Sunday, January 23, 2011

Dusting Off The Cobwebs of My Mind....

Mike is out of town this weekend.  I am in the middle of a weekend spent entirely at home (other than when I went to pick up Anthony at his friend's house this morning and when I venture to the store tomorrow for milk).
I am currently at the tail end of a day spent almost entirely in my head (other than brief conversations with my kids, my mother, and my boyfriend).  I need that sometimes, to center myself and just be with me for a bit.  I'm an awesome person to hang out with, you know.  I haven't had a completely quiet day like this in a long time and I don't even remember the last time I have stayed at home for an entire weekend.  No schedule, no one to entertain, no rushing.  "Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing...", Winnie the Pooh says.  I need to remember that sometimes.  And I really didn't "do nothing" today.  I slept in a little, made a nice brunch that I ate while listening to Frank Sinatra with the windows/doors open, cleaned my floors, worked out for an hour, made a fabulous stir fry for's been a good day.
"You've Got Mail" is on TV right now and I just spent the last few hours watching "Sex In The City" reruns.  Watching others write for half the day is compelling me to do the same.  I just love that show.  I need to get the box set of all the seasons.  I think it's funny how every woman has a character in the show that they identify with.  In actuality, I think every woman has a character that she wants to BE.  Thinking about this exact thing while watching the show (I was trying to figure out which character I most identify with...I already know I want to be Carrie) I came to this realization:  we are all a combination of all four.  We are.  Why did the song "I'm Every Woman" just pop in my head??  Right now I am sporting my usual messy, curly knot on top of my head, writing down my inner monologue (Carrie), stroking my romantic girly side by watching a chick flick (Charlotte - who I least identify with), yet enjoying my alone time and independence (Miranda), and speaking of stroking...I desperately need to get laid (Samantha).  No romance, just
:sigh: Stop it, Chicken.
Ok.  Next subject.  That's not happening tonight, so let's just move on.

I haven't had much to write about lately.  I've been eating better and exercising, which I am enjoying.  I feel better than I did at the end of last year.  Things with Mike are lovely.  I wish he was here to reach over and put his hand on my leg, like he has the habit of doing.  I was reminded of him tonight, while watching Sex In The City.  Miranda freaked out when her boyfriend, Steve, told her that he wanted to move in with her.  She loved him, but was torn as to why she was having such a problem with that level of commitment.  She decided it was because she was independent, liked her space, and because she was not a domestic "girly girl".  When she begins to miss him, she invites him over to make dinner for him, in order to prove to herself (and to him) that she can be that girl that would be overjoyed at the thought of having her boyfriend move in.  Things climaxed when she came home late, stressed out, trying to make everything perfect, but wasn't succeeding...she goes into a freak out about how she can't cook, she doesn't wash clothes for sometimes 2 weeks, and how her kitchen sponges smell bad.  If he moves in, he'll see all those things that aren't perfect about her...being vulnerable and imperfect is scary for her.  Of course he tells her that he's "not going anywhere, no matter what" and she lets him move in.  I understood completely.

So, other than having a gloriously un-busy, unscheduled weekend...there isn't much else. The kids are doing well.  They need some activities, so I'm finally enrolling Autumn in her hip hop class I promised her.  Anthony mentioned the other day that he wanted to box.  I just happened to get an email tonight from a place down the street that offers kid's boxing/kickboxing classes.  I'm checking it out.  But not tomorrow.  I have some more dusting to do.

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