It's like 3 o'clock in the a.m. and I can't sleep. But I'm kinda tired.
Kinda really tired.
I'm especially kinda tired of driving. And meetings. And dirty dishes. And budgeting. I'm kinda way tired of budgeting.
I'm also kinda tired of falling asleep with my mascara still securely fastened to my eyelashes.
Right now I'm mostly tired of Jiminy Cricket yakety yak yaking outside my bedroom window. For three. nights. straight. You have no idea!!!!! Unless you think Jiminy Cricket on Crack.
It's like the Chuck Norris of crickets. (Hey, did I just make up my own Chuck Norris joke?)
It's like the mother of all crickets. Or at least the mother-in-law. (After a high school social.)
You will get that joke if you know my MIL. See my MIL went to a high school social the other night and I got to be her captive audience (and I do mean captive) for 35 minutes straight while I drove her to my daughter's regional tennis competition. It was just she and me. And my seat belt made three.
She gets jazzed up when she sees the kids in her class. All the boys and all the girls. The boy who has taken over the reunion planning used to be such a, how would she say, small kid. Kinda, oh how would she say, unsociable. He was into dramatics--the prop-making/set building side of dramatics. But he has really grown up now and matured and taken the lead.
For gosh sakes, let's hope so, since he's 78 years old!
And do you know Jordan Tanner? The boy who used to play with my MIL when he'd come down and visit his grandma? He was sitting next to my MIL at the table with a real cute gal, but my MIL couldn't hear what they were saying, darnit. She just hates it when that happens.
I asked my mom at what age you stop seeing your 78-year-old high school peers as kids and stop caring what Jordan Tanner says to the cute gals at the dinner table? She said never, because you carry every age with you as you grow older. Every stage of your life is still right there inside you just as you left it, before you left it.
(Which is a very good reason to tidy up every stage before you leave it, if you ask me.) (Oh gosh, peeps. I don't wanna grow up.) (Or do I?) (Maybe that's why Jiminy Cricket keeps pestering me.)
What I wanna know is what about the stories we carry with us? How do we narrow it down to which ones we're going to tell over and over and over again and again and again to the people who are duct taped to us for eternity? And why did my MIL choose the one about how she used to pick strawberries to earn her own money to buy her own Kotex and Janzen Sweaters and Joyce shoes. She still has them in her cedar chest, you know.
I wonder what stories I'll tell a hundred times when I turn into Jiminy Cricket. I haven't seen my high school friends in 25 years. And I don't have a cedar chest.
I guess I could always tell about my Ditto jeans phase.
It's 4 a.m now and I'm still kinda tired. But I gotsa tell you about my daughter's tennis match before I go back to sleep.
She and her doubles partner played against Alta for the championship.
Alta! Alta! Alta! They're like steam rollers up there at Alta. They eat nails for lunch at Alta. They're the Chuck Norris of High School tennis at Alta. (Hey, did I just do it again?)
During warm ups they don't hit back and forth with their opponents to get loose. They slam it, smash it, blast it cross court out of reach. And then they pump their fists and sound a barbaric war cry. My daughter and her doubles partner get kinda psyched out when they do that. They're like lambs to the slaughter, those two.
But not this time. My daughter and her partner refused to play the head games. Instead they played their guts out. They really gave it their all, and it was bee-U-tiful to behold. They lost, but not 6-0 like they usually do. Instead they made Alta earn their win at 7-5.
Victory isn't as sweet when you lose, but losing isn't as sour when you play your best.
What's that old saying? It ain't whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game?
That is so dang true.
Every point was a battle. Smooth. Graceful. Respectful. There was no cheating. No loud mouth coaches. No poor sports. Both teams played like champions.
I couldn't be prouder. And I couldn't be sleepier. My daughter pushed through one of her psychological barriers and that's even better than winning.
Speaking of pushing through psychological barriers, I'm going to hear Nie Nie speak tonight at the Wilkinson Center. So excited!
K, peace out, peeps.