Gotta Get Down on Friday

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" Heidi asked our neighbor this morning.

"Not really," he shrugged. "We are going to Costco this evening, though." He seemed genuinely excited, more than your typical mid-30s guy he was.

"That's always fun," I laughed.

"I like to call it 'clubbing'," he joked. "To be honest, it's as close to any club as we've been in a while."

"That's funny," I said. "Do you remember it used to actually be called Price Club before it was Costco?"

He shook his head. "I never heard that before."

"Well," I told him, "the history only adds to your experience. You're going price clubbing tonight!"

I'm Calling It

Okay, look. 

Yesterday, President Biden called Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin "the Black man" during an interview with BET.

No way that guy will stay in the race.

Macro Economics

We have been taking advantage of summer by increasing our workouts. In addition to yoga in the morning (me), personal training sessions three times a week (Heidi), and a daily trip to the pool to swim and tread water, we have been doing cardio at the gym and playing pickleball. As a result?

I am tired and

starving!

Nothing we EVER have in our house is what I want to eat, either, so I end up being cranky every afternoon. 

Today, I tossed aside the book I was reading and stomped into the kitchen. Finding the usual nothing, I decided to go to the grocery, ostensibly to shop for dinner. "Maybe you can look at snacks while you're there," Heidi suggested as I practically stormed out the door.

At the store, I was drawn to lunch meat, cooked seafood, and cheese, so I filled my handbasket with an assortment of those items, none of which were on my list. Back home, I made an announcement: 

"I think I need more protein!" 

And once I gobbled down a little grilled chicken? I felt much better.

Not What I Have in Mind

"How are you enjoying retirement?" a neighbor asked me yesterday. We were on our way to the farmers market, and she was walking her dogs.

I shrugged. "It just feels like summer so far," I laughed. "How's yours going?" I asked, knowing that she had retired about a year ago.

"My definition of 'accomplishment' has definitely changed," she reported. "I used to be go-go-go, busy all day, and now I'm happy when I unload the dishwasher," she sighed.

My eyes widened, and she nodded. "Anyway, enjoy!" She waved and continued walking.

Just a Number

Back when Treat was three, and his older brother was six, he hatched a plan to become the senior sibling simply by saying so. When anyone asked the adorable toddler how old he was, he would answer, "I'm seven."

In the inevitable confusion his response caused, my brother taught him to add, "Technically, I'm three, but I'm really seven."

Treat turned 29 a few days ago, but he told us he considers himself 30, a notion which has something to do with realizing a couple of years ago that 27 was not really mid-, but rather late-twenties. He does, however, plan to be 30 for a couple of years or so, or at least until "mid-thirties" is unquestionably accurate.

Because, honestly? Who cares?

Live and Learn

This morning, I picked up my iced coffee from the side table next to my chair and took a sip. As I drank, a bead of condensation from the cup dripped onto my leg, sparkling in the morning sunshine as it fell. In a flash, our cat Tibby was on it: she leaped up from her spot on the rug and dashed over. But when her nose touched the cold droplet running down my shin, she jumped straight up and backward, eyes wide. 

Not sure what she expected, but it wasn't a wet nose.

Keys

I.

"I don't know whose key this is," my mom told me some years ago, producing a cute little monkey-headed housekey from her purse.

"It's got to be Courtney's," I replied. "Who else do you know who would give you a monkey key?" 

"I think you're right," she said.

II.

"What is this?" gasped one of the 7th grade boys who came to my room every morning. 

"Oh, it's my new--" I started.

"I touched it first!" said his buddy, grabbing my key ring from my desk. "I touched the monkey key first!"

III.

"I can't find my house key," Heidi sighed. "I need a new one."

"How did you even lose it?" I scoffed.

"YOU told me to keep it separate from my car key in case I need to give them to the service station," she fired back, "and it must have slipped off the carabiner."

IV.

"You should get a monkey key," I told Heidi as we stood in the hardware store, considering our options. You'll love it! It's so cute and it springs to your hand when it's time to unlock the door!It is also a very substantial key—so easy to find on your ring!"

"I want the dog paw," she answered.

"That's good, too," I shrugged.