Distortions

Labor Day weekend came pretty quickly and equally quickly was gone. Much of it was filled with minutes of nothing, but overall I am relieved Craig and I relaxed as well as we did. We have a behemoth of a month. This coming weekend there was talk of travel to Athens for a little UGA college football tailgate event with AB and MB, but we're now weighing the options of staying home instead, having the B's over for some beer with college football on the big screen (our big screen, though hi def deficient since our apartment complex has a contract with a cable company living in the cave days). Following that, though, Craig flies to AZ for college football and whatever else, and that same weekend I hit the beaches of Sandestin, FL with co-workers. That has me up in arms because I ducked out of the shuttle option and now gas prices have me shaking in my shoes...I still haven't figured out a viable option. It's a 6 hour drive, yet it's a drive I've never taken before so it could be soothing, but affording that transport solo is questionable. Following that Craig and I are off to Detroit for ST and BW, and after that, to Indy for KB (Craig's sister, not me, obviously) and BB's wedding. Last night we found out Craig's parents wanted to come to Atlanta to see us, however his big sister recently had detached retina surgery and it didn't go well...so now instead, Craig's mom (possibly dad, too?) are headed out to NM to take care of the little ones while sister has re-do surgery. Hopefully that goes well for her.*A highlight of my weekend was of course seeing Jack Johnson. Craig and I tailgated beforehand in the Chastain Park Ampitheater parking lot, which was cool. I bought an outfit at Wet Seal that morning for the phenomenal low price of $14.98. So I felt cute. Next to us on either side were other tailgaters; on one side some younger kids played their CD's and at one point, Tori Amos' version of "Angie" came on. I pointed this out to Craig. Way back, while Craig and I were somewhat in and out of our relationship, I joined him in AZ for his cousin PR's wedding to a woman named Angie. At the mingling-hour pre-reception, a gentleman played acoustic guitar and sang songs in a corner. Craig had managed to drain around 2 Jack and Cokes already, maybe 3...and had the brilliant idea to ask the cover artist to play "Angie" in honor of the lovely bride. Then a very pink-cheeked gleeful Craig (tipsy already) announced to me proudly what he had done, and proceeded to announce it to Angie, who had just gotten married...so her reaction was one of mixed thanks and distracted chaos from trying to ensure everyone was having a good time. It was a cute picture. Anyway, at the Jack Johnson tailgate there was Craig, straining to hear that the song was, in fact, "Angie," and when his sing along voice managed to catch the chorus and upon realizing Tori's voice wasn't quite headed in the same direction as his own version of the Stones' ballad, he declared, "She's really butchering it." He's so very precious to me. I also managed to drag him to the pool the next afternoon for some Georgia rays, and we took a couple beers, and he lay there peacefully (or what seemed to be peacefully) for roughly an hour, before turning to me and saying, "Does this make you happier that I'm here?" (referencing some stress I felt the day before because he desperately had to see that NM college football game instead of joining me poolside.) But I assured him that Yes, I was much happier having his company on that gorgeous afternoon by the pool.*The reality of what happens day to day can become confusing, if you stop to analyze it. I'm becoming increasingly concerned that I am not devoting any creative energy to the portion of my brain that thirsts for it, like there is an increasing spread of drought up there. I remember when I was a little girl and would go to dinner theaters with my family. I would watch these grown people dance and sing in their costumes and I was always so amazed at the grace of it. I wondered all through my youth if I would ever be that grown up, that smooth. I suppose the physical nature of their developed presences impressed me, in addition to the animated expressions on their faces. However now, as I near my actual 30's, and as I research a continuum of fiction writers and memoirists and primarily female voices, I am well aware that these are the fountainheads that I look up to, the type I'd like to become when I grow up.