this week that promises much…as much as i make of it.
peace, kids. and you too roscoe…that last airy audible, i’m sure, is wafting my way with olfactory gifts…and that’s my cue…
Minus the gaseous canine (thankfully mine is not in this state; however, having just fed her leftovers…) I feel like we’re in a moderately similar state: fussy toddler (sniffles), restless sleep (if any) and sore muscles. And a potentially foul mood to boot.
Wrestling through my own issues, friend. Just wanted you to know you don’t struggle alone. Not sure if this is sympathy pain for you or if I’m just still far more screwed up than I thought, but I’m wrestling as well.
And to keep the wrestling analogy going: although I long for a bell to signal the end of this, I – sickeningly – want the match to continue until it is done, done, done. I don’t want this fight again.
wrestling…i know i’m on a break from my mega cage match, and wrestling a two year old is enough of a cool down. i don’t like to think about the reality that wrestling matches get scheduled without my consent…and that they are inevitable in life’s undulations. it’s easy to brag about the beauty of them once you’ve pinned down your lesson or sometimes just survived it. but you are a seeker, my friend, a transformative human and benevolent force. striving like that finds us restless often. take it easy on you and just feel, feel, feel. i will feel some goodness back your way to balance things out.