Archive: Two Hundred Words

JG and I may go to bed at the same time, but we do not fall asleep at the same time. He’s out immediately after kissing me good night, and then I hunker down to read until the book drops from my hands. Last night, I stayed up far too late. At the end of each section, I’d check my wakefulness, only to determine that, yes, I was still alert enough to keep reading. At one point, I glanced to my right JG. He was sleeping beatifically, oblivious to my nocturnal observations. The LED in my book light gleamed eerily white, throwing everything in its glow into a strange, film noir color scheme. I watched JG breathe, up and down, and his face, hair, and sheets were a composition in black and gray. I considered him briefly. Everyone looks friendly and peaceful when asleep, I decided. It was a pleasant way to imagine someone.

And then JG stirred and blinked, and the light reflected in his eyes.  “I love you,” he said groggily, and he leaned over to kiss me before turning over onto his other side, away from the glare.

“I love you, too,” I said, a little spellbound.

I finally got the Christmas cards in the mail yesterday after JG scared me with some news byte that today would be the drop-dead deadline for getting anything anywhere through the postal system by Christmas Day, even though it meant sitting at the kitchen counter, feverishly double-sided-taping photos to cardstock, writing cheery seasonal greetings, and developing a hand cramp in the process, but they are done and sent, so today, I plan on finishing wrapping presents and baking a trial run of mini loaves of pumpkin bread for my parents and my grandma — although, when I say “trial run,” I really mean that I assume they will be tasty (don’t let me down, America’s Test Kitchen!) because I have no back-up plan otherwise — which sets me up nicely for Saturday’s brownie-baking marathon, so in theory, as long as I have enough time next week to figure out the present-packing configuration for minimal bulk and stress on public transport, write out my packing list, pack, compile the travel itinerary folder, and bake the last set of non-freezable baked goods, I should be ready by Christmas Eve, also known as My First Day Off From Work, Thank You, Baby Jesus.

Last week, JG and I spent a day at Hersheypark for our annual theme park excursion. I got cotton candy to keep me awake for the ride home.

The college football preview issue of Sports Illustrated arrived.

Today, JG made cuts for the volleyball team.

JG has ironed all of his collared shirts and khaki pants.

The calendar is filled with dates for volleyball games, UD football games, and school closings.

I marked the days that I need to leave work early to pick up our CSA share, since JG will be at practice or a game from now on.

We’re discussing foods to keep in the freezer, and I think I’m making a batch of chili or pasta sauce this weekend for the stockade.

I plan to take stock of the tailgating supplies since we haven’t looked at the kit since last November.

We received a mailing from Longwood Gardens about the annual Pumpkin and Chrysanthemum Festivals.

I’m scouring the internet for new black boots.

Teasers for new television series are flooding through the reruns.

I’m almost finished with the first scarf for this year’s eight volleyball seniors.

Sigh.

The signs are clear. Summer is definitely over for us.

Ah, the Third Annual RA & Zeister DC Weekend! This year, it meant laughing through a train ride wherein a conductor lost his hole punch and made a PA announcement to that effect, eating delicious food at Rasika, trying my hand at painting pottery, indulging in my annual Chipotle burrito, scheming about a potential surprise anniversary party for our parents, meeting up for a bloggeriffic evening, finally attending the 4^th of July cookout my sister and her boyfriend host every year, watching the fireworks without being visibly (or audibly) startled, having waffles for brunch, making my sister’s boyfriend roll his eyes at the sisterly awesomeness, scoring deals at outlet stores, sharing a half pitcher of swirl margaritas at Lauriol, raiding my sister’s closet for neglected clothing, and squeezing in Thai food for lunch before catching my train to go home. Whew! I think we’re better at planning this weekend of fabulousness every year.

Unfortunately, re-entering my real life has entailed doing two loads of laundry in one night, scrounging up meals from nothing, and getting pummeled at work by a report with a one-day timeline, as if to make it perfectly clear that I am no longer on vacation. Ugh.