Did you know that six is six in English and also six in French? I’m taking French next semester, and I am excited. I took it back in high school and loved it so much that I went to France. I loved that, too. Anyway, week six.
Six weeks, 42 days. That’s a good chunk of time, and then again, it’s nothing at all. It’s going quickly and it’s going slowly; these hot, carefree days are both flying and inching as I look to the days when my life will be filled with chaos yet again, when I’ll always have something due and somewhere to be and no time for the gym. Or for sleep, for that matter. I’m both holding on to the days left and yearning for August. It’s all a little bittersweet, everything happening so quickly and slowly at the same time.
But anyway, this sixth week was sweller than swell. Last weekend gave me a full day-albeit a busy one- with my family, and on Sunday, I packed up and made the drive back to Atlanta. After being with the munchkins all day, every day last week, I think we were all ready for a break from each other, and just like that, God gave us Vacation Bible School (literally!) This meant I had mornings totally free (though I did spend an average of an hour and a half a day in carpool lines. Luckily, I am not a super busy mom who has super busy mom things to do, so I really didn’t mind.) We spent our afternoons at the pool or getting ice cream because hey, nothing cheers up a Monday afternoon like an ice cream cone covered in sprinkles. Am I right? We did lunch at Chick-Fil-A one day and the kids played in the play area-that place is crazy intense at lunch time. Those children are much braver than I for stepping foot in there; you’re liable to get a black eye on the slide or get yelled at by someone’s mom or lose your shoes or get kicked on the slide and get yelled at for coming down backwards by someone’s mom who just put your shoes on her kid. I’ll keep my shoes on and supervise on the other side of the plexi glass, thank you very much. I’m just not the young daredevil I once was.
This week I’ve taken to taking twilight walks, usually
heading to the lake in the neighborhood to watch the sun set. The rain’s hindered that a night or two, but it’s been lovely none the less. I also baked a cake, put together a photo album of my entire childhood, and shaved my legs. Productivity at it’s finest, Internet. I’ve exercised a whole lot and eaten fairly healthily and gotten a hair cut and week six was pretty good to me.
Let me end, though, with Awkward Story of the Week. I woke up this morning early and exercised and drove three hours, and when I got to Prattville, I ran all sorts of errands. My last one was a hair cut, something I’m not fond of doing (too much opportunity for some kind of bad, bad change to happen.) So, I am sitting in the waiting area, really just wanting to get it over with so I can finally get home. I was dreaming of a nap, because I was exhausted. Anyway, I have been sitting for a few minutes when a woman- probably in her mid-20’s- asks me if the chair next to me is taken. No, I say, curious why she would sit next to me when there’s A WHOLE WAITING AREA, and you know, she was sort of large, and I just didn’t see why sitting in the chair right next to me made sense. She asked me how I was doing and I smiled and said, “Good, how are you?” At this point, I am in no mood for small talk; I just want to trim my split ends and get the heck out of there. She looks at me and says, matter-of-factly, “It’s been the worst week of my life.” I’m not sure what to say. I mean, what do you say, Internet? Do you offer a hug and an encouraging word? Do you lay hands and start praying? Do you nod politely and casually move a chair down?
You know, at this point, I am thinking that perhaps she just needed to get it off her chest, and so I apologize for her bad week and then sort of zone back out. She proceeds to call her friend and detail her entire week: her boyfriend Josh broke up with her (it’s because of the cute girl he met at work; she’s dating someone, but they exchanged 327 texts in two days according to the phone bill), Granny has pneumonia and trust me, it has not been pretty, and she’s been working all week. This conversation went on for at least 15 minutes, and I am ready to ditch my hair cut plans and LEAVE, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to get to a different chair. In the midst of detailing Granny’s chest x-ray, she burst into tears that continued for the rest of the phone call. I tried to politely surf Facebook on my own phone, but it was obvious, of course, that I could hear everything. When she hung up the phone, she looked at me, wiped a tear away and said, “I told you it’d been a bad week.” I was speechless. I mumbled about being sorry again, blushed because she was still crying, and then got my name called so I could get a hair cut. It was the most awkward half hour I experienced all week long, that’s for sure. Here’s a word of advice, reader: make those personal phone calls some place more personal than a waiting area with a bunch of perfect strangers listening in. Kleenexless perfect strangers at that.
This next week is more kid-wrangling, but tomorrow is a very special Janie Parker’s 20th birthday, and I get to go be there with her while she celebrates it. And Gracie is coming too! Hip, hip hooray for a reunion. I also learned this week that Gracie’s taking me to the beach July 14-18. Ah, tis so nice to have friends who like to vacation with me. So there are lots of things to look forward to, and I can’t wait!