What a day.
It started early for a Saturday, but no one else takes Hannah to the dog beach if I don't.
I'm not throwing a pity party for myself, in fact it's quite the contrary. Since the chaos of daily life has taken a toll on my diet, I'm no longer at a healthy weight (or can manage to keep myself hydrated enough) to run long distances, and I miss it terribly. I can't think of much that makes me as happy or peaceful as my long runs with Hannah.
When I see her rolling around in the sand on our trips to the dog beach, splashing and swimming in the water, running across green open space to fetch her ball, it's like I'm on the Mount Vernon trail again with her on a brisk morning run.
So, see, no pity party, just an early morning after two or three weeks sans dog beach, which let me sleep in some, which was nice.
I met one of my lifelong friends for dinner tonight. We were partners in crime when I was in high school, going out every night to dance salsa at one of the clubs in downtown DC. I was 17.
It's so nice to just sit and talk to an old friend. Someone who's seen so much of your ugly and insecure and loved you through it all. We'd lost touch throughout most of my 20s (I'm 29), but thankfully through the wonders of Facebook, we reconnected and now live about an hour from each other.
So, even though I had a great time and it wasn't painful, I'm counting that as my giving.
That's the thing, though. Why should giving be painful? Had I thought twice about the drive or having to pick something other than sweats to wear, I could have easily talked myself into staying home and watching the SEC Championship game with James.
Make and give time to good friends.
It's so easy, even for me who's always looking for alone time, to make excuses, push dates aside and say "next time".
We talked about God, boundaries, her crazy allergies to butter, egg and dairy, her little bun in the oven, and of course, our kids.
Monday, December 5, 2011
What a day.