I’ve climbed on folks. The lap bar’s down and I’ve already started tiltin’. Next comes the whirlin’. And I don’t see this ride ending before January.
It started this past weekend with the first of two trips within a month to Palm Springs. Or, as I like to call it, Las Vegas’s older, hotter (not in a good way) and gayer brother. You know a city is full of old people when its major streets are named after Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra and Dinah Shore (Dinah, who?) and not Martin Luther King Jr. But, on the bright side–and I may be perpetuating a stereotype here–I think the large gay population is the reason Palm Springs is so much cleaner and tidier than its younger (and wilder) brother.
So why would a straight woman who doesn’t golf or like the heat, go to Palm Springs twice in four weeks? Well, I do like weekends alone with my husband. Especially when the hotel room and dinners are paid for by someone other than him. Which is why I went last weekend. And I like girlfriends who are celebrating their fortieth birthdays. Which is why I’m going next month. (Also, I like outlet shopping–hubby does not, girlfriends do–and there is that there).
Speaking of girlfriends, I’ve got another quick trip planned with some more of those this coming weekend. That is, if my parents don’t show up to go to a friend’s funeral. In which case, I’ll get to see them for a minute or two, so that’s okay. Even if they are sad. Because who likes to lose a friend unexpectedly? (That may be the vomit part of this ride, actually).
Then there’s that whole week-long school book fair I’m co-chairing. That’s the week I’ll really be spinning. But the next week is our Thanksgiving break, and all I have to do then is drive twelve hours to Utah, make dinner for a lotta people, and then help with my cousin’s wedding reception. Then drive twelve hours back home. So that should be relaxing.
And did I mention I signed up to be Girl 3’s room mom in her school class? Why, you ask? Because being room mom is kind of like giving birth. Once it’s over, you forget how painful it was until you’re in the midst of labor again. Then you wonder why in the hell you signed up for this again. But it’s too late because you can’t go back now.
Plus you love the teacher. And your kid…
Most of the time.
All this is on top of the one to three hours a week I’m volunteering in all three kids’ classes. Oh, and I think there are some holidays coming up too. I maybe should put those on my calendar so I don’t forget.
Then there’s the book I’m about 10,000 words from finishing. Which I thought I could do in a couple weeks, but it’s taking a lot longer than that. I can’t imagine why. But I’ve gotta have it done, edited, and revised before December so I have something to brag about in my Christmas card.
And I may be thinking about doing a triathlon this summer. Which means I’ve been learning how to swim; because I don’t want to be the only one out there wearing those little arm floaty things. There’s been some running involved with that too. And some thinking about biking.
I’ve started to think instead of trying to do everything–none of it very well,–I should pick one thing and get really good at that. But maybe that one thing I’m good at is taking on too many things at one time. That’s something to think about.
In the meantime, I’m just hoping I make it off this ride without a lap full of puke. Because I’m already wondering why I climbed on.