an eventful day

What stinks about not blogging for awhile is that, in retrospect, nothing seems important enough to say a week later. Not that it's riveting, must-read material in the here and now, but -- maybe it's the ghost of my journalism professor, taunting me that old news is worthless. I suppose I could pretend that everything happened yesterday! Let's do that.

Wow, yesterday was a wild day! I did SO MUCH STUFF.

For one thing, I went to a restaurant a few blocks from where I work for the first time. I've been wanting to go there ever since I spotted it, at least a year ago, so this was in fact true excitement. I used to eat out more, but it became frowned upon by The Powers That Be around here a few years ago, so now we mostly spend 'lunchtime' hovering over our keyboards, dropping bits of food into them and giving the computer techs fits, not to mention nauseating each other with our smelly food.
So my coworker and I went to Elephant and Castle. Fun stuff! I should research more about it before I blab on and on, but -- well, if you're that interested, look it up yourself. I'm assuming it's a chain. As you might guess from the name, it's (as Lizzy would say) pretending to be a British pub. Or as much like one as you're gonna get around these parts. Except, I guess, Irish pubs... So, well, whatever. I had a lovely shepherd's pie and treated myself to a pint of Strongbow cider. The first alcoholic drink I ever had. (I was 20, and was living in a place where drinking was legal at 18. Just had to point that out.) Even better than I remember! It's not my custom to drink at lunchtime -- most of the time, as I said, that'd be tippling at my desk -- but I figured I wouldn't be too loopy over one pint. I forgot one key detail, though -- I'm sort of an old person now. Which means that alcohol basically puts me to sleep (when did this start happening?). So I propped my eyelids open all afternoon.

That actually did occur yesterday, by the way. Also "yesterday" -- actually last Saturday -- I did something rather unlike me, which speaks of my desperation to lose a few pounds (in a healthy way) before the wedding. I joined a, well, not exactly an athletic club -- judge for yourself. I actually do consider myself some degree of athletic -- a lapsed athlete, shall we say? Or a lazy one? Is there such a thing? If there's such a thing as a lazy athlete, my father will attest that this is what I am. :) So I'm quite at home in any old athletic club or workout facility. This particular option appeals for a few reasons: It's fast (I can talk the significant other into springing me loose for a half hour, plus time for transport, with fair regularity); and ... well, it's fast. Okay, maybe that was my only reason. Also, it's fairly near our house. Sort of. It's not as far away as the county rec center place. And it does have a set program. You're not even ALLOWED to do more than a half hour. It's far too peppy for my taste -- I'd rather go in and get out on my own terms, and not have anyone shrieking encouragement as I lift weights -- but I think I can take it for a year or so. It's clearly for a certain, ahem, not-so-athletic type who does want to get in some semblance of shape and be healthy. In fact, it seems to be marketing itself strongly toward the heftier-built woman. The woman who gave me the initial spiel even told another woman there that I was "her goal weight." I had to fight not to grimace, I'll be honest. I guess it's all relative.
I can't resist telling a story I heard third-hand about a friend who is likely to be reading this post (sorry, T!). She strongly suspects she was denied membership because she was 'too skinny.' Not that they SAID that of course, but ... I laughed and laughed when I heard that. Yes. I don't doubt it. Another oddity of this place: I heard not fewer than three songs that were either overt praise or by Christian artists in the 45 minutes or so that I was there. I asked the woman if the business was founded by Christians, and she delivered the smoothest diversion of topic I've seen in quite some time. Poor lady. I wonder if the tunes have been a liability for some? It's all re-done to absurdly peppy beats, so I doubt it's that uncomfortable -- or even obvious? -- to those who don't know the songs already. But I was amused by the evasive non-answer. Nothing like "Here I am to worship/Here I am to bow down/Here I am to say that you're my God" set to a house tempo at 80 beats a minute. Woo!
I didn't actually do the circuit workout that day; merely signed up, pledged my financial life away for a year and had my body fat tested. Yes, folks, I'm clinically considered obese. Woo-wee! Not that I'm superficial enough to care, of course... Drat. You all know that I am, though.

Next topic: Paint. You know someone loves you when they'll spend the afternoon slapping a black trim on the porch roof because you told them you thought it would look good. They respectfully disagreed, but did it anyway. And now it looks like some sort of Lego construct, and they will have to cover it up with approximately six coats of white paint to repair the damage. Because Matt was right in the first place about what color it should have been.

Lizzy had her ear surgery "yesterday" (Friday) -- ear tubes in, adenoids out. Everything went fine, except that she chose the recovery time as an excuse to take a 2-hour nap. I was envisioning getting home first, so the time could be spent constructively. But the sick kid gets what the sick kid wants, is my motto. I forgot how annoyingly repetitive these things can be. At least five or six nurses and doctors asked if Lizzy had allergies, if she had loose teeth, if I understood what was happening, etc. No, no and yes -- and the answers will be the same each time y'all ask. I can imagine my approach to the malpractice suit: "Hey, they only asked three times whether she was allergic to this medicine! Not five or six! So I totally deserve to cash in." Anyway, Lizzy's doing well. The horrid, something-died-in-her-throat breath the doc warned us might occur wasn't any worse than her usual morning breath (ha!), so that was good. But she's her usual really happy or really cranky self.

I finally got to see the Stavlund's adorable Miss Ella last night. Oh MY! What a sweet little round pink, slightly fuzzy head. It was better yet to see them, and meet some amazing friends of theirs who generously treated the houseful to a mini-concert. Cool stuff. I don't usually get such treats on weekday nights. And these people had a unique way of ... hm. Inviting clarity, perhaps? As I talked to them, and listened to them perform, it was so easy to be in the moment -- petty things seemed unimportant, and I felt like I was sitting in a place of depth. Of scope. That I could see possibilities. Which was funny, because these people would seem to be at quite a crossroads -- having a baby in four or five months, having less of a "home" than the average person would consider strictly wise... And yet, it was so clear that they were, and would be, provided for. That they had nothing to worry about. Really, who among us does? But it's hard to stay in that moment of perspective. Nice to see it every once in awhile.
Neat to see a few other friends from church there, too. I've been feeling somewhat socially starved lately. And I get to see more church friends on Friday night. Yay! Yay for friends. I got to see some old (old as far as D.C.-era friends go, anyway) last Saturday, too. We had a going-away for two wonderful sets of buddies -- Dottie and her hubby, and the J's. Upon recommendations received at that function, Matt and I watched Anchorman the following night. He had seen it before, of course. I suspect I could have done without the poo-eating joke, but I'm told that wasn't in the theatrical release. Otherwise, hilarious. Very quotable, indeed.

I've been staying up late a lot recently to read a new (to me) series of books by Laurie King, based on the premise that Sherlock Holmes, in his older (late 50s) years, took a young apprentice and eventually married her. Sounds pretty flimsy, but it really works! She's a good writer. I think she put it a wee over the top in the bit I read last night, though, when our protagonist (the woman) offhandedly mentioned that she met a new acquaintance at the Eagle and Child in Oxford -- a fellow named Tolkien. Ehhh, cute, but let's leave the true greats alone, shall we? Anyway, if you're not too particular about keeping canon pure, and like a fun mystery, I recommend the books.

Today, I got hold of the woman who (supposedly?) coordinates affairs at the inn where we're having our reception. We're due to meet next weekend to discuss some actual (gasp!) details. Here's hoping that meeting actually happens.