Lovey Dovey

Thanksgiving night I asked RE what she would do if she only had three weeks left to live. She told me she would go skydiving and then make sure she was sealed in the temple. (I'd do it in reverse order! Yikes.) Cristall and I had a long conversation ruing the dichotomy between living providently and living like you're dying. They say we hold our future in our hands. What if those steady hands occasionally want to throw the future, and all caution, to the wind? Planning ahead and being smart doesn't always feel like LIFE TO ITS FULLEST. Clipping coupons and exercising isn't as fun as flying first-class to eat overseas pastries.

On the one hand I should live every day as if it were my last, diminishing my bucket list one check at a time. If today were my last day I wouldn't cook dinner for my family, go to Walmart, or iron Greg's shirts. I wouldn't gas up my car in the freezing wind or clean the cursed high chair. (All I want for Christmas is to drop kick that piece of cheap plastic from my roof and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. However, it is the only item in my house with a harness and sometimes I need to know Archer can't move.) If today were my last day I would breakfast a Bruges' liege waffle with extra dark chocolate and strawberries, lunch Thai Siam's pad thai, and dinner a heinously expensive wagyu beef steak with peppercorn cream sauce. Then I would unbutton my pants, kiss and hug everyone I loved, and fade out mid-massage on Ruth's massage table.

On the other hand, today probably isn't my last day and living like I'm dying will either ignore, destroy, or bankrupt my household. It's hard to find the fine line between living sensibly with self-control and riding life's horse with guns blazing. My fine line is to scrimp via self-denial and thrift stores so I can splurge with a massage every other Wednesday. Ruth gives me one Dove dark chocolate after every massage. The chocolate has a fortune inside the foil. I save all the fortunes because that's what tiny desk drawers are for.

Today being Wednesday I already splurged. This was my fortune:

I wholeheartedly agree; good thing I had a chocolate chip peanut butter open face and massage for breakfast.

At a church social I played a get-to-know-you game with my female peers and one of the questions was IF YOU HAD ONE FREE HOUR WHAT WOULD YOU DO? Every single woman said TAKE A NAP except for Keri Heath, who said READ A BOOK IN A HAMMOCK NEXT TO A RIVER. (I knew I loved Keri Heath.) It made me sad that every woman I know, including Keri, seems to be exhausted. Why are we so tired?

Early last December I wasn't feeling very Christmassy with my life in total chaos, my hair falling out, my pooch still poochy, and my psyche not meshing with the new norm of life with a baby. I called my friend J with a random question; ninety minutes later we hung up. I remember her telling me about buying Christmas village houses at the dollar store and spraying them black to use on the mantel for Halloween, but other than that I don't remember what we talked about.  I just know the call eased my misgivings and transformed me from Scrooge to Tiny Tim. It felt like Christmas after I hung up.

However, in late October I texted Michelle a picture of my canner on the hot stove at midnight and she texted me right back. We text-lamented how lame it is to can alone since we used to can together in our ruffled aprons...one of us blanched while the other sauced, one of us wiped floor splatter while the other wiped wall splatter. I love a good call but in general I have less time to talk and more time to text.

I prove I am alive by posting a digital heartbeat to social media of some form. Technology has made it easy to keep a pulse on my inner circles. Sometimes all the scrolling and liking is akin to fool's gold; it's shiny but not valuable. Social media is connection but I don't want to get caught in the trap of mistaking edited details or #nofilter glimpses for friendship. Hugging someone tight enough you can smell their shampoo is friendship. Walking in someone else's house without knocking is friendship. Ruth, my massage therapist whom I neither text nor friend on social media, is one of my best friends. It's crazy how close you can get to someone when your only method of communication is talking face to face. It's crazier how close you can get without it. What a world we live in; I sure hope I'm living it well.