My family is so strange. Here’s a conversation (mostly) unrelated to anything else:
Sis: “Being quirky is different from being weird. It’s just seeing things differently, like, ‘Look! I see a two legged llama.’”
I was still trying to work out some sort of context for this remark, when Roomie piped up with an answer as promptly and confidently as if she was answering a question in class.
Roomie: “Oh, like an ostrich.”
Sis: “What? No, I mean if you were looking at a cloud or something.”
Me (uncontrollable laughter): “My abs hurt!”
Roomie: “I don’t really know what I was thinking. Ostrich just seemed appropriate.”
Mum: “You know Anna’s going to write about this in her blog now.”
I’m on vacation at the beach this week. I’m working on my suntan. It’s funny how I feel like I’m being productive if I’m getting a tan. I’m not JUST lying around and reading a book; I’m ALSO getting a tan. Somehow, this line of reasoning works for me. I have no guilt. I haven’t done any writing and my leisurely three-mile run on the beach this morning was the most exercise I’ve gotten all week.
Since, as my Dad put it, I usually “need to be busy 190 percent of the time,” I’m feeling pretty accomplished with my non-guilt this week. But I’m ready to get back to my life. My complete unenthusiasm for the stress and the mess of the email inbox that awaits me at work is at least countered by the alluring torture of heavy lifting after a week of eating EVERYTHING I’m not supposed to and marathon training that has to start in earnest shortly after I get back.
And that combination of activities is what this post was really meant to be about. But now I’ve written much too much for this to just be an intro. I need to separate it into two posts. The writer in me is crying out for continuity or focus or some such nonsense, and the vacationer in me is complaining that actually FINISING a post that long is asking much too much from my water-logged brain.
I PROMISE I will write that real post tomorrow … or sometime soon.