My dear Miss Peg just called to say that she was safely returned to Thailand after a 28-hour commute. We had a good visit even though she was in country for a funeral. She had to crank her metabolism through a 12-hour time difference immediately. Her life is such fun sometimes.
Luckily, we managed to bore her into sleep at night. Plus - We flopped down on the couches every day at 3p like it was our religion.
I always think of 3p as horizontal time. I need a 20-minute brain rezoning. Then I’m good to go again. In my former life, I used to yawn loudly during afternoon meetings. Truly, any time can be nap time.
As a personal gift from the Gods to Miss Peg, every day here was cool with a side of hosing rain. Miss Peg wore sweatpants and sweatshirts, wool socks and a fleece jacket. She covered up with a light blanket. I sat around in jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt. Mocking her kept me warm.
In Thailand, Miss Peg reported tonight, it was 94 degrees at midnight. I’m going to hate the heat when I visit.
My Daughter and I are planning to go to Thailand in October. I will be the hot, fat, sweaty farong who towers over everyone else on the sidewalk. The two of us couldn’t be more excited. Miss Peg promises me a bout of food poisoning to augment my weight loss ambitions.
My favorite fantasy is to win the lottery and take off around the world immediately. I love the feeling of being someplace I’ve never been, hearing a language I don’t understand. I like the lost, fuddled feeling of travel. I think its because I’ve lived in the same place all my life.
Today I took inventory of What I Have To Do This Summer. So far: Son’s 18th birthday (paintball and pizza), then his high school graduation (company & event cooking) and then the graduation PAR-Tay. He asked his Dad’s band to play. Mr. W is over the moon with the compliment. I’m planning on ordering pizza for 50. I can’t cook hamburgers + everything else for that many people anymore because I’m old. The end.
Also - Mr. W and I have our 24th wedding anniversary. My Dad turns 80, complete with party, to which my Mom says: you do it. All this celebrating is compressed into the weeks between Memorial Day and early July. Who knew I was such a party animal?