Monday, August 06, 2007

What month is it?

I believe my internal calendar is flopped sideways. I keep forgetting it's August. It's either September or July in my pitiful mind; perhaps I just can't accept the fact that it's 62 degrees outside on an August morning. Or maybe it's that I have a huge commitment in September of travel and such because my sister is getting married on two coasts in a week's time period. I have the dress, the gift, the airline tix and the rental car; everything beyond that is TBD. This "TBD" sits in my mind like the next move in a game of chess, providing a slightly elevated level of anxiety... whose extra bedroom will I crash in? which friends will I get to see? will I want to come back to the frigid northwest? will the water be too polluted to surf? Will there be any surf? Will I make it down to north San Diego county? Will Randall take me longboarding? Will I get to see Kim whom I haven't seen in 20 years? And Bill, the former youth pastor who lead me to Christ and baptised me? A week just doesn't seem like a long enough stretch to fit it all in.

And this for all you families out there: How to make sure you get the beach to yourself: Hike into a lovely, serene and secluded cove bringing at least four offspring, especially ones that have no respect for living things or quiet. Bring a dog that knows no boundaries, much like the kid. Once the kid starts decimating every living thing within its reach, discipline it by saying "Oh honey please don't kill things, okay sweetheart?"

Serial rapist/murderer in training. First it's crustaceans, next it's hookers, then maybe flight attendants.

I had to leave.


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