my weekend was hectic and a crazy, completely unexpected hectic at that, for someone who had made no plans other than to be in montreal. there's been a lot of talk and by talk I mean random musings by me looking out my window in the middle of the night about doing too much, but if there's one thing I'm good at it's doing too much. I watch and listen while some other people talk about how crazy and hectic their lives are, and you know, every time instead of thinking 'wow - that's a lot of stuff. I wonder why they haven't collapsed in exhaustion yet?', I turn around and do it to myself because I don't ever think 'wow - that's a lot of stuff' I think 'hey I could probably do that and why don't I do that how about right now because I'm never busy, me'. Have I mentioned before how I'm a little bit nuts? Me = nuts. But a good nuts. Right? Someone please agree.
Take this upcoming show, and the kittens, and the oh-my-god more than a handful of quilts I've committed to doing this summer because who doesn't seem to be having babies (?), and the beautiful yet not often enough played upon bass, and the screens that lay, drawn upon yet empty, waiting for my time, for just a few seconds that I can sit, and do. And that doesn't even take into account the soccer, and the swimming and the idea that maybe, just maybe, I should have a social life, and camping trips and rock bands, and maybe something goofy like picnics in the park and books and 'leisure time' and photo taking expeditions and frisbees and hikes. And holidays in spanish speaking countries where all of the bands are killer and the dancing, films and campfires go all night long. Whew.
When I took the kittens in today, it was the first time in forever that I hadn't felt weepy, or sad, or as if I would miss them. Because this time around, though I loved 'em, and they were cute as buttons, it was a relief, it was totally a "TAKE THEM SO I CAN HAVE SOME BREATHING ROOM" kind of motion. While may has brought about some *very good things*, and I wouldn't trade it for the world, it is exhausting. It is me collapsing into bed every night at two, whether I've been out, or whether I've been in. It's about me forgetting that breakfast exists, or trying to convince myself that a handful of raisins or apricots *do* constitute a well-rounded meal (ha!),
In a rare moment of "I have nothing-to-do-ness" tonight, even though it's likely that I had about a billion things to do that I was ignoring, I sorted through some old photos. Looking at these ones, it occurred to me just how much the little baby munchkins (and by that I mean scooter, poe, chai, and monkey, and of course, ponder) had grown on me. That picture of monkey is new, an 'update' if you will from her new family, who are teaching her quality skills like euchre and scaring puppies. That's our kitten!
Also, I just got a KELP email about some shows happening this weekend. The Banditas are playing. People! The banditas. Groan. Wasn't it bad enough the first time around, when they had to turn.the.pa.off and we still couldn't hack it? Thankfully, I'll be checking out the Poets. You should too.
In other news, I've been listening to lots of french pop from the 50s and 60s, loads of Piaf, and just a ton of Lhasa since Sunday. I need to get me some castanets. clickety clickety click.