In a Funk

I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately and I don’t know why. I’m not sad, exactly, or crabby, or tired or bored. It’s just a strange out-of-sorts kind of feeling and I can’t seem to shake it. I’m sure if I mentioned it to anyone who knows me they would think it was my 40th birthday approaching (one week fro today), but honestly, it isn’t. I’m not really bothered by the number, other than the feeling that I can’t possibly be 40, since I just graduated high school last month and college last week, right? Eh – maybe it is a little subconscious, nudging reminder of my mortality working on me.

Plus, my boy started middle school today and I guess that’s getting to me a little. I know middle school can be a veritable minefield and I just want things to go well for him. We had orientation on Friday and I almost died of boredom and frustration. They told us that we parents would only need to be there for 15 minutes, so I coordinated with work to be unavailable for about 30 minutes, given travel time. And then two fucking hours later when I was still at the school, I exploded into a million pieces. Or I thought about it, anyway. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been actual, useful information provided to us, but instead it was two hours of droning on and on about every stupid thing and having every single teacher introduce themselves. Including the ones that they won’t even be having contact with this year. I don’t care who teaches 8th grade math when my kid won’t be there for two years, jackasses.

Of course, the orientation got off on the wrong foot with me when they asked us all to stand. OK, sure, they’re going to say the pledge of allegiance - makes sense at a school. But no. instead, we were treated to a teacher singing the national anthem. First off – WTF?? It wasn’t a baseball game, it was a bunch of kids and some of their parents in the middle school cafeteria. Second, it sounded exactly like what you would expect a teacher singing the national anthem in the school cafeteria. But I shouldn’t complain. After all, we got to enjoy such beloved versus like, “What so proudly we hmmmm, at the twilight’s last gleaming” and “O’er the lamp parts we watched…”

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We had a surprise 40th birthday party to go to on Saturday, which was pretty fun. As with every event in mr b’s family, it was a big drunkfest. Scabs and I sat on a glider on the deck and managed to get almost every person that passed us to get us drink refills. It was a thing of beauty. Oh, and also? You know how when you spend the day swimming in the ocean and then you can still feel your body moving in the waves for the next 12 hours? Well, it works the same way with a glider. All night long and into the next day, I could feel myself rocking back and forth. Which made the hangover all the more delightful. Needless to say, Sunday was pretty much a wash as far as getting anything done around the house. I worked for a couple of hours on a dress I am sewing for the girl (Belle’s blue dress, for those of you up on your princess fashion), and then I laid down to rest for the next eleventy hours because sitting upright and pinning pleats is exhausting and has nothing to do with being (almost) old and hungover.

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I swear – the universe was trying to cheer me up this morning. Because on the drive in, I saw:

1 - person standing at a bus stop shaving their face with an electric razor. She wasn’t even using a mirror.

1 - person walking in the park wearing full-blown winter gear – parka and all. And a Hawaiian shirt on top.

1 - Hare Krishna.

And…

1 - man wearing an ankle-length nightgown over his pants (and also apparently a white blanket tucked into the waistband under there) and a leather bomber jacket, who – while crossing the street in front of me as I was stopped at a red light – decided that right now would be the time to stop and do some squats and lunges.

Why, oh why couldn’t I have had my camera ready?

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And finally - the quote of the week:

We were at a restaurant this weekend and we were talking to the waitress about how the normally busy place was kind of quiet. She and the other waitresses were speculating about the reason for the dead night, and she said,

Sweet, but terribly young, waitress: “We usually have slow nights when there are concerts nearby. I heard there is one at Consol Park tonight.

Mr b: “Oh yeah – who is it?”

SBTYW: “The Sticks. I don’t know – I never heard of them.”

Heehee. I am getting old.


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Also – I am pretending like the Burgh Mom get-together never happened, because I couldn’t make it for the second time and I am bummed out about it, so if it never happened, then I never missed anything, so LALALALALALA I can’t hear you…