Steve and I stopped in some antique stores in upstate new York. While I never know what to do with any of the things, be they barrels or old toys, I always always want them. But never buy. Because then I would be a person who buys antiques. And that sounds exhausting.
A tub of almond butter, a steve with a snow shovel and 600 miles later. And here’s the cute as heck picture to prove it. MY MOM IS PRETTY LIKE A DOLL.
Hide you secrets! Bust out your granola bars and public radio! I’m driving up to Brooklyn today with my Mom! Pray for us both please. The car, the road, our sanities.
I just found this picture which is allegedly some part of Brooklyn right now but simultaneously the set of The walking dead: season 2: BROOKLYN. Looking at all of these pictures of people sleeping on luggage carousels and buried buses I simultaneously am so glad I’m not there but also really really want to be, like I need to be with my ship, when it is burning, going down, or caked in snow.
Cold and travel frustration today pushed me straight into the arms of the Clemmons YMCA indoor track and cardio room, where high school Bekah used to ‘work out.’. Suddenly, it all came back to me. My yellow discman and I Self consciously sweating on the elliptical, pigtails perfect, freaking out whenever someone cool from my high school walked by, hoping to God they wouldn’t look at me. (Though I was on that ellipitcal so they would, eventually, look at me.) It was then that I realized that I am pretty much still the same, and probably always will be. People don’t change, they just age ten years and have epiphanies each time they do, about how much they haven’t. Changed.
Woe = me!! I’m stranded in NC until Friday am. Oh well, I guess I will have to eat a lot of brownies and hang out with my Mom and ransack more goodwills. Also this totally throws a wrench in Steve and I’s Vermont plans. Gross. But Really, it could be worse, it’s just really frustrating when my anal retentive control issues plans are foiled, and EVERY ONE ELSE GETS TO FLY BACK HOME AS SCHEDULED except for me just because I booked today instead of Tomorrow. I kind of just need to chill out about it. Or hitch hike.
Sometimes the writerly part of my brain just shuts down. When its exhausted it lets me know by refusing to produce creative thought but instead things like ‘strawberries are like – crazy’ and ‘whoa – being home is like – being at home.’ Usually I beat myself up when I get like this. Instead, this year, I am giving my brain a holiday break and giving myself permission, instead, to fill up on shrimp cocktail, Community and and JoDee Messina, which most likely do not correlate with the increase of intelligence levels, at all.
I can’t remember the last time we had actual snow to play in. And so, play we did! With matching outfits! Snowpersons!
My mom reunited with her inner villainous child who sneaks up on you and throws snow on your head; Tim rediscovered his lacrosse stick,
and Pete invented SnowManBall.
Not pictured: Dan and Pete later body slamming the snowman and myself sort of awkwardly milling about while the boys rail me in the face with snowballs.