Nothing majorly earth-shattering happened, but it was great nonetheless. And aren't uneventful weekends sometimes the best kinds of weekends? No packing, no traveling, no long car trips. Laziness was the order of the day.
How I love you, sweet, sweet Laziness. I miss you sometimes.
If you read my
I woke up Saturday morning, ready and excited for some much-needed alone time. I had no major plans. I just wanted to drive, wander, and shop. For myself. Not for groceries or anything useful. Just me.
But there was one small problem. I woke up Saturday morning with a screaming headache. It was a migraine with a capital "M". My neck felt like it was on fire, my temples throbbed, and I was so nauseous that I felt like I was not only going to lose the breakfast that I just forced down my throat, but dinner from the night before as well.
I felt like complete and total yuck.
Bill gave me a little neck rub and encouraged me to relax and take it easy. "Stay in bed," he said.
Normally I just take it easy when I have a migraine. I move only if required to move. But I thought to myself, if I don't get out of this house by myself this morning, then that's it. It's another busy week around here, and every weeknight is filled with either a practice or a meeting of some kind. My chance for some alone time was rapidly diminishing right before my throbbing eyelids.
Migraine, schmigraine. I'm getting the heck outta Dodge. Like right now.
So I dragged myself to bathroom and showered, put some clothes on, firmly affixed my sunglasses to my eyes, (even though there wasn't much sun in the sky, the world was just a little bit too bright for my liking) grabbed the keys for Bill's car, (a.k.a a sportier, smaller car, and NOT the messy, large "Stinkmobile" that I drive on a daily basis) and headed out the door.
Ouch. All that movement hurt my head.
My first stop was Starbucks. First of all, I HATE coffee. I hate the way it smells, and I hate the way it tastes. When I was a kid, I thought it would just be one of those things that would magically start tasting better to me when I was older. Nope. Still gross. So I go to Starbucks or a coffee shop maybe less than a dozen times per year. And I always order hot cocoa. I envy you sophisticated people that walk into Starbucks and order your, "Grande Mocha Latte Skinny Chai Tall Espresso Whip Spice With Extra Foam." Or whatever it is you people say. Because I just say, "I'd like a small hot chocolate with no whipped cream, please." Usually the barista quizzically looks at me and probably thinks, "Small? whipped cream? What an amateur. This chick does not speak Starbucks-ese." I have now learned that what I want is called a "Tall Skinny Hot Cocoa No Whip". Even though "tall" is a total misnomer. It's just Starbucks' misleading way of charging you $3.10 and having you think you're getting an adult-sized drink, even though my kids' sippy cups are bigger. But I digress.
Starbucks in hand, I got back in the car, and headed toward the mall.
Ouch. My head is still killing me. And chocolate is reeeeeally bad for headaches. And it even hurts to turn the steering wheel. And accelerate. Can we just put a shade over the sun for a little bit?
When I finally got to the mall, I just wandered. And wandered some more. I picked up sweaters, pondered them and put them back. And then I tried some things on. I bought a few items of clothing for myself. And, as promised, I pitied all the parents with their loud kids. I especially pitied the parents with kids who just wanted to run. And run. And hide under clothing carousels and scare their mommies, thus making the mommies' hearts stop momentarily, and almost have to alert security because they think their sweet little ones are lost or have been kidnapped. Until the kids jump out from the carousel and scream "BOO! MOMMY!" I've been there. Many times.
It was a deliciously boring day.
The two best parts of my Lazy Saturday: 1.) My migraine quelled to a dull throb around 4:00 p.m. and 2.) Bill and I had scheduled a date night for Saturday night.
Ain't no migraine depriving me of the chance to get dressed up to get my eat and drink on.
And alcohol is reeeeeeallllly good for migraine headaches.
I let Bill pick the restaurant this time because I always pick it. And my head still hurt way too much to think too hard. Of course, he picked a trendy sushi restaurant downtown that he has been dying to try. In addition to coffee, I also HATE sushi. The sliminess, the rawness, the blandness. It's all yuck. Besides, it's all just so uber-trendy to say, "Oh! Sashimi! Sushi! I love it all! I ca-rave sushi! I could eat it every day! Sushi! Sushi! Sushi!" I just don't get it. I have tried it at least five or six times in my life, and EVERY time I think that THIS will be the time I fall in love with it. THIS will be the time that the beauty of sushi will sink into my head, my heart and my stomach, and I will start craving it. But no. It's still disgusting. It's still slimy. When the white rice is the most interesting part of your meal, then that's just sad. The waiter also sneered at me and I know he was thinking, "What an amateur," (just like the Starbucks barista) when I ordered a hot chicken dish that was akin to Chinese sweet and sour chicken. What can I say? I consider myself an adventurous eater, and I will try most things once, but I can't promise that I'm always going to like it. Maybe the next time I try it, sushi will taste good to me, right?
Besides, how much of a turn-on would that be to my husband if I said, "Honey, how about we put the kids to bed early, and order in some sushi?"
Oh yeah, that line would get me far. I'm saving it in case I ever need some brownie points.
But the atmosphere was funky and fun, the company was wonderful, I enjoyed tasty sake-tinis, and my kids were happily being entertained and fed by someone other than Bill and I. So it was all good.
I felt so refreshed after some much-needed time away that it didn't even bother me that much when the cranky lady in front of us at church today harrumphed my family several times, glared at us through her bifocals, and then eventually picked herself up and moved five rows up and across the aisle at 10:30 mass this morning. Seriously. My kids are not perfect at church, but how passive-aggressive is that? Making a point to pick up yourself and move waaaayyyy across the aisle, just because my kids are kind of fidgety and singing, "Taste and See" a little bit too loud? And out of tune? And maybe Henry did whisper to George to "Stop touching me!" about 83 times. But really.
It was surprisingly a good morning for my kids at mass too, so I'm not sure what she was complaining about. They weren't too loud, they were mostly paying attention, they were mostly whispering, they didn't whip anything at her head, and they didn't even poke her in the back. Chillax, lady. Besides, don't we sing that song at church, "All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place"? That includes us, right?"
But I didn't let her get to me.
Because I felt recharged after a good weekend.
And I'm looking forward to a good week ahead.
Besides, how can you not find the smells and the sights of autumn exhilarating? I love it.