This is not a post about Rosh Hashanah. Nor is it a post about my sweet little apples or the man who has been mostly honey since we’ve been in New York. Nope. Not a post about my ample apples or the avoidance of my honeypot. Okay, all lies. It’s about everything. Because that’s what happens when you don’t blog daily; you end up with a dump of a post, giving too few details and grossly broad stokes that touch the lives of none. Still, I feel compelled to write tonight because so much living has been happening; I fear I’ll forget the sweet moments of the week if I don’t get on with these brief notes. Working backwards…
Today there were texts on my phone asking what I was up to with the kids, wishing me a happy and healthy Jewish New Year, reminding me to play Words with Friends. One text was from my sister–who recently moved from Gainsville to Jacksonville, Florida–remarking on a photo I’d posted of myself to Facebook. I’m wearing hot pink lipstick. She reminded me I had a good month to go before Halloween. She really lives in e-ville.
Today we spent the day inside being sloths. Luke, Abaganoush, and I remained unbrushed, unimpressive, and overfed; the three of us in my bed, still falling asleep tonight in the same pajamas as yesterday. I couldn’t help but think of Shrek, not the first version, but perhaps Shrek 3? The one where Shrek misses his days of being a feared ogre, so he trades a single day of his life to Rumpelstiltskin for a day of being an old-fashioned ogre. Only Rumpel takes the day Shrek was born, sending It’s A Wonderful Life ripples of change through the story world as he’d once known it. Now, everyone and everything is different without him. Just a day can make that much of an impact. Well, really, just a life. Still, it got me to thinking. If the beans ever cross paths with Rumpelstiltskin, I’ve just given them the perfect day to exchange. I’m a thoughtful mother this way. Aside from the necessary recharging, signals from our bodies and brains that we need down time, perhaps these lazy days of nothing but television and back scratches give off their own ripples. The fact that I haven’t returned an email, phone call, text, and haven’t made a dent into my to-do list, perhaps I’ve improved our universe by giving more free time to someone else. Deep thoughts, I know. But this is the result of sloth. Random “you have too much time” thoughts find a way in. Tomorrow: day 2, sloth reunion.
The only problem now is that I’m too tired to write all I’d planned to write about our sixth wedding anniversary, the gifts exchanged (how much Phil despises receiving gifts, and what that has to say about a person… how and why they are so tortured by receiving), or how our first night of Rosh Hashanah was spent, or about L&A’s first time on soccer teams… my first time as a soccer mom, or what Team Fitness has been like at the gym, or how Abigail and Lucas are adjusting to school, about what their teachers have told me of them, or what the workload is like… how incredibly different from B’nai Israel in Boca. I haven’t made the time to write yet about making new friends in New York, or how on the fence I am about starting a Girl Scout troop for Abigail to join, the new writer friends to whom I’ve reached out, about the hormones I’m on, the weight that refuses to go away, the clothes that still don’t fit, the travel plans I’m about to make, the plans I mostly refuse due to the whole weight clothes dynamic, but at least I was able to write about sloth, my second favorite sin.