Not the race report ... yet

I've been putting off writing about the Mermaid Half Marathon until I get the pictures from my camera to my computer but since that's taking forever, I'll write around it.

Friday was my birthday, the latest of many others. It astounds me when I think that I'm in my mid-50's since I don't feel that different from how I felt when I was, oh, in my teens. That same sense of self, of "this is me" is there. Yeah, I have a different body and different life outlook from when I was younger but it's still the same Amy inside my head. I still sound like me to me, I still have my same feelings, but the calendar and my mirror tell me that yes indeedy I'm middle aged. Not complaining, mind you. I know the only alternative to getting older and it's not something I want. Age over death any day, thankyouverymuch. It's just that it's so odd!

My celebration included going to work, since that's what I normally do on Fridays. Luckily I like my job and I like my co-workers. I had purposely scheduled a race for the morning after my birthday so I would have an excuse to stay home Friday night. Partying late is something I got out of my system when I was much younger. Like in my 40's. I had an easy, enjoyable day, heard from friends and loved ones and got in a nap, reading, knitting and even some sleep. Oy. I am old.

Saturday morning I got up at 4:50 am (just about the time I used to roll into bed after a birthday celebration) and got ready for my race. [Pretend you're reading a race report here.]

Saturday afternoon I was able to crash on the sofa for a while before going out to dinner with a friend. Her birthday is a week after mine so we always try to celebrate together. Sometimes that doesn't happen until June, but we were both available so we scheduled an early dinner at Casa Orozco. We each felt we'd be home and getting ready to settle in by 7:15 - wild and crazy girls are we!

Instead, we had a great dinner (with only one margarita each, mind you) and sat chatting away until we realized it was 8:30, the restaurant was crowded and we were taking up a table. Oopsie, so we retired to my house with a glass of wine and continued talking until after 10:15. That's what happens when we don't get together that often.

Whether it was the conversation, the wine, the food, the race, the pollen-stuffed lungs or something else, I was wired (ha! betcha thought I was going to say I couldn't stay awake!) and jittery and didn't bother going to bed until close to 1 am. I tossed and turned and dragged myself out of bed early Sunday morning and set to the day's chores.

Sunday was mom's day, and we shuttled back and forth picking up more things that she decided she needs to have. She's slowly cramming her new apartment full to the rafters (figuratively; there are no rafters where she lives) and the old house still has enough stuff in it to furnish another apartment. I'm trying not to think about having to sort what's left, but at least we're not in a horrible hurry to do that. I think my mom still hopes that someday she'll be able to go live there again. Yeah, that'll be right around when they invent those youth pills we've been told about or when someone discovers the Fountain of Youth.

Frequently when I go to a store these days there's someone with a petition for something. "Don't let your freedom to [whatever] be taken away, sign now!" or "No representation, we must be able to vote on [whatever] now!" or "Save the [parks/taxes/children/animals] now!" they say, "add these to the upcoming election." The only petition I'd sign is one I haven't seen yet. That would be the one creating an 8th day of the week, to fall on the weekend between Saturday and Sunday. I'd call it "Momday" but I'm willing to let someone else pick the name if that isn't acceptable. "Momday" will be a day for people to take that extra step for their family members, either the elderly or the young. The day would be spent either with the family member, or for the family member's behalf. It would still leave a 2 day weekend for recreation and errands and housework. C'mon, wouldn't YOU sign that petition?