Happy Monday, Friends. I hope you're all enjoying the long weekend! Right now i'm gearing up for a nice long trip to the park. I've got a picnic blanket, some snacks, a couple activities to keep myself busy while Addie frolics among the wood chips and dandelions. I plan on having a lovely time! And things always go as planned. always.
Okay....that's not 100% true. But that's sort of what I expect when I plan things. Maybe i'm an optimist, maybe i'm a romantic, or an idealist. But I always seem to expect things to run exactly the way I envision them in my head. And when they don't turn out that way, I end up a soggy-faced mess, feeling depressed and a little silly.
My husband invented a term for this experience. He calls it being a victim of "The Warren Hype." A good example would be my expectations for Christmas. My family is WILD about Christmas. We have a lot of fun traditions and we take them very seriously. Our hunt for a Christmas tree usually requires 3 full length debates, with moderating and a points system.
So, every year, as we are driving up to Minnesota for Christmas, Neil will turn to me and say "Now remember Sarah, if people want to play board games instead of work on the Christmas puzzle for a night, please don't cry by yourself into a mug of lukewarm cocoa, making everyone feel weird. And if your brother decides he's sick of participating in the Christmas cookie decorating contest, don't set fire to the Christmas tree...please. You have to try to roll with it."
And inevitably, one of our many traditions gets pushed to the wayside (because we are a growing family with changing dynamics....I get it). And when it does, there are tears. Because of all the WARREN HYPE jingling around inside my head.
It's like when you expect this:
Happy.
Cute.
Something you'd put in a frame.
But you end up with this:
Horrifying.
Terrifying.
And also a little funny.
Bad Sarah. Don't laugh. She's clearly having a traumatic moment.
So, to sum up. I'm going to the park today. We are going to sit on a picnic blanket. Addie is going to play on the playground or with her toys. And she's not going to pick up trash that she finds along the way. She's not going to throw a tantrum about not wanting me to watch her play. Everything will be perfect, just like a movie. Those are my expectations.
An update on my writing! I've finished the first draft of my proposal, it's getting its first round of edits. More to come on that.
And now, some writing. Short and sweet.
“You don’t have to take care of me, Everett.” Her words were sharp but her voice wasn’t. Her hand was still on my arm. “You and I make a good team. We could take care of each other.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere.” The word hung in the air with intoxicating hope. “We could go anywhere.”
An image crossed my mind of Charlie playing piano in a quiet home, in some far-off city we’ve never been. Living in a third level apartment with a dog and some potted plants. And me, working as a private investigator, bringing home flowers and the paper. Anywhere.
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