A blood drive out at, of all places, Westport Winery. I gave blood almost exactly a year ago in the same bus (and interestingly when I checked just now, I see last year’s phone photo shows the same American Red Cross worker; he had longer hair then). Today I practiced the meditative breathing I always find helpful before being poked, swabbed, and stabbed. Ugh.
Meanwhile the kids raided the bus’ fridge of juice and granola bars.
Probably my favorite moment today was about four minutes after the above photo, inside the Winery restaurant where I was talking to a perfectly nice young man, and Nels, who was wearing his “tuxedo” jacket and looking quite formal in demeanor, politely walked up and asked this man and I, “Are you going to cheat on my dad?”
SERIOUSLY I am rarely at a loss for words but I had just given blood without hydrating first. Before I untangled myself (because, Conversation Over at that point) Nels had informed this man how he had the Best Dad Ever and he didn’t want anyone getting in the way of that. Holy god.
I drank tomato juice, water, coffee, and had a half a sandwich. It was a nice lunch.
I love Phoenie’s little emo-mullet.
Lately:
Nels lost his first top tooth on New Year’s Day. Yes, I am just about dying because his smile is so cute. Yes, I no longer have babies if all their baby teeth are falling out everywhere. Can you believe Nels’ smile? It reminds me of someone.
Skating at the Harborena, where they are keeping costs trim by not heating the place, and I had to go home early. Ralph pretend-grew a beard for two days and got my hopes up.
I got a little bit of sewing done today, but frankly I was a bit tired out. I don’t think it’s that normal to be tired after donating blood, but I might just be down after a lot of work lately. I’ve been low energy. I would like to get back to sewing a few things, as I have a special deadline on February 1st. We’ll just have to see how it goes.
“Try to think of a more boring sentence”, yes I know.
I have a special deadline on February 1st as well – my dear daughter turns eight-fucking-teen years old! My mind is struggling to wrap itself around that – she’s excited to vote this year and I imagine her and her best friend will bring many political discussions into this space with that whole wonderful vigor the brand new voters often do.
The fatigue? The weary life can not seriously be meant to be this exhausting fatigue? I am SO SORRY you are experiencing this <3
@Kate a.k.a. The Secret Goddess
Wow… eighteen years old. That is amazing. I know even though my kids are little that the time will fly!
I am not QUITE that exhausted (I have been before, though), but yes… fatigue. Sometimes it is hard for me to accept. Thank you for your comment, and your kind words.