Sunday is…

Sunday is:

Sleeping in. Coffee. Looking in an empty fridge, because June = travel. Cereal. Cleaning the kitchen, first. straighten the house. New garage springs. No more nearly being squashed by the door. Biking to the hardest yoga session I’ve ever been too. Circle of abs. Biking to my hair cut. “Do you sleep on this side of your head? Have you been stressed?” A fortune-telling hairdresser. Helmet on: bike home. Lunch. Tuna, because once again – fridge = empty. Tennis with Jeff. Lots of sunscreen. Shower, a second call, to ask, “Are you SURE you don’t need us to bring anything?” They didn’t. Cricket’s to a wonderful party. Vodka-cran, burger. BBQ chicken wings. Friends, laughing. Birthday presents = a presidential dog puzzle = perfect. New kitchen pot holders. Bookends for Jeffrey. A perfect day. Laughing. Smiling. Continuation of Saturday. Same friends, different day. Perfect day.

Talk of the rest of the summer. How quickly it will go.

Next up? BBQ at home. Later, chickadees.

Saturday is…

Saturday is:

Sunshine. Waking up early to go to Trader Joe’s. Basil from my plant. Making pasta salad, on the phone with my mom. Gossip. Coffee. Sunscreening around tan lines. Fifteen passenger vans. Fourteen friends. Malibu. Glee soundtrack. Wine. Lots of wine. Tire swings shaped like horses. Rustic picnic benches. Wine tastings. Adirondack chairs. In yellow. Friend trivia. Red wine. White wine. Rose wine. Flip cam. Nikon cam. Point and shoot cam. Film cam. Cheese. Pasta salad. Tuna salad. Fruit. Veggies. Occasionally, some water. Live music. Heart-to-heart’s. Walking to the top. Walking to the barrels, taking photos. Laughing. Smiling. Talking. Eating. Tanning. Chatting. Crying, a little.

Back in the van. Don’t Stop Believin’. Six hours, sunburnt. In all the right places. No more tan lines. Cake. With sprinkles. Rainbow kind. Happy Birthday. Chattering away. Dinner. Pizza. Water, water, water. Two boys jumping in a pool. Fully clothed. Apples to apples. Laughing until you cry. Ten o’clock. Hugs. Hugs. Hugs.

Good, good night.

I am my politics.

Now, I haven’t gotten too political here, lately. I usually reserve that for Facebook, because I can do it faster, posting links, or just opinions. Plus, I think a lot of you feel kinda like me, and would rather here about my day then the latest BP thing to go awry.

But I feel like lately, people have asked why I do it, why I get angry and post things, only to fight in the “comments” section back and forth with people about what I think and feel. People say, “Doesn’t that stress you out?” And yes, sometimes it does. Sometimes I want to pull my eyes out, sometimes I want to shake people and say, “DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU ARE SAYING?”

But I post political things on Facebook anyway. On a website that people say “has no room for politics.” I post there for a reason. Because I care. I care about my world. Our only world. I care about my country. I care about my future. I want you to know just what’s happening with BP. I want you to know that recycling DOES make a difference. And I want you to know that if we don’t change the world, there won’t be a world for much longer.

I want you to know that I support gay rights because supporting gay rights is, consequently, the right thing to do. I want you to know that people who are homosexual are also family, friends, black, white, around you all the time, in the military, in the government, in the democratic party, in the republican party, in your work place. I want you to know that denying people rights is not what this country was founded on.

And, I want you to know that I am pro-choice. Because everyone deserves to make decisions for themselves. I want you to know that sometimes, abortion happens for a good reason. And, looking at the homeless population of the U.S., I know that sometimes kids die, too young, on the streets, without homes, without families.

And I want you to know that if a woman decides not to have an abortion, but instead to give her child up for adoption, then I think homosexual couples should have the right to adopt that child. Because they deserve a family as much as you do.

I write about politics on my Facebook because I want you to know. I want you to be aware. I want you to change this world. I want you to change mine. I want everyone to have rights, to live their dreams. I want corporations to be exposed. I want to decide where my tax dollars go. I want you to decide, too. I write about politics because I want you to vote. I want everyone to vote, and vote knowingly. I want you to get MAD. Anger is the starting point of change.

I want less apathy. I want more action. And I want you to know these things about me, because this is me. I am my politics. I care because I want a better life. I care because I want everyone to have a fair shake. Especially you, the people who I am friends with. I want you and I to have the same rights. Not just me and my buddies, or you and yours.

So now you know. I will never hide my politic feelings, and I wouldn’t expect you to shy away from the tough conversations, the emotions, as hard as they may be, of politics. I want you to get mad. At me, maybe. Because what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t know what you really felt about this world?

Friday morning = successful as all get out.

So last night I went to my cousin AJ’s house to have dinner with a few of her friends and her fiance, Dan. We had chicken cordon bleu, which was DELICIOUS, and baked potatoes, and spinach with feta, tomatoes, onion, and garlic. So good. We also had deviled eggs for appetizers, which had avocado in them. Let me tell you: so good, I could die and go to heaven.

But, after eating that, I knew. I knew that I had to get up at 5:45 this morning and go to the gym. Because I couldn’t go after work today (I have drinks AND a dinner, two groups of friends) and I don’t have a lunch today, so I have to eat out. You see my dilemma.

So, after promising myself I’d be getting Jamba Juice for lunch, and maybe a side salad with no dressing, and after getting into bed at 10:08, I really saw no reason to not get up. I would still get nearly 8 hours of sleep. I would have worked out before coffee, before Stephanie Miller, before whatever crazy thing awaited me at work.

But wait, I said to myself. I would have to shower at the gym. That requires sandals, clothes, a towel, shampoo, etc. I voiced this opinion out loud to Jeff. Who replied, “Well, why don’t you go to the gym, come back, and then shower at home?”

So I did. 5:22, my alarm went off, and I had to convince myself to get out of bed. Which I did, at 5:45. I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth (which I totally deserve brownie points for), and got all my stuff together. I went down to the car. I got in. I drove. I got to the gym, I parallel parked (more brownie points), and got into the gym. At 6:08, I was getting on the treadmill.

I forgot my socks. I ran for 2 minutes and nearly died. I walked on an incline, as Nikki told me to. I ran again. I slowed down. I walked. I ran for 2 minutes (from 8 minutes to 10) and then jumped off. Enough was enough. I switched to the bike. After all — I had no SOCKS. I biked for 5 minutes, trying to tell the bike how long I wanted to workout for, and finally did. Then 15 minutes doing rolling hills at level 10. While I biked, I tried to convince myself that no, my lungs are NOT actually going to fall out, and I tried to watch Charmed, which is just bad in the later seasons, no matter how tired you are.

I hopped off the bike at 6:44, weary, but done. Done for the day. Ready for coffee. Ready for work. I went home, showered, whispered to Jeff that he owed me ten dollar.s (He double dog dared me that I wouldn’t go.) I got to work at 7:59. On time, for the first time in probably a week. (Or two, if I’m being honest with myself.)

This weekend is busy, and I am glad I worked out this morning so I feel less guilty having a beer tonight, and maybe having a fistful of tortilla chips at dinner…