Thursday, June 16, 2011


Summer evenings are so sweet. Opening the house expands our cramped space and makes me feel less confined.  Just now I shut off the air and opened everything so I could type and pretend I'm on a porch, vacationing.  I love the night air even when it's muggy or hot.  I'm anxious to have some time in the great outdoors (or the great close to outdoors) soon.  A room with a view would be nice, but for now we're all very content to settle into our little nightly routine even if there's a fence just a few feet away from the open window.

When E and I were first married I took it as a negative sign that we naturally kept opposite schedules.  I'm awake early in the morning (and with the advent of Thing 1 and Thing 2, early has been much much earlier) and by about 9:00 I'm ready to be in a state of near-sleep.  He's just waking to the world between 9:00 and 10:00 AM, and at night he likes to surround himself with junk food and XBox accoutrements on the couch until the last bit of energy drains from his eyelids.  To me, the idea of falling asleep on the couch is just... icky.  If I fall asleep there then eventually I'll have to wake up and come to bed (or I'll just wake up cranky at 5:00 AM because I accidentally slept on the couch).  That's why God invented the second DVR in the bedroom, and whole-house networking.  Duh.

No, no.  I'm much happier when I can come to bed early, write, peruse a magazine, pet my cats, breathe some summer air, do my physical therapy and stretches, and then read or settle into a few episodes of LOST before I pass out to the solitude of my own thoughts.  I like this time of day and honestly I'm probably better off if I'm not talking to anyone when I'm so tired.  I don't mind that he's out there.  I can (and do) go hug him whenever I want.  He doesn't mind that I pass out just after the sun drops behind the horizon.  I don't begrudge him a weekend sleep-in anymore because it means I have some quiet time to myself without the kids.  Opposite schedules?  Really not as important as I believed around 2001 or so.

Tonight I'm just wrapping up my (third set of) foam rollin' for the ol' hip and I've gone through my series of theraband exercises, lunges, and stretches while I tackle the lesser of all chores: clearing out the TiVo.  The only person who seems to have a problem with the routine this evening is this one:


She'll forgive me, though, as soon as I rub her belly.  Cat's like a freaking dog.

The crickets just started to chirp.  A train rumbles by.  Everything smells warm and earthy.  The stinging heat I felt this morning on the track has vanished and left a wam glow.  I swear I can smell the green of my vegetable garden.  I could swim in this still air.

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