You know how you bust it for about three or four days, then get a really solid night's sleep and wake up with that still-physically-tired-but-not-sleepy-tired feeling? I had that all weekend but especially yesterday morning.
Four days of a conference in Seattle last week. An evening with friends there, then a three-hr drive home. Up early Sat for spreading barkdust and other lawn and house work -- and wow, does it look good -- and then throw in a night on the town with our kids (Madagascar and dinner at Rose's, where I was stared at by the fundamentalist coffee-only Louisianans at the next table when I ordered a pint, and how about that actual rebel flag on your t-shirt, pal?), another full day of yard labor, and then a late dinner Sunday with friends. With drinks. The drinks came after I told Gerry I'd call him about 7:30 for a workout at the Y.
So I had that feeling all weekend but especially yesterday morning, when the kids and I were horizontal until about 8:30, an obscene hour for us anymore, and, ignoring the Y, the three of us put on hats or tied off ponytails and left Lana at home while we repaired to McKenzie's for b'fast. Stroll into the place and there are the very friends -- about eight of them -- who either contributed to the late drinks or helped with the yard work or both. Perfect way to start the day. And what does Gerry say? "Man, I'm glad you stayed in bed and didn't come to the Y. You look beat."
Never mind that. Home later, clean garage, seed the lawn, wash the cars, put out the deck furniture. Etc. We now feel suitably prepared for summer. Which, by the way, is already pretty fully booked.
So I'm probably behind on blogging, I'm certainly booked with work, and we're staring at a very busy June and even busier July. Let's get cracking.
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