Monday, July 07, 2003

Whew, what a weekend. My resolve to write at least every other day is wavering. I'll commit to a more stringent schedule from here on out. In my defense, my husband was with me every waking second of the weekend, and I'm not ready for him to delve into my mysterious ramblings just yet. Or ever.

Saturday brought a surprise invitation from Joe's dad and wife to go golfing. Now, I've never been one to deal well with organized sports and the feelings of unneccessary competition that go along with it, but I find as I'm getting older I'm much more mellow about this type of stuff. And since the alternative was to spend the Fourth of July with Creepy Board Game Cheater, we put the dog in his crate and locked the door behind us before the phone could ring and reel us into a less appetizing family event.

The golf outing was arranged by Joe's stepmother's brother, a baptist millionaire who made his money selling Amway products. They had the MTV Cribs house, complete with surname splashed in a gaudy display across the marble doorway, and six cars in the garage, one of them an $80,000 Mercedes. I felt like I was in Houston, where my oil-baron maternal grandfather has set-up shop in a feng-shui'd mansion with all the silliest acroutements you could imagine (read: mini-bar in the master bath). I gripped my 4-year-old's hand like a vice, and immediately regretted shaving only the bottom half of my legs. I also felt silly wearing the maternity t-shirt I threw on earlier, but at least that was clean. Until I spilled ice tea all over myself 10 minutes after arriving. I'm such a jerk.

But after we made it out onto the golf course, things got better. I'd never been golfing before, never ever. Which is puzzling because my father love to golf and brings his clubs everywhere, so you'd think he'd have taught me a thing or two along the way. Despite my utter lack of golf skills, I managed to do okay. I even hit "best ball" once or twice. My husband didn't nag me, I didn't feel the crushing embarassment I usually do when I'm forced to play sports. It was a beautiful day, I needed the exercise and the company. I'm pretty sure I'll remember it always.

I won't go into the rest of the day, because, quite frankly, you'd be so bored you'd shoot yourselves in the face. So I'll leave it at that.

This morning I dropped my daughter off at her pre-school, and as I bent down to kiss her good-bye, I had this unsurmountable urge to stay and hang out with her all day. I wanted to sit on the carpet in a circle next to her and sing songs, and say silly things like, "Barbie really wants to go swimming in the potty today," and eat Teddy Grahams and drink 2% milk out of dixie cups. And kiss her on her plump cheeks whenever I wanted to. Instead I turned around and walked out of the building, lecturing myself that if I really wanted more freedom with my life, all I had to do was make it happen. Find out the first steps in freelance writing and web design, then do it.

So I spent all day in my cube reading slate and watching the live doppler images on my local news' weather site. Maybe tomorrow I'll change my life.

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