Wrenching me out of sleep these days requires a seven-foot goblin stumping into the room and setting the bed on fire. Even then I’d just blearily open one eye, ask if the goblin wanted to cuddle and, when he glared at me in disdain, roll over and fall back asleep.
I’m tired, is what I’m saying. Ever since I got back from Amsterdam I’ve been climbing into bed at 8:30 and passing out like I’d just tossed back a horse tranquilizer with a shot of rum and a dash of chamomile. My champion sleeper status has been cruelly stunted by age. Add that to jetlag and a lot of late nights before I left Holland and I’m more than happy to sign over the majority of my evening to snoring.
After all the moving around I’ve done this summer – Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe, Costa Rica, San Francisco, Portland, Amsterdam – I would be perfectly happy never to move again. So, naturally, I flew home last Wednesday and turned around on Thursday morning and climbed into a car to drive six hours into California’s gold country for my cousin’s wedding. Because that’s the way the world works. It was three days of family, pools, rope swings, emus and serve-yourself bars. I woke up from my naps in the hammock to let my brother pour me a whisky and ginger and then wandered across the grass to feed the emu. It was quite a party. Especially for the emu.
I’ve been sleeping and detoxing from all the European cheese and bread and beer and my brain is fuzzy and I’ve been avoiding blogging because blogging when your brain doesn’t work is an exercise in mediocrity. BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO DIVE INTO MEDIOCRITY AND LOVE IT.
HI, MEDIOCRITY! WE MEET AGAIN. You look pretty today. Are you using a new shampoo?
For my next adventure, I’m going to New York for a month in the fall. I’ll be working, visiting friends, wandering the streets, and generally reacquainting myself with one of my favorite cities. For now, I’m embracing California and friends and as much sleep as humanly possible before the goblin lights another match.