Today is my first day back at work in almost two months. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what I should be doing. I’ve been away for so long that I don’t know where things stand, and my Dad is en route home from Boston so there’s nobody here to fill me in.
I’ve spent the morning reading work emails and trying to track down a refill for my day planner.
But, it feels good to be back. It will be decidedly better once I have some idea of what I’m doing. I’m not that concerned, though, as this weekend has launched me into a relaxation coma of sorts that suits me very well. I’ve also taken to reading fiction…FOR FUN! It’s been a long time since I’ve sat down with a book that isn’t related to work or school, and read it, guilt-free.
The relaxed mood I’ve been in probably also has something to do with the fact that I just got out of a Birthday Week (well, two weeks). I love Birthday Week. It’s been a tradition in my family to milk your birthday for all it’s worth, and I’m particularly good at it. Last Friday was my birthday celebration (five days after my actual birthday, on which I had another celebration. See? I’m good at milking it), at which Rachel surprised me – I thought she was still driving through the states on her way home from Mexico, but she had actually been home since Tuesday and managed to keep it a secret – and at which I drank way too much and became obnoxious and stupid. I spent the rest of the weekend at the lake in the sun and had another joint birthday celebration with my Mom, whose birthday is eight days after mine. I was showered with lovely gifts and delicious cake.
Precious!
And this is where the stupid part started…
This Saturday afternoon I headed to Academy Bowling Lanes for Meghan’s daughter, Emma’s sixth birthday party. Glow bowling, pop, pizza, cake, and five crazy little girls. It was fun to watch them play and showboat for the camera. Emma has grown into quite the little G, with phrases such as “for real?” and “off the chain!” becoming mainstays of her vocabulary. She’s adorable and such a sweetheart, but if you mess with her, she’ll cut ya. Like mother, like daughter.
That afternoon Matt, myself, Arth, and his girlfriend, Heather, all headed out to the lake. After I dropped them off I went to Karen’s cabin, which is about 20 minutes away from mine, to hang out with her, Lee, and their friends for a couple of hours before they left to go back to Montreal the next morning. The rest of the weekend was spent reading, playing Settlers and Careers, watching movies (Nothing But Trouble and Hot Rod, both of which I thoroughly enjoyed), and drinking beer. I have almost finished Lullabies for Little Criminals, which April gave me for my birthday after I realized at the SFU workshop that I have little to no knowledge of current fiction. I also finished reading Skinny Bitch this weekend, and I am contemplating a vegan-esque lifestyle. Contemplating being the key word there.
It may be because I spent most of the weekend in a pot-induced haze, or because I didn’t do a damn thing that I didn’t feel like doing, or because I was surrounded by nature’s quiet embrace, but I feel fabulous today. I’ve managed to put my thesis completely out of my mind (at my supervisor’s insistence…I believe her words were “it’s my turn to work now”) and I’ve come out of the weekend with a newfound passion for reading. I made the incredibly wise decision this year of telling one of my friends what exactly I wanted for my birthday: books. I always felt as though telling people, unasked, what I want as a gift is incredibly tacky, but this year I decided to hell with that, and gave April a list of the books that I want to read. I received three of them as gifts and couldn’t be happier. Much like telling people what you want seems weird, one of my friends told me that she felt weird getting me what I wanted – and I can relate – as she felt like she should have gone to some extra effort to guess what it was without being told outright. But we both decided that it was all for good, because it was easier for her and lovely for me.
So far, I am really enjoying Lullabies. It’s a beautifully-written book. Heather O’Neill’s writing is the kind that makes it seem like writing a book would be easy, but at the same time makes you realize how much creative imagination it really takes to come up with some of the description she details. It feels weird to talk to people about the book because all I can come up with are the cheezy, meaningless phrases that we used in our Heather O’Neill memoir pitch at the SFU workshop: written with candor and in O’Neill’s signature edgy style, this book will simultaneously delight and horrify. Ha. It’s witty, it’s clever, it’s candid, it’s ‘powerful’. Anyway, it’s good.
I’m committed, now, to reading as many novels as I can this summer. How committed? I’ve added the “virtual bookshelf” application to my Facebook page. That’s when you know it’s serious.
