quiet is good

Our plans for Friday night were cancelled. We were disappointed, of course. But, you know that relief when you suddenly find a moment to breath? That moment was last Friday night. We stayed in and caught up on Jon Stewart episodes, went to bed early, and snuggled. Our Saturday, Sunday, Monday were booked solid, so we embraced a the quiet of Friday. 

Saturday: Up by 8am, showering and prepping for speaking on a panel at my alma matter. Breakfast with friends. Panel Discussion from 10:45-12. Home to change. Off to work. Rehearsal pre-flash mob. Flash mob, twice, in the craziness of October Salem. Home to change. Quick dinner. A moment with the hubs. Hub and I shoot off to a theatre trip with 8 teenagers (teenagers are LOUD). Watch Candide at the Huntington. Sob. Its beautiful. Its too much for words. Home by 1am. Sleep.

Sunday: Up and showered. Breakfast together. Mmmm, bacon and eggs. Visit sick nephew. 2 year olds are super sad and pathetic when pukey. Hug sister. Off to CT for cousin's birthday party. Time with parents after party. Home by midnight(ish).

Monday: SLEEP IN. PTL. Out the door to teach drama workshop to educators. Educators will be good students, right? Mostly right. Somehow also partly incredibly wrong. (How can educators justify talking in class/workshop and refusing to participate? I don't understand.) Tired. Tired, tired. Off to rehearsal. Then, off to project work for grad class. Home and hungry. Walk out to get dinner with the hubs. Both humorously, pathetically tired. Incoherent. SLEEP.

That was our "long weekend." 

Friday night feels like forever ago. I'm so thankful we had those moments. Quiet is good. Its necessary and clean and refreshing. I love the rush and rumble of busy and city life, but quiet is its own kind of fulfilling. Stilling. It makes me want to live on a farm. Maybe that's why I had a dream last night about raising chickens?

an old shot of me and that sad, sick nephew of mine. feel better artie.