I am wrung out. There’s a massive heat wave and the result personally is that I feel like a balloon deflated with the rubber looking darker because I’m no longer buoyant. Being wrung out is making me feel darker.
Odd thing is this: there are so many delights to this week.
I had some lovely connections with old friends and new. Looking for one link the other day led me to a tumblr about feminism and now Saskia’s an example of what a feminist looks like. I took a somewhat new friend to see the very funny Emperor’s New Clothes with two of my kids at Paintbox Theatre on Wednesday. That show is over, but there’s one show left—the Sword and the Stone. A project I’ve been cheering on at Hampshire College is underway and the first article about it appeared. The piece I wrote last week for the Teen Life blog was excerpted on the New York Times’ the Choice blog. Yeah, add an exclamation point.
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I went from my cool house to my cool car with a very dolled up Molly last night and we drove to Dish and Dine at our pal Leslie’s Ferrin Gallery. I got to be awed in person by the Pursuit of Porcelain show–Molly’s in it–and I got to meet some charming, talented folks.
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For whatever reason a bunch of folks have said to me this very week that they don’t quite understand how I get so much done with so many kids about and so much involvement with them. That message sunk in.
Being so very busy would explain why I am feeling not only hot but tired. I haven’t been sleeping terribly well, either, although last night was better.
I’m pretty sure that when the temperature and humidity drop a teeny bit I’ll find my air again and float into the clear blue sky or something. I’m positive with some more sleep I’ll be able to fly not just float.
Floating, though, has its merits.
I’m aiming for some floating and some flying ahead. I’d settle for walking to the Woodstar without feeling the iced herbal tea I’m somewhat obsessed with was a mandatory purchase. Yesterday, I required it to get myself and the loaf of Challah back home.
