a change in plans

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sometimes weekends are filled to the brim with plans. sometimes they aren’t. and sometimes their scheduled activities fall somewhere in between.

this past 48-hour work-freefest began as the former, ended up as the latter but was no less glorious as a result. and i suppose the culprits for most of the change in plans were none other than the salty (or unsalty?) tears the sky cried for a good portion of saturday, but for that i was somewhat grateful. because i guess when it rains, it kind of gives us all a free pass to spend the day bundled up in a pair of over-sized sweats with the contents of your dvr acting as the background entertainment for a day of overall laziness, cat-napping and, as was the case with me, copious amounts of writing.

or maybe i just use it as an excuse to feel a little better about the activities that occur on all saturdays, not just the rainy variety.

but when the weather is a bit inclement, it just kind of warrants hibernation, right? it is important to mention that in addition to my couch-potatoing, i did manage to venture out amongst the raindrops for a few morning errands: a run to sprouts, a little tucking, lifting, burning and stretching at pure barre solana beach, a jaunt to the dentist for my bi-annual chompers-cleaning, successful care-package items-purchasing at the dollar store and von’s,

timeout.

funny story time (the crowd erupts in cheers!). okay. so a certain someone requested some very specific items for his care package, all of which i was all too happy to oblige. i welcome specificity (it takes out the guesswork) anywho, as the gent running the register at the dollar tree began scanning my items, once he reached the bottles of 5-hour energy (or the dollar tree’s not-so-brand-name alternative) he paused momentarily.

“are you 18?” he inquired, studying my make-up free face (which i know was not helping the cause, also not helping the cause? my pig-tailed braids). [insert awkward laughter here]. “oh gosh, yes i am, but you need to see my i.d., don’t you?” i quipped. and just as i had done that day when the kind amc theatres employee had requested a view of my driver’s license when purchasing a ticket for last fall’s r-rated ides of march (because instead of not looking 18, apparently, i didn’t even look 17, and that time i was at least wearing makeup and my hair in a more presentable fashion), i gladly whipped out my identification to reveal my true age. as he found the year to read 1985 instead of perhaps 1995, his surprise shone clearly on this face. “oh wow,” he replied and then he added, “well, you’ll appreciate this when you’re older.” and i laughed. because i’m pretty sure that’s the advice i get every time i’m mistaken for eight to ten years my junior. and they’re right, i will appreciate this when i’m older. heck, i kind of appreciate it now. although it does kind of make it all the creepier when members still insist on setting me up with their fortysomething sons and grandsons. because if society deems me about sixteen and a half (give or take), well, you do the math.

and we’re back from the break…

where were we? ah, yes, my trip to von’s. von’s was successful and even warranted a mini reunion with my high school art teacher (gotta love north county!). and at about eleven thirtyish, my purchases in tow, i made it back home again home again (jiggity jig) and out of the rain. and i immediately changed out of my pure barre garb (side note: i just purchased these babies with some lulu money from santa, and oh-em-gee, if heaven were to manifest itself into a pair of pants, i do believe it would do so in the form of the tadasanas. and so concludes your gratuitous review of workout wear for the day. you’re welcome.) and right into my comfiest and over-size-iest sweats, got snuggled under the warmth of my beloved sea green blanket and proceeded to watch my recorded eps of white collar (oh yes, matt bomer is back and i could not be happier about it), parenthood (i mean, the scene with adam and hattie? i’mnotcryingyou’recrying), grey’s anatomy (i’m probably one of the only humans still watching this show, and as the story lines just get progressively more depressing, i can see why so many have abandoned ship), biggest loser (to be honest, i kind of just, well whatever the equivalent of “book-skimming” is with regards to television show-watching), and a slew of reality tv-shows that i kind of don’t want to be judged about watching at this point in time. let’s just say one of them may or may not rhyme with mersey bore. hypothetically.

and at about three-pee-em, i finally peeled myself up from the horizontal position, turned on my trusty dell (i know, apparently i still live in 2004 which is precisely when that baby was purchased thankyouverymuch) and got to writing. and transcribe i did, all of those little thoughts that seemed to freely flow from my noodle and onto the pages of that word document. and it felt quite fab to pen this particular story (it’s a very good one); and take one step forward with regards to achieving my 2012 resolve. and then of course, upon completion, i quickly called my mother and read it aloud. she’s always such a willing audience (and subject matter, too!) and for that i am eternally grateful. i have found it especially helpful to read said entries out loud almost immediately following their manifestation. if anything to help solidify that they a) make sense b) are somewhat funny and/or “aww”-evoking. all requirements for entrance into the book, of course.

and after taking a momentary stroll down memory lane, it was all but time for dinner! and what goes better with a meal of roasted veggies and egg-white salad than (drum roll please), lifetime movies?! (answer: nothing). and lucky for me saturday evening was the world premiere of drew peterson: untouchable. y’all. rob lowe has never been creepier (and that’s hard to do, because he’s just so gosh darn adorable every other moment of his life). do you remember the drew peterson scandal? (truth: i didn’t) but, one glance back to the details of this real life tale quickly made watching this movie probably not the best idea to do on a rainy saturday night when you’re home alone but i was sure to chase the movie with a few episodes of diners, drive-ins & dives. because nothing cures feelings of “yikes! remind me again why i don’t have a roommate?” than 30-minute episodes of guy fieri tasting foods from some of america’s finest hole-in-the-wall establishments, right? well, it seemed to do the trick for me at least…

sunday saw more pure barre (and more tadasana-pants wearing) followed by the 10:45 a.m. service at north coast calvary (complete with live art to accompany the already fabulous message) and another good-for-the-soul coffee date with my mentor. my evening was capped off with some football (whose wasn’t?), some kardashian antics (sorryi’mnotsorry) and a nine o’clock bedtime.

this is what my weekend actually looked like. there were a couple of items i was remiss in recounting (a lunch date in san juan capistrano that was rescheduled (per my request) due to the rainy weather/slick roads/overall sentiment that our outdoor shopping & lunching date would be better suited for dryer skies as well as a sunday after-barre-and-pre-championship-football-games trip to starbucks with a college friend) for the fact that, they never came to fruition. and though i would have loved for both items to have played out as originally planned, i can’t say that i’m not just as appreciative of the events that transpired in their place. sometimes changes in plans bring unforeseen blessings. because behind every cancelled plan is the opportunity for something just as great to take its place. whether that be a nap, an afternoon of writing or making the 10:45 a.m. service that you’d written off as impossible to attend.

sometimes it’s the little things. like the choice to forgo eye makeup yesterday in exchange for a hat and some pink lipstick. which turned out to be a blessing for the fact that there may or may not have been one or ninety-one tears (the cathartic kind) shed during that coffee date. so maybe the skies weren’t the only ones crying this weekend…

me, minus the mascara.

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