Eleven

Paying bills, reading the news, watching College Game Day, spilling cheesy eggs all over the laptop keyboard. These are the trappings of an eleventh anniversary.

We are doing nothing, because we spent money on other (fun) things this month and we’re temporarily broke, and also we really did it up fly for our tenth anniversary. And that’s fine. Last year (literally one full year ago) I bought him a piece of art for our anniversary, which has been apparently sitting on our floor for a FULL YEAR waiting to be framed. Perhaps next month, after we get paid again, I’ll frame it as a belated 11th year anniversary gift and we will hang it somewhere. Eh. No rush. CLEARLY.

Last weekend I had a wonderful visit from some far-flung professional friends. We covered just about every inch of the French Quarter, and ate our weight in pastries and John Besh goodies. Also, they’re all moms, so naturally everything that needed to be done to keep the weekend afloat got done without us even communicating to each other about who would do what. A team of moms could really run most everything in the world better than it’s currently being run, I’m here to tell you.

Then the real world came crashing back. It was an emotionally difficult week for reasons entirely un-marriage related. I have a pro bono client in trouble, whose realistic and overwhelming anxieties I had to soothe, while being unable to do anything constructive for her. (Family Law and Public Interest Law folks – I salute you. I could not carry these people’s burdens as a matter of course, day in and day out.) And there was other family stuff plus work stuff this week, none of it interesting or juicy, all of it inappropriate for a public blog, but all of it requiring some emotional heavy lifting. Each of these individual problems is relatively minor and easily absorbed one at a time, but literally about five separate things came to a head in a space of a couple of days and zoinks. I’m flagging a bit.

I would love to go for a long run – that always helps clear the head – but my bones, you guys. Is everyone else at age forty-ish just feeling musculo-skeletal misery like I am? Is it possible I am reaching an age when I can no longer do a 7 mile run because of my back? That can’t be right – I see 80 year olds running marathons. I’m going to my PCP and getting a referral to a back doctor. The lower back pain has started wrapping around to the front of my hips, to the point where I find myself holding my breath and clenching because it hurts so much, especially after a long day at my computer. I always do some yoga before and after a run to keep stretched, but there may be some other stretches, exercises, etc. I can do to deal with this better. For all I know I’m exacerbating the issue by continuing to run the way I do, and it would go away if I had different posture or shoes or something. We’ll see. I’ve been to a billion doctors lately – checking thyroid, dermatologist, routine one year well check, etc. I haven’t seen a dentist in two years but it seems like I take time off to go to a doctor at least twice a month, for one minor thing or another. Nevertheless, I’ve just gotta make time for my teeth and my back.

Could this BE anymore boring?  The Reluctant Grownup Gets Old, should be my new blog title.  And I’m not even yet 40! The children have aged me before my time. Yes. Let’s blame it on them.

So let’s abandon this whine, plan the week’s meals, and then get up away from a screen and go for a (gentle, non-stressing, orthopaedic shoe involved) walk outside.  This week’s meal planning must include a serious amount of vegetables. We ran out of frozen veg – my go-to towards the end of each week once we’ve eaten the fresh stuff – and so I haven’t had a vegetable in DAYS.

That’ll do us for the week. Let’s hope it’s a less difficult one, eh?

 

 

 

 

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