God it feels good to take a break. Why do we push and push? Monday I met up with two girlfriends and went for a long walk. Husby and I had surprise ice cream with more friends. Tuesday I went on another long walk with another girlfriend, then to Olympus Spa for the rest of the day. Wednesday, I took myself spa-ing again, this time to Banya 5, and then Husby and I met up for a date for cheap martininis and free appetizers at Tini Bigs 10th anniversary party. I napped everyday except yesterday. Today, I worked a little in the morning, then took myself to hang out at Seafair. I am as well and truly relaxed as one can get in a week, and fuck, if it doesn't feel great.

Until this year, I enjoyed the Blue Angels without being reminded that ultimately, they represent war. I was upset with a customer yesterday who I felt ruined it for me by being the naysayer when I mentioned I was going to watch them. I realize my anger is misplaced, and it is my government and its president who've altered how I feel by waging an unjust war. All this is mixed in with a joy and grief for my father, who flew C-130s and KC-135s in Viet Nam, and I am greatly reminded of him this week, and today in particular. I think I've finally slowed down enough to do a tiny bit of healthy grieving. It's been more than a year, but I sense that I've merely dipped into a greater well of sadness still waiting. I also experienced serious techno-penis envy, looking at the cameras with lenses the size of grenade launchers.

Today was just as important for what I didn't do as for what I did. I didn't run around trying to accomplish every errand before I left. I didn't run to the store and try to buy the last bikini on the rack and get depressed in the process. I didn't take a trip to the grocery store and buy enough junk to gorge myself on for a week. I found stale peanuts and staler cookies and filled a Nalgene of water, and made do. Thanks to Leslie, who reminded me I could take an old pair of jeans that barely fit (I've lost 7 pounds in the last few months) and Daisy Duke 'em, instead of trying to find some at Ross or Value Village.All of this not running around is unlike me and bodes well for my mental state.

Of course, thanks to thick thighs and high-riding short shorts, my old lady midi undies traveled so far up my ass you needed pliers to get them out, but that's beside the point. I had fun. Remember fun?