I love Saturdays.
O used to play golf on both Saturday and Sunday, but for the past three months or so (since everything has been going on with Chris and Amy) he has taken Saturday off and we’ll leave the house in the morning in search of adventure. We go antiquing, stroll down memory lane in my hometown, have lunch at our favorite restaurants, go for long drives out in the country, or treasure hunt at auctions in the area.
My former friend E and I used to have a saying – “Out of my head – out of my house.” Basically it meant that if we spent too much time alone in our homes thinking thinking thinking about whatever was troubling us, it was very easy to forget that there was a whole big bright world out there that has absolutely nothing to do with us or our concerns. Therefore, it was important for us to get out into the world on a regular basis, even if it was as simple as going to the bookstore or sitting in the park reading in the sunshine for awhile. It helped improve attitude and perspective and overall mental health
So Saturday has become a big “out of my head – out of my house” day for me recently.
Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day. O and I hit a couple of garage sales, had some lunch, and then drove to shop at the Unclaimed Bagg*age Center. You may have heard of it – it was on Oprah once years ago. Basically this company purchases all the unclaimed luggage/contents from the airlines and resells it. (Yes, THAT’S where the lost suitcase full of your very favorite clothes ended up when the airline lost it! There’s a housewife in Boaz Alabama who loves your favorite yellow skirt – the one that magically takes 5 pounds off your hips.) Man alive, it was like shopping on Black Friday. People were blocking aisles, crowding counters, running into each other with buggies and completely oblivious to everything but the bargains they were looking for. I don’t have a lot of tolerance for that, but O and I did spend about an hour wandering around and looking at all the stuff. It was just so nice to be able to turn off the “I-want-to-be-Chris’-mother-so-badly-that-I-can-hardly-stand-it-but-I-can’t-do-anything-about-it” thoughts for a while. Turned off until we found ourselves in the kids’ section, that is.
It was simply instinct to go over and see if they had any shoes that would fit Chris’ feet, which resemble quickly-growing boat paddles. I wasn’t looking in anticipation of him coming to live with us, but rather I wanted to get them for his foster mom who is bankrupting herself trying to keep the kid in shoes – or for Amy, should she be able to get him back. I didn’t find anything, but left feeling the deflated, unsettled hopefulness that has been my constant companion for the past few months.
Truth be told, I wish I could just fall asleep for about 3 weeks and wake up to find out what was going to happen. Of course, given our luck on this foster/adopt journey, I would wake up to find that everything was continued for another month or 4.
And yes, I realize that I don’t REALLY want to miss the next three weeks of my life. I’d miss a lot of opportunities to smooch my husband, a lot of cute monkey moments (we call our dog and cats “monkeys”), and some wonderful time spent with friends and family. Oh, and I’d miss the 2-hour episode of “Deadliest Catch” which will be a tribute to Captain Phil Harris. I plan to cry my way through the entire 120 minutes.
Hey . . . I'd also miss the next episode of the "Real Housewives of New Jersey" where Jacqueline's daughter gets arrested for assaulting Danielle.
Maybe that 3-week nap isn't such a bad idea after all.
