This Life in Writing » water

uh, that’s not the kind of baptism I meant, but okay. It’ll do.

jessica — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 09:19:57 +0000

Basically life gets funnier when I open my mouth.

Well, that, and more embarrassing.

Like tonight, when I was innocently referring to how my friend came over and showed up with a small bag of cookies, but ended up saying this:

And then Jimmy showed up with his small package…

But then I couldn’t even finish my thought because I realized what it sounded like I had said and so I started laughing while trying to explain that there was a huge difference between what I said and what I meant.

But, really.

His small package?!?

Yeah, we then spent the rest of the night trying to shimmy that little gem of a phrase into as many of our conversations as possible.

And thank God for humor. I was talking to a friend of mine who has been well acquainted with grief herself and we both agreed that sometimes it comes down to either laughing or dying.

And so it’s really nice when there are moments that make the former option easy.

And it’s also nice when you play games with your family and you find yourself doing something as dumb as pouring water over your head because you’re playing Truth or Dare and you had tried to give that little dare to your mom, but she turned around with a rebound card and there you are, poised with the water over your head, thinking how this is not one of the worst things you’ve had to endure, by far.

But don’t take my word for it.

See for yourself.

z-pac, work your magic

jessica — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 03:38:00 +0000

I am under strict orders from my husband to do absolutely nothing.

And now, while he’s at work, he keeps texting me with this question: are you drinking your water?

At which point I proceed to grab my trusty water bottle that is sitting nearby, take a sip, and then text back: yes.

It would seem that Drew is not in love with the idea of a sick wife, not if he can help it, anyway.

And he has helped it. He took me to the doctor this morning, after three straight days of my fever not breaking, has proceeded to cancel my pilates class I was supposed to teach tomorrow (which is a real bummer; I truly enjoy it), and even forbade me from cleaning the house tonight.

I guess he’s really worried about me; usually he truly appreciates a clean house.

So I am laying like a lump on my bed, surrounded by books, cats, and my computer, waiting for the z-pac the doctor gave me to kick in…But well, being sick is kind of boring. And frustrating. Here I am, at home, and not able to hang out with any of the fantastic people I am so wanting to see; I am with my piano, but being sick takes all the creativity right out of me, it seems.

Isn’t it ironic? as Alanis Morissette would say.

But I am going to trust that tomorrow is going to find me feeling much better, that I will be back to my self again and ready to take on the world.

Or at least, you know, Newark, Delaware.

beaching

jessica — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 05:16:00 +0000

It’s been a little while, I know.

And I’m sorry.

Part of it is because the place I am staying does not have one bit of wireless.

But it seems a fair trade for the ocean as our backyard, I’d say.

The other part is that I am at the beach with some of my favorite people in the world and well, nights are currently taken up with laughing until my ribs hurt even more. And then popping some tylenol.

And the days are being taken up by the sun and the waves and twenty or so of us leaving forty or so footprints as we quick step it through the hot sand and wish we hadn’t kicked off our flip-flops quite so soon.

I had a few pictures I was going to post tonight, too; but the connection I currently found is not strong enough for that, so I am contenting myself with these words.

The beach is such an interesting place, isn’t it?

I mean, it’s kind of funny since most of us wear suits that leave not much to the imagination so there’s that. And then there’s the fact that it’s the one place where it’s just totally acceptable to pee right through your bathing suit into the ocean water, or rather, the world’s largest toilet.

And don’t try to tell me you don’t do that.

But if you really don’t, you should, if for nothing else but the momentary warmth that inevitably transpires.

Because it sure does get cold all up in there.

Just ask my brother, who is currently wearing a wetsuit in the water.

Well not currently as in now since it’s 1:38 am and we all know that the evening is sharks’ feeding hour and he’s not that dumb. Not even close.

Currently as in this week.

And no, he doesn’t surf.

We laugh at him some, but he does look quite warm and who doesn’t like to be warm?

I myself take an ant’s lifetime to even get into the water past my waist and even then spend most of my time holding my arms all bent and close to my torso like a T-Rex with those silly, superfluous little arms, thinking that somehow if my arms aren’t as wet as the rest of my body I will be warm.

While in the meantime Drew starts running as soon as he drops his towel on the sand and doesn’t stop until his feet hit the water and then he slaps a wave with the length of his body and bam! is completely wet and happy to be so.

Maybe that’s indicative of how we live our lives.

Either way, we both end up wet and we both end up happy.