It’s been an unusual few days. My arms are still outstretched and grasping for something to steady on and my eyes are still jittering back and forth in the wake of being spun up and down and all around.
On Friday we had an opening brief due. We were running down to the wire, or really more like down PAST the wire, and I could do nothing but wait for my part of the job. Do I even need to bother noting how maddeningly stressful that is for a worrier like me? I couldn’t DO anything to make it go faster, I could just pace up and down the hall uselessly waiting for pages to be shoved out the crack in the office door for proofreading much like an expectant father must wait for a pair of scissors to be shoved into his hand so he can finally be useful. Then exhibits, copies to code with proper weight and type and color of paper for each different section, binding, packaging, certifying, et cetera.
It was one of those tornadoes that, when finished, but a few minutes hence, already seems decades ago.
Saturday we went to Costco just exactly when they opened for an eye appointment. I had never been to a Costco for opening before. Have you?
No?
Well, then let me ask you this: Have you seen Shawn of the Dead? You know the opening credits when they have all the shots of real, ‘live’ people going through the motions of their daily lives with slack jaws and deadened eyes? That’s the joke, right? That we’re all already zombies anyway?
That’s what Costco opening is like. I don’t think there was some specific sale or special item on sale. I get the feeling this is a normal weekend opening. And we were a few minutes early, sitting in the car waiting. We’re out in the boondocks of nowhere, some industrial-ish street on which is some random car garage, a little farm, and little else. Suddenly, cars start showing up. They park randomly, sprinkled throughout the parking lot, and the boy comments that he would bet his life that Oprah has recommended parking far from the entrance of stores to increase daily exercise. The people emerge from their cars and walk towards the still-closed doors. Literally. Tens of people zombie-ing slowly toward a closed door from all different directions. Most grab carts. And they form a hoard of people at the entrance, still-sleep-crusted eyes fixed on the doorway. It was utterly horrifying. I know, I know, if you had a dollar for every time I said, “utterly horrifying” but people, I am not kidding. It had none of crazed energy of a crowd waiting for Christmas sales (its own breed of horro). People just shuffled to the door and stood there, waiting for the blood fest to commence. God I wish I’d had my camera.
After witnessing that atrocity, we went to our favorite breakfast spot, which I have already explained has great food, but is mostly great because it’s tiny AND the only place in the whole city that doesn’t feature an hour-long wait during any remotely breakfasty or lunchy hours on a weekend. It’s routinely empty, which means not only personalized and prompt service, but a lack of the normal restaurant din that requires shouting to be heard by the person next to you.
But guess what? Some asshole decided to grant them Restaurant of the Year and now…well, now the damn cat is out of the bag. So our breakfast spot is now overrun by all these green-behind-the-ear patrons who are stumbling in and gazing around and wreaking havoc on our peaceful weekend brunches. ::Sigh::
So, then, we went to see Up. Have you seen it yet? Great movie. Adorable and wonderfully done. And so hellsof sad. I haven’t been that emotional in months. I’m not exaggerating either. ::SPOILER ALERT:: Even after the happy ending, my lower lip was inadvertently pouting with every word I tried to utter and the lump in my throat remained, cracking my voice as I tried to talk about the happy parts to recover, “Haha…Squirrel! Haha…Point! Haha…::squeak::” The opening montage took enough of a toll, but then at one point, when Kevin was being dragged off in the net, the little boy behind me asked his mom, very alarmed, “What’s happening!? Why are they doing that to him?!” and then after she shushed him he announced, “I don’t like it! I want to go!” I was right there with him. And I wanted to turn around and say, “Hey kid, let’s go get a coke and wait out this scene…I can’t handle it either.” ::SPOILER END::
These stories are neither here nor there.
But they don’t even cover the birthday and funeral. Or two birthdays and two funerals if you count tangentially related ones. Plus a wedding if you reach back but a week.
Too much rollercoaster.
Good thing Spring is chugging along and tying me back to the ground with bands of vibrant color every time I threaten to float away.
