Making Sleepy Lemonade

“Sometimes someone says something really small and it just fits into this empty place in your heart.” Angela, My So-Called Life

Despite more sunshine, the weekend was still too chilly to call spring and too busy to call relaxing. It started early on Thursday, after BC had a doozy of a day at work and needed some venting over beers. His bad day continued on Friday, so to start the weekend we headed out late for a bourbon-y talk that went on until the wee hours and some nineties music on a bad jukebox.

Saturday, we needed supplies for next weekend’s pre-St. Patrick’s Day festivities, so we headed out to the Strip District for pad thai brunch and anything green and glittery, followed by a soda fountain ice cream with our darling friend, D. Evening was a mad frenzy of house cleaning and laundry collecting, and then BC, cranky from a bad dinner out, dropped by again for some late night fun that wasn’t any fun at a too loud bar. We called it quits early.

And Sunday, we put on our best duds and headed to the symphony for some Brahms and to debate whether the old guy sleeping in the row in front of us would fall over into the aisle at some point. After a wardrobe change, we regrouped on my couch for some girl and homo Oscar snarking and Chinese food in bulk.

So, after an admittedly full weekend with lots of fun on the agenda, I’m feeling a little behind this Monday morning. Friends I’ve offered to help with taxes and job applications in the past seem to be piling up on my doorstep faster than I can answer their pleas. My laundry is no longer a molehill, and I may require a Sherpa to climb the top of the piles and lug them off to the ‘mat tonight. And I admit, staying up until 12:30 am on a work night to see if a movie I never saw won an award may not have been the best way to kick off my week.

I’m sleepy on Monday morning. And it’s all my fault, which makes me a little bit cranky. So, instead of whining, I’ll leave you with this instead. A  Kay Ryan poem that crawled into my heart this weary morning. Because if I can’t open my tired eyes to see past all these Monday lemons, I can at least give you pre-made lemonade. 

The Best of It

However carved up
or pared down we get,
we keep on making
the best of it as though
it doesn’t matter that
our acre’s down to
a square foot. As
though our garden
could be one bean
and we’d rejoice if
it flourishes, as
though one bean
could nourish us.

-Kay Ryan



Filed under Daily Life, Friends

4 responses to “Making Sleepy Lemonade

  1. Good luck with everything! You’ll get through it.

  2. I am feeling a tad regretful over my 1 AM bed time thanks to the Oscars. But I did love Sandra’s speech!

  3. I love you even more than I did previously, for quoting Angela Chase.

  4. Ditto to Green. Between the Angela quote and that lovely poem at the end, this post made for a perfect read. Hope your to-do list has shrunk considerably.

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